Boss, It's My First Time Being Your Resident - Chapter 63

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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 63. Because Love Is New to Me

“What?”
“Love. That’s what my heart feels.”

A-gang’s thin voice scattered into the empty air.

The sudden confession sent a wave of bewilderment across Ha Tae-heon’s face.

He looked down at A-gang, whose eyes trembled as she gazed up at him.

“Just now, Woo Seop told me. When your heart aches for no reason, you lose your appetite, can’t sleep, and nothing interests you anymore—not even the things you love—that’s what love is.”

Love.
It was love.
A strange emotion she had never felt once in twenty-six years of living.

Being new to it had made her clumsy, made her want to run away—and now, at last, all those unfamiliar feelings were finding their names.

“…….”
“……I love you.”

Tears A-gang had been holding back spilled down her cheeks.

“Why cry if you love me?”

Ha Tae-heon let out a soft laugh and gently wiped away the tears streaming down A-gang’s face with his thumb.

“It feels so strange…… it’s just an automatic response. These tears.”

A-gang murmured softly, her hand pressed to her chest.

“My chest is broken too.”
“Really……?”
“When I look at you, it feels like something’s wrong with me. Just like you.”

Ha Tae-heon drew A-gang’s hand down and overlaid it on his own heart.

His heartbeat, pounding fiercely beneath the thick chest wall, transmitted itself entirely through her palm.

His heart was rough and honest.

“If I tried to define what I feel right now, there’s no other word I can use but love.”
“Tae-heon…….”
“You’re so fragile, so vulnerable, so clumsy, so uncertain. Yet you’re always the one brave enough to move first, always one step ahead of me. I’m always catching up.”

When Ha Tae-heon cupped A-gang’s small face in both hands, she gasped in surprise and froze.

“I love you, A-gang.”

It was a brief confession, unexpected in its simplicity.
A-gang stared at him, dazed.

“Hic.”

The words she had longed to hear—and the moment she heard them, her breath hitched and a hiccup escaped instead.

“How could three little words stay locked in my chest for so long?”

Ha Tae-heon’s eyes filled entirely with A-gang’s bewildered face.

For a long moment, as if savoring something precious, he held her gaze before bending down and gently pressing his lips to hers.

In the Locker Room of that afternoon, time seemed to flow by a different clock—one where this moment might have lasted forever.

The sweet kiss erased the last boundary between them like brilliant sunlight bleaching everything white.

– Code Blue, Code Blue! A-wing operating room, Code Blue!

– Code Blue, Code Blue! Trauma Center, Code Blue!

Then it came.

Urgent announcements cascaded through the hospital speakers one after another.

Both their gazes snapped upward at the same instant.

The warmth filling the Locker Room vanished, replaced in an instant by cold tension.

Ha Tae-heon gripped A-gang’s shoulders—still dazed—and spoke with steady authority.

“I’m heading to the Operating Room. You go down. The professors are there, so you’ll be fine.”
“Yes!”

A-gang swallowed hard, hastily fastening her disheveled Medical Gown, and ran.

Before she even reached the entrance to the Trauma Center, the first floor had already descended into chaos.

The ambulance siren, wailing in the distance, drew closer and closer until it echoed through the Lobby itself.

The fact that the siren hadn’t been silenced despite the hospital’s proximity was the most urgent signal an ambulance crew could send.

A sign that the patient’s condition was so critical that every second mattered—alerting the medical staff to prepare immediately.

“A-gang, hurry! It’s a van Traffic Accident patient. Five years old, facial fractures and inhalation burns—she’s in Arrest. We can’t get her Vitals.”

A nurse rapidly briefed A-gang as she rushed in.

“Facial fractures?”
“Nasal and maxilla are completely crushed. We called Professor Park Do-jun, but where is he? Kim and Jung went into surgery.”

The nurse bounced on her heels anxiously.

Facial trauma at a university hospital fell under plastic surgery.

Particularly maxillofacial fractures posed a critical risk of Airway Obstruction from tongue swelling or soft tissue edema, and broken teeth or bone fragments could block the airway—a true emergency.

