Boss, It's My First Time Being Your Resident - Chapter 57

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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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Episode 57. Poet of the Operating Room

The dazzling shadowless lamp flooded the operating room with brilliant light.

The moment the automatic doors swung open, the waiting surgical scrub nurse skillfully helped A-gang into a sterile medical gown.

The instant A-gang threaded his arms through the sleeves and cinched the ties tight, a loupe was fitted over his head.

Every motion unfolded with flawless precision.

The operating room was silent, yet a chill of tension hung thick as the calm before a storm.

Faced with the array of broadcast cameras stationed throughout the room, A-gang felt cold sweat beading down his spine.

The surgical procedure about to begin would be transmitted in real time to the Conference Room, where the hospital director and faculty were gathered to watch the live broadcast.

And once it was edited and aired, people all over the world would see it too…….

The moment that thought landed, his heart began hammering against his ribs like it might burst from his chest.

At least he had one mercy: his face was completely hidden behind the mask and loupe, so even if the broadcast went out, no one would know who he was.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll be right in front of you, and Eun-do will be beside you.”

Ha Tae-heon’s soft voice echoed in his mind—those words meant to reassure him, telling him not to worry.

He’d never imagined that his first chance to assist in surgery as a resident would come as the first assistant on a stage this immense.

“I appreciate your guidance.”

A-gang, standing opposite the chief surgeon, bowed briefly to the medical team.
Then he steadied his breathing deliberately.

That was when the automatic doors opened and Ha Tae-heon strode into the operating room.

The moment he entered, red lights blazed to life simultaneously on every camera.

Ha Tae-heon laced his fingers and pressed his gloves on snugly, then took his place as chief surgeon.

“Everyone else says Tae-heon is intense, and they’d rather do anything than scrub in with him. But I wanted to experience it once.”
“Why……? I hear he’s pretty harsh on people. Yelling like a gangster, cursing them out?”
“No! He’s not like that at all. I mean, how do I put it? Silent charisma, I guess? One cold stare from him and even the senior residents lose their nerve and stumble out. Nobody can keep up with his pace, so your heart’s racing the whole time. Come out after one case with him and you’re wiped out for days.”

So-dam’s words from A-gang’s first day at Sein Hospital flickered through his mind.

It was probably from that moment.

When he’d begun to harbor a vague dream of standing side by side with him in the heart of the operating room.

‘Senior, do you think I can do this well?’

A-gang spoke to Ha Tae-heon, his eyes trembling with doubt.

Ha Tae-heon’s gaze, magnified through the loupe, fixed on A-gang. It was silent encouragement.

“Scalpel!”

A major operation spanning eleven hours had begun.

With a soft click, a size-20 scalpel was placed into Ha Tae-heon’s palm.

The sharp blade traced the purple line marked with marker across the thigh, cutting cleanly through the skin with decisive precision.

It was a graceful motion.
The skin tissue, hardened and contracted from prolonged disuse, peeled open in a curved line.

“Metzenbaum.”

At Ha Tae-heon’s brief word, the nurse immediately handed him the scissors. The sharp tips delicately separated the soft tissue.

Then came the crackling sound of the electrocautery, and a thin plume of smoke rose into the air.

Ha Tae-heon methodically sealed each bleeding point, carving a path deep through the tangled tissue.

A-gang watched Ha Tae-heon’s fingertips, holding his breath.

He’d been skeptical when everyone called him “the boss,” but witnessing his skill firsthand was sheer wonder.

His movements were bold and fearless, yet paradoxically delicate—those large, long hands impossibly precise.

Every motion was economical, his fingers flowing as if in a dance.

He was like an artist using the operating table as canvas, painting a masterpiece.

A-gang’s mouth hung open in awe.

Now he finally understood why the junior residents called Ha Tae-heon the Poet of the Operating Room.

“Retractor.”

Eun-do, the second assistant, applied the retractor and pulled hard. The surgical field opened wide.

A brief silence fell.

Chief surgeon Ha Tae-heon, the anesthesiologist, Eun-do, the surgical nurses—

every gaze fixed on the surgical site suddenly went rigid.

A-gang’s breath caught.
A soft gasp escaped between his teeth.

