Chapter 52

‘How could someone who just saved a life wear that expression?’

Jaewon glanced sideways at Kang-hyuk and shook his head.

He didn’t know if he should even be thinking this about his attending professor.

But honestly, he looked more like someone who’d just killed a person.

“Let’s start by reworking the budget.”

Kang-hyuk, still wearing that same expression, spoke to Han Yoo-rim.

The word “budget” jolted Han Yoo-rim back to his senses, but he couldn’t lash out.

This was the man who had just saved his daughter’s life.

He might be a tumor from the hospital’s perspective, but personally, he was a lifesaving benefactor.

Literally a savior.

“Budget… Right. I’ll try speaking with our Chief of Planning.”

“Since we’re on the topic—about that budget. From what I know, Hanguk University’s budget is massive. Can’t we draw some from the school’s funds? What else are they going to do with that money anyway? Probably just build more buildings. Either for show, or ones that only alumni executives and board members use.”

To speak like this about the budget of Korea’s top academic institution and sacred place of learning?

It was almost blasphemous—and yet also kind of true.

The volume of donations, sponsorships, and tuition carried over each year was beyond staggering.

And all that money was used solely at the discretion of the university board.

In fact, even Han Yoo-rim didn’t know exactly how that money was being spent.

“I’ll try talking to them. But if I say it’s for covering deficits from patient care… I don’t think the board will approve.”

Han Yoo-rim recalled this year’s notoriously strict board.

The chairman and current university president, Lee Yoo-won, was hostile toward all science-related departments.

He held an especially inexplicable grudge toward the medical school.

As a philosophy major, he viewed the large number of medical professors as a threat to the university’s balance of power.

‘He won’t even approve new faculty positions… What budget is he going to give us?’

Han Yoo-rim had brought it up himself, but he wasn’t hopeful.

No matter the excuse, expecting budget support from the university seemed like a pipe dream.

Especially if the excuse was “to cover losses”—he’d be lucky not to get chewed out for that.

“That damn board. What kind of human refuses money when it’s needed to save lives?”

But Kang-hyuk didn’t understand those complex political dynamics.

No—more accurately, he didn’t bother to understand. He just ignored them.

That’s why he could say such reckless things without hesitation.

Han Yoo-rim was dismayed that his daughter’s lifesaver turned out to be someone like this, but what could he do?

He’d received the favor already—it was too late.

Ignoring Kang-hyuk’s request would be ethically wrong and could ruin his reputation within the hospital.

“Let’s not say that. I’ll try speaking strongly on your behalf.”

“Hmm. Well, anyway. Try restructuring the in-hospital budget as much as possible. You saw it yourself—these are lives that only I can save.”

It was an absurdly arrogant statement.

Especially inappropriate to say in front of two professors from Hanguk University Hospital.

But neither Han Yoo-rim nor Professor Jung Jae-min could say anything back.

Because they’d seen it.

A life that had been, without exaggeration, moments from death—saved right before their eyes.

A scene so miraculous, the word “miracle” fit perfectly.

“…I’ll talk to them.”

“Good. Well, I need to finish up with this patient now. If the guardians could step out?”

Kang-hyuk made a shooing gesture, now that he’d gotten what he wanted.

The meaning was perfectly clear—get out.

‘No choice…’

Han Yoo-rim looked at his unconscious daughter one last time, then nodded.

He didn’t know what kind of treatment Ji-young would continue to receive, but it certainly wouldn’t all be pretty in a guardian’s eyes.

He was too experienced to expect only beautiful outcomes.

Just having her alive was already a miracle.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

“Didn’t expect you to understand things so quickly. Should’ve been like this during the meeting earlier.”

“…Anyway. See you around.”

Leaving behind Kang-hyuk’s endless sarcasm, Han Yoo-rim exited the ICU.

Professor Jung Jae-min walked out alongside him.

He patted Han Yoo-rim on the shoulder and asked,

“What’re you going to do about the budget? It’s already been approved. You know what Hong Jae-hoon is like.”

“Of course I do. How long do you think I’ve been cleaning up after him…”

“Then why did you promise the budget? Are you crazy?”

“What else could I do? He saved Ji-young.”

“…Mm.”

Professor Jung Jae-min fell silent.

Thinking about it, talking money in a life-and-death situation made him feel a little crude.

Han Yoo-rim gave his arm a light tap.

“I know. You’re worried about me…”

Of course he knew.

Jung Jae-min was the closest person in his life.

Han Ji-young even called him “Uncle” without hesitation.

He was probably worried that this incident might derail Han Yoo-rim’s smooth career as a department head.

“But there is a way to soften the blow. Don’t worry too much.”

“What way?”

“First, I’ll cut from the colorectal surgery budget.”

“Your own department?”

“Yeah. We were going to bring in two fellows and buy new fluoroscopy equipment. Got about 500 million won allocated for that. We’ll just give that up. Get it next year instead.”

“You…”

Professor Jung Jae-min stopped himself mid-sentence.

‘Didn’t you say the fluoroscopy equipment was for research…?’

Which meant it was essential for a paper he’d planned to write.

Without that machine, the paper wouldn’t be possible.

Sure, he could look for a different topic—but anyone who had done research or written academic papers would know.

That wasn’t something so easily done.

