Chapter 162

               

“What exactly… do you want me to proceed with, Representative?”

The secretary, her hair neatly brushed back, asked the question again. Her expression was full of confusion—but that was all.

‘What does he want to push forward this time…’

It wasn’t the first time, after all.

Representative Park Sung-min slowly turned his head after hearing her question.

With scattered white hairs across his scalp, he looked older than his actual age. But unlike most men his age, he hadn’t dyed it at all.

There was no need to appear youthful in his line of work.

He was Park Sung-min, floor leader of the first opposition party.

“Weren’t you just watching the TV with me?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, I was. Of course, sir.”

That much was obvious.

Right now, there was no topic in politics more relevant than Captain Lee Hyun-jong.

As someone assisting the floor leader, she naturally had to be up to date on everything regarding Captain Lee.

“I’m telling you to move on ‘that’.”

“Move on… what, exactly?”

“That Professor Baek Kang-hyuk.”

With a frustrated look, Representative Park pointed his pen at the TV.

Kang-hyuk was still giving an impassioned speech onscreen.

He was essentially saying that he had come this far without a single helping hand.

To Director Choi and the hospital officials, it probably sounded like a calculated dig.

But to a seasoned politician like Park Sung-min, it hit differently.

‘This is an opportunity.’

The opposition had been in opposition for over a decade.

Damn ruling party was still running things decently well.

The idea of overturning the power balance in the next election? Frankly, it looked tough.

‘From my view, this Professor Baek Kang-hyuk guy is clearly putting himself out there.’

Some might dismiss him as a naïve doctor whining about how hard things had been.

But to Park, Kang-hyuk didn’t come off as that simple.

“Get me a meeting with this Professor Baek.”

“A meeting… sir?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going yourself?”

“Of course. It’s our first time meeting—what, you think I’d just send ‘you’?”

The secretary barely stopped herself from blurting out, ‘Isn’t that exactly how you’ve handled it until now?’

Instead, she gave a silent nod.

“Understood. I’ll get in touch and arrange something.”

“Prioritize the meeting over all else—even ahead of the floor leaders’ meeting and the Blue House schedule.”

“Excuse me?”

That meant postponing meetings with ministers, department heads, and top party officials.

The secretary wondered if a personal meeting with Baek Kang-hyuk was really worth that much. She thought she must’ve misheard.

Park Sung-min looked at her with disappointment.

“You work hard, but you still lack political instinct.”

“Ah…”

“Watch how this unfolds. Keep your eyes wide open and learn.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Being a lawmaker’s secretary—specifically a 5th-grade secretary—was no small job.

Most of them worked themselves to the bone and were tossed aside.

But being a secretary to the floor leader was another story.

It was almost a guaranteed stepping stone to a local council seat, and depending on ability, even a shot at becoming a city councilor or lawmaker.

She was clearly an ambitious one.

So even though she didn’t fully grasp what Park had in mind, she jumped into action.

“Yes, I’d like Professor Baek Kang-hyuk’s number.”

Naturally, she called Hanguk University Hospital’s PR team first.

The staff on the other end sounded indifferent.

They’d been flooded with requests for Kang-hyuk’s number lately.

‘You give out my number, you’re dead.’

That was a warning he’d once made, and they had never forgotten it—especially after seeing the way his arm tattoos rippled when he flared up.

“Sorry, can’t give that out.”

“I’m not a journalist. I’m with Representative Park Sung-min of the main opposition party.”

“Main opposition party… hmm.”

Things changed when the caller identified as a lawmaker’s secretary.

And not just any lawmaker—Park Sung-min was a big name who regularly appeared on TV.

Though technically only in his third term, he was powerful enough to lead the opposition party.

“Please hold a moment.”

Most major university hospitals kept designated VIP wards for immediate admittance based on political affiliation.

That’s how much influence politicians held.

Getting on their bad side and inviting an audit? Total loss.

“This is taking a while.”

The secretary muttered with a bored look as the staff went to ask their superior.

As she waited, her thoughts drifted to the two men—Representative Park Sung-min and Baek Kang-hyuk.

One, a shrewd politician.

The other, a self-sacrificing madman of a doctor.

‘That guy’s borderline insane.’

At least from what she’d seen in the media.

Flipping off cameras, shoving reporters, sprinting mid-interview…

But the secretary knew more than what the press showed.

She often had lunch with National Assembly correspondents—it was part of her job.

Spreading the right things at the right time—that’s what made a good secretary.

Still, she listened more than she talked.

‘Would being associated with him… really help?’

Representative Park was one of the rare senior lawmakers without a major scandal.

