Chapter 180

               

“Wow… that’s incredible.”

Jaewon looked at the fundraising account opened with Assemblyman Park Sung-min’s help.

Opening a fundraising account under an individual’s name would inevitably lead to several complications — moral hazard, tax issues, permits, and more.

Fortunately, the staff members working under Assemblyman Park were remarkably competent. They handled everything so seamlessly that Jaewon didn’t even have to worry about it.

“How much have we collected?”

“Two hundred million won. It hasn’t even been a week.”

Jaewon’s face was glowing with excitement.

Jang-mi and Gyeongwon, who were also looking at the account beside him, had similar expressions.

Even Jimin, the new nurse peeking at the monitor from afar, looked pleased.

“Hmm.”

Only Kang-hyuk wore a dull expression.

Jaewon couldn’t understand why.

“Why?”

“You think that’s a lot of money?”

“Huh? Of course… of course it’s a lot.”

Two hundred million won in just a week — how could that not be a lot?

If Kang-hyuk were his junior, Jaewon might’ve smacked the back of his head by now.

But Kang-hyuk, as always, had that perfectly reasonable — infuriatingly reasonable — logic.

“How much did we raise on the first day?”

“One hundred million.”

That day, even Kang-hyuk hadn’t been so indifferent.

A hundred million — in a single day.

If things had continued at that pace, they could’ve built a helipad in no time without relying on external help.

“And the second day?”

“Fifty million.”

“What about today?”

“Five hundred thousand.”

“What does that tell you?”

“It… feels a lot less.”

Jaewon muttered, his mood clearly dropping.

With a small sigh, Kang-hyuk stood up.

“Regardless of the amount, make sure to thank everyone who donated.”

“Huh? You just said it wasn’t much.”

“Why are you such a rude brat? Is money all that matters to you?”

“No, I just…”

Wasn’t it Kang-hyuk who killed the mood first? And now he was saying this?

At least for Jaewon, Kang-hyuk’s logic was incomprehensible.

No — everyone in the room felt the same way.

Not just the Severe Trauma team, but even outsiders like Han Yoo-rim, Yoon Jae-ho, and Captain Lee Dong-joo.

“What I meant was this.”

Kang-hyuk was now fully standing.

Given his tall frame, he could look down on everyone in the room.

Even those not under his authority had to look up to him.

“I meant that relying solely on donations has its limits.”

Donations were a good short-term solution for urgent needs.

But the current Severe Trauma Center was like a bottomless pit.

No matter how much water you poured in, it only offered temporary relief.

“Still, if you think about the number of donors rather than the amount, there’s hope.”

The minimum donation was set at 10,000 won and the maximum at 100,000 won.

That meant over eight thousand people had contributed to the Trauma Center so far.

Kang-hyuk pointed toward the ceiling as he continued.

“People up there can’t ignore that.”

“Assemblyman Park Sung-min is already helping us, though.”

Jaewon responded. Despite his brashness, there was something about him that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Kang-hyuk shot him a look, then nodded.

“True. But he’s just the floor leader of the opposition — and it’s been ten years since they’ve been the opposition. Do you have any idea how many laws and how much funding are needed to normalize the trauma centers in this country?”

“Uh…”

Jaewon had only ever focused on patients right in front of him. He’d never thought about the bigger picture.

And the same went for everyone else there — even Han Yoo-rim, who was barely hanging on as a department head.

“Assemblyman Park already sent over some of the bills he’s planning to propose.”

“Oh… really?”

Jaewon wondered when Kang-hyuk even had time to handle things like that.

Wasn’t he up all night every day treating patients — like the night he announced Captain Lee Hyun-jong’s survival and appealed to the media for help?

And not just that night — every night since.

‘Is he even human?’

Even Yoon Jae-ho, who had dark circles under his eyes, couldn’t help thinking it.

No one could stay idle while others around them were pushing themselves so hard.

Saying, “Oh, my patient is Captain Lee Hyun-jong,” and stepping back wasn’t an option.

“I reviewed the drafts. They’re quite well-structured for Korea’s circumstances.”

As Kang-hyuk spoke, he briefly closed his eyes.

Whether it was Assemblyman Park himself who was brilliant or his aides, the bills were well-crafted.

They cleverly adapted foreign trauma center systems to fit the Korean context.

“Oh! Then that means the trauma center will actually get better?”

Jaewon’s face brightened with hope.

After all, the center’s situation was beyond dire — it was on the verge of collapse.

If something happened to Kang-hyuk now, even large hospitals like Hanguk University Hospital might have to shut their trauma units down.

It was one thing to perform surgeries at a loss.

But what kind of junior would want to follow in the footsteps of a senior who was half-dead from exhaustion?

“No, those laws won’t do. I rejected them.”

“What? But… you said they fit well.”

“They fit our country’s system, yes.”

“Then isn’t that good?”

“No. That’s exactly the problem.”

According to the draft, helicopter and ambulance dispatch decisions weren’t made by the attending physician but based on review results from the Health Insurance Review and Assessment Service.

It was meant to ensure limited resources were used efficiently.

‘For the greater good of the majority, it makes sense.’

