Chapter 64

“Ho.”

Everyone in the emergency room—

Even including Kang-hyuk—was staring out the window.

The wind and rain that had raged just moments ago seemed like a lie; it looked so peaceful now.

Bright sunlight poured through the retreating dark clouds.

Even the dull, lifeless view of the military base looked beautiful for a moment.

“Looks like we can take off for sure.”

But rather than admiring the scenery, Kang-hyuk simply made an objective remark.

At his words, Jung-heon nodded and looked toward the pilot.

“We can take off, right?”

The pilot also nodded, agreeing with Kang-hyuk’s assessment.

In that case, there was no time to waste.

So, Jung-heon and every member of the Central Rescue Unit sprang into action.

They were determined to fit both Private Kim and Sergeant Lee into that cramped helicopter, no matter what.

But when such moments came, the one who was usually the quickest to act—Kang-hyuk—just stood still.

‘Getting both on the helicopter at once……’

Normally, a rescue team would absolutely do that.

The goal was to transport patients who couldn’t be treated on-site to a hospital where treatment was possible as quickly as possible.

But with Kang-hyuk present, most serious injuries could be handled right then and there.

Of course, it wasn’t feasible to provide completely definitive treatment.

But procedures at the level of the one just performed on Sergeant Lee? Those were doable.

“Wait!”

So Kang-hyuk raised his hand high and shouted.

If it were someone like Lieutenant General Kang Dong-hee, they might ignore him—but among those dispatched from the Central Rescue Unit, no one would dare brush Kang-hyuk off anymore.

Naturally, everyone turned their eyes to him.

They stopped what they were doing.

“Why, sir?”

Team leader Jung-heon approached and asked.

Urgency was written all over his face—and it was only natural.

Hadn’t the wind and rain that had just been lashing the island suddenly died down?

That meant it wouldn’t be surprising if the storm returned at any moment.

In fact, the dark clouds hadn’t disappeared completely; they merely loomed in the distance, still targeting the island.

“Slave, you said Private Kim regained consciousness, right?”

Instead of answering Jung-heon’s question, Kang-hyuk called out to Jaewon.

Jaewon, who had been administering a transfusion to Private Kim, quickly responded.

“Yes. He woke up almost immediately after the transfusion began, and he’s maintaining a clear level of consciousness.”

“Yeah? That’s good news.”

Murmuring this, Kang-hyuk approached Private Kim.

Just as Jaewon said, Private Kim was clearly conscious.

His [blood pressure] and [heart rate] were within normal ranges.

No—in fact, they were slightly above normal.

“Ggghhh…”

His left arm had been shredded by the helicopter propeller, and no treatment had yet been given to that area—so the pain must have been excruciating.

Jaewon was administering painkillers via intravenous fluids, but—

He wasn’t reckless enough to give [narcotic analgesics] to a severe trauma patient.
(T/N: Narcotic analgesics are strong pain-relieving drugs, often opioids, used for extreme pain but can cause side effects or dependency.)

Thanks to that, Private Kim had to endure pain that felt like his arm was being torn apart every single second.

“Your name… Man, this overlock stitch job is terrible. I can’t even make out your last name.”

Looking down at him, Kang-hyuk continued.

“Private Kim. Try grabbing my hand.”

He then placed his large hand near Private Kim’s injured grip.

Private Kim hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

He was clearly conscious and able to communicate.

“Ugh.”

But since he wasn’t given any [narcotic analgesics] to maintain that consciousness, the pain was unbearable.

As a result, Private Kim could only groan and couldn’t properly grasp Kang-hyuk’s hand.

Jaewon, watching Kang-hyuk eye the struggling patient coldly, spoke up.

“P-Professor. Maybe he can’t do it because he’s in pain?”

“You really think so?”

Kang-hyuk replied calmly as he watched Private Kim straining and groaning.

Jaewon suspected this was some kind of trap, but still nodded.

Anyone would say Private Kim looked like he was in agony.

“Y-Yes. Of course. Just look…”

Jaewon pointed at Private Kim’s wound, where blood continued to seep out.

As his eyes followed Jaewon’s finger, Private Kim’s face turned pale.

At the same time, his [blood pressure] briefly dipped—but it was just a temporary fluctuation.

“You diagnose patients by their facial expressions? The pain is in his arm, right?”

“You can’t get much information from just the arm. It’s not like we have an [EMG] or anything.”
(T/N: EMG, or Electromyography, is a test that measures muscle response to nerve stimulation.)

“What are you planning to use your eyes for then?”

“What? My eyes?”

Jaewon had a look like, ‘What more can you possibly see with the naked eye?’

And truthfully, he wasn’t entirely to blame.

In the age of highly advanced modern medicine, old diagnostic tools were increasingly forgotten.

Why bother inspecting a patient’s chest or listening to heart sounds—

When an X-ray could show everything much more clearly and accurately?

But for someone who had chosen the path of [trauma surgery], showing that kind of expression was unacceptable.

Thwack.

So Kang-hyuk smacked him on the back of the head.

Of course, it was Jaewon who got hit—not Private Kim.

“Agh. Why—why did you hit me? What if I got hurt?”

“It’s not like you use that part of your brain much anyway. What’s the harm if it breaks?”

“What? Ah…”

Jaewon was about to question the absurdity of that statement—until he realized the [visual cortex] is located in the occipital lobe and let out a sigh.

How could this guy even crack jokes in such a medically specific way?

‘Is he even human?’

He’d always had his doubts.

Maybe Kang-hyuk was a cyborg created by the U.S. government or something.

Otherwise, how could he endure such a murderous schedule without batting an eye?

