Chapter 70

“Where’s the head of surgery?!”

Professor Hong Jae-hoon stormed in, demanding to see Professor Han Yoo-rim.

Of course, he knew full well that Han Yoo-rim had no real control over Professor Baek Kang-hyuk.

But at the very least, he needed to make a show of yelling at someone to cover himself later.

If that soldier really died, Professor Hong was fully prepared to sever ties with his junior and former close colleague.

‘What else can I do… Say the surgery department screwed up, and make him resign as department head.’

If, in that situation, Professor Hong Jae-hoon were to misread the room and take Han Yoo-rim’s side—

Then it wouldn’t be just the head of trauma who’d be ousted—the chief strategy officer would be out too.

He could forget about becoming hospital director. His entire career would end right there.

“D-Did you call for me?”

Han Yoo-rim appeared, clearly having rushed over.

His hair was matted, his face bore sleep creases—it was obvious he had come straight from surgery.

Considering it was the fearsome chief strategy officer yelling with fury, his panicked appearance made perfect sense.

“You! How the hell are you managing your subordinates?!”

“Excuse me? Ah… You mean Professor Baek this morning? I’ll have a stern talk with him once my surgery’s done. I’ll just handle the budget issue myself. The hospital—”

Han Yoo-rim couldn’t even imagine something else had gone wrong in the meantime.

So he kept apologizing profusely about the earlier incident that morning.

‘Come on, it’s not like he hit anyone… I apologized once already. I didn’t even do it—Baek Kang-hyuk did, so why am I—’

He grumbled internally.

Outwardly, he wore a mask of guilt and remorse.

‘That should be enough to calm him down… huh?’

Han Yoo-rim was confident in his ability to feign a convincing apologetic face.

So he cautiously lifted his gaze, thinking it was over—only to see Professor Hong looking even more furious.

“You seriously have no idea what’s going on?! You don’t even know what kind of shit your staff is pulling right now?!”

“I— What do you mean…?”

Only then did Han Yoo-rim begin to sense that something was really wrong.

‘This isn’t about Baek Kang-hyuk this morning?’

Then who the hell else could make Professor Hong Jae-hoon lose his mind like this?

‘What the hell is going on with our surgery department?’

While he stood in stunned silence, Professor Hong swung the monitor toward him and clicked on the YouTube link sent by the PR team.

After a moment of buffering, the video started to play.

It was the West Sea.

“What… what is this?”

“Shut up and watch!”

“Y-Yes, sir… Oh?”

Han Yoo-rim finally realized the camera wasn’t showing the sea—it was focused on the deck of a boat.

On that deck stood several uniformed military personnel, and one man in a blood-stained doctor’s gown doing something to an injured soldier’s arm.

The camera quality was so good, they could practically make out the injury—severe [humerus fracture].
(T/N: The [humerus] is the bone of the upper arm or forelimb, forming joints at the shoulder and the elbow.)

But it was hard to tell exactly what procedure was being done.

“His arm’s badly injured. That’s a serious humerus fracture… but what the hell is this…?”

“Just watch.”

“R-Right…”

Han Yoo-rim tilted his head and kept watching the stream.

Suddenly, Reporter Park Sang-eun appeared onscreen.

“Yes! Professor Baek Kang-hyuk has now been touching the patient’s arm for almost five minutes without performing any procedures. There’s increasing speculation that the patient may already be deceased. We’re now connecting with Professor Nam Ga-heun from Chilseong Hospital’s emergency medicine department to hear her thoughts on the matter.”

“Baek Kang-hyuk?”

Han Yoo-rim’s face went blank at the mention of the one name he’d hoped wouldn’t come up.

Professor Hong sighed heavily and nodded.

“Yes, Baek Kang-hyuk! That maniac just killed a patient while operating on a boat!”

“On a boat…? But I thought he took a helicopter—”

“How the hell should I know? If the head of surgery doesn’t know, how would I?!”

“Unbelievable…”

As the two argued, a man’s unfamiliar voice began to stream from the YouTube video.

It seemed the call had gone through to the professor from Chilseong Hospital.

“Hello, this is Professor Nam Ga-heun from Chilseong Hospital.”

“Yes, Professor. Hello. Have you been briefed on the situation?”

“Yes. Haha, wow. I don’t even know where to begin with this.”

Though it was just audio, both Han Yoo-rim and Professor Hong could practically see her smirking face.

They’d encountered her before at various events.

Hanguk University Hospital and Chilseong Hospital weren’t just rivals—they were practically hostile toward each other.

“This bastard…”

“Quiet. Just listen.”

“…Yes, sir.”

As Han Yoo-rim lowered his head under Hong’s glare, the broadcast continued.

“It appears that surgery is being conducted on a boat. What are your thoughts?”

“Insanity. Surgery on a boat? And not even with the engine off—they were moving at high speed. This is straight-up murder.”

Professor Nam Ga-heun was firing off her words like a runaway truck with no brakes.

It sounded like she was fully intent on burying someone.

“I see! Then how does the patient appear to you?”

“Well, it’s hard to tell from this distance. But look—the monitor’s off.”

“The monitor?”

“Yes. The monitor that shows the patient’s [vital signs]—blood pressure, heart rate, [oxygen saturation], and so on… It’s off. Usually, in situations like this…”

“Yes, Professor?”

“It usually means the patient is dead.”

That statement blew up the chat.

This wasn’t some anonymous commenter—this was a professor of emergency medicine saying the act was madness, and that the patient was likely dead.

It carried weight.

“Christ…”

Professor Hong Jae-hoon felt like his head was about to split open.