Indeed, South Korea’s national health insurance system was one of the most successful in the world.

Some complained that high earners paid too much, and others said it was still burdensome, but still — it worked.

Medical costs were controlled by the government itself.

In other words, healthcare was the only sector in South Korea that operated under a socialist model.

‘Affordable treatment for essential care… that’s a good idea, sure.’

Combined with Koreans’ natural competitiveness, the medical quality had reached world-class standards.

But that logic didn’t work in trauma medicine.

Here, “cost-effective treatment” didn’t exist.

Saving even one life could cost a staggering amount of money.

And the entire emergency transport system needed an overhaul.

In short, trauma center policies shouldn’t be tailored to Korea’s existing system.

“They have to import the foreign model as is. That’s the only way it’ll work.”

“Would that… even be possible?”

Jaewon suddenly felt as though the dream and hope he’d just been reaching for had slipped away.

Kang-hyuk looked at him calmly, showing no hint of disappointment.

He’d always aimed for a much higher goal.

“We’ll make it possible — step by step.”

“Ah…”

“So Assemblyman Park alone isn’t enough. We’ll need the entire nation’s support. This costs money.”

It would require astronomical public funding — meaning higher insurance premiums.

That would provoke massive tax resistance.

Convincing the public would take nationwide consensus — people needed to agree that trauma centers were essential.

‘To achieve that, I’ll have to use the patients too.’

Kang-hyuk looked up at the ceiling.

Not to refer to “those above” this time, but toward the surgical ward Han Yoo-rim had lent them.

That was where Captain Lee Hyun-jong was now moving around on crutches.

‘Sorry, but I’ll need one more interview.’

Anyone else would’ve been content with raising two hundred million won.

But Kang-hyuk needed more — more funds, more attention.

His dream extended far beyond Hanguk University Hospital.

That was why he sometimes made decisions that weren’t entirely ethical.

“Let’s go. It’s almost time.”

Having barely slept after another overnight shift, Kang-hyuk wiped the sleep from his eyes and headed out of the ICU conference room.

Inside, Jang-mi and Jimin were still working tirelessly to help the patients he’d saved recover.

Kang-hyuk and Jaewon looked utterly worn out, but those two weren’t much better.

They’d received some support, but manpower was still a major issue.

‘Yeah… this is for the team.’

He felt sorry for Captain Lee Hyun-jong, but some things were unavoidable.

“Yes, Professor.”

Jaewon followed behind Kang-hyuk.

Jang-mi and Jimin looked rough, but compared to him, they were fine.

“Hey, when’s the last time you got a haircut?”

“My hair?”

“Yeah. What is this, the Joseon era? Why haven’t you cut it?”

“You yelled at me last time I did.”

“That’s because you cut it in the bathroom, you idiot! Still got that bald spot?”

“Yeah…”

With a sigh, Jaewon showed the patch.

At least the roots weren’t dead, so it was growing back — but it still looked awful.

“Fine, don’t cut it. Just tie it up.”

“I was planning to. No time to cut it anyway. How do you manage to look that neat, Professor?”

Jaewon glanced at Kang-hyuk’s clean, freshly trimmed hair.

How did it stay so tidy despite his hellish schedule?

“I cut it myself.”

“You’ll end up with bald spots too.”

“You get better with practice. It’s just like surgery.”

As they chatted, they found themselves in the ward.

Somehow, they’d already taken and exited the elevator.

Tap.

Then, Kang-hyuk spotted Captain Lee Hyun-jong.

Now that he was allowed to walk on crutches, he was practically running around.

“Captain Lee Hyun-jong!”

“Ah, Professor.”

“Easy there. Slowly, slowly. You’ll trip.”

“I just feel restless.”

“A man who nearly died shouldn’t be saying that.”

“So if I do this later, would that be fine?”

Captain Lee swung himself forward on his crutches with surprising skill.

Kang-hyuk smiled faintly and handed him a phone — Jaewon’s.

“Huh? When did you—”

“When this rings, come over.”

Kang-hyuk ignored Jaewon’s question and kept speaking.

Captain Lee, well aware of their dynamic by now, didn’t mind.

“Understood.”

He grinned and disappeared into his room.

About thirty minutes later, reporters flooded into the ward station.

Kang-hyuk himself had reached out to them — the first contact since his last public statement.

He wasn’t someone they particularly liked meeting, but the views and buzz he generated were undeniable.

There was no way they’d skip it.

“How’s the patient doing now?”

“They say he’s been moved from the ICU…”

As reporters began throwing out questions, Kang-hyuk pressed a button on his phone.

Jaewon glanced at the caller ID — “Anal Slave” — and hissed in a whisper, “What the hell is this?!”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

As always, Kang-hyuk ignored him and turned around.

Captain Lee Hyun-jong was walking toward them on crutches — almost running.

With his decent looks and the sunset glow behind him, it created a perfect, picture-like scene.

<Hanguk University Hospital Severe Trauma Center Fundraising Campaign Reaches 1 Billion Won>

A short while later, Assemblyman Park’s office released the news.

It was the exact amount needed to build the helipad.