Chapter 75

<Wow, look at that swagger.>
<He curses every time he talks, but damn, it’s refreshing.>
<Okay, yelling in front of the OR is wrong. Acknowledged, acknowledged.>
<Wait, is that a tattoo?>
<Looks like a tattoo. That’s badass.>

The chat exploded in an instant.

It was the entrance of today’s real star — Baek Kang-hyuk himself, oblivious to it all.

And, as expected, he made his entrance cursing.

Regardless of what TV Goryeo’s staff might have hoped for, the viewers were thrilled.

“Hey, hey, the camera’s still rolling! You can’t swear!”

Meanwhile, the professors at Hanguk University Hospital were dying inside.

Especially Han Yoo-rim, who had just finished defending Kang-hyuk, was in the worst position.

“Camera? Ah. And seriously, who the hell are you to keep loitering around in front of me?”

Kang-hyuk scowled viciously at Reporter Park Sang-eun.

He was certainly handsome, but at times like this, his presence was terrifying — like an evil spirit or a grim reaper.

Even someone as gutsy as Reporter Park found it hard to meet his gaze directly.

“Uh… I’m a repor—”

“I know you’re a reporter. But listen, I don’t care if you’re a reporter or whatever — if you get in the way of treatment, I’ll kill you. So scram while I’m being nice.”

Kang-hyuk was fresh out of surgery.

Of course, he still had a surgical instrument in his hand.

A fine dissection [micro-scissors] (T/N: A small surgical tool used for precise cutting).

The tip looked viciously sharp.

“D-Don’t stab her!”

Of course, he wouldn’t.

But Han Yoo-rim couldn’t help thinking that if it were anyone, it would be Kang-hyuk.

‘He did say he’d kill them.’

He said it, so he might really do it.

All for the sake of saving lives — yet threatening death just because someone got in the way.

What a twisted logic.

“Oh, this thing? Yeah, if I stab with this, you’d definitely… die.”

Kang-hyuk looked down at the scissors with a casual expression, even stroking the tip with his gloved index finger.

It was enough to make him look like a psychopathic killer.

Park Sang-eun had no choice but to back off.

She wasn’t a war correspondent — risking death wasn’t part of her job description.

“Good. Stay over there and behave.”

Once Kang-hyuk judged that Park had retreated far enough, he twirled the scissors around.

Park, finally breathing easier, called out.

“I-I’ll request an interview after you’re done! Please don’t run away!”

“Interview? Well… whatever. Just don’t get in the way. I’ll lose my shit.”

“U-Understood!”

Reporter Park decided it would be best to wait.

Whether the viewers would stick around until the surgery was over was another question.

But it turned out that was a needless worry.

<I’ll go eat and come back.>
<Look at the viewer count staying solid.>
<Today’s stream is pure gold.>
<The broadcast must go on!>

Most viewers were highly entertained.

“But you guys — aren’t you going to leave? Why are you still hanging around here?”

Kang-hyuk finally tore his gaze away from Park and turned to the others.

The “others” meant Lieutenant Colonel Kim Nak-chul and Captain Kim Young-jae, who had come on behalf of Private Kim’s guardian, as well as Department Head Han Yoo-rim and Chief Director Hong Jae-hoon.

But judging from his tone, there wasn’t a shred of respect or courtesy toward them.

The remarkable thing was — no one pointed it out.

At some point, everyone had simply accepted it.

“I heard you sewed a nerve back together on the ship. Sounds like nonsense.”

At least, as the highest-ranking person present, Professor Hong felt he had to say something.

He finally voiced the objection he’d been bottling up.

“What’s nonsense? If it’s reconnected, it’s reconnected.”

“Are you seriously saying Captain Lee is telling the truth?”

“I saw it with my own eyes, so yeah.”

“What the…”

Professor Hong wanted to tell him to stop spouting bullshit, but the words wouldn’t come out.

If the operating surgeon said it, what could an outsider say?

Besides, at this point, it was useless to argue.

“Anyway, if anyone makes noise again, I’ll make sure you can’t even open your mouth. Same goes for the military guys. And you—don’t come near me until you find out the propeller material.”

Without waiting for a response, Kang-hyuk snapped off his words like machine-gun fire and turned back into the OR.

Given Hong Jae-hoon’s notoriously hot-headed personality, he should have stormed in after him.

But he stood frozen, like a statue.

Because right before Kang-hyuk went back in, he really had pointed those scissors at his neck.

‘That was the look of a killer.’

He wondered if it was right to describe someone desperately trying to save lives like that.

But he didn’t feel guilty about it.

Even people like Lieutenant Colonel Kim and Han Yoo-rim — who liked and defended Kang-hyuk — had thought the same.

‘If we make a scene here, we’re really going to die.’

Strictly speaking, a fine dissection scissors was too small to be truly deadly.

At most, it could stab one or two centimeters deep.

But Kang-hyuk’s threat was effective.

The chaotic hallway outside the OR went dead silent.

“Now it feels like I can breathe.”

Kang-hyuk looked toward the OR entrance with a deeply satisfied expression.

He set down the scissors he had been holding.

Jang-mi shook her head as she watched.

“Professor, no matter what, saying you’ll kill them is a bit much…”

“If you’ve committed a crime worth dying for, you should die. Don’t you agree?”

