Chapter 51

10 minutes.

That was how long it took for Han Ji-young to be transported from the operating room to the ICU.

She wasn’t coming from a distant location—it was just a move within the same building. So why had it taken so long?

Anyone who had seen a patient in the ICU, even just once, could probably understand.

It was because of the countless devices attached to monitor a critical patient’s condition in real time.

“Mm.”

Because of that, Han Yoo-rim was watching his daughter with a rather anxious look.

Of course, it could vary depending on the surgery time and baseline condition.

But typically, a patient would regain some level of consciousness within 10 minutes after stopping the anesthetic.

“Don’t get so worked up. Did you forget? Her heart burst, remember?”

Kang-hyuk looked at Han Yoo-rim as he said this.

His expression suggested he thought the man was worrying over nothing.

Even though he knew full well that the man was Han Ji-young’s father.

‘Saying something like “her heart burst” in front of her father……’

No matter how much one was a doctor who saved lives, wasn’t basic “kindness” the trend these days?

Yet Kang-hyuk was the exact opposite—his tone remained confrontational.

And not just to any patient guardian, but to Han Yoo-rim, a man often rumored to be the “next Head of Planning.”

‘Will he be okay……?’

Jaewon glanced between Kang-hyuk and Han Yoo-rim, clearly concerned.

Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—Han Yoo-rim showed little reaction.

He was too consumed by worry for his daughter to care about anything around him.

Squeeze.

Professor Jung Jae-min, wearing a similar expression, gripped Han Yoo-rim’s arm.

And so, the anxious wait dragged on for several more minutes.

Suddenly, Kang-hyuk stopped squeezing the ambu bag he’d been manually operating.

“Okay. Spontaneous breathing is back.”

“Huh?”

At his words, Jaewon, who had been standing right next to him, tilted his head.

Spontaneous breathing meant breathing on one’s own.

In other words, it meant there was no longer a need for the ambu bag or mechanical ventilation.

To confirm its return, a few pieces of evidence were needed.

The most definitive was, of course, the return of consciousness.

Next would be detecting airflow beyond the manually induced breaths.

But Jaewon couldn’t recall either of those being properly confirmed by himself or Kang-hyuk.

Kang-hyuk had skipped both checks and just declared it.

“What are you staring at me for? Did I say something wrong?”

Kang-hyuk turned to look at Jaewon, who had been staring at him for a while.

Jaewon hesitated a little but soon spoke his mind.

He was the type who calmly said what needed to be said, regardless of who he was talking to—even professors.

“Ah… no. I was just wondering how you detected the spontaneous breathing.”

Jaewon pointed at Ji-young, who was indeed breathing on her own.

The ambu bag remained still, yet Ji-young’s oxygen saturation stayed steady.

They hadn’t yet confirmed strong chest movements, but…

In any case, she was breathing.

“Ah… our Slave. Still can’t even detect spontaneous breathing, huh? Well, you are Anus, after all.”

Kang-hyuk muttered, looking at Jaewon like he didn’t even have the energy to get mad.

The word “Anus” made Han Yoo-rim flinch involuntarily.

It was partly from the relief of hearing that spontaneous breathing had returned, and partly due to his pride in the [colorectal surgery] he had devoted his life to.
(T/N: Colorectal surgery refers to a medical specialty dealing with disorders of the rectum, anus, and colon.)

Naturally, Jaewon strongly objected.

“W-what do you mean Anus! Even in [colorectal surgery], we can detect spontaneous breathing just fine, you know?”

“Then why’d you ask about it?”

“I mean… the evidence wasn’t clear, so I was curious how you were so sure.”

“Evidence…?”

Kang-hyuk gave a look that practically screamed, “What nonsense is this?”

And so, Jaewon began to wonder if maybe he had been wrong.

He racked his brain quickly, but the only conclusion he could reach was that he was right.

‘I placed first in the specialist exam…’

Sure, bringing it up all the time might make him seem pathetic.

But placing first in the surgical specialty exam really was a big deal.

It meant he had outscored every surgical examinee that year.

“See? The criteria are the return of consciousness or confirmation of airflow outside artificial ventilation. You need at least one of those two…”

“Ugh.”

Kang-hyuk waved him off like it wasn’t worth listening to.

“That’s why greenhouse flowers don’t make it.”

“…Sorry?”

“You said you were going into trauma surgery, right? You still don’t get it? That kind of stuff only applies in university hospitals, and only for scheduled operations. You’re going to be doing emergency surgeries day and night from now on. Not in a hospital, but wherever the patient is—whether that’s in a helicopter, in a car, anywhere.”

“Oh.”

Jaewon opened his mouth as a memory of his first meeting with Kang-hyuk resurfaced.

Flying in a helicopter, personally rescuing patients, and performing surgery mid-air—all of it flashed before his eyes.

‘If I keep going down this path… that’s going to be me too.’

The thought felt distant somehow.

Kang-hyuk kept talking to him.

“That’s why I told you to study trauma surgery separately. What did you do with the papers I gave you?”

“Ah.”

Jaewon opened his mouth again.

He looked like a fool, but Han Yoo-rim and Jung Jae-min didn’t make fun of him.

They were too focused on Ji-young, whose spontaneous breathing was gradually getting stronger, to even notice the bickering between Kang-hyuk and Jaewon.

‘Papers… they say papers, but those…’

Jaewon stared blankly, recalling the papers Kang-hyuk had handed over.

