Chapter 55

Media exposure.

If it went well, it could be fantastic—but if it went wrong, it could come back to bite hard.

The classic double-edged sword.

‘Hmph.’

If Kang-hyuk were a typical attending physician, he could’ve declined using reasons like “too burdensome.”

But he wasn’t just any attending—he was the head of the trauma surgery department, a field still unfamiliar in South Korea.

It could be the perfect opportunity to introduce trauma surgery to the general public.

And at someone else’s expense.

‘No reason to say no.’

So Kang-hyuk nodded without hesitation.

“Sounds good. Let’s go with that.”

“Alright. Then we’ll coordinate the schedule. Trauma surgery seems to always be in emergency mode…”

“Right. In the meantime, I’ll arrange for Lee Hye-young and Lee Ki-young to meet.”

“Understood.”

Professor Kim Sun-woong from [nephrology] ended the call.

Now that everything was arranged, he saw no reason to keep talking to Kang-hyuk.

“Professor, you’re going on TV?”

As soon as the call ended, Jaewon looked at Kang-hyuk with wide eyes.

His expression showed far more fear and anxiety than joy or excitement.

“Yeah, why?”

“Ah…”

Jaewon stood there, mouth slightly open, thinking, ‘My fears are coming true.’

‘If this guy says something outrageous in front of the entire nation…’

That would truly be the end.

And somehow, it really felt like he would.

Because this man was not normal.

No, he wasn’t even sane.

“Why are you so happy? Was getting on TV your dream or something?”

“No. It’s just that…”

If he kept sticking around this man, he would surely appear on TV or in the news someday.

Probably in the social issues section.

In bold headlines.

Something like:

<Is This Really a Doctor in South Korea?>

Meanwhile, Kang-hyuk paid no attention to Jaewon’s concerns and went right back into the ICU.

Jaewon followed and asked,

“Why are you going back in? Aren’t you going to see Lee Hye-young?”

“Oh, she’s coming here. Didn’t you hear? You’re listening to the media part but not the patient info?”

“Ah… She’s coming here? A transfer?”

“No, we’re not doing a full transfer. If she came under our department, we’d have to handle dialysis. Can you do it?”

Kang-hyuk gave Jaewon a condescending look.

Just seeing that face made Jaewon want to shout, “I can!”—but he couldn’t lie.

Truthfully, Jaewon had never even operated a dialysis machine up close.

Not that it was his fault—most doctors outside of nephrology were the same.

“I can’t…”

“I can, but if I’m not here, you’d be useless on your own.”

“Yeah… well…”

“She’s just moving wards. Go tell the gangster not to let anyone else take that last spot.”

There were three beds in the trauma ICU.

Before Kang-hyuk arrived, all three were used by other departments.

Leaving a specially prepared ICU room empty was a waste—especially in a university hospital where ICU beds were highly coveted.

The hospital administration had decided not to leave them idle: one bed would go to surgery-related departments, and the other two could be borrowed by internal medicine departments.

This wasn’t unique to Hanguk University Hospital.

Most hospitals that received government funding to improve their trauma centers spent it on equipment rather than staffing, and unrelated departments often shared those facilities.

“Oh, then we’d better move fast.”

“Yeah. A lot of hyenas out there, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Then run, Slave. Go tell them.”

As he tapped his key card to open the door, Kang-hyuk gestured inside.

Whenever “Slave” was followed by an order, it always felt especially humiliating.

But Jaewon couldn’t defy the attending, not as a fellow.

All he could do was run.

He had become a true “Fell-slave.”

“Nurse Baek!”

Jaewon ran inside, calling for Jang-mi.

She was monitoring Lee Ki-young’s vitals—oxygen saturation, blood pressure, and heart rate—after he had just fallen asleep.

“What is it?”

“That empty bed—no one’s taken it yet, right?”

“Internal medicine said they might send a ward patient down today, just FYI.”

“Which department?”

“Let’s see… ah, hematology-oncology.”

“Hematology-oncology…”

As the name suggests, it was the internal medicine department that handled various [blood cancers] and other [hematologic] and [oncologic diseases].

Among internal medicine departments that handled severe cases, it was known for dealing with the worst of the worst.

At Hanguk University Hospital’s hematology-oncology ward, a few patients literally died every day.

“Why? Another emergency?”

Jang-mi gave him a worried look.

They’d just taken care of a patient with a [ruptured heart], hadn’t they?

And now another emergency?

If this kept up, Kang-hyuk and Jaewon might be the ones to drop dead from the schedule.

“Ah, no.”

“Whew. Then what is it?”

“You know Lee Hye-young? Mr. Lee Ki-young’s sister.”

“Oh, the one who had that [kidney transplant], right?”

“Yeah. She’s going to be transferred here.”

“Ah… wow. That’s great. Having her nearby should really help both of their recovery.”

Jang-mi clapped her hands in joy, as if it were her own good news.

It woke Lee Ki-young from his light sleep, but Jang-mi didn’t notice.

She simply continued sharing the benefits of having a patient’s relative in the same room.

“According to nursing studies, just being in the same space can speed up recovery—as long as other factors are the same.”

“Yeah, well… anyway, keep that bed reserved for us.”