“And after that… I’ll have to adjust the other department budgets as much as I can too.”

“The backlash is going to be brutal, you know? If you want to become Chief of Planning, you need to have a firm grip on the surgical department, man.”

“You’re already handling internal medicine for me. Besides, I’ve done too much for them already for one thing like this to change anything.”

“Well… that’s true.”

Professor Jung Jae-min thought back on all the things Han Yoo-rim had done for the surgical professors over the years.

Sure, moving up into an executive position was never easy.

But Han Yoo-rim had gone above and beyond in a lot of ways.

‘Especially the professors nearing retirement—they can’t betray him.’

He would haul cabbages for them every kimchi-making season, visit during the New Year to help with cleaning, and if any of them had a friend or family in surgery, he’d step in like it was his own case.

No one could call him a sycophant without feeling guilty.

“Anyway, thanks for today. Once Ji-young’s discharged, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“What’s there to thank me for…”

“Just showing up was enough. You’ve probably got a backlog of patients. Better get going.”

“Alright. You too—pull yourself together, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Professor Jung Jae-min was already breaking into a sweat from the nonstop buzzing of his phone.

So, he quickly parted ways with Han Yoo-rim and headed upstairs.

Han Yoo-rim watched his retreating figure for a moment, then turned his steps toward Chief of Planning Hong Jae-hoon.

* * *

At that moment, Kang-hyuk had just finished adjusting the ventilator connected to Han Ji-young.

“Good. Let’s leave it like this for now.”

He spoke while watching Ji-young’s chest rise and fall in perfect sync with the set rhythm.

“Call for a portable X-ray. Also, request an ultrasound from cardiology. I’ll handle checking the surgical site myself, so they just need to assess heart function.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“As far as Han Ji-young goes, she’s good now.”

Kang-hyuk nodded while reviewing the blood test results that had just come in.

Red numbers indicating abnormal values were scattered across the screen.

Which made it hard for Jaewon to believe Kang-hyuk had just said “good.”

“Um, Professor?”

“What now.”

“Her hemoglobin levels… Are they okay? They look a bit low… Shouldn’t we transfuse two more units?”

Jaewon asked while eyeing the blood pack currently being administered.

Kang-hyuk immediately smiled—as if he’d been waiting for that.

Naturally, it was a mocking smile.

“Oh dear. Our Slave again…”

“Wh-what?”

Unbelievable as it may seem, Kang-hyuk had already calculated the total amount of fluid and blood administered to Ji-young.

So, he looked at Jaewon—who was staring back at him with a bewildered expression—as if he were utterly pathetic.

‘Well… guess I have to teach him. Can’t help what he doesn’t know.’

With a deep sigh, he began speaking to Jaewon.

But of course, he didn’t want to just give him the answer—so he asked a question instead.

“What’s the total volume of fluid administered since arrival?”

“Uh…”

Jaewon froze, flustered, hesitating to answer.

Very few people actually calculated fluid totals during surgery.

Usually, fluid volume was adjusted in real time based on vital signs.

“Ah. 5500mL.”

Fortunately, Jang-mi quickly checked the nursing records and fed him the answer.

She waved a slip of paper with the number behind Kang-hyuk’s back, so even someone like him didn’t notice the cheating.

“Oh? At least you’ve got the basics. But you’re still asking that question…?”

Kang-hyuk only tilted his head, puzzled.

As he pondered Jaewon’s confusion, he asked again.

“With that much info, doesn’t anything come to mind?”

“W-what? Oh! Ah!”

Watching Jaewon smack his palm with his fist, Kang-hyuk muttered indifferently,

“Well, at least you’re not a total idiot.”

“Right… it’s dilution, isn’t it? That’s why all the values look so low.”
(T/N: When a patient loses a lot of blood and receives large volumes of [IV fluids], their blood becomes diluted. This means important markers like [hemoglobin] and [myocardial enzyme] levels can appear abnormally low in tests—not because the values are truly low, but because they’re mixed with too much fluid. In the scene, Jae-won initially worries that these low numbers mean the patient is still bleeding or in danger. But then he realizes: ‘Oh—it’s not that the body is still in trouble, it’s that the lab results are skewed by dilution.’ This shift in thinking is crucial in trauma care, where understanding the context behind test results can change how you treat the patient.)

“Exactly. So, you can’t just be happy that this [myocardial enzyme] is low, either. Though honestly, we already saw the heart rupture with our own eyes, so there’s no need to overthink it.”
(T/N: A substance released into the blood when the heart muscle is damaged, often used to detect heart attacks.)

“Got it. Oh… dilution. Of course.”

Jaewon looked like he’d just had a eureka moment.

Meanwhile, Kang-hyuk remained unimpressed.

To him, this was all just common sense.

“Anyway, enough of that. Let’s take a look at Mr. Lee Ki-young.”

With that, he turned toward Lee Ki-young with a flat expression.

Due to Jaewon’s interrupted [weaning] process, Lee Ki-young was currently breathing half on his own, half via the ventilator.
(T/N: Weaning is the process of gradually reducing and removing a patient’s dependence on mechanical ventilation.)

Naturally, he wasn’t fully conscious yet—but he was alert enough to make eye contact with Kang-hyuk as he approached.

His eyes were full of questions.