Chapter 27
“Hmm. Understood.”
The coordinator bit his lower lip as he replied.
Even though Kang-hyuk had taken full responsibility for everything, that didn’t mean the coordinator would be completely free from blame if something went wrong.
It was a difficult decision for him to make.
“Alright. Do we have to go up and retrieve the liver ourselves?”
“Yes. We’ll contact the designated recipients for the kidney, cornea, heart, and lungs as scheduled.”
“Wait, hold on. Keep one kidney, just in case.”
“…What?”
For a moment, the coordinator wondered if this Baek Kang-hyuk intended to sell the kidney somewhere.
It was a ridiculous thought, even to himself.
But given the rumors about Kang-hyuk circulating within the hospital, it wasn’t entirely beyond the realm of possibility.
Of course, Kang-hyuk wasn’t that kind of lunatic.
“There’s another patient, Lee Hye-young… Their kidney function is completely gone. If they don’t recover, they’ll need a transplant. Blood type matches.”
“Ah…”
If they were blood relatives and had the same blood type, an organ transplant was feasible.
The genetic match wouldn’t be perfect, but with modern advancements, even a partial match was sufficient for survival.
Although medical progress was slow, it was steadily moving forward.
“So, save one for now.”
“Understood. I’ll do that. To think the guardians ended up in such a situation… This is just…”
The coordinator ended the call, feeling an inexplicable sense of guilt.
If it weren’t for the patient’s brain death, would that family have been crossing the Yeongdong Bridge together on this snowy night?
In contrast, Kang-hyuk wasn’t the type to dwell on sentimentality.
“Now that we have the liver, let’s take it out.”
His expression could only be described as excited.
“Ah, yes.”
Jaewon found Kang-hyuk’s reaction absurd but didn’t let it show.
He was beginning to understand what Kang-hyuk had once told him— ‘Focus on the patient in front of you.’
“Pass me the electrocautery.”
“Yes, Professor.”
At Kang-hyuk’s command, Jang-mi promptly handed over the electrocautery.
When Kang-hyuk pressed the button, a sharp tidik sound accompanied by sparks confirmed it was properly connected.
“Anus, hold the suction. Stay sharp.”
“Yes, Professor.”
“And call in an intern.”
“An intern?”
Jaewon looked at Kang-hyuk with a puzzled expression, wondering why they needed an intern when the two of them could handle the procedure just fine.
Kang-hyuk shot him a look of utter disappointment.
“When we leave to retrieve the liver, someone needs to stay and watch over the operating room.”
“Retrieve the liver…? I’m going too?”
“I could do it alone, but you don’t know how to, do you?”
“Of course not… How many chances do I get to remove a liver?”
He had seen it done before.
The transplant department at Hanguk University Hospital wasn’t just the best in Korea—it was on the verge of becoming the best in the world.
Their current transplant chief, Professor Kang Jun-sang, had even served as president of the international medical association.
But ironically, that prestige had left Jaewon without hands-on experience.
With so many fully licensed specialists around, a mere resident like him would never be allowed to assist in a major procedure.
Kang-hyuk clicked his tongue.
“You should at least know how to extract one, even if you can’t perform a transplant.”
“My apologies.”
“That’s why you’re coming. You watch this time—next time, you do it.”
“Ah…”
Jaewon’s jaw nearly dropped at the sheer brutality of Kang-hyuk’s teaching method.
He wasn’t some once-in-a-generation prodigy. How could he possibly do it after seeing it just once?
But Kang-hyuk didn’t see it as unreasonable.
For him, it was simply the natural way of things.
“Hey, focus. Are we going now? Right now, concentrate on this.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Suction! Suction!”
“Yes, yes!”
“Are you just suctioning while watching the blood pour out? Are you Dracula or something? Cauterize it!”
“Oh—yes, yes!”
Jaewon couldn’t exactly shout back, “I’m doing everything you told me to!”
Not because Kang-hyuk was some untouchable figure.
There was simply no time to argue.
Tidi-tidik.
With the excision area already marked, the electrocautery moved without pause.
Even though the liver was an organ that inevitably bled when cut, there wasn’t much bleeding this time.
While Kang-hyuk’s skill was certainly a factor, there was another, more significant reason.
“The liver has already progressed to severe [cirrhosis]. That’s why.”
(T/N: A chronic liver disease characterized by scarring [fibrosis] and impaired liver function due to long-term damage.)
(T/N: The formation of excess scar tissue due to chronic inflammation or injury, leading to the thickening and stiffening of affected organs.)
Kang-hyuk held up the cross-section of the liver, showing its yellowed, fibrotic tissue.
Jaewon honestly had no idea what he was supposed to be seeing beyond the color.
But admitting that would only get him ridiculed.
So, he simply nodded.
“Yes, I see.”
“You see, huh?”
“Of… of course.”
“You look stupid. I really hope that’s just my imagination.”
“Yes, yes.”
Jaewon barely managed to steady his nerves and nodded again.
Meanwhile, Kang-hyuk carefully examined the excised section of the liver.
