Chapter 167

               

Whrrr.

Not even twenty minutes after Kang-hyuk had brought up surgery, Captain Lee’s bed was wheeled out of the ICU.

Even if the center only had five staff and felt cramped, a center was still a center. When the director made a decision, things moved instantly—that was its greatest advantage.

Clunk.

Gyeongwon stepped into the slot beside the OR door, and it slid open.

Inside, Jang-mi and Ji-min were already busy preparing.

“You said to have a saw ready too, right?”

Jang-mi asked Kang-hyuk as he entered. To her, this third surgery seemed like it would be the last. But a saw? Surely she had misheard.

“Yeah. Get it ready.”

He nodded as if it were nothing. This was the man who split open hearts if necessary. Sawing was just another part of the job.

“Yes.”

Ji-min immediately grabbed the saw from the prep area and rushed over. Despite the grueling workload compared to her peers, she always seemed energetic—a perfect fit for the trauma center.

“On three. One, two, three.”

There was no time to praise the hardworking junior. Everyone was too busy doing their jobs.

“Up we go.”

At Gyeongwon’s signal, Kang-hyuk and Jaewon lifted Captain Lee from the ICU bed onto the operating table. Compared to the second surgery, it felt easier—because his body had lost weight.

It wasn’t from malnutrition; short-term nutrition could be delivered intravenously.

‘Guess the swelling’s gone down… he really does feel lighter.’

Jaewon couldn’t help but smile as he physically felt what he had only been seeing in numbers until now.

Kang-hyuk, however, didn’t like that smile.

“What’s so funny?”

“Huh?”

“You happy to see someone suffering?”

“N-no, that’s not it…”

There was no real reason for Kang-hyuk to ask. He simply thrived on tormenting others.

The only fortunate thing was that Jaewon was tougher than he looked. Despite being chewed out daily, he didn’t take it to heart. In fact, he’d even started to talk back.

“Why are you smiling then?”

“What?”

“You just smiled.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Wow, saying that in front of the patient too.”

“Damn…”

Kang-hyuk rushed forward as if to grab him, then stopped with a sigh. Jaewon was right—they had a patient lying open before them. This wasn’t the time.

“Go sterilize. I’ll scrub in.”

“Already did.”

“What? …Huh. You really did.”

Kang-hyuk looked down at the patient, incredulous. Jaewon had been chattering nonstop but hadn’t stopped working. Captain Lee’s body was already prepped with povidone-iodine—even areas that hadn’t been mentioned but needed it.

‘Did he actually notice that?’

Kang-hyuk tilted his head, staring at the left shin. Jaewon smirked knowingly, as if he’d expected the reaction. It was irritating, but not entirely angering. Or rather, it was anger, but mixed with something else.

‘He’s definitely improving. If only his hands could keep up with his brain… not yet though.’

His ranking as top of the surgical class hadn’t been a fluke. Jaewon was sharp and diligent—two things essential in medicine. But surgical skill required more than brains and effort; it needed time and experience.

‘Well… since he’s learning from me, he’ll pick it up faster than others.’

Thinking such smug thoughts, Kang-hyuk stepped out of the OR.

“I’m coming too.”

Jaewon hurried after him to scrub. Gyeongwon watched the two leave and muttered:

“They really seem like a close teacher-student pair, huh?”

Jang-mi let out a laugh.

“Close?”

“Sure. What fellow teases their professor like that?”

“Well… that’s true.”

“Anyone else would’ve been kicked out of the OR by now.”

“Not in trauma surgery. We’re too short-staffed.”

“Ah, right.”

Gyeongwon chuckled. Still, both he and Jang-mi knew Kang-hyuk was unusual. His temper was foul, but he wasn’t stuck on authority. And he wasn’t stingy about teaching.

Most professors didn’t see fellows as true students. Calling them “disciples” was often just a way to justify overworking them. Many were used like slaves and discarded when worn out. Learning was left entirely to the fellow’s own effort.