“Of course. Internal medicine has space in the main building too, and if push comes to shove, they can use treatment rooms in general wards.”

“Exactly.”

As expected, just like their conversation implied, internal medicine wasn’t exactly lacking in beds—but it certainly wasn’t spacious either.

Thanks to that, Jang-mi had to endure a full round of scolding from the hematology-oncology resident.

Even so, she didn’t back down, and the vacant bed was successfully assigned to Lee Hye-young.

“Are you… are you okay?”

“What about you, oppa? They said you were seriously hurt…”

The two of them exchanged concerns and soon began to cry.

Everyone in the ICU, except for Han Ji-young who was still unconscious and recovering, was already familiar with their story.

Naturally, the ICU soon turned into a sea of tears.

Jang-mi began sobbing loudly, and Jaewon hid behind her, quietly dabbing away his own tears.

Even Professor Kim Sun-woong from [nephrology] kept clearing his throat and muttering,

“Ahem, ahem. Why is there so much dust in the ICU?”

Among them, the only one who remained expressionless throughout was, of course, Kang-hyuk. (T/N: Of course, you are a robot with self AI. lol)

With his arms crossed, he observed the miraculous reunion of the siblings.

He even looked a little displeased.

‘If they cry like that and mess up their wounds… their blood pressure’s rising too… Hmm. The papers say it’s good, but is it really?’

It was well-documented in numerous medical papers—and practically a consensus in medical circles—that encounters with emotionally bonded caregivers helped recovery.

But Kang-hyuk was someone with little memory of ever forming bonds or attachments with others.

Naturally, those papers were hard for him to grasp.

“Professor, why do you look so grumpy?”

Jang-mi, who had been crying for a while, finally turned to Kang-hyuk.

Her expression said she couldn’t understand him at all.

Likewise, Kang-hyuk couldn’t understand her either.

“Why are you crying like that?”

“Don’t you feel sad?”

“They both survived. What’s there to be sad about?”

“But… they each lost their father and spouse…”

Jang-mi’s speech slowed to a crawl, weighed down by tears.

From Kang-hyuk’s perspective, not only was the content unconvincing, but the delivery was also frustrating.

“The ones who died are gone. But those two lived.”

“But… their family died.”

“Is that really something to cry about?”

Kang-hyuk tilted his head.

It wasn’t sarcasm—he truly didn’t understand.

Only then did Jang-mi recall that Kang-hyuk was an orphan.

‘Maybe… that’s why he doesn’t get it.’

Feeling sorry for both the siblings and Kang-hyuk, her tears fell even harder than before.

“Hic… hic…”

“What now? Are you crazy?”

“Hic… hic…”

“Ugh…”

Kang-hyuk shook his head in disbelief and stepped back.

The one who rescued him at that moment was a staff member from the Organ and Tissue Donation Center’s PR team.

It seemed they had brought quite a few reporters, but they were all waiting at the entrance to the ICU.

No matter how good the story was, letting too many outsiders into an ICU wasn’t an option.

Click.

Click.

The PR team staff member took photos of Lee Ki-young and Lee Hye-young’s emotional reunion, then approached Kang-hyuk and Professor Kim Sun-woong.

“Professors, let’s step outside. The reporters are waiting. We’d appreciate a few comments. Dr. Yang Jaewon, please join us too.”

“Sure.”

Unlike Kang-hyuk, who headed out immediately, Professor Kim stopped to ask the staffer a few questions.

He wanted to know if there was anything specific they wanted him to emphasize.

The staffer quickly responded with a grateful look.

“It’d be great if you could stress that two people were saved through organ donation—and also that, contrary to public belief, donors are treated with utmost respect.”

“Hmm. Got it then.”

“Thank you, Professor. Please relay that to Professor Baek as well. Some of this will air live… but we trust he’ll handle it well!”

“Yeah, well…”

Watching Kang-hyuk’s back, Professor Kim couldn’t hide his unease.

Still, he stepped forward and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Kang-hyuk at the ICU entrance.

It read “Emergency ICU” in large letters.

That alone put Kang-hyuk in a good mood.

It was the perfect setting to introduce trauma surgery.

‘Only five people, huh…’

Still, where else would he get a chance like this?

“Professor Baek! I’m Park Sang-eun from TV Korea!”

Turning his head, he saw a fairly experienced-looking reporter waving.

Kang-hyuk nodded in satisfaction.

“We’ve been briefed on the case. Since you were the first physician in charge—”

But Kang-hyuk suddenly hardened his expression and answered a call.

The ringtone was the one he’d assigned to ER calls.

Reporter Park Sang-eun looked visibly thrown off.

“Uh, Professor Baek? Could you take the call after this? We’re live.”

“Hey, quiet down, will you? It’s an emergency case.”

“I mean… can we just finish this first—”

“I said shut it! …Wait, no. Not you. What’s the case?”

The moment Kang-hyuk heard there was a patient, that was all he could focus on.

And this time was no different.

Thanks to that, Reporter Park, Professor Kim Sun-woong, and even Jaewon—who was just standing nearby—were all left with jaws dropped.

“What?”

“Ah…”

“We’re doomed…”