Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 102

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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 102.
“Damn it, what the hell have I seen.”
Beom-jun had been swearing like it was going out of style lately. Ever since he learned that Han Myeong-jae had made contact with the patient, he’d been seething.
“What a load of crap.”
When he muttered curses under his breath, the staff would steal glances.
But to them, it wasn’t really a big issue that the hospital director was cursing. He’d been quiet recently—back before, they counted themselves lucky if he just swore without doing anything else.
Still, Im Sung-hyuk was acutely attuned to his shifts in mood.
“Director, you seem to be under a lot of stress these days.”
“Stress? My stress isn’t what matters right now.”
“You should think about your health. Jae-gyeong mentioned it—apparently you nearly collapsed recently.”
“Me?”
“Yes, sir.”
He couldn’t even clearly remember when Jae-gyeong had said that.
‘Was it when Min Jeong-sik registered?’
Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.
“Never mind that. It looks like Han Myeong-jae has made contact with the Kim Do-yoon patient. When the patient’s records transfer over, send them to me.”
The title that Beom-jun had carefully appended to Han Myeong-jae every time—board chairman—had vanished. He ground his teeth as he spoke to Sung-hyuk.
“I’m perfectly fine myself. Why does the director want to see the patient?”
“I just told you—the chairman made contact with him.”
“Even so, that won’t interfere with my treatment of the patient.”
Beom-jun’s brow furrowed at Sung-hyuk’s rigid response. If the chairman was trying to exploit the patient, the attending physician would take a direct hit—yet he showed no fear.
‘Good grief, this thick-headed fool. As if he doesn’t know what tricks Han Myeong-jae might’ve already used on the patient.’
“I think you should rest, Director.”
Until now, Beom-jun had let Im Sung-hyuk coddle him, but this was different.
Beom-jun activated his Control Ability on Sung-hyuk.
“No. I’m seeing the Kim Do-yoon patient.”
[Target department confirmed as Department of Thoracic Surgery.]
[Applying Control Ability to Im Sung-hyuk.]
[Control Ability Stage 5: Does it of their own accord.]
The Control Ability activated at its highest stage in response to Beom-jun’s words.
He rarely needed to use it these days, but circumstances left him no choice.
Beom-jun believed that Im Sung-hyuk getting involved in whatever Han Myeong-jae was doing would be an obstruction.
If Sung-hyuk threw himself in front of Han Myeong-jae to stop him, that would also be problematic in its own way.
‘Better if I just handle it myself.’
But Sung-hyuk said something different.
“I’ll take care of it myself.”
‘What’s going on? Didn’t the Control Ability apply properly?’
Then, as if answering Beom-jun’s question, a status window appeared.
[Control Ability has been applied to Im Sung-hyuk.]
[Control Ability Stage 5: Does it of their own accord.]
Stage 5 Control Ability was a level where someone could handle tasks well without needing specific instructions.
It was convenient not to have to spell everything out, but… could they actually refuse?
“No, I said I’m seeing that patient.”
“That’s not possible. It’s only proper that I, as a Thoracic Surgery professor, take charge. If I need help, I’ll let you know.”
Even when Beom-jun repeated himself, Sung-hyuk said no.
As for needing help—Im Sung-hyuk would rot from the inside out first. He was never the type to ask.
Beom-jun honestly didn’t trust him.
He respected his mission-driven way of saving patients, but for the Kim Do-yoon case, treatment wasn’t the real issue.
To get the truth from the patient, a stronger rapport would need to be built than what Han Myeong-jae had—but could Im Sung-hyuk, clumsy as he was with interpersonal dynamics, manage that?
“I really mean it. Let me handle this. I’m always on the receiving end with you—this time I want to actually be helpful.”
Despite Beom-jun’s skepticism, Sung-hyuk remained quite earnest, but Beom-jun had little faith in him.
“What exactly do you think you’re going to help with?”
Beom-jun asked with a self-deprecating laugh. It was less a question and more talking to himself.
“Finding out why the patient conspired with Chairman Han Myeong-jae in the first place.”
But Sung-hyuk, from whom Beom-jun expected no real insight, came back with an unexpected answer.
“I’m not who I was before either. While you were changing, sir, I wasn’t just sitting idle.”
Sung-hyuk said this with a wry smile, mimicking Beom-jun’s own habit.
Beom-jun laughed in disbelief at the sight of him. It was absurd, yet somehow endearing too.
“Fine, give it a shot.”
Beom-jun spoke slowly, closing his eyes and opening them again. Dimples appeared in Sung-hyuk’s cheeks at this reluctant sign of approval.
“It won’t be easy. I’ll look into Kim Do-yoon’s background myself, so don’t overextend yourself.”
“Yes, sir. Understood.”
Sung-hyuk agreed readily to the additional task, and Beom-jun decided to give him at least some measure of trust.
Besides, he wasn’t about to stand idle and do nothing while Sung-hyuk carried the patient.
As long as Kim Do-yoon remained hospitalized at Korea University Hospital, he was under Beom-jun’s sphere of influence.
* * *
Do-yoon gripped his right wrist with his left hand. Even with pressure applied, the fine tremor wouldn’t stop. His pupils, like his hand, oscillated left and right.
“Will the surgery really be okay?”
He asked himself, but no answer came. With neither certainty nor decision to cling to, time simply flowed on—and that terrified him.
Do-yoon swallowed hard. His throat bobbed up and down, then settled.
‘Young doctors act like they’re gods. But if the surgery goes wrong, it’s the patient who has to live with it forever.’