That suspicion was only growing stronger here.

Who else could treat a [basilar skull fracture] using a [military endoscopy system]?

‘I should’ve recorded it.’

No one would believe it if he just said it out loud.

If anything, they’d probably call him a fraud.

“Watch carefully, Slave. Don’t just stand there with a dumb look on your face.”

“Ah, yes.”

At Kang-hyuk’s threat, Jaewon quickly snapped to attention and looked where Kang-hyuk was pointing.

Kang-hyuk was currently staring down at Private Kim’s forearm.

That was the starting point of the muscles responsible for moving the structures of the hand, including the fingers.

“Alright, again. Try grabbing my hand.”

“Ughhh.”

Private Kim pushed through the pain and followed Kang-hyuk’s command.

The guy spoke informally and barked orders like a thug—

But all the other doctors weren’t reacting in surprise for no reason.

His skills were the real deal, no doubt about it.

In other words, Private Kim was truly doing his best.

“Look closely. Do you see anything change?”

“Um… no. Nothing at all…”

Jaewon answered as he stared at the unmoving forearm.

But he still didn’t understand why this was an important observation.

Kang-hyuk clicked his tongue at Jaewon and pointed at the forearm again.

“Watch carefully this time. Open your hand. As wide as you can.”

“Ughhhh…”

“Huh?”

Jaewon’s startled voice pierced through Private Kim’s groans.

This time, the forearm definitely moved.

Very slightly—

But it moved.

Especially around the pinky side.

“Doesn’t something click into place for you?”

“No way…”

“The [median nerve] is damaged. Look—his hand is staying open even at rest. Fingers are one of the most classic parts of the body where flexor muscles overpower extensors.”
(T/N: The median nerve is a major nerve that runs through the center of the wrist. It controls several muscles of the hand and fingers.)

“Th-Then…”

As previously emphasized, there’s no such thing as a ‘needlessly thick’ structure in the human body.

Especially not when it comes to [nerves] or [blood vessels].

“If we leave it like this, he’ll never use that hand again. We need [surgery] fast.”

“Isn’t that good, though? If we transport him by helicopter, we can reach a hospital in under two hours and—”

Kang-hyuk abruptly cut off Jaewon’s excited voice.

“No. Too much time has already passed.”

He then looked toward the clock on the wall.

According to the report written by Captain Lee Kang-haeng, the incident had occurred at approximately 10:00 a.m.

They contacted the Military Emergency Medical Center at 10:50 a.m., after initial rescue and emergency procedures.

The Military Medical Center notified the Fire Department’s Central Rescue Unit at 10:52 a.m.

Kang-hyuk and Jaewon boarded the helicopter at 11:15 a.m.

And arrived at this location by 1:00 p.m.

Even that alone meant three hours had passed.

‘Add one hour for Sergeant Lee’s surgery, and that makes four.’

The [golden hour] for nerve damage had already passed.

And now they were talking about adding another two hours?

That was no different from telling him to live the rest of his life without a hand.

Jaewon seemed to reach the same conclusion, his face darkening rapidly.

“Th-Then… what do you plan to do? If we put both on the helicopter, there’s no way to operate midair.”

If both patients could be seated during the flight, things might be different.

But trying to sit Sergeant Lee upright could cause unforeseen complications in the [head].

In the worst-case scenario, the [brainstem] could shift downward into the [spinal canal].
(T/N: The brainstem controls basic life functions; if it herniates into the spinal canal, it is often fatal.)

And if that happened, not even ten Kang-hyuks could save him.

Which meant Sergeant Lee absolutely had to be transported lying down.

“I know that. Just assume I know everything you know. You don’t have to say it out loud.”

“Then what are you going to do…?”

A typical trauma surgeon would’ve just put Private Kim on the chopper.

After all, hadn’t he already survived the worst?

If trauma surgeons had to worry about how every patient would live their life afterward, their heads would explode.

But Kang-hyuk was far from typical.

If he were, he wouldn’t have made it here on time in the first place.

He didn’t even fly the helicopter himself.

“Slave. You’ve seen plenty of patients with [increased intracranial pressure], right?”

“I’ve seen lots of them.”

“Then take Sergeant Lee and fly back. Request a consult with [neurosurgery] and [neurology], and monitor him in the [ICU].”

“Wh-What about you, Professor?”

The man had arrived via helicopter—so what was he planning, sending it off without him?

Jaewon looked at him, completely lost.

But, as always, Kang-hyuk had a solution all his own.

It was a bit unorthodox—but typical for him.

“I’ll take a boat. I’ll operate during the ride. That’s the only way he’ll have a shot at using that hand.”

“Ah…”

“What are you just standing around for? You think Sergeant Lee’s got all the time in the world? The surgery I just performed was [basilar skull reconstruction]! We don’t have time to dawdle!”

“Y-Yes! Got it! I’ll see you at the hospital!”

At the words ‘basilar skull reconstruction,’ Jaewon snapped to attention and bowed hurriedly.

He then informed Jung-heon and the pilot of the updated plan.

Both were momentarily surprised, but once they realized it was Kang-hyuk speaking, they nodded right away.

“Well, yeah. That guy could pull it off.”

“Guess we can fly out with some peace of mind this time. Alright, let’s move!”

But not everyone was on board with this decision.

General Kang Dong-hee, in particular, was very much not on board.

Having both flown out would’ve been like pulling a bad tooth—so refreshing.

But one of them had been left behind.

And worse—he hadn’t even received proper treatment yet.

This wasn’t right.

“H-Hey! Wait a minute! Why are you leaving that guy behind?! What if something happens while he’s still here?!”