Chapter 40

“Agh…….”

3 a.m.

A groan echoed from a small shower room adjacent to the operating room.

It was the kind of voice that, just by hearing it, made one understand how exhausted the owner must be.

Drip, drip, drip.

The owner of the voice, of course, was Jaewon.

He had turned the water on so hot that it was borderline scalding, letting it pour directly over the crown of his head.

Fortunately, the hospital’s water pressure was quite strong, making it feel almost like a scalp massage.

‘The blood really splattered like crazy…….’

Jaewon shook his head as he watched the blood from the patient trickle down his hair and swirl down the drain.

It had splattered on him while treating a patient whose arm had been nearly severed during a late-night emergency.

Since the patient had been out of his mind from the pain and sheer terror, Jaewon had ended up getting even more drenched in blood than usual.

Trickle, trickle.

The deep red water didn’t just flow down the drain—it was so much that it even started seeping into the adjacent stall.

“Hey. That’s disgusting. Keep your head over there, man.”

From the next stall, Kang-hyuk complained.

He had treated the same patient, of course, yet somehow, he hadn’t gotten a single drop of blood on him.

When Jaewon asked how, he simply answered, “Experience,” but it was hard to believe.

No matter how much experience one had, there was no way to develop a technique to dodge blood. Stopping the bleeding efficiently, sure. But avoiding splatter? That seemed impossible.

“Just rinse off quickly and get out. You need to sleep when you can.”

Kang-hyuk had barely been in the shower for five minutes before he was already heading out.

For Jaewon, who loved soaking in hot water, it was an order difficult to obey.

But in a mentorship system like theirs, a disciple was practically no different from a slave.

Bang!

Kang-hyuk pounded on the shower stall door with his massive fist.

“Oi, I said get out! You planning to stay up all night?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming, okay?”

Jaewon sighed, quickly rinsed off, and stepped out.

‘Hah.’

Then, for what felt like the hundredth time, he marveled at Kang-hyuk’s physique.

The guy was pushing forty.

How the hell did he still look like that?

His body was built like that of a physique competitor in bodybuilding.

“What are you staring at?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing.”

“You sure? You that way?”

“What? No! I swear!”

“Hey… I don’t care. I’ve seen plenty overseas. Just don’t come onto me. I’m not into that.”

“No, seriously—I’m not!”

“That’s what they all say. Until they get caught.”

“Oh, come on! I—ugh… I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jaewon, drowsy and irritated, almost let out a string of curses but managed to bite his tongue at the last second.

He braced himself for the inevitable flick to the forehead, but all he heard was the sound of Kang-hyuk stepping out of the shower.

Peeking out, he saw that Kang-hyuk was already dressed in a fresh set of surgical scrubs.

By the time Jaewon hurried after him, Kang-hyuk had settled in front of the computer in the locker room, logging in.

He was checking patient charts.

“Let’s see…….”

Naturally, the first patient he checked was Lee Gi-young.

His injuries had been severe, and on top of that, he had undergone a liver transplant.

He was the kind of patient where you never knew when something could suddenly go wrong.

“Vital signs are stable. Radiology performed an abdominal ultrasound, and they said his vascular condition looks good.”

Jaewon said as he buttoned up his scrubs and approached Kang-hyuk from behind.

Kang-hyuk turned around, looking a bit surprised.

“When did you check?”

“The radiologist called me. You know how our hospital does a ton of liver transplants? The radiology department knows the liver transplant process inside and out.”

“Hmm. Yeah… the ultrasound images look solid. Well, I mean, I connected the blood vessels. Hah!”

Kang-hyuk laughed smugly while reviewing his own surgical work.

If anyone else had been boasting like that, Jaewon might have found it irritating.

But in this case, he could only smile wryly.

Because as far as he was concerned, Kang-hyuk was a genius.

He had every right to be cocky.

“Lee Hye-young is a bit of a problem, though. She’s on dialysis, but… her I/O is off.”

“Yeah. She’s still 1 kg positive.”

“Her urine output is… there, but it’s weak. No way her kidneys will start functioning properly yet. The question is whether she can hold on until they do.”

“Professor Kim Sun-woong is handling her case in nephrology. He’s pretty dedicated, so she should be fine.”

“Yeah, I got that impression.”

Kang-hyuk recalled running into Kim Sun-woong around 11 p.m. in the ward.

When he had asked why he was still around, the nephrologist had simply replied that as long as there were inpatients, he rarely went home.

‘Nephrology is a specialty where there’s always a hospitalized patient.’

That meant he was practically in the hospital all the time.

Kang-hyuk and Jaewon weren’t the only ones practically living at Hanguk University Hospital.

Ding-dong.

Just as they were engrossed in reviewing patient charts, a notification popped up in the lower right corner of the screen.

Kang-hyuk might have been a veteran when it came to treating patients, but he was still a total rookie when it came to using the hospital’s electronic medical records (EMR) system.

So, naturally, he had no idea what the notification meant—or how to check it.

“Uh, professor. That’s not how you do it.”

Jaewon reached out to tap Kang-hyuk’s shoulder, watching him frantically click around.

“Then how do you do it?”

“Could you move aside for a second?”

“You want me to stand up?”

