Chapter 178
Double chapters for this week! Enjoy guys! (03/24/2025 - 03/28/2025)
<Hanguk University Hospital’s Professor Baek Kang-hyuk meets with Captain Lee Hyun-jong’s guardian>
<Military authorities dismiss any involvement>
<Professor Baek Kang-hyuk, under fire for silence on patient’s condition>
It was expected—though that very fact made it all the sadder somehow.
Either way, the reporters began spewing out all sorts of speculative articles. Few cared what would happen if these reports later turned out false.
Even if someone suffered damages due to misinformation, there was hardly any need for an apology. All they had to do was publish a tiny correction in some corner of the paper where no one would read it.
They’d long since learned through experience that such things were acceptable, so there was no hesitation when it came to publishing.
“Are they insane? No, seriously, the patient’s perfectly fine—what the hell are these articles?”
The Severe Trauma Center was enjoying a rare moment of calm.
The helicopter dispatch had been approved, but since the handover process was still underway, they couldn’t leave right away. On top of that, no nearby incidents had occurred.
Captain Lee Hyun-jong, the patient under their care, was in an extremely stable condition.
Thanks to that, Jaewon—who had finally turned on the internet for the first time in ages—was grinding his teeth in frustration.
“What’s wrong?”
Jang-mi, lounging halfway back in her chair just like him, leaned forward, her typically bold demeanor on full display.
“Uh.”
Startled by their sudden proximity, Jaewon instinctively leaned back, his face reddening.
Watching from afar, Kang-hyuk let out a quiet sigh.
‘Idiot.’
It wasn’t a sigh of pity for Jaewon’s unrequited crush.
“What?”
“No, nothing. You just startled me, that’s all.”
“Why are you so jumpy? It’s not like I headbutted you.”
“No… never mind.”
Waving his hands dismissively, Jaewon pointed at the news article he’d been reading.
Over a thousand comments had already piled up underneath. Considering the article had only been posted thirty minutes ago, the reaction was explosive.
“Whoa. They’re cursing at the professor?”
“Exactly! Just a while ago, they were praising him for saving Captain Lee’s life—and now, one article later, they’re all turning on him?”
“There are way too many for it to be just haters.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Jaewon shook his head as he scrolled past a few insults directed at himself.
The journalist had chosen the headline perfectly:
<Professor Baek Kang-hyuk, who remained silent on patient’s condition—what was he trying to hide?>
In truth, Kang-hyuk hadn’t been silent at all.
He had, in fact, once announced after the second surgery that the patient was recovering.
‘Of course, it wasn’t enough to satisfy them.’
The reporters—and government officials—wanted daily briefings on Captain Lee’s condition.
But Kang-hyuk wasn’t the type to move according to others’ expectations.
After stating that the patient was no longer in danger, he hadn’t spoken to the press again.
‘Ah, right. Except when he told off the Fire Department Chief.’
Thinking about it, Jaewon realized the reporters had every reason to be pissed.
They’d spent days camping out in the ICU hallway, eating and sleeping there, only to scavenge scraps of overheard information when Kang-hyuk passed by with his team.
‘Still, this kind of fake news… wait, no. Hold on a second.’
Jaewon turned toward Kang-hyuk, who was leaning against the wall, quietly chuckling to himself.
Come to think of it, he had gone outside earlier…
‘Did he do something out there?’
He quickly dismissed it as too far-fetched.
“Uh, Professor?”
Jaewon hurried over and called out.
Kang-hyuk turned his head, a cup of pitch-black coffee—served in a urine sample cup—clamped between his teeth.
“What.”
Jaewon briefly wondered how someone could talk properly with a cup in their mouth, but there were more pressing matters.
“Did you… say something to them earlier?”
“Say something? I’ve been here the whole time.”
“No, I mean, outside the ICU.”
“Oh, those guys?”
Kang-hyuk jerked his chin toward the reporters typing furiously on their laptops outside the ICU doors.
Every one of them was writing critical stories about him.
Yet despite knowing this, Kang-hyuk looked completely unbothered.
“This article… did you tell them to post it like this?”
Jaewon held up his phone, showing the flood of live articles about Kang-hyuk.
“Oh, they’re working hard.”
“Sorry, what?”
“You think I told them to write that? They’re just doing what they do best.”
“But Captain Lee’s perfectly fine right now! You’re just going to let them say this?”
Jaewon turned toward Captain Lee, who was lying in bed watching TV.
A comedy show he liked was playing—not by coincidence.
Captain Lee’s caregiver, Captain Lee Dong-joo, had downloaded it in advance.
“Ha-ha, ow… ow… hurts…”
Captain Lee chuckled, wincing every now and then.
He was far from the hopeless condition described in the articles—if anything, he could probably walk with crutches soon.
Clack.
Just then, the ICU door opened, and someone entered holding a pair of crutches.
