Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 108

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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 108.
Beom-jun opened his Status Window. He scrolled through the list of items he’d used so far.
What caught his eye was the Control Gun.
The Control Gun he’d used on the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to prepare for the military-commissioned hospital.
[Name: Control Gun
Characteristic: Applies Control Power to a specific individual.
Remaining Uses: 0]
He could apply Control Power to a specific person even without registering them as talent. The headshot had worked beautifully—he’d deployed the highest-level Control Power available at the time back then.
It would’ve been perfect to use on Kim Do-yoon. He’d never imagined he’d end up using this item on a patient, but—
“Really, it’s okay to go ahead with the surgery on Patient Kim Do-yoon?”
Sung-hyuk asked Beom-jun, who’d been staring into empty space while checking the item.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Do what you want.”
But the moment Beom-jun, who’d been trying to stop the surgery just moments before, told him to do as he pleased, Sung-hyuk fell silent.
The two of them had disagreed on much, but now he didn’t need Beom-jun to use Control Power on him.
Sung-hyuk believed that Beom-jun wouldn’t ask him to do anything that would harm him, and
Beom-jun had realized that Sung-hyuk was looking toward the same place he was.
“If you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t do it.”
Sung-hyuk answered after a moment’s hesitation.
Beom-jun accepted Sung-hyuk’s feelings readily enough, but that was where it ended.
“Can you really leave Patient Kim Do-yoon alone? Well, I suppose it’s fine either way. Professor Jeong Da-eun will handle it.”
At Beom-jun’s words, Sung-hyuk’s eyebrows twitched.
Partly because he rarely entrusted his own patients to others, but Professor Jeong Da-eun would likely feel uneasy taking on Patient Kim Do-yoon.
Moreover, Kim Do-yoon wasn’t just any patient—he was a time bomb waiting to explode.
“Even if the surgery goes wrong, it’ll be on Professor Jeong anyway, so it doesn’t matter, right?”
“…That’s not quite right.”
Exactly. Whatever he said, Im Sung-hyuk wasn’t the type to pretend not to care about Kim Do-yoon. He couldn’t turn a blind eye to something Professor Jeong would bear the blame for.
Watching Sung-hyuk caught between a rock and a hard place, Beom-jun offered a solution.
“You just do your part and finish the surgery well. As a doctor, your job is to treat Patient Kim Do-yoon properly. I’ll handle the rest.”
“Is that… actually possible?”
“It has to be possible. Somehow.”
Beom-jun spoke lightly to the worried Sung-hyuk.
“What, don’t you trust me?”
“No! Of course not.”
Sung-hyuk startled and denied it emphatically.
Patient Kim Do-yoon would be discharged without incident. And the moment after his discharge, when he returned and told Im Sung-hyuk that the surgery had gone wrong,
he would confess everything about Han Myeong-jae with his own lips.
Beom-jun clenched his jaw hard. His masseter muscles tensed, making his cheeks hollow.
In Doctor X, Han Myeong-jae barely appeared. He’d used others as pawns and stayed carefully hidden in the shadows.
Once he’d severed the connection with the vice-director, now he was using a patient instead.
‘Cutting off his limbs isn’t enough. I need to strike at the head.’
Until now, he’d focused on weakening Han Myeong-jae’s power, but that wasn’t sufficient.
Beom-jun decided to wait. He would watch as Han Myeong-jae thrashed about, waiting for the moment to strike his neck.
But Sung-hyuk had slightly misunderstood Beom-jun’s plan.
“I’ll also try to talk some sense into Patient Kim Do-yoon.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“You’re trying to separate him from the Chairman, aren’t you?”
Sung-hyuk thought Beom-jun meant to persuade the patient. If it were going to work, he wouldn’t have gotten involved in this kind of plan in the first place. Maybe the naive one wasn’t Kim Do-yoon but Im Sung-hyuk.
Even when Sung-hyuk was told about the scheming between Kim Do-yoon and Han Myeong-jae, he’d said it couldn’t be true. It seemed Sung-hyuk still hadn’t let go of his vain hope.
Sung-hyuk, whose eyes were as clean as Kim Do-yoon’s in Doctor X, couldn’t perceive all of Beom-jun’s intentions.
“Right, it’d be best if Kim Do-yoon distanced himself from the Chairman.”
Beom-jun didn’t tell him that he was going to send Kim Do-yoon down into the abyss tied together with the patient.
To protect Sung-hyuk’s world, which knew only patients, was perhaps the reason. Maybe you can only live in a clean world if you don’t witness filth.
For him, a doctor, to not forget that the dignity of life is paramount,
without looking back at how long his shadow stretches,
he must move forward toward the light alone.
Beom-jun laughed softly and patted Sung-hyuk’s shoulder.
“Yeah, talk to him well. Just don’t mention the Chairman Han in detail.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Sung-hyuk answered with grim determination in his own mind.
After sending him off, Beom-jun stood alone in the darkened Director’s Office.
In the pitch-black room, wearing pitch-black clothes, his eyes gleamed with a dark light.
* * *
Kim Do-yoon was half-reclined on the hospital bed.
‘This really is a different world. Will I ever be able to come back to a place like this?’
Coming from a seven-pyeong studio apartment, the hospital room seemed like a palace, and sometimes he fell into the delusion that this wasn’t reality.
