Chapter 26

“The next of kin isn’t answering…?”

Jaewon repeated the coordinator’s words like a sigh.

“They’re not answering?”

Kang-hyuk immediately latched onto that statement.

Even in the middle of surgery.

Because without a liver transplant, this patient was not going to survive.

Sure, they could resect the damaged liver, buy a few more hours—maybe even half a day.

But what did that matter if the liver itself was nonfunctional?

It all boiled down to a simple equation—

He either gets a liver, or he dies.

“Uh, yes. And who… is this?”

The hesitant voice on the phone belonged to the transplant coordinator, muffled slightly through the surgical assistant’s headset.

Given that they had just been randomly spoken to in an authoritative, almost rude tone, their reluctance was understandable.

But Kang-hyuk wasn’t the type to care about politeness when someone’s life was on the line.

“This is Baek Kang-hyuk from Trauma Surgery. Repeat what you just said. The family isn’t answering?”

“Ah… Yes. We’ve been unable to reach them.”

“Have they never answered, or did they stop answering after initially picking up?”

“They answered at first. They said they were coming, but… they haven’t arrived, and now they won’t pick up their phone…”

“The address. It should be on record, right?”

Any university hospital would have complete patient records, including home addresses.

Every doctor working in one knew that.

Of course, most never actually thought about using that information in such a direct manner.

But Kang-hyuk’s mind didn’t work like most doctors’.

His thought processes were unconventional—almost abnormal in their unpredictability.

“Uh… I suppose it should be in our system.”

“Suppose? What kind of answer is that? Check. Now.”

“Check… and then what?”

The coordinator hesitated.

What exactly was Kang-hyuk planning to do with that information?

…Was he actually suggesting that someone go find them in person?

And, absurdly enough—

The coordinator’s assumption was completely correct.

“Get over there! Convince them!”

A common misconception about organ donation was that once a person was registered as a donor, hospitals could simply take their organs the moment brain death was confirmed.

But that was not the case.

Even with a signed agreement, final family consent was mandatory—

Absolutely. Unquestionably.

Without it, no matter how willing the deceased had been, the donation would be legally invalid.

“You want us to go to their house? Right now?”

“Yes! The deceased chose to save lives when they signed up as a donor! If we delay, we lose that chance!”

“But… visiting their home is illegal.”

No hospital, transplant team, or coordinator was allowed to pressure grieving families.

If hospitals started sending doctors to people’s homes to persuade them into donation, public trust in organ transplantation would collapse overnight.

There was a reason these protocols existed.

“Illegal, my ass. Just get over there!”

Of course, not everyone cared about bureaucratic barriers when a life was at stake.

But Kang-hyuk’s sense of urgency wasn’t shared by the rest of the world.

In fact, at this moment, no one in the room seemed convinced by his logic.

And when his voice rose in frustration, Jaewon hurriedly stepped in.

“Uh—Doctor Kang, let’s not push the transplant coordinator into any… difficult situations.”

“Ah. So that really is the famous ‘Professor Baek’ who just transferred in, huh?”

The coordinator on the other end chuckled dryly.

Jaewon frowned.

“The Professor Baek”?

Just how far had Kang-hyuk’s reputation spread already?

It’s only been a few weeks, and even the transplant department knows who he is…?

Honestly, it wasn’t surprising.

Thinking about everything that had happened in the past few days, Jaewon should have expected this.

‘Did I… really make the right decision coming here?’

Training under Kang-hyuk was undeniably fulfilling—he was learning more, saving more lives, and pushing his limits every day.

But at the same time, his standing in the hospital had… plummeted.

And all because he was working under Baek Kang-hyuk.

“Yeah… well…”

Jaewon let out a sigh, unable to deny it.

And at that moment—

Clack.

The operating room doors swung open.

All eyes turned.

A young nurse stepped in—one of the newer hires.

Since she was still inexperienced, she hadn’t been assigned to any hands-on procedures yet.

“A-Apologies for the interruption.”

She bowed deeply.

She hadn’t actually done anything wrong, but the weight of everyone’s attention was obviously overwhelming.

Then, with a nervous gulp, she spoke.

“I came to report that the unidentified patient’s identity has been confirmed.”

At that, the tension in Kang-hyuk’s expression eased slightly.

“Go ahead.”

“His name is Lee Ki-young. Male, 35 years old.”

“Lee Ki-young, huh…”

Kang-hyuk turned his gaze back to the patient lying before him.

The man was no longer an anonymous case—

He was Lee Ki-young.

And his liver was still leaking blood.

The major hemorrhages had been controlled, but without a new liver, this patient was still heading toward certain death.

Then—

“Wait—Lee Ki-young?!”

The voice on the other end of the call practically screamed.

There was an undeniable sense of panic.

Not just shock—but something closer to horror.

It wasn’t a raised voice—it was a full-on scream.

Jaewon, who was closest to the phone, instinctively nodded.

“Yes, Lee Ki-young. That’s correct.”

“Wait, hold on—give me a second!”

The coordinator’s voice turned frantic.

The sound of the receiver rustling was followed by hurried, rapid footsteps.

Jaewon’s brow furrowed.

What’s going on?

He exchanged a glance with the assisting nurse, who was still holding the phone.

“…What is this about?”

No answer.

The coordinator had completely disappeared from the call.

The only thing they could hear was the sound of running.

