Boss, It's My First Time Being Your Resident - Chapter 58

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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 58. The Password

You did well. You did well.

A-gang placed a hand on her trembling chest and stroked it gently.

Her heart continued to pound, showing no sign of settling.

From beyond the closed operating room door came the whir of a drill boring into bone—the ruptured vascular anastomosis must have been complete already.

The tumor that had plagued the child for five years had been removed; now it was just a matter of successfully completing the excision of damaged tissue and bone, followed by bone reconstruction and skin grafting.

As A-gang steadied her trembling legs and moved toward the Scrub Station, it happened.

“A-gang Ju.”

A low, familiar voice drew closer. A-gang turned her head slowly.

“Oh! Professor!”

In that instant, her body went rigid as a wooden doll.

Park Do-jun, the Plastic Surgery professor who had sent her down to the Trauma Center, stood before her. He’d come to observe the pediatric case.

It had been nearly a month since she’d last seen the professor’s face, and nervousness outweighed gladness.

“I hear you’re doing well?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You discovered the skull base fracture in a trauma patient, didn’t you? The whole department’s talking about it.”
“A skull base fracture? People are… talking about me?”

It made no sense.

Trapped in the Trauma Center all day, she had no way of knowing how the hospital’s rumor mill turned or what people thought of her.

“That’s right. They say the subject always hears the gossip last. You really didn’t know? Don’t tell me trauma surgery is your true calling.”

At A-gang’s bewildered reaction, Park Do-jun broke into a hearty laugh unlike anything she’d heard from him before.

Since coming to Sein University, she had never heard such warm, teasing praise from Professor Park.

“Come into my operating room after this.”
“I’m sorry?”
“As second assistant. I already have a fellow matched with first. Let me see what you’ve got today. Show me what you can do, A-gang.”
“Me?”
“Aren’t you part of our PS department? If you don’t want to, I can call someone else.”
“No, no! I’ll do it! I absolutely will!”

Desperate not to miss the opportunity, A-gang answered quickly, then cautiously gauged the professor’s expression.

“Professor… are you really giving me a chance now?”

It was asking whether he’d finally forgiven her for that mistake the day she lost the leech.

“When didn’t I give you a chance? I sent you to the Trauma Center to give you one.”
“Professor…”
“What, having second thoughts?”
“No! I’m confident!”
“The surgery will probably go into the early morning. If it gets too much, tell me now. I can swap out the second assistant.”
“Whether it’s midnight or an all-nighter, it doesn’t matter! I’ll do my best!”

At A-gang’s bold answer, Park Do-jun chuckled.

Though it would be a grueling marathon lasting until dawn, A-gang felt as though she’d won the world.

“As soon as Ha Tae-heon finishes his surgery, we’ll go straight in. Be ready.”
“Yes!”

Park Do-jun let out an exasperated laugh, watching A-gang, who moments ago had been wilting, suddenly come alive with energy.

***

An operating room carries the melody of its surgeon alone.
Like a single stage.

If the surgeon in charge is the conductor of that day, the assistants are the musicians completing the performance together.

Where Ha Tae-heon’s operating room had been filled with the delicate precision of a soloist—an elegant classical concerto—Park Do-jun’s was a grand, sweeping symphony.

“Cut.”
“Cut!”

A-gang matched Park Do-jun’s rhythm perfectly, completing the final suturing flawlessly.

The wall clock in the operating room blinked red.

12:51 a.m. Surgery complete.

Thirteen hours from start to finish.

During the skin flap surgery in the PS department, poor blood flow to the transplanted flap had stretched the operation far longer than anticipated, but eventually the grafted skin on the child’s leg began to show a healthy crimson color.

The surgery had been a success, and the long journey had finally reached its end.

“Thank you for your hard work!”

The patient’s bed was wheeled out, the camera crew withdrew, and the operating room stood empty.

A profound silence descended.

The warm, fierce battlefield where patient and medical team had fought together for thirteen hours was now filled with cold air once more.

A-gang stood motionless for a long time, then gently ran her hand across the operating table. The warmth of the patient still seemed to linger there.

Her first time as first assistant as a resident.

Something indescribable and burning surged up from deep within her chest.

Her entire body was drenched in blood and sweat, heavier than waterlogged cotton, yet her heart felt light as a cloud.

A-gang removed the surgical scrub cap Ha Tae-heon had given her as a gift and carefully touched the embroidered name stitched on it.

Agang Ju.
The three letters felt unusually vivid beneath her fingertips.

That was when it happened.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the operating room corridor—thud, thud, thud.