In his studio, money bugs occasionally appeared—Do-yoon had even consoled himself that at least cockroaches didn’t show up.
But Korea University Hospital had no insects whatsoever, and everywhere there was a faint fragrance. From the bedding, the bathroom, and even from the people—a clean, freshly-laundered scent.
‘There’s an opportunity I absolutely can’t miss. Only those who are prepared can seize it.’
While his mind drifted between dream and reality, only the words the Chairman had spoken before admission remained crystal clear.
When the Chairman mentioned the story of Do-yoon’s role model artist, who’d gained fame after an accident, Han Myeong-jae had encouraged him, saying it was a good idea.
‘Not bad. I could actually use this as-is. It’s a kind of benchmarking. Or you could call it an homage.’
A story of misfortune—losing the right hand in an accident, yet ultimately achieving a comeback. As Do-yoon recalled the carefully scripted narrative, he hugged the hospital bedding tightly.
‘Someday I’ll live like this.’
Buried in the blankets, Kim Do-yoon fumbled with his cell phone. These days, he couldn’t reach the Chairman. Even when he had missed calls, there were no callbacks.
Han Myeong-jae had begun treating Kim Do-yoon with increasing indifference, but Do-yoon, who had few memories of being treated with respect in his life, didn’t blame him. He only worried about being a bother to someone so busy.
He gripped his trembling right wrist with his left hand.
‘This is the right thing, isn’t it? The Chairman said not being able to use my right hand would only be temporary. If I’m going to keep drawing in the future, there’s no other way.’
The future was ordinarily an uncertain thing, but
the tomorrow Han Myeong-jae had promised seemed certain.
Stable and clearly visible things had captured Kim Do-yoon’s heart.
He’d been so trapped in a bleak present that he couldn’t summon even a shred of hope that a brilliant future would unfold.
When he first became a painter, he thought he’d be a prodigy, a monster talent arriving like a meteor. The reality was barely selling one painting per month. After graduation, he’d had almost no opportunity to hold exhibitions.
A year passed. Two years. As time went on, Kim Do-yoon grew exhausted.
If the Eunseong Foundation hadn’t subsidized his rent, he’d probably have been thrown onto the street. His part-time work barely covered living expenses.
Above all, painting required expensive materials. Canvas and pigment had to be constantly repurchased, and the better the price, the better the quality—it was always a dilemma.
“There’s no choice. This is right.”
Kim Do-yoon consoled himself. Because without this, he couldn’t receive any encouragement or comfort from anyone.
Do-yoon got out of bed carefully and pulled a bag from inside the wardrobe.
Inside were brushes he’d used for a long time. Do-yoon gripped a brush with his left hand. It was clumsy, like learning to use chopsticks for the first time.
Do-yoon wrapped his head in his arms, writhing in pain. Seized by mounting fear, he wrapped both arms around himself. Guilt rushed over him for the professor who would be falsely accused of medical accident.
It felt like an angel and a demon were alternately whispering in both ears. Do this. Don’t do this.
Then someone entered the hospital room.
Knock, knock.
It was his attending physician, Sung-hyuk.
“You’re awake. Tomorrow’s the surgery—how’s your body feeling?”
“Yes? Oh. I’m, I’m fine! Great!”
At his entrance, Do-yoon hurriedly put the brush back in the bag. Sung-hyuk saw that Do-yoon had been holding the brush, but didn’t mention it.
His consideration made Do-yoon feel guilty, and then defensive.
“Once we remove the tumor, the compressed nerves will gradually recover. You’ll need a rehabilitation period, of course. The probability of complications isn’t high, so you shouldn’t worry too much.”
Sung-hyuk had touched lightly on the subject of complications, but Do-yoon was quick to bristle at the mention.
“Probability? It’s easy for you to say when you’re not the one affected. You said the nerves could be damaged entirely.”
“If we’re talking percentages, it’s single digits, but I will do my absolute best.”
While Do-yoon was irritable, Sung-hyuk remained composed, and watching him, Do-yoon drew a line between Sung-hyuk’s world and his own.
‘He lives in a completely different world than me. I could never become like him.’
The more Do-yoon looked at Sung-hyuk, the more his inferiority festered.
“I heard you’re a painter. I hope you won’t abandon your dream even if you need rehabilitation.”
“Is that easy? I want to, too.”
Though his tone was blunt, Do-yoon felt a sudden swell of emotion hearing Sung-hyuk’s words. His eyes grew moist for a moment.
“Thank you for trusting me with such an important surgery for your case.”
But watching Sung-hyuk, Kim Do-yoon steeled his heart.
‘What’s he talking about? I had no choice—the Foundation introduced me.’
From the time Do-yoon had met Professor Im Sung-hyuk at Korea University Hospital, there was nothing he’d been able to choose, and
he accepted Sung-hyuk’s comfort as the product of an unearned sense of superiority.
A professor at Korea University Hospital, no less. He must have lived a smooth life so far, so it wouldn’t hurt for him to face a little hardship.
‘My entire life has been a crisis. What would that doctor know about this kind of life? This might be my last chance.’
Do-yoon resolved to think of nothing and look only at what lay directly before his eyes.
“Yes, thank you. The Chairman said you’d take good care of me. I’m one of the artists sponsored by the Eunseong Foundation—you know that, right? I know the Chairman well.”
At Do-yoon’s words, Sung-hyuk swallowed hard.

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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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