Chapter 163

               

Captain Lee Hyun-jong’s condition was visibly improving day by day.

It hadn’t even been a full 24 hours since surgery ended, so saying that might sound premature.

But the improvement was so remarkable that it still seemed appropriate.

“The abdomen really was the problem.”

Yoon Jae-ho, the internal medicine department head who still hadn’t returned to Dubai, spoke up as he stood by the patient’s bedside.

His eyes were fixed on the patient’s abdomen, partially closed and packed with gauze.

The gauze soaked in brown Betadine hadn’t changed color at all.

That meant the wound wasn’t just ‘visibly’ clean—it truly was.

“Right? You saw it yesterday. It was ‘rotting’ in there.”

“Ugh, yeah. I feel like I can still smell it.”

Director Yoon sniffed at his own body as if trying to find the stench.

Kang-hyuk chuckled quietly at the sight—an unusually warm response from him.

To Yoon, it was a reaction worth being proud of.

‘He’s a solid internist. If someone like him could take over the ICU full-time… we could save a lot more lives.’

Right now, Kang-hyuk, Jaewon, and Gyeongwon were all taking turns monitoring patients during the gaps between surgeries.

Thanks to Kang-hyuk’s excellent surgical work—and with Jang-mi handling nursing duties like an all-rounder—no disasters had occurred yet.

But it was draining.

If someone else could take over, they could focus solely on surgery and even increase the ICU patient load.

‘But not this guy.’

Yoon Jae-ho had a prestigious career as an internist.

In other words, he was far too valuable to use as a slave.

They needed someone younger.

While Kang-hyuk silently mapped out Yoon’s fate in his head, Jaewon didn’t stop disinfecting the wound.

“Here, sir.”

He worked while receiving help from Jang-mi.

Since the wound hadn’t been fully closed yet, their sterilization process wasn’t all that different from when they were still at Royal Sheikh Khalifa Hospital.

Though the frequency and tension had reduced considerably.

“Nothing really came out here either.”

Jaewon looked pleased as he examined the gauze he’d just removed.

There was no color change and barely any odor.

“That’s a relief.”

Jang-mi mumbled as she tossed the gauze into a waste bin.

Her eyes briefly rested on the wound before shifting to Captain Lee’s face.

Not only were his vital signs better—his face looked healthier too.

At least the swelling had gone down, making him look more presentable.

“Yesterday, his I/O flipped. Blood pressure and heart rate are both stable too.”

“How much [Lasix] did he get?”

(T/N: [Lasix] is the brand name for furosemide, a loop diuretic used to remove excess fluid from the body by increasing urine output. It is often used to treat conditions like heart failure, kidney disease, and edema.)

“One ampoule.”

“That’s a great response. Thank God… kidneys going bad would be a nightmare…”

In cases like Lee Hyun-jong’s—massive blood loss followed by infection—it’s rare for complications to remain localized to the wound.

Usually, some other organ would fail too.

And that organ was almost always the kidneys.

“Yeah, we got lucky. If the kidneys fail, it’s dialysis. And then infections become an even bigger issue…”

“Could escalate into [multiple organ failure] too.”

They chatted in hushed tones for a while.

Kang-hyuk, watching them with a strange expression, suddenly walked over and smacked Jaewon on the top of the head.

“Ow?!”

Naturally, Jaewon looked shocked.

He hadn’t done ‘anything’ wrong—at least not ‘right now’.

Maybe an hour ago would be debatable, but right now he was clean.

“Why? What did I do?”

“Are you praying for the patient to die or something? Why the hell are you bringing up stuff like multiple organ failure? Are you insane?”

“Oh…”

Now that he heard it, yeah—maybe talking about that kind of thing right in front of the patient ‘wasn’t’ the best idea.

It was no different from saying “hey, you might die.”

Of course, Kang-hyuk didn’t actually think the patient could hear them.

Captain Lee still had his eyes tightly shut, fast asleep.

‘Hiss… hiss…’

Air flowed steadily through the plastic tube in his throat.

The ventilator managing it was being adjusted by Gyeongwon.

“What about [weaning]?”

And then Gyeongwon blurted out an impressively dumb question.

To be fair, he had a lot of excuses.

He’d flown to Dubai, worked nonstop on patients, then flew back here and performed surgery.

“Are you stupid?”

But Kang-hyuk wasn’t the type to be understanding.

He started with an insult, as always.

‘Oh ho~’

Jaewon, the usual punching bag, couldn’t help but do a little victory shoulder wiggle.

Watching someone else get chewed out was always fun.

Yeah, it was petty—but what could he do?

That’s just how people are.

“He’s not even fully closed yet. Why would you try to wake him now? What do you ‘think’ that’ll do?”

“Oh.”

“Do you know how many people suffer [post-ICU syndrome] after intensive care?”

Kang-hyuk had seen countless patients whose daily lives were wrecked because of it.

Sure, most of them were amputees…

But emotional trauma didn’t always scale with physical injuries.

“And we still have to do another surgery. Remember? He’s not done yet.”

“Yes, Professor. I’m sorry.”

“Not a big deal. If you’d gone ahead without asking, I would’ve beat the shit out of you—but you ‘did’ ask first, so it’s fine.”

Kang-hyuk replied coolly, then glanced outside the ICU.

All that talk about patients had made him realize he was starving.

Just as he was about to head out for food, three very unwelcome faces appeared.

From left to right: Jin Tae-rim, Director Choi Jo-eun, and Hong Jae-hoon.

“Aww, fuck.”

Kang-hyuk shook his head and cursed under his breath.

