Chapter 89

“Oh, and one more thing.”

Kang-hyuk stopped abruptly on his way out and turned around.

He was wearing a terribly awkward smile.

If he hadn’t been wearing a mask, it would’ve looked downright scary.

Everyone probably wondered if something was wrong with the nerves in Kang-hyuk’s face.

“Uh, you can get help from Park Gyeongwon. He’s anesthesia, but he takes a real interest in all aspects of patient care. He’s good, too. You saw him earlier, right?”

Kang-hyuk referred to the steroid storm moment.

For Han Yoo-rim, it was an unforgettable experience—nearly dragged into a surgery he didn’t need to be in, only to almost witness a patient die.

“Yeah, I saw… right.”

On top of that, Han Yoo-rim had just stood there during the steroid storm.

Even when Gyeongwon shouted at him to control the bleeding.

He’d fallen into a kind of panic and couldn’t do anything.

Meanwhile, Gyeongwon, who was only waiting for the results of his board exams, handled the situation as if it were nothing new.

‘If that kid wasn’t there, the patient would have died…’

Yoo-rim felt hollow, but also genuinely impressed with Gyeongwon’s skill.

Of course, Kang-hyuk had dealt with the unexpected vein without missing a beat, but Kang-hyuk was a monster anyway.

This time, the person who left the deepest impression on Yoo-rim wasn’t Kang-hyuk, but Gyeongwon.

“Y-yeah. I’ll get his help.”

“Thank you, Professor!”

Gyeongwon didn’t think he’d done anything particularly amazing.

He was still a rookie doctor, but after watching countless surgeries by surgeons, Kang-hyuk looked like a god of surgery to him.

Just now, even with all the preparation, Kang-hyuk had caught the vein in less than a minute—an unbelievable feat.

‘If he’d been a minute later, the patient would have died.’

Or maybe not.

This was Hanguk University Hospital, after all.

They had every possible medical facility available in Korea.

If it got desperate, they could have put the patient on [ECMO] (extracorporeal membrane oxygenation).
(T/N: A life-support machine that oxygenates blood outside the body and pumps it back in, used for patients with severe heart or lung failure.)

But the patient’s prognosis would have been far worse.

“No, really, you saved us today. Thank goodness I called you, Dr. Park Gyeongwon.”

Catching a glimmer of “he’s on my side” in Gyeongwon’s face, Kang-hyuk gave him a broad smile.

Unlike his previous forced grin, this one was natural.

Surprisingly, it was the kind of smile that could actually move people.

When someone who usually looked fierce smiled, it had a different effect.

“Yes! It’s an honor. If you need help in the future, please call me anytime!”

“All right. I’ll be in touch soon. After everything today, let’s get a meal.”

“Th-thank you!”

Gyeongwon was sincerely grateful for Kang-hyuk’s offer.

But Han Yoo-rim, listening from the side, couldn’t help but tilt his head.

The Kang-hyuk he knew was never the type to buy someone a meal.

‘No, that’s not right. He does, sometimes.’

He’d heard Kang-hyuk had once treated his own team to Chinese food.

‘Wait. Could it be…?’

Only then did Han Yoo-rim realize why Kang-hyuk was a bit softer with Gyeongwon.

Kang-hyuk was definitely trying to recruit this poor guy to the Severe Trauma Center.

It had been over a year since the job posting went up, and still nobody had applied.

‘Well… he looks smart, so maybe he’ll dodge the landmine.’

Calling the trauma anesthesia position a “landmine” might seem harsh, but anyone who knew the reality would probably say Han Yoo-rim was being generous.

The job required a single anesthesia specialist to be on-call 365 days a year, dragged into every emergency surgery.

‘No one would take that job after hearing the conditions.’

There had been no official applicants, but plenty of inquiries.

Until Kang-hyuk arrived, there wasn’t even a trauma surgery department, so the general surgery chief, Yoo-rim, fielded all the questions.

But after they heard the specifics, nobody stayed interested.

Still, Han Yoo-rim didn’t blame anyone for that change of heart.

He’d feel the same.

“Well, I’m counting on you.”

While Han Yoo-rim briefly worried about Gyeongwon’s future, Kang-hyuk finally left the OR.

He headed straight to the ER on the first floor, dialing the number for OR 1 as he went.

“Yes, OR 1.”

A nurse in the OR answered the call.

It wasn’t Jang-mi—she was apparently assisting as main scrub.

“Hey, it’s Baek Kang-hyuk. How’s the surgery going?”

“Ah, yes. The surgery…”

The assistant nurse trailed off, glancing at the large monitor set up in the corner.

The monitor displayed a rough view of the surgical field through a camera attached to the shadowless lamp.

Most of the key area was blocked by the heads of Jaewon, Jang-mi, and the intern.

“Hey, hey! There’s bleeding!”

Meanwhile, Jaewon was barking at the intern.

There was no trace of his usual calm, kind, gentle demeanor.

“Y-yes!”

