Chapter 67

Crash.

PKM-288 surged forward at high speed, enduring the pounding waves.

Since it wasn’t a larger-class ship, the vibrations were no joke.

“Whoa.”

Lieutenant Colonel Kim Nak-chul, unused to the ship, nearly lost his footing.

“Careful, sir.”

Captain Kim Young-jae reached out to steady him.

Feeling the firm grip, the lieutenant colonel gave a small nod.

“Thanks.”

“No need to thank me. Even the sailors fall all the time when we’re going at high speed.”

“Exactly. It’s shaking even more than I expected…”

With both hands gripping the railing, Lieutenant Colonel Kim looked toward Kang-hyuk.

Three medics were pinning down the patient’s legs and head.

Thanks to them, the patient wasn’t rolling around the deck.

But that was about all they could manage.

‘He’s really going to operate in this shaking?’

Even from a distance, Kang-hyuk’s and Captain Lee Kang-haeng’s shoulders visibly rocked with the ship’s motion.

Forget surgery—it looked hard enough just to perform a basic examination.

“Sir, do you think this is actually possible?”

Apparently sharing the same concern, Captain Kim asked anxiously.

Lieutenant Colonel Kim looked at his face for a moment, then shook his head.

“Possible or not, I need to go over there and try to stop him.”

“Careful. You’ll fall if you go alone. Let me come with you.”

The lieutenant colonel briefly entertained the idea of walking there on his own.

Crash.

But another wave slamming into the hull quickly changed his mind.

“R-Right. Thanks.”

“Yes, sir.”

So the two of them slowly made their way from the front of the ship to the rear deck.

“Retract.”

Even as they approached, Kang-hyuk never stopped.

Which meant neither could Kang-haeng.

He was literally pushing forward with the surgery.

“Yes, yes. But it’s shaking so much…”

“It’s shaking because you’re holding the instrument like that. Didn’t they teach you how to hold tools?”

“Huh? I did learn… I think. Like holding a pencil.”

Flustered, Kang-haeng looked down at his own hand.

He was holding the retractor exactly like he would a pencil.

And there was a bit of a tragic story behind that.

‘Hold it like a pencil.’

Every surgical resident hears this line from their seniors.

It always felt like gripping it some other way would give more control, but no—everyone said to hold it like a pencil, and so it never quite felt right.

But residency was no walk in the park.

Before long, every instrument in your hand started to resemble a pencil grip.

To the point where, at surgical department dinners, most of them even held their meat-grilling tongs like pencils.

To have endured all that, only to be told he didn’t learn properly—it was unfair to say the least.

But Kang-hyuk was unyielding.

“Isn’t holding it like a pencil something you have to know? It’s just basic. Right? Or no?”

“Wait, what’s no?”

Kang-haeng looked up at him with a troubled expression.

Kang-hyuk looked back down with a chilling smile.

“You even know why we tell you to hold it like a pencil? Judging by how you’re doing it now, you clearly don’t.”

“Uh…”

Kang-haeng momentarily shut down.

Now that he thought about it, people always said to do it—but no one ever explained why.

‘Maybe it’s in the textbook…?’

It probably was—buried in the ‘tools’ chapter that no practicing clinician ever reads.

“Look at this mess.”

“Why… why do we even hold it like that?”

“So it doesn’t shake! Holding it like a pencil lets your middle finger act as a brace, and you can rest your ring and pinky fingers on the patient’s body or other instruments. That kind of support is what keeps it from shaking!”

“Oh.”

Kang-haeng’s mouth fell open in realization.

“You’re just learning that now? And you’re a full-fledged specialist? God… you quack…”

“Q-Quack feels a little harsh…”

“If you don’t even know what you don’t know, that makes you a quack.”

“Ugh.”

A hard truth—and an unpleasant one at that.

It’s one thing to not know something.

You can just leave it to someone else.

But not even knowing what you don’t know? That was dangerous.

That’s how accidents happen.

“Anyway, all the ways of gripping tools boil down to the same thing: preventing shaking.”

After that harsh truth, Kang-hyuk moved on to teaching.

Not because he had some noble desire to educate.

But because if they were going to pull off this surgery, Kang-haeng at least had to hold the wound steady.

‘If I knew this would happen, I should’ve just kept Slave around.’

Of course, he was now thinking about Jaewon, who he’d sent back earlier.

That guy would’ve done it perfectly without needing to be told.

But judging by the condition of that sergeant, it was impossible to keep Jaewon on the ship.

‘Yeah… If the [intracranial pressure] suddenly spikes, the others wouldn’t be able to handle it.’

No way Captain Lee Kang-haeng could manage that.

The guy didn’t even know how to hold instruments properly.

‘There’s really no one left.’

Kang-hyuk sighed at the state of [trauma surgery] in South Korea and continued.

“Look. In a regular operating room, you just have to keep your hand and wrist steady. Everything else is already stable. But here?”

At that, Captain Lee answered immediately.

Looking down at his own upper body, which continued to sway uncontrollably.

“Everything’s moving.”

“Exactly. So you have to minimize the moving parts.”

“How…?”

“First, tuck your elbows against your sides.”

“Oh.”

With that simple posture change, Kang-haeng immediately felt the trembling in his hands reduce by more than half. His eyes lit up.

