Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 133

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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 133.
The Vice Director, who had disliked it whenever the Director was nearby, now conversed comfortably with Director Choi.
“You need to eat proper meals. I’ve noticed Park, the team leader, living on biscuits lately.”
“Ah, I know what that is. He seems to have gotten hooked on those biscuits.”
Ha-rin watched Beom-jun and Hui-jeong talking about her. It seemed too serious to interrupt, so she stayed quiet.
Vasovagal syncope has no definitive treatment. The best approach is to prevent fainting episodes and maintain good health habits.
The reason for conducting tests and making a diagnosis is to rule out the possibility of more serious conditions.
So one could say, ‘Thank goodness it’s this much.’
“First, you’re too thin. Your BMI needs to be in the normal range. I’d recommend gaining some weight.”
“Who doesn’t know that diet is important? But does that change easily?”
Before long, Hui-jeong and Beom-jun seemed to be quarreling again, but Ha-rin understood that the two of them were different from before.
Concern for her ran as a common current through their conversation.
The Director and Vice Director, who had been standing back to back looking in opposite directions, were now standing side by side, facing the same way.
They even seemed to be getting along quite well.
‘Was the Chairman’s recent distance with the Vice Director because of the Director?’
Ha-rin also knew that Vice Director Gu Hui-jeong hadn’t been meeting with Chairman Han Myeong-jae much lately.
It wasn’t just that their public interactions had diminished. Their private communications had likely dried up almost entirely.
The fact that the Vice Director hadn’t brought up the Chairman at all recently was telling enough. Since the Vice Director spoke her mind freely, it meant that Han Myeong-jae had fallen out of her consideration.
“Anyway, I’ll process your sick leave starting today. Follow Professor Kang’s orders and get your tests done well.”
Beom-jun granted Ha-rin special leave. It was his way of telling her to rest while she had the chance and return refreshed.
But Ha-rin didn’t simply accept Beom-jun’s words.
“Without a medical certificate, I’ll only get one day of sick leave.”
Ha-rin, who knew Korea University Hospital’s regulations inside and out, was stating a fact, but Beom-jun thought she simply wasn’t listening to him.
That she wouldn’t rest even when he told her to.
“Ask Professor Kang to write you a certificate. Or should I write one myself?”
“No, that’s not it.”
Ha-rin had no sense of how many days of sick leave would be appropriate. She simply hadn’t yet grasped her superior’s style.
Though not particularly quick-witted, Ha-rin had received much praise for doing her work with good sense.
But despite considerable time having passed since becoming Secretary to the Director, she remained in this situation because she wanted to stay in the accounting department. Beom-jun had granted her request, arranging for her to hold both positions.
But her accounting duties hadn’t diminished; in reality, Ha-rin spent most of her time on the accounting department.
She appeared occasionally to help when Beom-jun had major events, but it wouldn’t be an overstatement to say she was largely ignoring secretarial work.
She’d thought this would quickly allow her to reinstate Director Jae-gyeong, but that hadn’t happened.
So the Director must be handling most of the work alone. Director Jae-gyeong helped occasionally.
‘It’s because of me. Ugh, nothing’s getting done, my body’s falling apart, everything’s frustrating.’
Ha-rin felt not just grateful but irritated that Beom-jun had visited her while she was ill.
His simple words to rest felt inexplicably sad.
“No, I’m fine. It’s just like that.”
Ha-rin mumbled with imprecise pronunciation. In her poor condition, she was uncharacteristically emotional.
The Vice Director, noticing her state, smoothed things over.
“The Director is certainly looking out for you. Just get the test schedule sorted and rest as needed.”
She clarified what Ha-rin hadn’t quite dared to ask. The amount of sick leave to take should match Professor Kang’s medical recommendation.
Hui-jeong gave Ha-rin a slight wink—a signal. She was sending Beom-jun away.
“Please go back to work, Director. I’m only staying until Ha-rin’s guardian arrives.”
“Then I’ll be going.”
Having finished what he came to do, Beom-jun withdrew.
To Ha-rin’s eyes, Beom-jun always looked like this. He did everything without taking any credit, and when he said yes and turned to leave, there was a clean simplicity to it.
“I’m really fine. It’s nothing serious. Even as a child, I used to get like this often….”
Ha-rin spoke with her eyes squeezed shut, and Hui-jeong placed her hand on the girl’s forehead.
“Ha-rin, you can rest. This happens sometimes.”
At Hui-jeong’s warm words, Ha-rin’s eyes welled with tears.
In truth, her head had been aching since she collapsed and came to. It was likely aftereffects from her blood pressure dropping sharply and then returning to normal levels.
Feeling as though she might faint again, she’d tried to sit up but instead slumped against the desk.
If she’d remained unconscious until morning, that would have been even more disheartening.
“The Director postponed the financial settlement report for you too. He’s telling you to rest easy.”
Ha-rin understood this well. The Director wasn’t the kind to offer hollow comfort.