They hadn’t been printed out—he’d received them on an external hard drive.

A 1-terabyte drive.

‘And it was packed full.’

Half of it had been Kang-hyuk’s surgery videos and photos.

The other half? Related research papers.

A single paper file typically didn’t exceed 1MB.

That meant there were around 500 papers stored on that drive.

And it had barely been ten days since he’d received it.

How was he supposed to read and study all of that in such a short time?

But Kang-hyuk was someone who had studied in a way that didn’t seem human, and he simply assumed everyone else did too.

“Huh? Even if you read just ten a day, you should’ve gone through fifty by now.”

“I mean… it’s not like I get time off. I’ve been following you into every surgery. How could I possibly…”

“Then do you at least review what you saw during the surgeries?”

“Th-that… I do.”

Not all of them, though.

Jaewon barely managed to swallow the last part.

He felt like if he said that out loud, Kang-hyuk would stop considering him human altogether.

‘This is so unfair.’

Since diving into trauma surgery, Jaewon had become possibly the busiest person in the entire hospital.

His fellow residents and even juniors pitied him.

And now he was expected to study on top of that?

‘Is that even reasonable?’

He couldn’t help but think that.

But unfortunately, the person expecting that was none other than his attending professor.

And Baek Kang-hyuk was someone who actually practiced what he preached.

He really did spend whatever time he had left after surgeries and patient rounds reading papers.

When he wasn’t doing that, he was watching YouTube—but even then, it was only medical education channels like “Doctor Friends.”

“Kid, try harder. Put in some effort. You’re way too lazy.”

The unfair remarks kept piling on for Jaewon.

“Geez. With that much you don’t know, how do you even fall asleep at night? If it were me, I couldn’t sleep unless I at least got through one.”

But Jaewon could barely open his mouth in protest.

“And your hands suck too. And you don’t even practice. Ugh.”

This bastard spewing verbal abuse right in front of him was the same bastard who rigorously held himself to those same standards.

“Hrk.”

“Oh, she spoke.”

Kang-hyuk finally stopped the verbal abuse when a moan escaped Han Ji-young’s lips.

Jaewon was relieved—both because the scolding had ceased and because Ji-young seemed to be regaining consciousness. He turned toward her.

“J-Ji-young!”

Naturally, Han Yoo-rim and Jung Jae-min reacted the same way.

“Open your eyes! Just a little!”

“Ji-young!”

They couldn’t touch her directly after such a major surgery, but their voices rang out loudly.

“Hey! Ji-young!”

“Oh god! Ji-young, open your eyes!”

It was the kind of chaotic moment that would normally annoy Kang-hyuk to no end.

He hated when people messed with his patients.

Especially patients fresh out of surgery—he could be borderline neurotic about it.

But now, he simply watched Han Yoo-rim and Jung Jae-min.

‘Humans respond best to familiar voices and familiar words.’

Not that he’d suddenly developed some newfound love for humanity.

It was simply that Han Yoo-rim’s desperate cries had medical merit.

“Huuh…”

Ji-young finally responded about five minutes after her first moan.

The tube in her throat made speech impossible.

But based on the way her breath timed with her effort, it was clear she was trying to speak.

It was slower and more stable than usual, since Kang-hyuk wasn’t giving her any physical stimuli.

“Ji-young, open your eyes, please.”

Still, she hadn’t opened her eyes yet.

But no one, not even Han Yoo-rim, saw that as a bad sign.

This was just the usual progression of someone waking from anesthesia.

“Hrk.”

She was speaking, but her eyes remained closed.

It was similar to someone talking in their sleep.

That’s just how the human body was built.

“Alright, let’s try opening those eyes now.”

Kang-hyuk, who had stayed silent all this time, suddenly cut in.

Not because he pitied Han Yoo-rim’s desperate cries.

Familiar voices helped bring someone back to consciousness—but unfamiliar voices helped sharpen that consciousness.

“Uh…”

And just like that, Ji-young opened her eyes.

She blinked a few times, then spotted Han Yoo-rim looking down at her with a worried expression.

“Hu… Huuh…”

“Oh Ji-young. You’re in a hospital. If you understand, blink.”

True to his lifetime in medicine, Han Yoo-rim instinctively asked the perfect question to check her level of awareness.

So naturally, without even realizing it was a medical check, Han Ji-young blinked.

“That’s right, that’s right.”

She looked at Han Yoo-rim, who was nodding over and over, and asked with her eyes.

What happened?

“You were in an accident. An accident…”

“Huuh…”

Suddenly remembering something, Han Ji-young tried to move, but groaned from the pain.

The movement tugged at her surgical site.

Kang-hyuk then pressed down on her shoulder.

His other hand was already reconnecting the breathing tube to the ventilator.

“That’s enough. Staying awake any longer could be dangerous.”

Soon after, Ji-young lost consciousness again.

Han Yoo-rim looked disappointed, but he didn’t object.

From a medical perspective, it was absolutely the right decision.

So instead, he lowered his head to Kang-hyuk.

“Th-thank you. I… I don’t know how I’ll ever repay this favor…”

Finally, he said the words he’d held back until now.

And Kang-hyuk looked at him with the brightest expression yet.

The problem was, that brightness didn’t come off as warm.

If anything, it looked utterly sly.

“A favor, huh? Oh, there are plenty of ways to repay me. Tons, actually.”