“Turn your forearm slightly inward. [Biceps] are stronger than [triceps], so it’s more stable that way.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Keep your wrist firmly against the patient’s body. From your angle, that’s the [deltoid muscle].”

“Yes. Oh—”

“Yeah, much better than before. Now pull. Got it?”

“Yes, understood.”

Feeling like he’d just discovered a whole new world, Kang-haeng retracted the wound.

And with that, the pooled blood inside began to stream out in a rush.

Since the [blood vessels] were still torn, the amount of fresh blood gushing out was no joke.

“Ugh…”

In an instant, the surgical field was flooded in red.

You could tell it was an arm—beyond that, nothing was discernible.

Seeing Kang-haeng’s panic, Kang-hyuk shook his head.

“You just hold it open. I’ll do the rest.”

“Ah, yes.”

With that, Kang-hyuk plunged his left hand directly into the pool of blood.

‘The [brachial artery] is torn…’
(T/N: The main artery of the upper arm that carries blood from the heart to the arm and hand. Injury to it can lead to severe bleeding and loss of limb function.)

The only times Kang-hyuk had seen the inside of the wound were the 2–3 seconds before he applied pressure earlier—and now.

Even then, he’d never had a clear view.

He’d only caught glimpses through the blood.

Squelch.

But there was zero hesitation as he grabbed the torn vessel.

“Uh…”

And just like that, the bleeding drastically subsided.

Kang-haeng could only glance back and forth between Kang-hyuk’s hand and his face in disbelief.

“What are you staring at? Just hold the retractor.”

“R-Right…”

“Give me the suture.”

“Yes.”

At Kang-hyuk’s command, the [nurse officer] handed him the suture material.

He took the tool without delay and began [vascular suturing].

Thankfully, it looked like the vessel hadn’t been sliced by a propeller.

‘It was shredded by the broken [humerus].’
(T/N: The long bone in the upper arm that runs from the shoulder to the elbow. It supports arm movement and muscle attachment.)

Broken bones, sharp as weapons in ancient times, often tore through surrounding tissue.

“Hmm.”

Letting out a soft groan, Kang-hyuk moved his left hand ever so slightly.

Immediately, a small trickle of blood seeped out of the vessel.

Stab.

But it only lasted a second.

His right hand moved in sync, and the needle pierced through the bleeding site.

Soon after, the first knot was complete.

“Whoa…”

Kang-hyuk’s stitching was like an art form.

So much so that Captain Lee Kang-haeng forgot he was even on a boat, mouth agape in awe.

Luckily, the mask covered it—otherwise, Kang-hyuk might’ve snapped at him again.

Though honestly, even if he hadn’t been masked, Kang-hyuk wouldn’t have noticed.

He had no time to spare for anything else while suturing on a violently shaking boat.

Stab.

Each slight motion of Kang-hyuk’s left hand released a bit of blood.

Within a second, the needle would follow.

Another second—and the knot was secured.

Stab.

Just like that, the [vascular suturing] continued rapidly.

As it neared completion, Kang-hyuk asked Kang-haeng:

“How’s the fingertip?”

“Uh. I don’t see it.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What do you mean you don’t see it?”

“You’re too fast…?”

Kang-hyuk tilted his head at that answer, then looked up.

And finally realized—Kang-haeng had misunderstood.

Unbelievable.

In the middle of surgery, he was watching the surgeon’s hands?

“You goddamn idiot. Why are you looking at my hand? Look at the patient’s! The patient!”

“Ah. Right. His hand… okay.”

Even after being insulted and talked down to, Kang-haeng didn’t feel the need to protest.

Because the man in front of him was the most skilled surgeon he had ever seen in his life.

‘All great doctors have nasty tempers anyway.’

And honestly, the other surgical professors weren’t much better.

If anything, Kang-hyuk’s in-your-face attitude was easier to handle than the backstabbing whispers that followed you after the fact.

‘Still… what’s he trying to check?’

There was just one problem.

He didn’t understand why Kang-hyuk wanted him to check the hand.

Kang-hyuk looked at him silently for about ten seconds, then shook his head.

“You moron. I just reconnected the [artery], so check if the [blood] is flowing. Compare the color and temperature of the fingertip to earlier!”

“Ah.”

Only then did Kang-haeng get it.

But it didn’t help much.

He hadn’t checked it before the suture, so he had nothing to compare it to.

“Jesus. Move over.”

So Kang-hyuk had to check it himself.

Thankfully, the results weren’t bad.

‘No necrosis, either. That’s good.’

If there had been [tissue death], blood would’ve leaked from the dead tissue the moment circulation resumed.

But Kim’s hand and forearm showed none of that.

The [brachial artery] may be the main vessel in the arm, but it wasn’t the only one.

And thanks to his youth—and the fact that he’d been given [transfusions]—they’d avoided a worst-case scenario where blood flow was completely cut off.

“Ughhh.”

Meanwhile, Captain Kim Young-jae and Lieutenant Colonel Kim Nak-chul still hadn’t reached Kang-hyuk.

The ship was swaying too violently—and the lieutenant colonel had started [retching].

While everyone on deck was fighting their own battles, someone else had started paying close attention to PKM-288.

It was reporter Park Sang-eun from TV Goryeo.

She had boarded a boat to Baengnyeong Island, driven by an unyielding obsession.

But earlier, when she saw the helicopter fly overhead, she had felt utterly dejected.

“Wait, that? That person is…?”