Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 139

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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 139.
‘Was Uigwonhoe sacrificing patients?’
Kang Yo-han couldn’t shake Beom-jun’s words from his mind.
All the things Uigwonhoe had done over the years, every effort to secure even a fraction more rights for physicians—they were supposed to be for patients.
Surely they were. Or weren’t they? When did they stop being? One doubt had latched onto another, piercing through him completely.
He didn’t want to admit it, but Choi Beom-jun was right. Not entirely, but partially.
Because Uigwonhoe had their fingerprints all over how Ulleungdo Hospital came to be built in the first place.
There was the time they’d funneled power to pharmaceutical companies and changed the drugs distributed domestically. The time they’d gone to Japan for what they called international conferences and stayed out all night.
The more rights physicians were guaranteed, the more it should have benefited patient treatment. But looking back now, none of it had anything to do with actual care.
Kang Yo-han felt dizzy. Whether it was the alcohol rising in his system or the shock of Choi Beom-jun’s words, he couldn’t say.
‘What was it all for? Remember, Yo-han! There had to be a reason!’
He couldn’t recall why he’d been involved in Uigwonhoe activities at all. Back then, he hadn’t needed to understand every detail—Han Myeong-jae had said to do it, so he did.
That blind faith in him had become the reason Uigwonhoe could do anything without a clear purpose.
Across from him, Beom-jun silently drained his glass, watching in real time as Yo-han’s complexion drained of color.
Beom-jun pretended not to notice how violently his eyes trembled.
Even after the deputy director’s animosity had faded, it had taken a long time to change the beliefs about Han Myeong-jae that he’d accumulated over the years.
By comparison, Yo-han was only at the beginning. Of course he was disoriented and confused.
Beom-jun spoke without looking directly at him, offering him what privacy he could in this moment alone.
“Difficult to answer, I take it?”
But when he had something that needed saying, he met his eyes clearly.
“Or perhaps you’ve only just realized what Uigwonhoe really is.”
Kang Yo-han felt a quiet yet overwhelming pressure emanating from Beom-jun. The painting of the tiger on the wall had already faded from his awareness.
“…I don’t know the details of Uigwonhoe’s operations well. The chairman decided most things…”
Yo-han shifted the responsibility to the absent Han Myeong-jae.
“One person’s decisions can’t all have been right.”
Beom-jun countered.
The very structure of Uigwonhoe, with all decision-making power resting in a single person, was dangerous.
“I didn’t say the chairman makes every decision, just most of them.”
Yo-han pushed back with the same argument, seeming not to fully grasp what he was saying.
‘I thought he was just running Uigwonhoe well. Wasn’t he? When did that change?’
Yo-han now saw again how Han Myeong-jae had recently become embroiled in scandal over the Kim Do-yoon patient matter.
His earlier assumption that even good people sometimes fell victim to misfortune had been a mistake.
Of course, Yo-han had known that Han Myeong-jae occasionally used Uigwonhoe for personal ends. In particular, he kept Eunseong Hospital’s director at his side.
‘His name was Kim Mu-hyung. Didn’t seem like quality material. It was odd the chairman kept him so close.’
The idea of physicians dispatching from hospital to hospital had originally come from Kim Mu-hyung’s mind.
When he heard the story, he’d thought Han Myeong-jae was willing to bear losses to help Eunseong Hospital, but Choi Beom-jun had blocked it cleverly—by having Eunseong’s doctor visit Korea University Hospital instead.
If not for Beom-jun, if Korea University Hospital doctors had been dispatched to Eunseong, the patients who actually came to Korea University Hospital during that time would have received inadequate care.
“You’re under a grave misunderstanding. I don’t sacrifice anyone. Especially not patients.”
Beom-jun truly lived up to his words—he let no one bear the cost. By his account, Korea University Hospital’s patients were receiving the best, the finest care possible.
Once his conviction cracked, Yo-han found everything he’d thought was right becoming uncertain.
Yo-han pressed his hand to his forehead. The alcohol had made his body warm, and the dizziness was intensifying.
“I’m not feeling well. I should be going.”
Yo-han rose from his seat, having eaten barely half of what had been served.
But he didn’t stumble or stagger. He stood straight and neat, adjusted his tie, and put on his formal jacket.
Beom-jun didn’t bother standing. He merely reached out and handed him a USB.
“Take this with you. I brought it to give to you, Director Kang.”
Yo-han looked reluctant, but he pocketed the USB Beom-jun offered into his jacket.
He passed Beom-jun with composed indifference and left the back room of the restaurant without fuss.
The space where he’d been sitting was clean, as if no one had ever occupied it.
But outside that back room, things looked different from what Beom-jun was witnessing.
Bang, crash!
“My goodness, are you alright?”
“Oh, yes yes. Don’t worry about it.”
The sound wasn’t far away. Yo-han had apparently tripped putting on his shoes.
“Worry about it? Look here! You’re not hurt, are you?”
“I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.”
It was likely the restaurant staff member who’d first shown Beom-jun in. The warm-hearted woman fussed over Yo-han, but he kept insisting he was alright.
