Chapter 190

               

Shhhk.

From a distance, it looked like simple suction.

But up close, it was on a different level entirely.

The suction didn’t touch the dura at all, removing only the blood clots with ghost-like precision.

‘So this is possible…’

Junhyuk had held a suction a few times before.

Granted, it had only been while wiping at meaningless little wounds.

Even then, he had seen blood suddenly gush from tissue where bleeding had already stopped.

‘They said that damage was caused by the suction.’

In surgery, the most important thing was always the view.

You couldn’t operate if you couldn’t see.

And suction played the key role in maintaining that view.

Which meant the suction’s pulling force was far stronger than people normally imagined.

Handling it with this level of delicacy was nearly impossible.

“Okay. All the blood’s cleared.”

But Kang-hyuk effortlessly removed the sticky clots that had been clinging to the dura, as if everything Junhyuk had believed until now was wrong.

“Hmm…”

Kang-hyuk leaned in to examine the interior of the skull.

Since the lead surgeon was doing it, the two assistants subconsciously leaned in as well.

Three doctors staring through the same hole.

Naturally, each of them saw something different.

“Hey, what do you see?”

Kang-hyuk asked Junhyuk, who looked ready to shove his head in with his forehead.

There were always a few like this.

So eager they forgot basic manners.

The kind Kang-hyuk liked.

He wasn’t exactly the type who valued etiquette.

“Me? Ah… a dark… space…”

Despite his effort, Junhyuk didn’t see anything meaningful.

It was disappointing, but fitting for a first-year.

A first-year had the right to not know, and the right to ask anything.

“You?”

Kang-hyuk’s gaze sharpened several times over when he turned to Jaewon.

Jaewon wasn’t offended.

It would be stranger if the professor regarded him the same as a first-year.

“Even after removing the clot, the intracranial pressure is still high.”

“Why do you think so?”

“The dura bulges through the skull opening unless I press it.”

“Well. Correct.”

Kang-hyuk pressed the dura with his index finger.

Junhyuk flinched reflexively.

“It won’t get damaged like this, so don’t worry. Watch closely. I’m dispersing the pressure.”

He made sure they noticed he was pressing with the flat of his fingertip.

If he had pressed with just the tip, it would’ve been another story.

But like this, damage was unlikely.

The human body looked fragile but was often stronger than expected.

“When I lift my finger, it pops up again, right? And you see that bouncing pulse. Not normal.”

Kang-hyuk murmured, watching how the dura changed shape with his finger movements.

He wasn’t speaking to Jaewon.

He was speaking to Junhyuk.

Junhyuk was the one who didn’t know.

“But it’d be a problem if that’s all you see here.”

He muttered as he swiftly moved his right hand.

Somehow there was already a scalpel in it.

With his left hand, he gently lifted the dura.

A small incision less than a centimeter long appeared in the dura, and pale yellow fluid began to flow out.

The bouncing pulse died down a little.

And the three of them could see deeper inside much more clearly.

“Look there.”

Kang-hyuk inserted a forceps and pointed at a tiny blood vessel.

So small that it seemed unlikely to have a name.

But it had been cut, exposing a cross-section.

From that cut end, a small but constant stream of blood trickled out.

“Ah.”

Only then did Jaewon realize the clot earlier hadn’t fully resolved the bleeding.

“We’ll insert a drain anyway. That’ll prevent blood from building up. No immediate problem.”

The blood would flow outward instead of collecting, so pressure wouldn’t rise.

With brain bleeds, pressure control was the most important factor.

There wouldn’t be a major issue.

But eventually, they would have to reopen the skull to fix the bleeding.

No matter how small, a cranial incision was still a cranial incision.

Best to minimize how many times they did it.

“So it’s better to take care of it now.”

Kang-hyuk switched the forceps for a cautery tool and pinched the tiny vessel.

Watching him, it looked unbelievably easy.

But anyone who tried it would know.

Grabbing exactly what you wanted through such a tiny gap was incredibly difficult.

Sssst.

For Kang-hyuk, it was child’s play.

The vessel sealed with a faint burning smell, and the bleeding stopped.

“So… is that it?”

Jaewon nodded with a proud look, even though he hadn’t done the surgery.

Kang-hyuk shook his head.

“No, check before we close. Here, what do you think?”

“Hm?”

Jaewon peered into the opening Kang-hyuk spread for him.

No active bleeding.

Only translucent cerebrospinal fluid and the brain floating inside it.

“You still don’t get it even when I show you.”

Kang-hyuk clicked his tongue and pointed at the brain with his forceps.

By his standards, this was being generous.

He kept checking Junhyuk’s reaction.

“The brain’s swollen. There’s cerebral edema.”

“Ah…”

“Drain alone won’t cut it. What do we need?”

“Uh… steroids!”

