Boss, It's My First Time Being Your Resident - Chapter 32

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 32. Even in Snow, Flowers Bloom

“Wait, senior… but I don’t think that’s nasal mucus.”

A Gang’s footsteps halted abruptly as he turned back toward the tissues.

Tilting his head in confusion, A Gang turned around again and threaded through the flustered medical staff, approaching the patient slowly.

The patient was still sniffling, clear fluid continuing to drip from his nose.

“What are you doing? You’re in the way.”
“Senior, let me just check something for a moment. It’ll only take a second!”

A Gang stepped directly in front of Tae Heon, who was gripping the stretcher.

It was instinct.
The intuition of a doctor. The primal sense.

“We don’t have time to waste now. Move!”

Even at Tae Heon’s sharp rebuke, A Gang didn’t back away a single step.

“Nurse! Can you bring me a BST Strip over here!”

A Gang called out urgently to the nurse, then looked Tae Heon straight in the eye. His gaze was unwavering, meeting his senior’s directly.

“Senior, I can’t compromise on this one! We can’t send this patient straight to CT without checking!”
“Are you joking? Have you lost your mind? Are you still drunk?”
“Senior! Just one minute! Just give me one minute!”

A Gang gazed up at Tae Heon’s eyes with desperate intensity.

Normally, he would have crumbled under Tae Heon’s cool, intimidating stare, cowed and submissive. But today—not today—he couldn’t back down.

As Tae Heon’s resolve remained unyielding, A Gang seized his sleeve firmly.
Tae Heon’s brow furrowed sharply.

“Should I call Security? Do you want to be dragged out?”
“Please. Just trust me this once!”
“If this patient loses both legs because treatment’s delayed, will Dr. A Gang take responsibility?”
“Senior, life matters more than limbs.”

Because if what’s flowing from the nose isn’t nasal mucus—
If it isn’t—
this patient will die soon.

A Gang’s voice trembled faintly. Yet his resolve was firm.

Between the two unyielding figures, tension hung thick and taut.

Then it happened.

“Here’s the strip, Doctor!”

The nurse who had fetched the blood glucose test strip at A Gang’s request rushed back and pressed it into his trembling hand.

With shaking fingers, A Gang collected the clear fluid flowing from the patient’s nose into a sample container.
He carefully held the test strip to the liquid, and the fluid was instantly drawn into the tip of the strip.

Just one minute.
That single minute of waiting felt like an eternity.

Gradually, a blue tint began to spread across the test strip.

“Doctor!!! It’s not nasal mucus—it’s cerebrospinal fluid!!!”

A Gang thrust the strip, now turned blue, directly before Tae Heon’s eyes and cried out.

“Look at this!!”

Nasal mucus contains no glucose.
But cerebrospinal fluid—that’s an entirely different matter.

Cerebrospinal fluid contains glucose at sixty to seventy percent of blood glucose levels.

In other words, if clear fluid suspected to be nasal mucus turns the glucose test strip blue, that fluid isn’t mucus—it’s cerebrospinal fluid.

“Doctor, if it were nasal mucus, the strip would never turn blue! It’s a glucose response!”

The color drained from Tae Heon’s face as he examined the strip.

A CSF Leak.

During his internship, on a winter day, A Gang had once encountered such a case in the Emergency Room.
A child admitted from a minor car accident kept sniffling while his torn forehead was being sutured.

Everyone assumed it was just a cold from the winter chill and was about to send the boy home when the attending physician suddenly stopped him.

Carefully observing the child’s continued nasal drainage, the professor suddenly ordered a glucose response test—and the result was shocking.

The clear fluid everyone thought was simple mucus was cerebrospinal fluid leaking from a basilar skull fracture.

The boy, who had nearly gone home, fortunately received surgery in time, and A Gang spent that night with his seniors, their hearts pounding at how close they’d come to missing the child’s golden hour.

He never imagined that this incident, etched into his memory with such vividness as if it happened yesterday, would become the key to saving today’s patient.

