Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 128

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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 128.
The Government Official spoke in a languid tone.
“Should we take a brief break? Oh, snacks have arrived, they tell me. Ah, you’re welcome to continue while eating.”
The Hospital Directors’ spirits deflated visibly, but he rose from his seat undeterred, a piece of bread between his teeth, and disappeared.
Only Beom-jun let out a quiet snicker.
Beom-jun was brimming with composure, as if he’d seen this coming all along.
It was only early in the year.
The government wouldn’t move until at least the first half had passed.
When the time came to write the year-end results report, they’d scramble frantically to cram in at least one line of achievement, as if their feet were suddenly on fire.
‘Today’s just an introduction to the National AI Medical Center. They’re fishing for ideas on how to build it going forward.’
Beom-jun, who’d worked extensively with the government in his past life, remained relaxed. Even if no conclusion came today, it would be nothing surprising.
But while Beom-jun stayed at ease, the directors from Cheonhui University Hospital and Eunseong Hospital kept draining their Iced Americanos.
Anxiety gnawed at them as they crunched through ice between their teeth.
“This is frustrating.”
The Cheonhui University Hospital Director spoke aloud, making sure everyone could hear his exasperation.
“Ugh, tsk-tsk.”
The Eunseong Hospital Director clicked his tongue audibly as well, equally keen for an audience.
Beom-jun stretched once and headed to the Restroom.
For him, a Quest mattered far more than this futile posturing.
The Status Window was visible to him alone, but he planned to check the reward items too while he had the privacy.
The reward was Fever Mode (3-day pass), so it must be connected to the Fever Time that had triggered on Deputy Director Gu Hui-jeong days earlier.
Beom-jun slipped out of the Briefing Session room as inconspicuously as the Government Official had.
But Kang Yo-han, the Saint Hospital Director, also rose from his seat and followed Beom-jun out.
***
An awkward encounter unfolded in the Restroom.
As Beom-jun stood at the urinal, the Saint Hospital Director happened to enter precisely when their eyes met.
“Ah, there you are. I thought you’d stepped out for a cigarette.”
“I don’t smoke. How could I, when I tell patients to quit?”
With one urinal vacant between them, Kang Yo-han and Beom-jun exchanged words. A low divider stood beside them, and above on the wall hung a clean notice encouraging proper restroom habits.
[Alert: A person with hostile intent is nearby.]
As Kang Yo-han appeared, the Status Window sent another warning.
“Congratulations.”
Kang Yo-han suddenly spoke to Beom-jun.
“For what?”
“The National AI Medical Center. It seems practically decided.”
He spoke as though it were a foregone conclusion that Korea University Hospital would be designated the AI Medical Center. But a moment ago, he’d been pushing Eunseong Hospital?
“That’s odd coming from you, given how you were backing Eunseong Hospital earlier.”
Beom-jun let out a hollow laugh at Kang Yo-han’s contradictory stance.
“Still, it can’t rival Korea University Hospital. They have years of accumulated trust. I imagine it’s something the Director Han built long ago.”
Kang Yo-han deliberately invoked Han Myeong-jae, alluding to matters before Beom-jun became Director.
He was probing carefully to learn about the Kim Do-yoon case, adhering to his own principle of hearing both sides. That was why he’d followed Beom-jun here.
And Beom-jun sensed it wasn’t coincidence that they’d met in this restroom. Not since Han Myeong-jae’s name had come up.
Beom-jun turned sharply toward Kang Yo-han, who was still at the urinal, and pressed the point.
“Are you saying I’m just laying claim to something the Director already built?”
“…? When did I ever say that!”
Beom-jun deliberately over-interpreted and spoke loudly.
Kang Yo-han looked alarmed and hastily pulled up his pants.
“By the way, I haven’t seen the Director in ages. Oh! Now that I think of it — you’re part of Uigwonhoe too, aren’t you, Director Kang?”
Beom-jun kept speaking loudly, feigning obliviousness, and Kang Yo-han fumbled with his zipper. His loose suit pants slipped to the floor.
But checking who else might be in the restroom took priority over dressing.
“The Director is well, I hope? I imagine he must be quite distressed over the Kim Do-yoon matter by now.”
“Director Choi, what are you—!”
Kang Yo-han tried to stop Beom-jun from speaking, but Beom-jun held his head with his hand, speaking even louder with feigned regret.
“I mean, what’s the point of a Briefing Session like this? If Uigwonhoe decides something, it can overturn any government decision, can’t it? Isn’t that how it works?”
While Uigwonhoe could occasionally reverse government decisions, it was far from common. They were usually consulted for expert opinion, nothing more.
Kang Yo-han, now awkwardly pulling his pants up, glared at Beom-jun.
But Beom-jun’s eyes held a sharp, unsettling gleam—ambiguous enough to leave one uncertain whether he was mocking or sincere. Kang Yo-han had momentarily forgotten something: the Korea University Hospital Director had a reputation as a reckless troublemaker.
“Ahem, yes, well—nothing on that matter has been discussed in Uigwonhoe yet.”
Kang Yo-han cleared his stiff throat, flustered.
His voice, unlike his courteous greeting at the outset, had turned rigid.
Of course nothing had been discussed—today’s Briefing was the first time the National AI Medical Center would be addressed.