“Right. We need to reduce the swelling. Which is why our anesthesiologist is scrambling to prepare steroids right now.”

Only then did Junhyuk notice Gyeongwon rushing around.

It wasn’t laziness.

Today’s surgery had simply been too fast.

And how could someone far away know what even Jaewon and Junhyuk—who literally saw the inside—hadn’t noticed?

“Good. Attach the drain, get a CT, and move to the ICU.”

“Should we contact Professor Choi immediately?”

Professor Choi meant neurology’s Choi Jun-yong.

There were many Professor Chois in the hospital, including Director Choi Jo-eun.

But he was the only neurologist Kang-hyuk would entrust with anything.

“Yeah, good idea. Neurology’s the specialist in diagnostics after all.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Let’s go.”

“Uh… the drain?”

“I already attached it.”

“What?”

Jaewon stared at the patient’s head like he had been possessed.

A drain was indeed in place.

Perfect position, too.

“Gasp.”

A breath leaked out of Junhyuk’s mouth.

Even Jaewon, who had seen Kang-hyuk plenty, was stunned—so how shocked must Junhyuk be?

Satisfied with getting exactly the reaction he wanted, Kang-hyuk laughed.

“Stop gaping. Just because your mask is on doesn’t mean it’s safe. Something might shoot out and contaminate the patient.”

“Ah, yes, yes.”

“Let’s go straight to CT. Chuno, hold the patient like before.”

“Yes! Professor!”

Being told to hold the patient in CT wasn’t exactly a pleasant order.

It basically meant: *You take the radiation instead of me.*

But Junhyuk was too dazzled by Kang-hyuk to realize that.

“You, call Section Chief Han Yoorim.”

Watching Junhyuk beam, Kang-hyuk turned to Jang-mi.

Only then did Jang-mi realize the first-year who ran away had been Junhyuk.

‘I wondered where he dragged that unfamiliar resident from…’

Looking back, “dragged” wasn’t inaccurate at all.

Junhyuk was dressed like someone who just crawled out of bed, and his hair was pillow-flattened.

‘Does that mean we finally get an intern assigned?’

Whatever happened, what mattered was that an intern was coming.

Inside a hospital, interns were treated almost like errand runners.

“I’ll do anything.”

They might as well have that written on their foreheads.

Some said they even washed dishes in the department office back in the day.

Not that they didn’t complain—they just didn’t say it aloud.

They had to curry favor with everyone until they entered the specialty they wanted.

Unless they wanted surgery.

If an intern wanted surgery, they became royalty.

Even if they messed everything up, surgery departments would beg them to join.

‘If an intern comes… ah, I need to make an Excel list of tasks.’

In short, interns had a medical license but did all sorts of grunt work without protest.

It was faster to think of what you *shouldn’t* assign them than what you could.

So Jang-mi looked back at Kang-hyuk with a noticeably brightened face.

“What should I tell him?”

“Tell him the capture was successful. He’ll run right over.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Kang-hyuk was right.

Section Chief Han Yoorim rushed in as soon as the patient entered the CT room.

“Is it true? You really caught—no, threatened—no, convinced him?”

He was half-rambling in panic.

That alone showed how much stress this issue had caused him.

“Of course.”

Kang-hyuk patted his shoulder reassuringly.

Their age gap was already nearly twenty years, and their appearances made the gap even larger.

Kang-hyuk looked younger than he was, and Han Yoorim looked older.

It wasn’t a flattering sight.

Not that anyone cared—Kang-hyuk’s antics were nothing new.

“Wh-Where is he?”

Han Yoorim just wanted to know where the runaway resident was.

Kang-hyuk silently pointed toward the exam room.

Han Yoorim finally spotted a resident in scrubs rapidly bagging the patient.

“A-Are you insane? You bring back the kid who ran away and immediately work him like this?”

Runaways usually fled because surgery was harder than they expected.

So Han Yoorim’s reaction wasn’t strange.

“He’s not that kind of kid.”

Kang-hyuk patted his shoulder again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He could become quite talented. Let’s train him well.”

“What does that mean?”

“His mindset is similar to mine.”

“You… you do realize how arrogant that sounds, right?”

“No. I’m simply stating a fact.”

“…”

Han Yoorim was so dumbfounded he couldn’t speak.

Kang-hyuk assumed that meant agreement.

“Anyway, send us an intern starting today.”

“An intern… fine. I’ll try to get approval.”

Han Yoorim was simply relieved the resident had returned.

As long as he didn’t have to hand that resident over entirely to Kang-hyuk, he’d agree to anything.

But Kang-hyuk wasn’t done.

“Oh, and.”

“What now?”

“Our hospital covers academic conference fees, right?”

“Conference…? You’re attending one?”

“Yes.”

“It’s covered. Where is it? COEX?”

“New York.”

“…What?”