No military service dodging, no fake address scandals—he was clean.

So was it really wise to get entangled with someone like Kang-hyuk?

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

She didn’t get to think long. The PR staff returned.

“Yes?”

“I’ll give you the number. But please—only share it with the representative himself.”

“Of course. Privacy is important.”

“Thank you.”

The staff cared less about privacy and more about staying alive—but still, the message got through.

“So this is the number?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

With the number in hand, the secretary immediately dialed it from a hallway phone.

She input the digits from her phone’s memo pad.

‘No way he picks up. Let’s just see if it’s even a real number…’

From what she knew, Kang-hyuk was ridiculously busy.

‘Every journalist who’s tried for an interview has failed.’

His excuses were always surgery or patients.

What made it frustrating was that those weren’t lies.

The man practically lived in the hospital.

Getting the number was just step one.

“Trauma surgery, Baek Kang-hyuk speaking.”

But Kang-hyuk picked up.

‘Wait, he ‘answered’?’

The secretary looked up, startled—Kang-hyuk was literally on TV, taking the call ‘during’ his press conference.

‘Did that lunatic just take a call mid-broadcast?’

Even a Blue House spokesperson wouldn’t dare.

It wasn’t just disrespectful to the press—it came off as disrespecting the people watching.

Yet Kang-hyuk looked completely unfazed.

He didn’t even excuse himself to the reporters.

“Um… Professor Baek? I’m Secretary Kim Yumi with Representative Park Sung-min’s office…”

Oddly enough, it was the ‘secretary’s’ voice that trembled from afar.

She was terrified that this might cause political blowback.

Kang-hyuk didn’t seem to care.

He always had a way out.

“Is this an emergency?”

He asked with a serious tone.

Say it like that—with urgency—and you could walk away from ‘any’ conversation.

Even a press conference.

“E-emergency? Professor! Just a moment more, please!”

“Can you explain how you secured the air ambulance?”

“Sorry. A patient needs me. I have to go.”

With that, Kang-hyuk rushed into the ICU.

No reporter could follow—access was restricted by keycard.

Even without the lock, few would dare step inside.

It was an intimidating space, even for doctors.

For the average person, the ICU was practically a forbidden zone.

“Go ahead.”

Now seated in the conference room, Kang-hyuk spoke in a relaxed voice.

“I… I…”

The secretary couldn’t even get a word out.

She’d just witnessed a national-level deception—on live TV and through the phone.

So now it was Kang-hyuk who had to keep the conversation going.

“You knew I was in a press conference, but you still called. You should at least speak up, right?”

“B-but how can you call ‘that’ an emergency?”

“Well, I figured if someone called me ‘during’ a press conference, it had to be urgent. Isn’t that obvious? Not all emergencies are life-and-death, you know.”

Kang-hyuk answered with a sly smile.

“Um…”

The secretary blinked, speechless.

She’d chosen to work for Park Sung-min because he seemed like a clean politician.

She believed that learning under such a man would shape her into one, too.

To her, Kang-hyuk’s behavior wasn’t just unethical—it was borderline vulgar.

“Stop stammering. Park Sung-min—that’s the floor leader of the opposition party, right?”

Kang-hyuk even had the political names memorized.

He hadn’t always been like this.

But once he expected the press conference to happen, he prepared thoroughly.

His sharp mind had quickly filled in the blanks.

“Y-yes. I’m Secretary Kim Yumi under Representative Park.”

“So, what’s this call about?”

Kang-hyuk’s voice remained calm.

Nearby, Jaewon, Jang-mi, and Gyeongwon exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Whenever Kang-hyuk spoke like this, it meant he was planning something.

Why did a doctor who saved lives have to go this far?

They couldn’t help but feel demoralized.

“Our representative would like to meet with you.”

“What for?”

“I’m… not really sure.”

“Hmm.”

Kang-hyuk closed his eyes and thought it over.

He mentally replayed Park Sung-min’s political history.

The man was genuinely clean.

Known for his righteous speeches.

‘He’d align well with what I’m trying to do right now.’

Kang-hyuk didn’t yet know the intent—but there was nothing to lose in meeting.

And this wasn’t someone he could just see whenever he wanted.

‘If the meeting goes well, he could become a powerful ally.’

Park had that kind of clout.

Kang-hyuk reached his decision and nodded.

“Fine, let’s meet. I’m available… here or here. But you know how trauma surgery is—I might be called away any time.”

“We’ll come to you, then. That should make scheduling easier, right?”

“Wasn’t that always the plan? If you want to talk, ‘you’ come to ‘me’.”

“Ah, yes…”