The intern, panicked, finally responded to Jaewon’s yelling.

They must have been shouting like this for a while now.

Judging by how pale the intern looked as he rushed around, he was completely flustered.

He hurriedly pressed gauze to the bleeding site, but since it was already soaked, it didn’t help much.

“Just pressing it won’t stop the bleeding! [Bipolar]!”
(T/N: [Bipolar] refers to a type of electrocautery device used for coagulating blood vessels.)

Jaewon was practically hopping with frustration.

In contrast, Jang-mi stayed remarkably calm and promptly handed over the [bipolar].

From the moment the bleeding started, she’d already sensed that this was a wound you shouldn’t just press on.

Of course, she still wondered, ‘Will cauterizing actually work?’

‘It looks like a vessel… probably needs to be tied off.’

Judging by how the blood was spurting out, it definitely looked vascular.

Even though the vessel was obscured by fat tissue, it was clear to anyone with experience.

After all, she’d spent more than a day or two assisting Kang-hyuk’s surgeries.

If she couldn’t recognize this, that would have been strange.

“Co! (Coagulation!)”

But Jaewon, as if dazed, simply pressed the [bipolar] in and shouted at the top of his lungs.

If even the lead surgeon was like this, there was no way the intern was thinking clearly.

He was anxiously stomping his feet in all directions.

The [bipolar] is operated by a foot pedal, after all.

Unable to watch any longer, the assistant nurse—who was also the one speaking to Kang-hyuk on the phone—nudged the pedal over.

Thud.

The intern stomped on the pedal without even a word of thanks.

Sizzle.

At the same time, white smoke billowed from the [bipolar].

The oozing blood began to bubble and immediately burned black.

The look on Jaewon and the intern’s faces was something to see.

From expectation, to relief.

From relief, to horror.

Splurt!

You’re never supposed to just cauterize a blood vessel indiscriminately.

It’s one thing if it’s a tiny vessel and you catch it precisely.

But if you cauterize without knowing where the vessel runs—like now—you might just burn the side of the vessel and cause it to burst.

“Why isn’t anyone saying anything?”

Kang-hyuk asked while quickly descending the stairs.

At that moment, the nurse was watching a jet of blood shoot up toward the ceiling.

“Ah, blood.”

So she blurted out “blood” before she realized it.

Naturally, Kang-hyuk was about to lose it.

“Blood? What do you mean, blood? There’s bleeding?”

“Yes. A lot…”

“I already stopped all the bleeding from the skin! Is it bleeding a lot inside?”

“Yes. We’ve already used four units of transfusion packs.”

“Four? What the hell is he doing in there?!”

“He’s… doing his best, but… the bleeding…”

“What about it?!”

Startled by Kang-hyuk’s outburst, the nurse shrank back and answered.

Her eyes darted between the monitor and Jaewon.

From her perspective, Jaewon was doing his absolute best.

You could see it just by looking at his face.

“Ah, shit!”

And that normally calm, polite person had been swearing non-stop.

That alone showed how urgent things were.

“Press! Just press it for now!”

“Yes!”

While the intern pressed gauze to the wound, Jaewon finally managed to clamp the site with a [Kelly].

It’s a tool that never lets go once it’s clamped, and only then did Jaewon feel a bit of relief.

“Here, tie it off with this.”

Jang-mi handed over the dedicated silk ligature she’d prepared earlier.

“Ah. Ah…”

Only then did Jaewon realize that Jang-mi had handed him the [Kelly] just as he instinctively reached for it.

Meaning, Jang-mi probably knew how to control this bleeding from the very start.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. We help each other when things get tough.”

“Ah, isn’t Professor coming? Or… not?”

“Didn’t you see the update earlier? He’s operating on both upper and lower abdominal trauma. Not even Professor Baek could finish both in an hour.”

“That’s true. Man, this is… not easy.”

After finally tying off the vessel with silk, Jaewon spoke up.

The surgical field was a total mess.

‘Good thing Professor stopped all the bleeding from the skin…’

Otherwise, the patient might already be dead.

Contrary to expectations, there was significant intra-abdominal bleeding as well.

Particularly because the [mesentery] had been torn clean through.

“Let’s take care of that too. That one’s been bothering me for a while.”

While Jaewon was briefly spaced out, Jang-mi pointed to another spurting vessel.

It was about halfway through the torn [mesentery].

The bleeding looked exactly the same as what Jaewon had just tied off.

In other words, it was another vessel hidden in the fat.

“Should I use a [Kelly]?”

“Of course. If you try to cauterize it again, I was going to hit you.”

“R-right. Thanks.”

Jaewon nodded, noticing that Jang-mi had already placed another [Kelly] in his hand.

Just as he was about to clamp the troublesome vessel—

Creak.

He looked up to see Kang-hyuk, hair completely disheveled, standing in the doorway.

He was actually out of breath—unlike himself.

As he trudged inside, he muttered,

“Shit… Don’t just say ‘blood’ and then hang up the phone.”