“Well… there’s only one chair….”

“I’ll move over like this. Just do it.”

Kang-hyuk, still seated, scooted the entire chair sideways.

Jaewon was momentarily baffled.

But with no other option, he bent awkwardly at the waist and started navigating the notification.

‘There’s no way I can keep doing this.’

The position was so uncomfortable that he couldn’t help but think that to himself.

Without realizing it, he started explaining as he went.

“This came through the hospital messenger system. When you log into the EMR, you’re automatically connected to it.”

“Messenger?”

“Yes, the hospital’s internal communication network.”

“Oh…….”

“So, to check this message, you have to open a web browser. You don’t need to log in separately—it’s linked to the EMR.”

“Ah, so that’s why they always make such a fuss about logging out when switching workstations.”

Kang-hyuk nodded repeatedly, as if he had just discovered a profound truth.

Jaewon, on the other hand, looked at him with an incredulous expression.

All new faculty members were required to go through orientation before starting.

So why was he acting like he was hearing this for the first time?

‘He’s really only interested in surgery, huh…….’

While Jaewon was lost in thought, Kang-hyuk pointed at the monitor, where an email notification had appeared.

“Oh. There’s an email here.”

“It must be important since it triggered a notification… Ah, the sender is Choi Jo-eun.”

“Choi Jo-eun? That name sounds familiar.”

Jaewon gave him another baffled look.

“He’s the hospital director….”

“Oh, right. Man, there are way too many people in this hospital.”

“Still, that’s no excuse….”

“Enough. Just open it. What does it say?”

“Yes, sir.”

Under Kang-hyuk’s impatient command, Jaewon double-clicked the email.

Immediately, a bold headline grabbed their attention.

[Hanguk University Hospital New Year Faculty Meeting.]

Kang-hyuk, having instantly lost interest, stood up, but Jaewon quickly stopped him.

“P-Professor! You have to go to this!”

“Why? Faculty meetings are just about discussing how to become the next department chair.”

“No, this is the New Year Faculty Meeting! It’ll be about department operations for the coming year.”

“Department operations?”

“Yes. You haven’t been officially appointed yet, but you are going to be the Trauma Surgery Department Chief.”

“Well, yeah, I guess.”

It wasn’t as if the other faculty members particularly wanted Kang-hyuk in that position.

It was just that he was the only trauma surgeon in the entire hospital.

“This is where they decide on the department budget and staffing. You have to go.”

“Oh…….”

“But…….”

Unlike Kang-hyuk, whose eyes sparkled with intrigue, Jaewon’s expression darkened.

Kang-hyuk turned to look at him, frowning.

“You’re killing the mood. What now?”

“I heard the atmosphere at these meetings is brutal. Professors at your level barely get to speak—it’s just a party for the department heads and board members.”

“But I am a department head. Trauma Surgery.”

“Come on, nobody considers sub-specialty heads as real department chairs. You need to be at least a Transplant Surgery Chief to get any real recognition.”

That wasn’t wrong.

The Chief of Transplant Surgery held immense influence.

Not only was he considered the best surgeon in Hanguk University Hospital, but he was also constantly in the media spotlight and had doctors from all over the world coming to train under him.

His words carried a weight few could challenge.

Compared to that, Kang-hyuk was nothing more than a nobody.

He hadn’t even been a professor for a full month yet, his department was operating at a loss, and the entire Trauma Surgery team consisted of just three people: himself, Jaewon, and Jang-mi.

With that kind of status, how much influence could he possibly have?

Frankly, just getting a single sentence out in the meeting would be a miracle.

“Sigh.”

“What’s with the sighing, brat?”

“Just… go and at least make sure we keep the budget we were initially allocated. Since the Ministry of Health and Welfare provides funding under the pretext of supporting the Severe Trauma Center, we should be getting a decent portion of it.”

“Shouldn’t we be getting all of it?”

“That… probably won’t happen.”

The Severe Trauma Center wasn’t something that exclusively belonged to Trauma Surgery.

Any department that treated even one major trauma case per year had a stake in it.

Rather than distributing funds to each department separately, the hospital administration would most likely allocate the budget to shared facility upgrades instead.

That’s how it had always been.

“So basically, this meeting is just about money, huh?”

“Well… it’s not just about money.”

“Then it’s a battlefield.”

“A battlefield? Uh… I mean, I guess you could put it that way.”

“Of course it is. There’s no word more closely tied to money than war.”

“You think so?”

Jaewon looked genuinely confused.

Which made sense.

He had served in the military, but he’d never experienced war.

And as a military doctor, he was as far removed from combat as one could get.

“Yeah. But don’t worry too much—I’m good at these kinds of fights.”

Kang-hyuk flexed his thick arms and trapezius muscles with a grin.

In a physical fight, he’d probably be the undisputed champion of the hospital.

“Uh… just to be clear, you aren’t planning on physically fighting, right? This isn’t Syria, Professor. You’d go straight to prison.”

“Do I look crazy? Relax. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m just worried you’ll throw a punch in the middle of the meeting.”

“A punch? Come on. Why do you always talk like some lowlife?”

“It’s not lowli—”

“Shut it. Just shut up and go to sleep. Leave the meeting to me.”