But Kang-hyuk was the opposite. He taught relentlessly, even juniors outside trauma surgery like Gyeongwon, Jang-mi, or Ji-min. Some might find his lessons a nuisance, but they were practical and applicable right away.

‘Annoying as it is to admit… he’s a good teacher.’

Though there were plenty of things not to emulate too.

“Idiot, you’re splashing water.”

With a sigh, Jang-mi handed out paper towels as Kang-hyuk and Jaewon returned from scrubbing. Kang-hyuk wiped down his arms quickly—quicker than Jaewon.

“Can’t you do it faster?”

Seeing he was faster, Kang-hyuk immediately started nagging again.

“Enough. Just put on your gown.”

Unable to watch any longer, Jang-mi handed him a surgical gown. Kang-hyuk slipped it on and squinted.

“Hey, why are you siding with him?”

“What?”

“Something’s off. Ever since Dubai, you’ve been acting different.”

Even while gowning and gloving, his eyes flicked back and forth between Jaewon and Jang-mi, narrowed into sharp triangles.

“Different? Not really.”

Jang-mi looked unbothered, but Jaewon’s face flushed red.

“Mmm?”

Kang-hyuk never missed a chance to tease, and Gyeongwon eagerly joined in.

“Come to think of it… I saw you two in the ICU…”

“In the ICU? You were doing something with the patient there?”

“No, not like that…”

“Hm?”

Kang-hyuk bore down on Jaewon, who turned even redder. Just when it looked like his head might burst, Jang-mi stepped in, kicking Kang-hyuk’s shin with her toe.

“Enough already. We’ve got surgery to do!”

“Did you just kick me?”

“You’re the one calling me a gangster. Isn’t hitting people what gangsters do?”

“Wow… look at this one…”

He couldn’t argue. He was the one who’d called her a gangster all along.

“Fine, fine. Let’s operate first.”

It was time to focus anyway.

Shff.

Jaewon calmed down and, together with Kang-hyuk, draped Captain Lee with sterile sheets. Only the surgical site was left exposed, to prevent contamination.

Shff!

They moved in perfect sync, as if they’d rehearsed, and ended up standing together over the left forearm—the only wound that wasn’t just an open gash. This one needed further intervention today.

“Take out the gauze.”

“Yes.”

Jaewon pulled it free. The yellow pus and foul odor of days past were gone, and even the brown tint of povidone-iodine remained unchanged.

“This was packed two hours ago, right?”

“Yes. You did it.”

“And nobody touched it since?”

“No.”

“No wonder the inflammation markers dropped.”

It was stable enough for more aggressive treatment now.

“Then should we go for the shin?”

Jaewon asked with a sly grin, eyes already on the left shin. He knew Kang-hyuk’s plan.

“Right. You caught that?”

“I saw it in the material you gave me. That’s how you handled it before.”

“Ah, you watched the video.”

“Yes.”

He recalled the grainy footage. The image quality was poor, but the technique was masterful—like nothing he’d seen even in transplant surgery. Transplantation involved placing someone else’s organ, not this.

“Then you’ll make a good assistant, huh?”

Kang-hyuk was already at the shin, scalpel in hand.

Jaewon thought the blade seemed unusually sharp today and nodded.

“I’ll do my best.”

“No need for best. Do it right.”

“I’ll do it well.”

“Sounds half-hearted.”

“I’ve only seen it, never done it.”

“Bragging, huh?”

Kang-hyuk shook his head at his back-talking trainee, then made a vertical incision in the shin. Blood welled up at once.

Jaewon quickly cleared it with gauze and suction, keeping the field clean. Kang-hyuk was satisfied, though he didn’t show it—at this level, it was expected.

“Retract. Yes, like that.”

Jaewon had clearly prepared—he assisted without hesitation, even matching Kang-hyuk’s unique habits not written in textbooks.

“Oh… Pass me—”

“You mean the bone saw?”

“Yeah.”

“Thought you were about to compliment me.”

“You’re doing fine. But this is where it really counts. Don’t mess up.”

“Yes, sir.”