The exposed tissue under the lights was far worse than expected.

The first virtue of a first assistant:

Never panic, no matter what.
Support the chief surgeon so his capabilities double.

A-gang took one deep breath, then quickly cleared the field with suction. Blood and smoke vanished instantly.

The actual gunshot wound was worse than the CT scan had suggested.

The tissue torn by the bullet’s passage had tangled into a chaotic mass, cycling through inflammation and healing.

A-gang’s fingertips began to tremble, but he gripped the suction cannula hard.

“Christ. How did it get this bad…….”

Eun-do muttered in shock and disbelief.

Ha Tae-heon remained calm.

As Ha Tae-heon dissected deeper into the tissue, a small, blunt metallic bullet head—smaller than it had appeared on the CT—gradually came into view.

The bullet was heavily encapsulated and firmly adhered, tangled into the surrounding tissue.

Encapsulation was the body’s immune response—fibrous tissue forming around a foreign object to isolate it.

The fibrous capsule created in this process was thick and rigid.

“Damn. This adhesion—one wrong move and we tear the femoral artery.”

Eun-do clicked his tongue.

Yet Ha Tae-heon was bold.

“Understood. Removing it takes priority. Keep the vitals stable.”

Ha Tae-heon nodded to Dr. Kim in anesthesia, exchanging signals.

“When I remove it, blood’s going to spray. Don’t panic. One, two.”

On three, the deeply embedded bullet came out gripped in the forceps.

The moment the adhered tissue tore away—

bright red blood erupted like a fountain.

“Ah!”

A-gang’s eyes snapped shut.

Blood drenched his face and chest in an instant.

The surgical field began to flood with red.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

As blood continued to pour uncontrollably, A-gang’s hand holding the suction cannula began to shake violently.

“Don’t panic.”

Ha Tae-heon’s steady voice reached A-gang’s ear.

But A-gang was frozen stiff, unable to move.
His mind had gone white, as if all power had shut off.

This was his first gunshot wound surgery.

“First assistant! Snap out of it!”

As if he’d already anticipated this variable, Ha Tae-heon skillfully packed gauze deep into the wound and applied firm pressure.

“Blood pressure continuing to drop!”

The anesthesiologist’s urgent cry pierced the room.

“This is insane! Where’s it coming from!”

Eun-do frantically swapped blood-soaked gauze, shouting.

Suction and gauze converged on the wound from all sides, but it was no use.

That was when—

“Don’t be afraid. Trust me—I chose you as first assistant.”

Ha Tae-heon’s final words overlaid the terror that the patient might die before his eyes.

Words he’d given to A-gang when he was confused about why he’d been placed at the first assistant’s station.

“Senior!”

Frozen in place, A-gang suddenly snapped back to awareness and lifted his head.

A-gang quickly handed the suction to Eun-do and sprinted to the opposite side.

“The bolster!”

Bending low, A-gang unhesitatingly yanked out the bolster that had been placed under Ta-wan’s thigh and knee.

In an instant, the erupting blood slowed as if by magic.

The bolster was a support device the intern had placed under Ta-wan’s leg to maintain positioning.

For a typical femoral operation, that angle would have been necessary to secure the field of view. But Ta-wan’s case was different.

Because of the bolster, Ta-wan’s artery was stretched taut like a bowstring, preventing hemostasis.

The moment the bolster came free, the arterial tension eased, and the rush of blood slowed dramatically.

The pool of blood obscuring the view finally began to clear.

Ha Tae-heon seized that opening.

Click.
The torn blood vessel, now exposed as the blood receded, was clamped swiftly.

“Got it!”

Eun-do burst out in relief he’d been holding back.

Sighs of relief erupted throughout the operating room.

A quiet smile spread across A-gang’s face.

“Contamination. Step back.”

Ha Tae-heon spoke softly to A-gang.
Cold and decisive, as always.

Of course his hands were contaminated—he’d touched the bolster.

“I’ll scrub back in right away!”

A-gang exited the operating room as Ha Tae-heon continued the arterial anastomosis with practiced efficiency.

The moment the automatic doors closed, tension drained from him and his legs gave way.

A-gang collapsed onto the floor right there.

His surgical scrubs were already drenched with cold sweat.

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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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