Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 109

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Episode 109.
The day of surgery arrived. With Kim Do-yoon’s procedure looming, Im Sung-hyuk felt his mind grow heavy.
He tried to tell himself they were all the same—just patients—but it wouldn’t stick.
He couldn’t fathom that after he saved this patient’s life on the operating table, the man would later plunge a knife into his back.
‘You know he’s an artist sponsored by the Eunseong Foundation, right? He and the chairman are quite close.’
Last evening, Do-yoon had brazenly revealed his connection to Han Myeong-jae. That half-doubt in Sung-hyuk’s mind had crystallized into certainty.
‘So it’s true. Just as the director said it would be.’
The director had never been wrong before, but this time Sung-hyuk desperately wished he were. That a patient he meant to help was actually targeting him—it defied belief. Or rather, even if it were true, he’d thought that a good conversation might change things. That if Do-yoon understood Sung-hyuk’s genuine care, his mind would shift.
But that was a grave miscalculation. Whenever Kim Do-yoon mentioned Chairman Han, he sounded like a loyal servant—his eyes half-glazed as though he’d undergone some form of conditioning.
‘He must still be taking orders from the chairman.’
Sung-hyuk now found his earlier anxieties—about how to reach the patient, how to express care—almost laughable in their naïveté.
He’d thought opening his heart to the patient would be enough. It wasn’t.
“Professor, are you alright?”
Jeong Da-eun, who had entered the Operating Room with him, asked with concern.
Im Sung-hyuk’s hand trembled as he held the scalpel—a first since he’d become a surgeon.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Sung-hyuk steadied his breathing, willing his mind to settle.
All patients are the same. Kim Do-yoon beneath this green sterile drape is no different from any other.
One mercy was that only the surgical site lay exposed; everything else remained covered. It was meant to keep even skin flora from contaminating the wound, but right now, not seeing Do-yoon’s face helped.
“If it becomes too much, I can take over the lead.”
“No. I’ll do it. I have to.”
Despite Da-eun’s objection, Sung-hyuk didn’t relinquish the scalpel.
If she operated and something went wrong, she might end up bearing the blame for a medical accident. Rather than drag her into this without her knowledge, Im Sung-hyuk chose to shoulder the responsibility himself.
He lifted the scalpel and incised the skin. Epidermis, dermis, subcutaneous fat, muscle—
layer upon layer fell away, and bright red blood began to flow.
“Suction.”
Sung-hyuk cleared the pooling blood. He incised between the ribs and inserted the thoracoscope.
On the monitor, the camera’s field appeared. The instrument slid smoothly between the ribs, advancing toward the tumor site.
Deep in the apex of the lung, an alien mass revealed itself among normal tissue. It was a pale, grayish-white tumor.
Beneath it, thread-like blood vessels branched like roots. Below those, the nerve was compressed, flattened from its normal shape.
‘Here it is. The situation is worse than what the MRI showed.’
What he saw through the thoracoscope was more complicated than the imaging studies had indicated. The filament-thin vessels were sustaining the tumor, and they lay dangerously close to the nerve that governed finger movement.
“Start with dissection. Surgical scissors, please.”
Sung-hyuk spoke and extended his hand.
The surgical nurse, caught off-guard by the change in instruments, fumbled—but soon placed the long thoracoscopic scissors into his palm.
He’d initially planned to use the electrocautery device in small increments to remove the tumor, but doing so risked charring the nerve as well.
Dissecting gradually with scissors would take longer, but for patient Kim Do-yoon, it was the safest approach.
‘Does it matter to be safe now?’
During the surgery, stray thoughts crowded his mind. He paused for a moment, regaining his composure.
“You focus on finishing the surgery well. As a doctor, your only job is to treat patient Kim Do-yoon properly. The rest is for me to handle.”
Beom-jun’s words echoed in his thoughts.
‘I’m Kim Do-yoon’s attending physician. I only need to do my job well. The director said he would handle everything else involving Do-yoon.’
Every Beom-jun Sung-hyuk had ever known kept his word without fail.
‘So why do I still doubt?’
He hadn’t said so to the director, but in truth, Sung-hyuk was pricked by guilt. Yet the person he doubted wasn’t Beom-jun—it was himself.
Sung-hyuk’s right hand steadied. The tremor vanished, and he performed at his true level. Perhaps even beyond it.
Im Sung-hyuk forgot the patient’s name, his identity, everything. He focused solely on the work before him.
Finding the tumor. Removing it.
Doing nothing but that with all his skill.
Im Sung-hyuk lost himself in the surgery, almost manic in his concentration.
He peeled away the fibrous tissue clinging to the tumor’s surface, layer by layer. There was no reckless pulling that might tear the nerve.
Slowly. Inch by inch.
With each touch of Sung-hyuk’s hand, space grew between tumor and nerve.
The tumor lifted slightly, and the nerve beneath it, pressed flat, gradually regained its proper form.
Between tumor and nerve lay a gap so fine that paper could barely fit. Sung-hyuk preserved the nerve intact while removing only the tumor.
“Wow. You can see it now.”
Jeong Da-eun, observing the operation, marveled at Im Sung-hyuk’s skill. Watching the nerve, taut against the tumor, restore itself to its normal appearance was almost miraculous.
She found something new to be amazed at every time.
It was because he repeatedly surpassed what she’d thought was his limit.
Da-eun had learned much watching Im Sung-hyuk operate, yet she harbored no confidence that she could ever truly replicate such work.
‘Perhaps a renowned surgeon is born, not made. You can’t achieve it through effort alone.’
Jeong Da-eun tilted her head and prodded the tumor that had been removed from Kim Do-yoon’s body.