But Beom-jun graciously validated Kang Yo-han’s pride.
“True, it can’t be as simple as the matter of building a hospital on Ulleungdo Island.”
Beom-jun grinned wickedly. Watching him smile that way—eyes cold, mouth grotesquely twisted—Kang Yo-han averted his gaze.
Kang Yo-han turned away from Beom-jun toward the sink behind him.
‘How does he know that? A matter brought up only recently at the executive meeting…’
Beom-jun took more interest in Uigwonhoe than Kang Yo-han realized. He was privy to internal information.
It was the sort of issue that made the news, so Beom-jun had reasoned Uigwonhoe would naturally have discussed it. But the flustered Kang Yo-han had already lost his composure.
Uigwonhoe had taken no action contrary to Kang Yo-han’s preference and had decided to build a hospital on Ulleungdo Island.
A massive hospital on Ulleungdo would be nice, certainly, but everyone knew the island wasn’t a suitable location for a national hospital and medical school. The protests over the wasteful spending were in full swing.
Yet the very Uigwonhoe that had endorsed the Ulleungdo hospital project kept a low profile, just biding its time.
Kang Yo-han, though, felt no guilt.
Sacrifice was always the price of serving a greater cause.
For the future relationship between Uigwonhoe and the government, building on Ulleungdo was the right call this time.
Kang Yo-han stood at the sink and turned on the tap.
Water cascaded down.
As the flow poured forth, he began washing his hands with liquid soap.
Back of the hand, between the fingers, under the nails, from the pinky to the thumb—all seven steps. Even outside the hospital, Kang Yo-han maintained fundamental protocol as if ready to scrub in for surgery at any moment.
Rubbing his hands thoroughly, he slowly recovered his composure.
“You seem quite interested in Uigwonhoe and the Director. Well, working at Korea University Hospital under Director Han, one couldn’t help but take an interest.”
Kang Yo-han, regaining his equilibrium, shook water from his hands as he spoke to Beom-jun, subtly probing what the Director thought of him.
Possessed by his own sense of justice, he still needed to hear both sides regarding the Kim Do-yoon case. That was why he’d come to the restroom after Beom-jun.
“I hear there was an unfortunate incident at Korea University Hospital recently. No one would wish for such a situation. It’s truly regrettable.”
But Kang Yo-han didn’t explicitly mention that Kim Do-yoon had attempted to fabricate a medical accident.
He was subtly shifting blame away from Han Myeong-jae to smooth over the conflict.
‘The tone here is… a bit off-color.’
Beom-jun zeroed in on what Kang Yo-han was really saying beneath his vague wording.
“You’re talking about the Kim Do-yoon matter, aren’t you? At the very least, whoever referred that patient to a dermatologist certainly wanted this outcome. Didn’t care what happened to the patient—no interest whatsoever. And that person is Director Han Myeong-jae.”
“But there’s no evidence, is there?”
Kang Yo-han replied with a venomous edge to his words. Yet by doing so, he’d already given Beom-jun exactly what he wanted: confirmation that Beom-jun believed the patient’s account entirely.
Director Choi Beom-jun was not looking in the same direction as Director Han Myeong-jae, or Uigwonhoe for that matter.
“The doctor who performed the illegal procedure fled abroad, and the patient identified the person who referred him to that doctor: Director Han Myeong-jae. The circumstances are compelling enough. Anyone would think it suspicious.”
In response to Beom-jun’s reasonable words, Kang Yo-han spoke as if he genuinely didn’t understand.
“Well, you know how easily rumors spread. People see only what they wish to see.”
Beom-jun’s patience snapped. Not everything required material proof. Kang Yo-han was covering his eyes to the truth despite knowing better.
“Truth is easily buried by those with power.”
Unlike his earlier playful demeanor, Beom-jun’s expression hardened as he spoke. His sharp eyes bore down on Kang Yo-han with cutting intensity.
And with that, Beom-jun had heard enough. He walked past Kang Yo-han and exited the restroom.
Left alone, Kang Yo-han revised his assessment of Beom-jun.
He’d known the man was a reckless troublemaker. But people said he’d changed after nearly dying and coming back. He was certainly different from the Beom-jun Kang Yo-han remembered.
The one who’d only put on a tough act now possessed genuine steel. In just a few months, he’d truly hardened into something formidable.
‘So it was true—the Director raised him like a loyal dog.’
Choi Beom-jun had originally belonged to the Director.
That explained why his tenure as Professor had been so remarkably short. The Director had promoted him straight to Hospital Director while he barely knew anything beyond treating patients.
So Kang Yo-han had initially assumed all the recent accomplishments attributed to the Korea University Hospital Director couldn’t possibly be Beom-jun’s own work.
Surely the Director had orchestrated the Director position’s achievements and put Beom-jun front and center.
But seeing Beom-jun again, Kang Yo-han changed his mind.
‘I shouldn’t underestimate him. Best to be cautious. What if the Director’s actions were actually schemes Beom-jun orchestrated?’
Kang Yo-han retrofitted the conclusion he’d already drawn to fit the facts he’d just heard from Beom-jun.
The possibility that Director Han Myeong-jae would commit fraud was simply unthinkable to him, and his conviction that even good men sometimes suffer injustice remained crystal clear.

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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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