At first, Jaewon thought it was an intern—but to his surprise, it was Han Yoo-rim.
“Why do I have to bring these… and wait, these articles… huh? He’s awake?”
He muttered as he entered, then froze upon seeing Captain Lee.
Kang-hyuk chuckled and walked toward him.
The door had already closed, so the reporters outside had no clue.
“Interns have loose lips, you know.”
“Wait, isn’t this something we ‘want’ people to talk about?”
Han Yoo-rim knew well how the hospital’s internal politics worked.
Though Kang-hyuk seemed in control, there were plenty who wanted him to slip up.
Some of the people leaving malicious comments were probably from this very hospital.
“No, not yet.”
“Why not?”
Setting down the crutches, Han Yoo-rim frowned in confusion.
Jaewon backed him up immediately—maybe because of all their time spent together in Proctology.
“Yeah, seriously. We’re just getting cursed at for no reason—what’s the point?”
“You’d understand if you’d ever done media play.”
Kang-hyuk replied casually, his face betraying no concern at all.
“Have you done it, Professor?”
Jaewon snapped. Despite his usually mild nature, he had a surprisingly short fuse.
“No, but I don’t need to try it to know.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You ever heard of a ‘gap’? Know what that is?”
“What kind of nonsense—”
Both Jaewon and Han Yoo-rim stared blankly at him.
They were waiting for an explanation, as usual.
But Kang-hyuk only shook his head and changed Captain Lee’s TV from USB to regular cable.
“Hey—”
Captain Lee groaned in protest, but Kang-hyuk ignored him.
He wasn’t a man who cared for comfort—only for survival.
They were similar, yet different.
“When you see this, what comes to mind?”
Kang-hyuk stopped on a news channel and looked at Han Yoo-rim.
Cable networks were faster than public broadcasters—they were already tearing into him.
“That it’s unfair?”
Han Yoo-rim answered honestly.
It wasn’t just sympathy for Kang-hyuk; it came from personal experience.
He had become a “terminal” department head simply for siding with Kang-hyuk.
What other word fit better than “unfair”?
“Unfair, huh… well, that’s one way to see it.”
“What do you mean, one way? Don’t you feel wronged?”
Han Yoo-rim stared at Kang-hyuk—the person who should’ve been the most furious.
Even Captain Lee looked the same way.
“Uh… are they saying I died just now?”
He pointed at the talking head on TV.
But Kang-hyuk didn’t answer him—he just kept talking to himself.
“What’s there to worry about? I’ve already got a way to flip the tables.”
“Flip… the tables? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, right, you’re too old for internet slang. Hmm… what’s a good comparison? Ah, maybe ‘blessing in disguise’? No, that’s not quite it.”
“I ‘know’ what it means!”
“Do you? You should’ve spent that study time practicing surgery instead.”
“What the hell, man!”
“Relax. You’ll pop a vessel.”
“Unbelievable…”
Jaewon sighed, realizing that arguing with Kang-hyuk was a waste of energy.
“Anyway, Captain Lee’s clearly alive.”
“Then why are we the ones being attacked?”
“Because the reversal’s what makes it satisfying.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a thing writers call a ‘gap.’”
“A gap? What’s that supposed to be?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
Kang-hyuk turned back to the TV.
As the evening went on, more and more channels echoed the same tone.
At the same time, his phone began to light up nonstop.
Minister of Health and Welfare, Minister of Foreign Affairs, Minister of National Defense—people an ordinary man would never get calls from in his entire life.
“You’re not answering that?”
Jaewon asked when the name “Minister Choi Pil-du” flashed for the tenth time.
Even texts had started coming in—it seemed the man was on his way here.
“Why should I? It’s not like I’ve got a new patient.”
Kang-hyuk replied as if it were no big deal.
“But still, you should at least pick up.”
“Pick up for what? He’ll ignore me once this blows over.”
“Well… you can’t know that.”
“Oh, I can. Haven’t you learned anything? Politicians only care about hot issues. Want me to list a few examples?”
“No, that’s fine.”
He didn’t need to—Jaewon had seen enough of such fleeting attention before.
“When this is over, they’ll never forget it.”
Kang-hyuk’s tone shifted—less casual, more resolute.
“Never forget…?”
“Yeah. Never.”
“Oh, uh—you ‘should’ answer that one.”
Jaewon pointed at the phone.
The caller ID showed the number of Captain Lee’s guardian—provided earlier by Director Yoon Jae-ho.
“They’re here.”
“Good. Go bring them in.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Don’t say a word. Just bring them.”
“The reporters won’t stay quiet…”
“That’s why you don’t say anything.”
“Then they’ll curse us even more—”
“That’s the point. Now go. Or do you want a beating first?”
“N-no, I’m going!”
Interesting chapter. Thanks for the translation!