Han Yoo-rim didn’t feel much different.

Though his head felt like it would split open, Han Yoo-rim couldn’t show weakness in front of a superior and forced himself to endure it.

‘This lunatic… Seriously, why would the Director ever approve someone like him…’

Surgery on a boat—on a moving high-speed patrol boat, no less.

He had only recently started to think of Baek Kang-hyuk as a crazy man with skills.

But now? He was clearly just a lunatic who had gotten lucky until now.

‘The fact that he saved Ji-young… it’s a miracle.’

Han Yoo-rim suppressed a deep sigh and continued staring at the screen.

On it, Reporter Park Sang-eun was still yammering about something.

But Han Yoo-rim’s mind was halfway broken—everything sounded like white noise. He couldn’t hear a thing.

Thanks to that, he could only tell that Kang-hyuk in the background was still moving.

‘What the hell is that guy doing…?’

There was no way to tell from here.

Even Lieutenant Kang-haeng, standing right next to him, couldn’t tell.

‘Is… something actually happening?’

Captain Lee Kang-haeng had been watching Kang-hyuk’s hands, the severed nerve, and his meticulous work for over ten minutes now.

The [PDS] suture thread was transparent—it was practically invisible.
(T/N: [PDS] is a type of absorbable suture, commonly used in delicate procedures, with a very fine and near-invisible thread.)

So even from up close, Kang-haeng couldn’t see what Kang-hyuk was doing.

He could only sense that the ends of the nerve were slowly being pulled together.

“Phew.”

From time to time, Kang-hyuk’s satisfied expression was the only indication that things were going well.

‘I should be doing something too.’

But as a certified specialist, just standing around and watching was unbearable.

So he glanced around, hoping there was something he could help with—only to spot a major issue.

‘What the hell.’

The patient’s monitoring device had been off for who knows how long.

Seeing that, a chill ran down his spine.

He couldn’t help but think that the patient might be dead.

Everyone’s heard those horror stories—

Like someone going under for a colonoscopy and never waking up.

“Um, excuse me.”

Panicked, Kang-haeng called out to Kang-hyuk.

Kang-hyuk was nearing the end of the nerve suturing at that point, so he still responded—though his eyes never left the nerve.

“What?”

“Uh… the patient’s monitor is off.”

“Oh, I know. Been off for about ten minutes.”

“You… knew? Then why didn’t you say anything…? We have no way of knowing if the patient’s okay like this.”

“I do know. He’s fine. Perfectly stable.”

“How can you tell?”

“Hmm.”

Instead of answering directly, Kang-hyuk glanced at the artery he’d sutured earlier.

It was visibly pulsing with each heartbeat.

The rhythm was steady. Stable.

And the blood coursing through the vessel was bright red.

There was no stronger evidence that the patient was alive and well.

‘If Slave were here, would he have noticed?’

Maybe now he would. It was worth checking next time.

“Here. Look at this artery. If you can’t tell from that, you’ve got problems. I’m busy, don’t talk to me anymore.”

“The artery…? Ah.”

Only then did Lieutenant Kang-haeng realize how Kang-hyuk had confirmed the patient’s condition.

Unlike patients under sedation for a procedure, this one had his [artery] exposed.

There was no need for a monitor.

Kang-haeng was once again overcome with embarrassment and shame just as Kang-hyuk finished the final stitch.

With that, the previously severed [median nerve] was completely reconnected.

“Good. Start the engine. We move fast now.”

“It’s done?”

“Yeah. The fractured bone needs to be set back at the hospital. Trying to fix and close it here would risk serious infection.”

“Understood.”

Lieutenant Kim Young-jae didn’t fully grasp what Kang-hyuk had just done.

But seeing his bright, confident expression, he was certain of one thing—

The surgery had gone well.

With that relief on his face, he turned the boat back toward Incheon at full speed.

VROOOOM.

Naturally, Reporter Park Sang-eun’s boat also revved up to follow.

“The boat’s suddenly moving! The patient’s condition doesn’t seem to have changed, but…”

This line triggered another flood of conspiracy comments in the chat:

<He’s dead. Definitely dead.>

<Are they dumping him at sea?>

<Reporter Park! You’ve got to expose those bastards!>

If any of the soldiers or Kang-hyuk read these, they’d probably die of sheer disbelief.

When comments like that hit the hundred-mark—

Private First Class Kim opened his eyes.

The [Midazolam] and opioid analgesics had worn off.
(T/N: [Midazolam] is a sedative often used before surgery to induce sleepiness and relieve anxiety.)

“Ugh…”

“Don’t move. Stay still.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“Let me see your hand. Just leave it relaxed—don’t force it.”

“Okay.”

And in that moment, Lieutenant Kang-haeng realized—

What Kang-hyuk had done was nothing short of divine.

‘The [flexor muscles]… there’s tension. The shape of his hand is changing. Is this… is this even possible?’
(T/N: [Flexor muscles] are the muscles responsible for bending joints. Their activation suggests nerve function is returning.)

* * * * * *

Translator’s Note:

Hey everyone, just a quick heads-up — starting next week, chapter releases might be a bit inconsistent for a while. My wife and I just had our baby, and I’ll be prioritizing taking care of them during this time. Depending on how things go, I might still be able to post chapters here and there, but I can’t promise a regular schedule just yet.

I really appreciate your patience and support. I’ll do my best to keep updates coming when I can, and I’ll let you all know once things start settling down and we’re closer to getting back to a steady rhythm.

Thanks again for sticking with me and this story. It means a lot.