Five minutes passed.

Then, at last—

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yes, we’re listening.”

“I had to check something… I’m sorry for the delay.”

“No worries, just tell us what’s happening.”

The coordinator hesitated for a moment—

Then, he finally said it.

“The brain-dead donor’s next of kin… and your patient…”

“They have the same name. Lee Ki-young.”

Jaewon’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“…What?”

Kang-hyuk stepped closer, his gaze sharpening.

The next of kin, who had failed to answer their phone—

And the patient lying on the operating table—

Had the same name?

That was one hell of a coincidence.

“Check the patient’s birthdate. Is it 07/12/85?”

All eyes turned to the young nurse.

She had only confirmed the patient’s name and hadn’t yet looked up the birthdate.

“S-Sorry! I’ll check right now!”

Fingers flying across the keyboard, she brought up the registration screen.

The once-anonymous patient now had a name—

Lee Ki-young.

Click.

A double-click on the name pulled up the full details, including registration number and birthdate.

The young nurse read the date aloud, enunciating each number carefully.

“0-7-1-2-8-5.”

“Holy shit.”

Jaewon blurted out without thinking.

A completely inappropriate response in an operating room—

But no one scolded him.

Because even Kang-hyuk was momentarily stunned.

The transplant coordinator, too, had fallen silent on the phone.

For a long moment, no one said a word.

Then, finally, the coordinator broke the silence.

“Wait… is Lee Ki-young the only injured next of kin? Did no other family members arrive?”

Both Kang-hyuk and Jaewon’s faces darkened.

More family had arrived, yes—

But not on their own two feet.

Two passengers had already died at the scene.

And another was barely clinging to life in the ER’s treatment room.

The coordinator’s voice carried a new weight as he continued.

“Is Lee Hye-young among them? The deceased’s daughter. Birthdate: 01/15/87.”

At that, Jaewon turned to check the hospital registry.

Sure enough, the name Lee Hye-young was listed.

Her name was highlighted in red, indicating she was in the treatment room.

She was the severely injured patient whose legs had been crushed, resulting in acute kidney failure.

The young nurse quickly clicked on the name.

The birthdate displayed: 01/15/87.

“She did arrive… but she’s critically injured as well.”

“And the deceased’s spouse…?”

The realization hit all at once.

The couple in the backseat—

The ones who had died on impact—

Were the parents of the brain-dead organ donor.

The mood in the OR sank even further.

Of all things—

The donor’s family had been on their way to say goodbye when they were involved in a horrific accident.

The sheer cruelty of the situation left everyone at a loss for words.

Except for one person.

Baek Kang-hyuk.

“Perfect. This is great.”

The suffocating silence was shattered by his voice.

“Professor… what the hell are you saying?”

Jaewon’s face turned red—not from embarrassment, but from sheer disbelief.

How could Kang-hyuk say something so insensitive right now?

But, as always, Kang-hyuk didn’t care for social graces.

“The ones who are dead are dead. The accident already happened. Right or wrong?”

“Well… I mean, that’s true, but…”

Brain death was irreversible.

No amount of hope or denial would change that.

And South Korea’s criteria for brain death were among the strictest in the world.

Between brain SPECT scans, CT imaging, transcranial Doppler ultrasounds, and EEG tests, no one was declared brain dead lightly.

This wasn’t a coma.

This wasn’t a vegetative state.

The deceased would never wake up again.

“So now we have a living patient who finally has a chance at survival. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“…It is.”

“Then quit whining.”

“…Understood.”

Jaewon could only sigh in surrender.

Kang-hyuk stepped forward, motioning for the assistant nurse to bring the phone closer.

“Coordinator.”

“Yes, Professor Baek. I’m here.”

“Proceed with a directed liver transplant. Lee Ki-young won’t survive without it.”

“Ah… and the blood type?”

“A-type.”

“Then it’s a match, but…”

The coordinator hesitated.

Deceased organ donation was never simple.

The process was so complex that even doctors couldn’t handle it alone—hence the existence of transplant coordinators in the first place.

And right now, the coordinator’s mind was racing.

Legally, an organ donation required next-of-kin consent.

But the only next-of-kin capable of consenting was unconscious.

Ordinarily, an unapproved transplant like this would be illegal.

And yet—

This wasn’t a case of the hospital taking an organ against the family’s wishes.

This was about giving it to the family member who needed it most.

From an ethical standpoint, it made perfect sense.

From a legal standpoint… it was murky.

And Kang-hyuk could hear all of this internal conflict in the coordinator’s long, weary sigh.

“Forget the red tape. Move forward with the transplant. I’ll take responsibility.”

“Pardon? You will…?”

“Yeah. If it makes you nervous, go ahead and record this.”

“Ah… in that case, I apologize for this, but…”

The coordinator let out a resigned chuckle as he hit the record button.

Then, closing his eyes as if to shut out the absurdity of the situation, he spoke.

“Please state your declaration clearly for the recording, Professor Baek.”

“Fine. If any legal issues arise from this transplant, I will take full responsibility.”

“Understood.”

“Then hurry it up. We’re running out of time.”

—

[This chapter was conceptualized to raise awareness about organ donation as part of a campaign in collaboration with the Korea Organ Donation Agency (KODA).]

(T/N: Wow, again and again. The details of this chapter compared to the drama is amazing. )