Everyone around him—his team, the people they’d just run into—froze in disbelief.

It wasn’t every day someone dropped a full-on curse bomb in a hospital hallway.

So they all decided to just ignore it.

‘He must be talking to himself. Even he’s not that crazy.’

Director Choi tried to calm himself and started the conversation.

“Professor Baek. We meant to come by yesterday, but… you looked swamped, so we came now. Do you have a moment?”

“Nope. I was just about to eat.”

Kang-hyuk waved his hand as firmly as a stone.

But Jin Tae-rim held up something she’d brought, as if she’d expected this.

“Perfect timing. You can eat this while we talk.”

It was a boxed meal from the in-house Korean restaurant.

It was infamously overpriced and underwhelming—nobody bought it.

‘So ‘that’s’ why that menu’s still alive. Because of the board of directors.’

They were the classic “spend someone else’s money” types.

People like that always picked overpriced stuff they wouldn’t buy with their own cash.

“Hmm.”

Kang-hyuk sighed in annoyance, but eventually nodded.

He’d glanced at the clock just before answering—but no one noticed.

His hands might’ve moved, but his eyes were quicker.

“Fine.”

“Oh? You seem to be in a good mood today.”

Director Choi looked surprised by how easily Kang-hyuk agreed and led the way.

They went to the staff conference room in the ER wing.

Normally, this was only open to the department members.

But with the director and planning chief present, nobody dared block their path.

“First time here. It’s huge—and nice.”

Kang-hyuk muttered as he ran a hand across the table. It was clearly new.

Way nicer than the rickety wooden desk in the trauma surgery office.

“Right? Not sticky either.”

“That’s because ‘you’ spilled cola on ours.”

“It was always like that.”

“It’s just old. Sorry.”

Kang-hyuk stopped teasing Jaewon midway through.

He knew they were treated like garbage inside the hospital—but he hadn’t realized it went down to even the furniture.

It pissed him off more than he expected.

“Anyway, let’s eat and talk.”

Director Choi handed him the lunch box.

Even the container looked expensive.

Which made sense—it cost over 30,000 won per meal.

“Sure.”

Kang-hyuk had been hungry anyway, so he dug in without hesitation.

To some, it might’ve looked like he had no pride.

But in truth, his self-esteem was ‘so high’ that he didn’t give a damn what people thought.

“Professor Baek.”

Director Choi took a few bites, then opened his mouth.

Kang-hyuk paused mid-chew and looked up.

His expression said, ‘What do you want now?’

“Yesterday… you seemed to have a lot of complaints about the hospital.”

He was thinking back to the press conference.

Which, naturally, reminded him of Hong Jae-hoon’s recorded threat—and made his face flush with shame.

He’d promised himself to keep it professional—but that was easier said than done.

After all, he’d already taken a hit.

“Did you really have to say all that publicly?”

“Kind of like how ‘you’ had to say what ‘you’ said before I went into surgery?”

“That was…”

Director Choi felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut.

But he didn’t lose his words—he’d long since abandoned any guilt.

“That was a private comment. It wasn’t made in a public setting like yours.”

“But it’s true that the hospital has been passive about the trauma center. No—’obstructive’, even.”

“Obstructive? What do you mean?”

“You think I don’t know about the helicopter incident?”

Kang-hyuk glared at all three of them in turn.

His eyes looked like a snake eyeing prey—it was uncomfortable to meet them head-on.

Only Jin Tae-rim had enough guts to respond.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. That wasn’t the hospital’s decision. It was just a conflict between you and the other party.”

“A conflict? That’s your excuse?”

“And have you ever considered the losses you’ve caused this hospital? It’s over a billion won! Just the costs for Captain Lee alone—who knows how high they’ll go?”

Technically, the military should be covering all of Captain Lee’s treatment.

But that was the ‘military’—they’d only pay exactly what [HIRA] allowed.

(T/N: [HIRA] stands for Health Insurance Review and Assessment Service. It is a Korean government agency responsible for evaluating the appropriateness of medical treatments and determining insurance reimbursements for healthcare providers.)

The rest would be pure loss for Hanguk University Hospital, so Jin wasn’t exactly wrong.

Of course, Kang-hyuk didn’t agree with that logic.

“How is that ‘my’ fault? If you check my notes and attached files, you’ll see that I’ve never performed an unapproved procedure. The ones at fault are the ones who cut reimbursements. The hospital should’ve backed me.”

“How? What do you expect us to do—fight HIRA?”

“If it’s wrong, we should fix it. Director, you can meet with the Minister of Health, can’t you?”

“That’s… not as simple as you make it sound.”

“Then it’s hard to pin this on me, right? Since it’s such a complex issue.”

Kang-hyuk’s sarcastic tone made Hong Jae-hoon explode again.

“What do you mean, not your fault?! The damage is ‘obvious’!”

“I caused that damage saving lives.”

“Who ‘isn’t’ saving lives? Why are you so dramatic?! You can save lives and ‘still’ make money!”

“Not with [severe trauma] patients, you can’t.”

That was the last straw. Kang-hyuk stood up.

His large frame made all three flinch.

“What the hell! Are you threatening us physically?”

“Am I insane?”

“Then what is this?! Trying to run away? We’re supposed to settle this today!”

“I’m here to ‘help’ settle it.”

With that, Kang-hyuk flung open the conference room doors.

Standing outside were a stunned secretary, Representative Park Sung-min, and a journalist.

Kang-hyuk shook Park’s hand, then turned back.

“Now that everyone’s here, let’s go over what we’ve been saying—’again’, from the top.”