Click—the foot switch depressed, and the translucent automatic door slid open.

The one who walked in was none other than Ha Tae-heon.

“Why are you still here instead of going home?”

Ha Tae-heon approached without a word, his long strides bringing him to within inches of her. A-gang caught her breath, suddenly tense.

After regarding her silently for a moment, he slowly reached out and brushed her long hair—matted with sweat and disheveled—back over her shoulder.

“You did well. My first assistant.”

The unexpected tenderness of his touch made A-gang’s shoulders tremble.

Ha Tae-heon’s gaze rested deeply in her eyes.

“You worked hard.”
“…”

A-gang’s eyes trembled.

Thirteen hours of struggle melted away at those few simple words.

Ha Tae-heon extended his hand and spoke softly.

“Give me your hand.”
“My hand? Why?”

Before she could finish, a red strawberry candy wrapped in clear packaging and a cute sticker were casually placed on her open palm.

“Senior…”

At that moment, A-gang’s lips curved up uncontrollably.

Ha Tae-heon watched the small, flower-like smile bloom on her face, amusement and mischief mingled in his expression, before he asked.

“Why are you smiling so hard over just one sticker? Prettily, too.”
“…”

Why did her heart drop at hearing the word “pretty”?
But pretending she hadn’t heard the rest, A-gang bit her lip and smiled shyly.

“Senior, if I collect five stickers, will you give me a gift too?”
“A gift?”
“Yes. You give gifts to the other patients when they collect five stickers.”
“You’re not a child.”

Ha Tae-heon let out a soft laugh.

“What would you want? Not a bag, surely? That strange… pink thing you mentioned last time?”
“Senior!”

A-gang glanced away shyly.

“I’ll think about it for a long time. What I want.”

Over the remaining month at the Trauma Center, she hoped the chance would come to collect five stickers.
So that she could receive a gift from Ha Tae-heon—something in the world that belonged only to her.

“0511.”
“I’m sorry? 0511?”
“My password.”

Unexpectedly, a string of numbers spilled from between Ha Tae-heon’s lips.

“A password? What do you…?”

Surely not his phone password.
A-gang blinked in confusion, and Ha Tae-heon added quietly.

“My apartment’s password.”

A-gang’s breath caught.

“You can’t shower at this hour. Not here. Not alone.”
“…”
“It’s a reward for doing well as my first assistant.”
“…”
“If you’re ever scared, use my apartment’s shower.”

A-gang looked up at Ha Tae-heon, dazed.

“But still…”
“Don’t overthink it. I barely go home anyway.”

His tone was deliberately casual, even indifferent, but his eyes holding her gaze rippled with infinite gentleness.

Caught between the unfamiliar warmth and coolness, A-gang didn’t know where to look and drifted for a long moment.

Her heart was pounding so hard it felt ready to burst through her ribs.

“Senior… aren’t you going home tonight?”
“I need to see the patient wake up, then grab some sleep in the on-call room.”

Ha Tae-heon’s gaze lowered.

Taking in the sight of A-gang—her scrubs and the tops of her feet stained with blood from the arterial hemorrhage during surgery—he let out a soft, brief laugh.

“You’re starting to look like a real surgeon. Go on.”

***

“0511.”

A-gang entered the four-digit password with trembling fingers.

With a soft beep, the electronic lock disengaged and the heavy front door swung open.

She hesitated on the entrance mat for a long time, wiggling only her toes, wondering if she should really be doing this.

In the end, her exhausted body—having fought for thirteen hours—won out.

A warm shower was all she wanted.

The moment she stepped inside, a fresh fragrance brushed against her nose.

Every space carries the scent of those who dwell within it. Ha Tae-heon’s apartment held a fragrance that resembled him.

Subtle and soft, almost untouchable—utterly unlike his cool exterior.

This second visit to his home revealed the same cool, perfectly ordered space, not a detail out of place.

How could someone with such a murderous schedule keep everything so immaculate?

Furniture positioned with ruler-like precision, objects arranged with knife-sharp care, a carpet so perfectly pristine it seemed unsettling to step on—the whole place looked like a model home.

A-gang made her way carefully toward Ha Tae-heon’s room to reach the bathroom.

She knew it wasn’t proper to snoop through an empty house, yet she found herself drawn to every corner, her eyes unconsciously taking in the details.

Her gaze led her footsteps forward.

When her eyes reached a wide desk past a white-sheeted bed, they caught on something.

A familiar, ancient object that didn’t belong.

Something entirely at odds with his minimalist, almost obsessively neat modern apartment.

A red string bracelet.

A-gang’s lips trembled.

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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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