“Call Neurosurgery stat! Combo’s coming in!”

Tae Heon’s orders were swift.

Flowers bloom even in snow, and saplings root themselves on cliff edges.
It wasn’t only Tae Heon who hid his claws.

This time, it was unmistakably his victory.

‘I was right, wasn’t I?’

A Gang looked up at Tae Heon, his eyes gleaming.

Though the words never left his mouth, his eyes spoke ceaselessly to Tae Heon, like a child desperate for praise.

‘Senior, couldn’t you give me a word of praise? Just tell me I did well.’

A Gang bit his lower lip softly and gazed at Tae Heon once more, his eyes full of longing.

He craved Tae Heon’s acknowledgment.
If he could earn it, then maybe he could endure these brutal two months in the Trauma Center.

Just as he waited confidently for that praise—

“So now you’re happy because what’s flowing from the patient’s nose is cerebrospinal fluid instead of mucus?”
“…”

His heart sank.
The words came from nowhere.

“Shouldn’t a real doctor hope for mucus as the result? Do you see the patient’s misfortune as your own victory, Dr. A Gang?”

The icy rebuke made his heart plummet again.

“Do you want my approval more than proof of your skill? More than the patient’s wellbeing?”

As if reading his very thoughts with that gaze alone, Tae Heon’s cold words struck A Gang’s chest like a blade.

He had never—not for a moment—taken the patient’s misfortune as a victory.
He’d only wanted to hear one word: that he’d done well.

That for once, he’d made a sharp, excellent judgment beyond what a first-year resident should have—
That because of A Gang, the patient would live.

“I have no praise to offer you, Dr. A Gang.”

Tae Heon turned coldly away, leaving A Gang standing there with a blank, stunned expression.

“Dr. Tae Heon, O.R. 8 is prepped! The anesthesiologist is here too!”
“I’m coming.”

Tae Heon strode toward the operating room without a moment’s hesitation.

“…”

A Gang watched Tae Heon’s retreating figure in silence, then turned toward the workstation with a heavy step.

“Why are you being like that with him?”
“Like what.”
“A Gang. You’re being unusually harsh with him. That’s not like you—you don’t even pay attention to most juniors.”

Eun Do fell into step beside him as they crossed the clinic floor, casually draping an arm across Tae Heon’s shoulder.

“A Gang saved the patient today. You should admit it. You’re the one who won’t.”
“…”
“What did A Gang do wrong today? If he hadn’t figured out it was CSF and not mucus, the patient’s life would’ve been in danger. I think he’s impressive.”
“…”
“First-years need both carrot and stick to stick around long-term. That’s just how it works.”
“I don’t play mind games with juniors.”

Tae Heon replied flatly.

It was true—he normally had no interest in juniors.
That was how it always had been.

Whether cameras focused on A Gang or he found himself in difficult situations, or whether the worst happened and he quit medicine—
none of it would be his concern.

So why—
why was he so bothered by the harsh trials soon to befall A Gang? He couldn’t understand it himself.

“Give the kid some praise. Residents survive on that alone.”

“…”

Tae Heon’s footsteps suddenly halted mid-stride. He turned around slowly.

His gaze caught A Gang’s retreating figure—shoulders slumped, head down as he made his way back to the station.

Those slender shoulders looked so fragile now, more delicate than ever.

‘You did well.’

Tae Heon spoke the words that would never reach A Gang’s ears.

His dark eyes lingered on that departing figure long after A Gang vanished from sight.

***

[Doctor, meet me in the Rooftop Garden.
I’ll wait for you. All night if I have to.]

A message from a man he’d never expected to hear from first.
A Gang never dreamed he’d be sending a message to Tae Heon like this.

[You get cold easily, right?
Come up soon.
I have something to tell you. Something really, really important.]

Sitting in a chair beneath the parasol in the Rooftop Garden, A Gang hit send and clutched the phone to his chest.

As the brief vibration signaled transmission, his heart thundered so hard he thought his chest might burst.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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