Illusion Blind Date - Chapter 2

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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 2

Spring shifted her weight from foot to foot before finally lifting her gaze to meet the man’s eyes.
Mercifully, some of the madness had drained from his expression—in place of that terrifying smirk, his eyes had softened into something almost gentle.
For a moment it looked like curiosity, but then she reconsidered: it felt more like a veiled *go ahead, keep talking*.
“The truth is, I barely have time to use the bathroom, let alone meet men and get married. Surely you understand?”
Spring made a sincere effort to convince him that her hesitation had nothing to do with him personally.
“Which hospital do you work at?”
Just as she felt the weight of his stare pressing down on her, he spoke.
Oh no. This is awkward.
The man had taken an unexpected interest.
“YJ University Hospital, though…”
He fell silent.
The pause stretched between them.
Why did he look like that?
“I really am telling the truth.”
“What’s your specialty?”
He must have been briefed on her background beforehand, yet here he was, asking for specifics—it was clear he didn’t believe a word of it.
First she’d been treated like a cult recruiter, now a con artist.
“I’m a surgical resident.”
Forgetting her resolve not to provoke him, she bristled.

As though her answer had been wrong, he closed his eyes—which were thick and long even without false lashes—and opened them slowly to fix her with an unwavering stare.
The urge to snap *everything comes out if you dig* itched behind her teeth as he rubbed his jaw with one massive hand, the veins prominent beneath the skin.
“I know you don’t believe me, but I’m serious.”
When Spring spoke again with renewed conviction, he finally relented and nodded, though his eyes remained sharp.
“In that case, I trust you understand my situation. May I go?”
“Do as you like.”
The dismissal hung plain in his expression.
“Thank you.”
Spring bowed politely and rose from her seat.
The man simply watched her go, chin propped on his hand, wearing that infuriating smile.
This is the right call, isn’t it?
But why did it feel so wrong?
A strange mixture of indignation and discomfort began to knot inside her.
“Why are you still standing there? Looking for a fight?”
“No, no. Not at all.”
A fight, he said.
Spring took in the muscular frame that even his suit couldn’t conceal, and she shook her head firmly.
No matter how she looked at it, this wasn’t a man she could handle.
She turned away quickly.
All she had to do was make it out of the Lounge.
Her aunt would fall over in a fit if she found out, but this man was more than Spring could bear.
She’d tell her aunt she’d been rejected instead.
Spring kept her focus forward, trying to ignore the prickling sensation of his gaze burning into the back of her head as she made her way toward the exit.
It was a busy hour; people moved constantly in both directions.
As she stepped aside to let them pass, a middle-aged man came into her line of sight.
Something was wrong with him.
His complexion was far too pale, and his gait was unsteady.
This was an emergency!
The middle-aged man clutched at his chest and staggered forward before collapsing to the floor.
Thud!
Spring forgot she was wearing nine-centimeter heels and bolted toward him.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
“Someone’s collapsed!”
Hotel staff and bystanders murmured frantically, crowding around the fallen man.
“Wait—I’m a doctor!”
Where she found the courage, Bom couldn’t say—but the moment she cried out, every head in the room snapped toward her.
“Why? I’m a doctor.”
She pushed through the crowd’s hesitation and moved toward the man.
She’d never handled a collapse outside a hospital before, but the Emergency First Aid manual she’d memorized came flooding back.
“Can you hear me? Patient?”
Bom laid him flat on the ground and checked for consciousness first.
Unfortunately, he had neither consciousness nor respiration.
She palpated his carotid artery—nothing. Not even a flutter.
Lacking a pen light, Bom switched on her mobile phone flashlight and peered into both eyes.
The pupil reflex was intact, which was a mercy—no sign of cerebral hemorrhage or brain trauma.
“Staff member, call 119 right now! And bring me an AED!”
She barked the order at the dazed hotel employee.
Cardiac arrest beyond four to five minutes meant brain damage. She knew the clock was running.
Bom unbuckled the man’s belt and undid his shirt buttons, then began chest compression.
For an adult, you had to compress the sternum five to six centimeters deep, at one hundred to one hundred twenty compressions per minute.
She stacked her hands over the sternum, locked her arms vertical, and put her weight behind each push.
Huff, huff.
“Come on, sir. Hang in there.”
About a minute into CPR, a shadow fell across her vision.
“Count to three and I’ll take over. Step back.”
A deep voice dropped into her ear.
She glanced up to find the Blind Date Man looming above her—suit jacket discarded, shirtsleeves rolled up, casting her in shadow.
“All right.”
Her judgment was instant.
To drive the shock deep into the heart, a man with stronger arm strength would compress more effectively.
Besides, he was a police officer—he’d know CPR well enough.
“One, two, three.”
On three, Bom stepped back and he took her place.
His hands—massive compared to her small ones—pressed down with practiced force.
The precise form, the rhythmic pressure, the controlled strength—this was no amateur.
Yet despite textbook-perfect CPR, the patient remained limp, unresponsive.
“Pupil size and light reflex—what were they?”
The Blind Date Man asked without breaking rhythm, only turning his head.
His sharp intensity made the answer tumble from her lips unbidden.
“About four millimeters before I shined the light. The pupil reflex was prompt.”
Even as she answered, something nagged at the back of her mind—something odd—but the urgency of the moment swept it aside.
“See that nitroglycerin sublingual tablet on the floor? Given his symptoms and the medication, he’s clearly suffered MI or angina before.”
Nitroglycerin sublingual tablets were used primarily to manage acute angina episodes.
He gestured with his chin toward the empty bottle on the ground—when had he even spotted it?
Bom scrambled to retrieve it. The bottle was empty.
The man’s heart trouble was plainly chronic.
Huff, huff.
The chest compressions continued in grim rhythm.
Sweat dripped down his forehead.
Muscle rippled beneath the stretched shirt, threatening to burst through the fabric.
Even the hulking seniors in the Department of Surgery—the kind who made street thugs look frail—couldn’t match this.
The ambulance still hadn’t arrived. The hotel emergency kit remained nowhere in sight.
“Two minutes. Let me take over.”
Knowing how punishing CPR was, Bom moved in to relieve him.
But the Blind Date Man shook his head.
“Instead, call YJ Emergency and tell them a suspected MI cardiac arrest patient is coming in. They need time to prepare.”
What—are you a professor?
This presence, this command—even the department chief would defer.
Those black eyes held hers, and her answer came of its own accord.
“Understood. Three minutes and ten seconds elapsed so far.”
She reported the time to him with formal deference, then immediately dialed the Emergency Room.
The moment the line connected, she described the patient’s condition and arranged to call again once the ambulance departed.
While Bom was still on the phone, the staff member arrived with the AED.
“Here it is!”
“Hand it over.”
Spring turned on the AED and attached two pads to the patient, positioning them so they wouldn’t interfere with the chest compressions.
She placed one below the right clavicle and the other along the midaxillary line below the left nipple.
The man continued performing CPR while watching Spring’s every move with sharp, scrutinizing eyes.
As if weighing whether she was doing it right or wrong.

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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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