Its surface was smooth, soft yet resilient. Given where it had grown, near the nerve, it was likely a nerve sheath tumor.
Deceptively benign in appearance, yet quite dangerous.
Unlike malignant tumors, it wasn’t lumpy or invasive, but it caused pain for the patient regardless.
Professor Da-eun was already worried about returning to Eunseong Hospital. She lacked confidence that she could perform as he did.
Meanwhile, Min-ho, assisting at the surgery, immediately understood Im Sung-hyuk’s state.
‘Is the professor unwell? Something seems different today. His condition seems off.’
Truthfully, this operation was relatively minor among thoracic surgeries.
Compared to operating on a pounding heart, removing a stationary tumor should have been routine for the professor—
yet today he seemed to find the surgery burdensome.
“That’s enough. Here.”
“Yes, sir! I’ll close up.”
At Sung-hyuk’s signal, Min-ho replied with unusual briskness.
He carefully placed the removed tumor into a container for histopathology.
“Good. Close it cleanly and come out.”
Sung-hyuk, his fatigue evident, spoke to Min-ho before leaving the Operating Room. Once he was gone, three holes remained in Kim Do-yoon’s flank—where the thoracoscope and instruments had entered.
Min-ho sutured the skin closed with surgical thread, covering the deliberately made wounds so they could now heal.
* * *
With Kim Do-yoon’s surgery complete, Sung-hyuk was utterly spent. Returning to the Professor’s Office, he collapsed into his chair.
“I’m exhausted.”
Objectively, it wasn’t a particularly difficult operation. So this was mental fatigue.
He lifted his hand and swept his hair back. As his forehead came into view, the sweat clinging to it cooled, dissipating heat.
Beneath layers of surgical gown, sterile coat, surgical cap, and gloves, he’d been drenched in perspiration—
though he’d barely noticed the heat.
The surgery had gone well, but nothing had changed regarding Kim Do-yoon. If what the director said was true, the man would soon criticize him for damaging that right hand he’d just so carefully repaired.
Sung-hyuk wiped his face with his palms in a dry wash. Exiting the operating theater usually left him refreshed, but today his body felt impossibly heavy.
It was then that Beom-jun saw a status window suddenly appear.
[Im Sung-hyuk’s emotions are being shared.]
[Warning: Im Sung-hyuk has entered an Abnormal State.]
He was drowning in hollow, powerless emotion.
[Im Sung-hyuk is in an Abnormal State. Abilities are being debuffed.]
Beom-jun opened his personnel information. Every stat had dropped by one rank.
[Name: Im Sung-hyuk / Title: Professor]
Consultation: ■■■□□
Examination: ■■■■□
Diagnosis: ■■■■□
Treatment: ■■■■□
Follow-up: ■■■□□
– Growth Potential: Sufficient
– Favorability: MAX
– Warning: Abnormal State
Im Sung-hyuk, who never wavered regardless of circumstance and always stood firm for his patients, had paradoxically collapsed under the weight of that very patient.
“He acts fine on the surface, then suffers alone. How do you even clear an Abnormal State?”
As Beom-jun muttered, a status window appeared as if answering.
[To escape an Abnormal State, you must eliminate its cause.]
Of course. Beom-jun started to call Sung-hyuk, then stopped and checked the status window instead.
[Searching for personnel location.]
[Im Sung-hyuk’s location confirmed: Professor’s Office.]
Having located him, Beom-jun headed for the Professor’s Office. As he drew near, the sense of helplessness intensified.
— Knock, knock.
Entering the office, Beom-jun’s eyes fell first on Sung-hyuk’s haggard face. Deep dark circles shadowed his eyes, draining them of vitality.
“What are you doing? The Kim Do-yoon surgery’s over, isn’t it?”
Beom-jun patted Sung-hyuk’s shoulder lightly, speaking in a bright tone. At his touch, Sung-hyuk’s shoulders crumpled like paper.
“Yes, Director. The surgery went well with no complications.”
“Then why are you moping?”
“…”
Sung-hyuk didn’t deny it. He seemed too drained even to protest.
“The surgery succeeded. That’s what matters.”
“I’m not sure if that’s really all that matters. If everything goes normally, patient Do-yoon will be discharged in two days, but I’m considering postponing it. Or perhaps I could schedule his follow-up visits more closely.”
Sung-hyuk offered ideas for managing Do-yoon.
“Ah, so he can’t cause trouble before the next appointment?”
Beom-jun let out a soft laugh at Sung-hyuk’s suggestion.
‘I thought he only understood medicine, but he’s capable of thinking tactically too.’
It was actually a decent approach. With no time between surgery and the next visit, Do-yoon wouldn’t be able to damage that carefully repaired right hand.
But this Quest was about securing a witness to prove the medical staff’s innocence in a fabricated malpractice case. In other words, the accident had to happen.
“Yes, don’t you think it could work?”
Sung-hyuk’s eyes, usually so unflinching, flickered with doubt. His jaw was stubbled—he hadn’t shaved in days, leaving his mouth unkempt.
Seeing how gaunt Sung-hyuk had become in just a few days pained Beom-jun.
“Sung-hyuk, leave the Kim Do-yoon situation to me.”
“No, but he’s still my patient…”
Unable to give a definitive answer, Sung-hyuk prompted Beom-jun to use Control/Dominance for the first time in a while.
[Activating Control/Dominance on Im Sung-hyuk.]
[Personnel is in an Abnormal State. Control/Dominance is being adjusted downward.]
[Control/Dominance Level 2: Does it reluctantly, whether willing or not.]
Sung-hyuk’s chest rose shallowly as tension seized him. Beom-jun grasped his shoulders, which had crumpled like paper.
“From here on, it’s my responsibility.”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————