‘The segmentation is already clearly defined. This pattern of cirrhosis is usually caused by Hepatitis B… He’s only 35, but it’s already this bad.’
Even with a liver transplant, the patient wouldn’t have a particularly long life expectancy.
But that was a luxury concern.
Right now, all that mattered was keeping him alive.
“Alright, the liver is out.”
“Yes, Professor.”
Jang-mi placed the excised liver segment into a specimen container.
Clatter.
Just then, the intern Jaewon had called arrived, perfectly on cue.
Since the trauma surgery department didn’t have assigned interns, the one who had been summoned was currently rotating through emergency medicine.
The intern couldn’t help but wonder why he, currently rotating in emergency medicine, had been summoned to the operating room.
But he didn’t dare ask.
By December, even interns became adept at reading the room.
‘The atmosphere… If I say something unnecessary, I’m screwed.’
So, he quietly moved next to Jaewon.
Kang-hyuk glanced at the intern and spoke.
“Keep pouring saline over the wound every ten minutes until we return. We won’t be long. Think you can handle it?”
“Ah.”
The intern, caught off guard, struggled to hide his bewilderment.
Being left alone in the operating room with neither a professor nor a resident?
Of course, the anesthesiologist would be there.
But it was still nerve-wracking.
Kang-hyuk wasn’t one to offer emotional support, but he was highly perceptive.
He immediately picked up on the intern’s unease.
“Hey, I said we won’t be long. Aren’t you a doctor? If you’re scared of being around patients, how do you plan to survive in this field?”
Instead of encouragement, he started with a reprimand.
Jaewon, unable to stand by any longer, intervened.
“Uh, Professor… He’s just an intern.”
“An intern is still a doctor, isn’t he?”
“Technically, yes… but come on. Interns don’t really know much.”
Jaewon had a point, one that most doctors would agree with.
Interns were freshly graduated medical students—ignorant and inexperienced by nature.
They even had a saying: ‘If I knew all this, I wouldn’t be an intern. I’m an intern because I don’t know.’
But Kang-hyuk’s perspective on doctors was a little different.
He believed that any doctor who faced patients should possess the skills and knowledge those patients expected.
“You went to school for six years. If you don’t know, that’s the weird part. Intern, you did go to school, right?”
“Y-yes, I did.”
“Then you should at least know how to handle things if something happens. You do, don’t you?”
“Uh…”
Thinking about it, six years of medical school should have equipped him with something useful in an emergency.
But he wasn’t confident.
He had knowledge in theory, but little real-world experience.
“He can’t even answer. He’s just like Anus.”
“Professor, come on… Not in front of the intern.”
“Anyway, it won’t take long. Just do as I said. If anything happens, consult the anesthesiologist. And report to me immediately. Anus, you’re coming. You need to learn.”
“Ah… Yes.”
As Jaewon was dragged away by Kang-hyuk, he gave the intern a thumbs-up.
He couldn’t recall the intern’s name, but he vaguely remembered him from the same student club back in school.
As expected, the intern remembered him perfectly.
“Thank you, Dr. Jaewon.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
With that, Jaewon left the operating room.
Even though only two people had exited, the silence that followed made the room feel completely empty.
The intern, following Kang-hyuk’s orders, repeatedly poured warm saline over the open wound and suctioned the fluids.
It was an absurdly simple task.
Yet, his hands trembled uncontrollably.
Jang-mi, who had been watching, finally spoke up.
“Don’t be so nervous, Intern. They’ll be back soon.”
“Yes… But where did they go?”
The intern hesitated to ask Kang-hyuk or Jaewon earlier, but now, curiosity got the better of him.
In an operating room where the lead surgeon had left, careful whispers were bound to happen.
“They went to retrieve a liver from a brain-dead donor.”
“A liver…? Wait, they’re removing it themselves?”
“Yep.”
“Won’t that take a long time?”
The intern recalled observing a liver transplant as a med student.
Even connecting the donor’s liver was an arduous process.
And extracting one wasn’t any easier.
It was, after all, a major operation.
A very complex one.
Despair crept onto his face.
Jang-mi saw his expression and chuckled.
“Don’t worry. Professor Baek’s personality is garbage, but his skills are top-tier.”
The intern wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at that statement.
—
At that moment, Kang-hyuk stepped into the main building’s operating room.
“Someone must be talking behind my back. My ears are itching.”
Jaewon glanced at him, thinking to himself:
‘If your ears itch every time, you should be itching for life.’
Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud.
Instead, he said, “No way, Professor.”
A response that displayed just the right amount of tact.
But Kang-hyuk had no intention of praising such wit.
His focus was solely on the body lying in front of him.
“You may begin.”
The coordinator, dressed in a sterile gown, exchanged glances with the anesthesiologist and nodded.
Kang-hyuk’s face turned solemn as he lowered his head.
“A moment of silence.”
“Yes.”
“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s open him up. His son’s life is on the line, so he’ll understand.”
“Uh… Yes.”
—
This episode was developed in collaboration with the Korea Organ Donation Agency (KODA) to raise awareness about organ and tissue donation.