The financial settlement report was the most important and most taxing work the accounting department handled. It was the official process of confirming how Korea University Hospital earned and spent money over the past year.
It wasn’t simply a matter of matching numbers. It was proving what Korea University Hospital had accomplished over the year. Especially since Korea University Hospital was state-run, audits were frequent.
Ha-rin wanted to close out the accounts so thoroughly that whether auditors from the Ministry of Health and Welfare, the Board of Audit and Inspection, or even the Ministry of Education overseeing the Medical College came looking, there would be no issues whatsoever.
When Hui-jeong placed her hand on Ha-rin’s forehead, suddenly all the work Ha-rin had been carrying felt small.
She closed her eyes, soothing her weary body.
* * *
Ha-rin dreamed—something she hadn’t done in a long time.
Even as she dreamed, she knew it was a dream.
She had become a small child, barely one hundred centimeters tall.
Her arms held biscuits heaped full, and her right hand was held by someone.
“Ha-rin, stop eating the sweets. You need to eat rice soon.”
Ha-rin wanted to protest even knowing it was a dream, but the words wouldn’t come.
But the person holding Ha-rin’s right hand and speaking was Hui-jeong.
Beside Hui-jeong stood an elderly man—it was Chairman Han Myeong-jae.
He looked far more vigorous than he did now. Maybe twenty years ago. Judging by how old Ha-rin appeared in the dream—about ten years old—that seemed about right.
In the dream, Hui-jeong soon released Ha-rin’s hand and gradually moved away.
And Ha-rin began doing bad things at the Chairman’s urging. She harassed others, even struck them.
Ha-rin watched herself from a step away.
The confusion on Hui-jeong’s face, and the Chairman’s grotesque expression as he whispered in her ear.
“Yes, that’s it. You’re doing well!”
Each time Hui-jeong looked confused, the Chairman showered her with praise.
But to Ha-rin’s eyes, it looked as though the Chairman was pressing her. Hui-jeong didn’t seem happy at all.
“No, why are you doing this?”
“Stop hitting me.”
And in the dream, Hui-jeong grew increasingly shameless in harassing and striking others. As time passed, she even began finding victims without the Chairman’s prompting.
“There! That person will do!”
Hui-jeong grew more and more like Han Myeong-jae.
As a small child, Ha-rin would scurry over to Hui-jeong from time to time. In those moments, Hui-jeong would always greet her brightly. It was as if she’d momentarily broken free from hypnosis, and vitality flowed back into her.
But those moments were fleeting, and Hui-jeong would resume the same cycle.
Then one day, someone whom Hui-jeong had been tormenting began to resist her.
He wore black armor over which hung a pure white cloak. He carried a great shield. Wait—was this a fantasy? The dream seemed to lack individual detail, as dreams do.
“Stop it! Come to your senses! That man is using you!”
And then came a predictable, childish line. Ha-rin, losing interest, yawned.
But then the man in medieval armor suddenly began using accounting terminology.
“Look carefully! That man is embezzling Korea University Hospital’s funds! Don’t you see the Budget Execution Details are off?”
“Don’t be fooled by the numbers. Look at the transaction counterparts.”
Budget execution details. Transaction counterparts.
The moment Ha-rin turned those words over in her mind, she woke from the dream.
* * *
“Gasp!!”
Ha-rin jolted upright on the emergency room bed, drawing in a sharp breath. Only thirty minutes had passed.
The Vice Director was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, a note lay on the bedside table.
– Ha-rin, I’ve arranged for your mother to come soon. Use this time to rest well and come back healthy.
It seemed Hui-jeong had contacted Ha-rin’s family. Ha-rin folded the note and slipped it inside her phone case.
Though she’d never expressed it, she had actually disliked the Chairman.
That must be why it appeared in her dream.
The reason she hadn’t complained was because of the Vice Director.
‘I thought the Vice Director despised the Chairman, but that’s not the case anymore, is it?’
At least now, no one at Korea University Hospital would stand on the Chairman’s side. Until now, the Vice Director’s people standing with the Chairman was the same thing.
“Hmm?”
Ha-rin burrowed back into the bed and gazed at the ceiling.
So this was the color of a hospital ceiling. She’d never noticed, even though she passed through here every day—she’d never looked up.
Staring blankly at the tiles, Ha-rin lost herself in thought. After waking from sleep, her head felt much clearer.
‘Why did I dislike the Chairman? Because of how he treated the Vice Director?’
It made sense, but it was an uncharacteristically sentimental decision for someone who usually followed her self-interest.
“Ah, right.”
With that single exclamation, Ha-rin remembered the reason she’d buried away.
Whenever anything passed through the Chairman’s hands, the numbers in the accounting ledger changed, which was endlessly frustrating.
‘That’s right. I let it slide because of the Vice Director. The Vice Director seems to know where those funds went.’
Every year, some portion of Korea University Hospital’s budget was disappearing through the Chairman’s hands.
And this was likely something only she, who grasped the flow of every coin at Korea University Hospital, would know.
The truth that Ha-rin had buried stirred in the depths of her mind.

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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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