“I mean… it’s not like it’s a crime worth dying for…”

“If the surgery goes wrong and this guy’s arm becomes useless for life — isn’t that a crime worth dying for?”

“Well…”

It wasn’t necessarily the noise outside that would cause a surgery to fail.

If the surgery went wrong, wouldn’t the responsibility ultimately lie with the operating surgeon, Kang-hyuk, and not the people shouting outside?

Of course, Jang-mi kept that thought to herself.

She had enough sense now.

“Anyway, it’s quiet now. No need to kill anyone.”

Kang-hyuk smiled contentedly and turned to Jaewon.

At some point, Jaewon had handed him the drill.

“Slave, make sure you spray plenty of water. Hold the arm steady.”

“Yes.”

“Gangster, you help hold it too. This isn’t under general anesthesia, so the patient’s going to tense up a bit. The bone will…”

The word “bit” made Private Kim’s face turn extremely uneasy.

It sounded like the rest of the sentence was going to involve pain.

“No, no, just hold it tight.”

“Yes, sir.”

But Kang-hyuk, now a master at psychological warfare, didn’t elaborate.

Thus, Private Kim had no choice but to clench his eyes shut in tension.

Whirr.

Before applying the drill to the bone, Kang-hyuk spun it in the air to check.

It was standard practice for surgeons handling drills.

But Kang-hyuk checked far more than most.

‘Direction, correct. Speed, 25,000 rpm. Tip attachment, secure.’

Most surgeons would just confirm, ‘It’s spinning.’

Those with more experience would at least check the direction.

Because if you mistakenly drilled with reverse rotation, you risked the tip bouncing off — something you’d only need to experience once to learn caution.

“Alright. Here we go.”

“Ugh…”

Private Kim let out a moan.

Kang-hyuk patted his shoulder.

“Relax. If you tense up, your arm will shake.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“Marines can do it, right?”

“Victory!”

Kang-hyuk smirked at how predictably the Marine Corps spirit worked like magic, and brought the drill to the bone.

Grind, grind.

The drill tip was extremely thin and sharp.

It wasn’t meant for grinding bone, but for creating holes where screws would go.

Splash.

Jaewon diligently sprayed water to prevent the bone from burning from frictional heat.

Even while spraying with one hand, he didn’t miss the target area.

Thanks to the brutal training, his skills were improving rapidly.

Though neither he nor Kang-hyuk fully realized it yet.

‘He’s definitely getting better.’

Jang-mi, assisting from a little distance, could clearly see it.

Just in the past month, Jaewon’s abilities had grown tremendously.

‘And it’s quiet.’

Kang-hyuk wasn’t exactly known for his patience even outside the OR.

Inside, it was worse.

The fact that he wasn’t yelling right now meant he was satisfied with the assistance.

“All done. Good job enduring, Private Kim.”

“Y-Yes…”

Kang-hyuk had drilled a total of eight holes.

They were perfectly parallel on either side of the fractured humerus.

He placed the plate onto the bone.

It fit perfectly, as if measured with a ruler.

Every time he saw this, Jaewon felt awe.

‘How the hell… he’s just eyeballing it, yet it’s perfect? Will I ever be able to do that?’

It was unimaginable.

And there was no time to imagine.

“Hey, why aren’t you screwing it in?”

“Yes, yes!”

If he hesitated even a little, he wouldn’t keep up with Kang-hyuk’s pace.

Kang-hyuk’s surgeries left no breathing room between steps.

“Okay. Done. Just need to close up.”

Of course, it was tough for assistants.

But for patients, it was ideal.

Quicker surgeries meant better outcomes.

“Whew. Thank you.”

“Oh, and where’s that guy I sent to find out the propeller material? Don’t tell me he went back to Baengnyeong Island?”

Kang-hyuk barely acknowledged Private Kim’s gratitude as he looked toward the OR door.

Clack.

Right on cue, Captain Lee Kang-haeng walked in.

He wasn’t just undignified — he was beyond shameless, appearing the moment his name was mentioned.

“What?”

The blunt question didn’t faze Kang-haeng.

“Stainless steel alloy, sir.”

“Really? You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Not aluminum or anything?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Great. Then we can close him up.”

If it had been aluminum, it would have been a nightmare.

Aluminum could cause [metal toxicity] (T/N: A condition where metals accumulate in the body and cause harmful effects).

But stainless steel was relatively safe.

Thus, Kang-hyuk sutured the shredded skin without any fancy procedures.

The wound looked rough — no matter how skillfully he sewed it up, the messiness couldn’t be completely hidden.

He lightly patted the stitched-up arm and grinned.

“If it looks ugly, just cover it with a tattoo later. No one’ll know.”

Jaewon blinked and asked innocently.

“Is that why you have a tattoo, Professor?”

“No? I’ve never been hurt like that.”

“Ah… right…”

“Stop spouting nonsense. Let’s go. Local anesthesia’s nice — no need to wake him up.”

“Yes.”

Kang-hyuk and Jaewon transferred the patient to a transport stretcher and left the OR.

Waiting for them was Reporter Park Sang-eun, who rushed over the moment they emerged.

Seeing her, Kang-hyuk muttered under his breath.

“Are they multiplying? Why are there more reporters now?”

* * * * * *

(T/N: Im back! Lol, kidding. I had a free time so I’m trying to do some TL work. Mind you, we are still not on the regular upload schedule!)