Past eleven at night, Korea University Hospital had gone dark, even its corridors unlit and shadowy.
Kim Do-yoon occupied a four-bed room alone—the patients in Ward 77 typically preferred private rooms.
The empty beds looked eerie, as though ghosts might climb into them at any moment, but with no guardian at his side, Do-yoon had nowhere to lean.
Before admission, Chairman Han Myeong-jae had come with people from the Eunseong Foundation, but that was purely to sell paintings, not out of concern for Do-yoon.
He was grateful just for being connected to Korea University Hospital and admitted. Do-yoon didn’t ask for much. No grand ambitions.
He simply loved painting.
When he painted, he felt free—as though he possessed the entire world.
After frantically completing a work, two days might have passed without him noticing.
Doctors always say things will be fine. They have to—otherwise patients won’t get on the operating table.
Lying in his hospital bed, Do-yoon stared at the white ceiling. Will it feel like this when I’m on the operating table? The words the chairman had spoken seemed to whisper at the edge of his awareness.
When Do-yoon voiced his worry, Han Myeong-jae had cut through it like a blade. The coldness of his words made Do-yoon’s heart sink.
‘I’ve heard it too—that once the nerves are damaged, they’re nearly impossible to restore.’
‘That’s right, nothing’s certain. You can find all about it on the internet, I’m sure. Don’t tell me this is the first you’re hearing of it?’
Han Myeong-jae had needled at Do-yoon’s anxiety. After their call, Do-yoon spent longer and longer with his phone, searching.
The internet was full of detailed accounts of complications and aftereffects.
Bloggers describing nerve damage and resulting disability during surgery. YouTubers talking about tumors that looked benign but turned out to be malignant cancers.
Do-yoon’s right hand trembled violently. He bit at his own lips with it.
Do-yoon gulped and swallowed hard.
‘What if I can’t use my right hand anymore? Then my whole life as a painter is over!’
Do-yoon resented the world. All he wanted was to live quietly and just paint!
Then someone entered the room.
Knock, knock.
No one had said he could come in, but this room wasn’t Do-yoon’s anyway.
“Good evening. I’m Professor Im Sung-hyuk—we met briefly before. You’ll be receiving treatment from the Department of Thoracic Surgery soon. Neurosurgery explained the operation to you, correct? How much did you understand?”
After softly closing the door, he walked swiftly toward Do-yoon’s bed. The tall man’s long strides approaching felt threatening to Do-yoon.
“Just that the tumor is pressing on a nerve.”
Do-yoon answered curtly to Sung-hyuk’s probing question.
“Yes, I’ll be performing the surgery to remove that tumor. We’ll make an incision at the side—it’s less invasive than open thoracic surgery, so it should be less burdensome.”
Sung-hyuk explained to Do-yoon with more detail and care than usual.
“There’s a chance the nerve could be damaged, though, right?”
“The possibility exists, but it’s quite slim. In your case, the tumor isn’t completely attached to the nerve itself—it’s surrounding tissue that’s adhered and causing the compression.”
But each time Sung-hyuk spoke, the words Han Myeong-jae had spoken overlapped in Do-yoon’s ear.
Doctors always say things will be fine. They have to—otherwise patients won’t get on the operating table.
“So it should be fine then? It’s what happens after surgery that’s more worrying, they say.”
“I can’t give you absolute guarantees. I heard you’re a painter. I’ll do my very best to ensure no aftereffects remain. If necessary, we’ll also proceed with rehabilitation, so there’s no need to worry too much.”
Sung-hyuk’s words didn’t land squarely on Do-yoon.
‘The chairman told me to think carefully, but he’s speaking like this is so simple? What’s this confidence about?’
When Sung-hyuk spoke of aftereffects, Do-yoon heard it as hollow reassurance.
The chairman had been absolutely right.
‘Young doctors act like they’re gods.’
Do-yoon found Sung-hyuk’s rigid manner irritating.
‘Who does he think he is, deciding what’s okay and what’s not? I’m not okay with this.’
Do-yoon viewed Sung-hyuk through the frame Han Myeong-jae had already set for him. Already primed for suspicion, he couldn’t properly hear Sung-hyuk’s encouragement and support.
‘The chairman was right.’
Anxiety about the future bled into distrust of Sung-hyuk. Do-yoon bit at his lips, now ragged and torn from picking.
Meanwhile, as Im Sung-hyuk left the room, he sensed that Kim Do-yoon was wary of him. He’d already picked up on so much from somewhere.
‘The nerve could be damaged, though, right?’
‘It’s what happens after surgery that’s more worrying, they say.’
Sung-hyuk hated most when patients came with hearsay and asked questions. The way baseless rumors swayed them too.
But this time was different.
Knowing now that the patient came from a difficult family situation and was being exploited by Han Myeong-jae, Sung-hyuk couldn’t regard him purely as a patient anymore.
Without building a therapeutic relationship, he’d failed to get the patient to commit to treatment.
“I never thought those kinds of words would come out of my mouth.”
Sung-hyuk spoke to himself with self-mockery.
Reassurance alone wasn’t enough—but what had the director been thinking when considering a patient like this?
‘I’ll look into Kim Do-yoon’s background myself, so don’t overextend yourself.’
Sung-hyuk let out a deep sigh.
The director had told him not to overextend, but he wanted to do more. At least now he knew what was lacking—this wasn’t a complete failure.
Sung-hyuk clenched his fist tightly.

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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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