“Huff, huff!”

A second-year Resident pressed both hands onto the child’s chest, performing CPR with desperate urgency.

With each compression, sweat dripped from his disheveled hair as he threw his full body weight into the compressions.

“The heart’s back!”

A brief wave of relief swept through the Resuscitation Room, but the real problem came next.

“Professor Park—when’s he coming down? Intubation isn’t working.”

Another Resident, fumbling with the tube, looked up at the nurse with a frown.

Was the airway completely blocked by edema?

Even as he tilted the child’s chin and adjusted the tube angle repeatedly, it refused to advance. A frustrated sigh escaped him.

“I’ll do a Cricothyrotomy.”

A-gang pushed past the nurses surrounding the bed and rushed to the child’s head.

Cricothyrotomy—Cricothyroidotomy.

In essence, a surgical emergency airway: when intubation fails, you incise the neck and establish an airway by cutting directly to the trachea, then supply oxygen—the last resort.

“What? Why a Cricothyrotomy!”
“Please prepare the kit. I’m going to proceed immediately.”

Ignoring the second-year Resident’s shock, A-gang reached out toward the nurse without hesitation.

“Are you insane? Who are you, a first-year? Hey! A-gang? Are you out of your mind?”

The second-year Resident’s eyes widened as he read the name embroidered on A-gang’s gown. He let out an incredulous laugh.

His expression screamed: A first-year daring to act in front of a senior?

“Senior, I’m a Plastic Surgery Resident. This is my specialty.”

Faced with A-gang’s unwavering tone, he stepped back, unsure.

Two minutes.
The Golden Hour that was left.

Before the child’s Oxygen Saturation dropped further, she had to act within two minutes.
But pediatric anatomy differed from adults—the difficulty doubled.

‘You can do this.’

A-gang steadied her trembling hands and took a deep breath.

Just recently, when the African children had been brought to the Trauma Center.

While treating a child with a broken bone from a fall, Ha Tae-heon had taught her this technique directly—and now it came vividly back to her.

“Children under five with facial trauma have narrow airways. Sudden obstruction can happen easily. If swelling occurs or the tongue retracts, it closes off immediately. Rather than miss the Golden Hour, sometimes a Tracheostomy is the better call. Of course, the judgment call is yours.”

Ha Tae-heon’s words, delivered so offhandedly, now felt like salvation.

Finally, conviction settled into A-gang’s fingertips.

A No. 15 Scalpel was placed in her palm.
A-gang proceeded with steady composure.

She inserted the tube into the cricothyroid membrane and connected an Ambu Bag, supplying oxygen through it.

“A-gang!!”

Professor Park Do-jun’s voice boomed through the room.

“Professor…….”

A-gang froze.

“What the hell are you doing!”
“Professor, I’ve just completed an emergency Cricothyrotomy on the patient. Vitals have returned, and Oxygen Saturation is up to 92%.”
“What?”

Park Do-jun approached slowly and examined the child carefully.

His piercing gaze fixed on the incision site, flashing briefly with amazement before shifting subtly in expression.

“Why did you make a vertical incision here?”
“Yes! To prevent Tracheal Stenosis! Also, in a five-year-old, the Innominate Artery is positioned higher, so I avoided a lower approach to prevent damage!”

Park Do-jun’s eyes narrowed.

A-gang’s heart hammered like a student waiting for grades.

Would it be positive or negative?
Had she actually done it right?

“Your posting to the Trauma Center ends next month, doesn’t it?”
“Yes!”
“Come train under me. Prepare yourself for hard work.”
“……!”

Even after successfully assisting in Tawon’s surgery, the professor had said little.

She’d lost sleep nights, anxious over what judgment would come—and now, instead of criticism, an invitation.

He finally recognized her as a student.

She wanted to bow deeply to him right then and there, to thank him with all her heart.

“What, don’t you want to?”
“No, sir! I do! Very much!”

It was the most gruff acceptance she’d ever heard—yet A-gang’s heart swelled.

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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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