Tap, tap.
“Go ahead and rinse your hands before you leave.”
The sound of his dress shoes retreating grew fainter in real time. Beom-jun used it as accompaniment to his meal, finishing the full spread before him.
Once Yo-han had completely vanished, the Status Window appeared.
[Main Quest completed.]
[Main Quest: Hold the Center]
[Survival Probability has increased by 1%.]
[Current Survival Probability is 84%.]
Beom-jun closed the Status Window with a slight smirk.
This alone wasn’t enough.
He needed to shake Yo-han thoroughly so that the man would walk away from Uigwonhoe of his own volition.
Beom-jun picked up his phone and called Han Myeong-jae.
“You’ve been well, Chairman. I heard you’ve been having fun with something lately.”
Unexpectedly, Han Myeong-jae didn’t refuse the call.
Even when Beom-jun had searched day and night before, he couldn’t meet Han Myeong-jae unless it was on the chairman’s terms. But now the man was watching Beom-jun’s movements.
“If it’s something good, we should do it together. Why go solo?”
Now that Beom-jun understood what Han Myeong-jae truly was, he’d stopped being respectfully formal with him, and Han Myeong-jae was quick to take offense at his casual attitude.
But still, Beom-jun was no longer someone he could dismiss easily.
“If you’re going to spout nonsense, I’m hanging up.”
Rather than simply ending the call, Han Myeong-jae spoke. Essentially, it was his way of demanding that Beom-jun get to the point.
“I’m calling about Uigwonhoe.”
“…Uigwonhoe? Why would you call about that?”
Han Myeong-jae asked slowly, his tone turning serious. While he remained wary of Beom-jun, he couldn’t hide his curiosity about the word “Uigwonhoe” coming from the younger man’s lips.
“I met Director Kang Yo-han of Saint Hospital about joining Uigwonhoe.”
“You’re really going to join Uigwonhoe?”
Beom-jun deliberately let his words trail off, inviting misunderstanding.
“I went into more detail with Director Kang. Well then, I’ll see you again soon.”

Having said his piece, Beom-jun hung up immediately. He ignored all subsequent calls.
If Beom-jun didn’t answer, Han Myeong-jae would come looking for Yo-han. Unstable, precarious Yo-han.
* * *
Yo-han had returned home.
When he pulled down his pants, his knees were a deep bruise. Alone in the empty house, Yo-han limped and applied ointment to his knees.
Falling at his age. Thank goodness Choi Beom-jun hadn’t seen it—he would’ve been mortified beyond recovery.
Still, the sting of scraped knees sharpened his mind.
And how much the USB in his chest pocket irritated him.
After changing into comfortable clothes, Yo-han pulled the USB from his jacket’s inner pocket.
Truth be told, he didn’t want to look. Once he did, he felt there would be no turning back.
But he was equally curious. Like opening Pandora’s box.
‘Damn, I shouldn’t have taken it.’
Yo-han first plugged the USB into his computer. He told himself he’d just look. Just see what files were on it.
– 1.
– 2.
– 3.
– 4.
But the filenames contained nothing but numbers. File 1 was Excel, and files 2 and 3 were image files.
Yo-han grabbed his hair, and the wax-styled locks stood straight up under the force of his grip.
It was a ridiculous sight, like he’d grown horns, but in an empty house with no one watching, Yo-han abandoned any thought of grooming and gripped the mouse instead.
– File 1.
He ultimately clicked on the Excel file.
‘Damn. Who compiled this?’
Inside the Excel was accounting data. Fifteen sheets alone. Five sheets per year, crammed with items and figures, each one meticulously balanced down to the single won. The total: approximately 5.1 billion.
Confirming the numbers, Yo-han couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling. They matched exactly with the amount Han Myeong-jae had donated to Uigwonhoe over the years.
“Sigh.”
Yo-han exhaled irritably and scrolled down.
All the items in the Excel were transactions H Medical Tech had conducted with Korea University Hospital. The odd thing, if anything, was the lack of common thread in what they did.
Most of the work involved managing medical equipment like CT or MRI machines, but they also frequently handled marketing and event operations.
Yo-han clicked on the second file. It was H Medical Tech’s business registration certificate. CEO: Lee Jae-hun.
But something about the company classification was a bit unusual.
– Business Type: Food Service.
‘What is this? A restaurant, not a medical equipment company?’
Yo-han was flabbergasted. A restaurant managing expensive medical equipment at Korea University Hospital—it was absurd.
Either the registration was filed incorrectly, or Korea University Hospital had never actually contracted them for the work. One or the other.
Precisely because of how absurd it was, Yo-han clung to the thought that this company had nothing to do with Chairman Han Myeong-jae.
It was too sloppy. He didn’t think the chairman would conduct business this way.
Choi Beom-jun had said H Medical Tech’s CEO was the chairman’s brother-in-law, but that wasn’t confirmed. He hadn’t asked the parties involved.
Clinging to a gossamer thread of hope, Yo-han opened the last file.
It was a family registry.
Under the name of a woman with the surname Lee, her husband was listed as Han Myeong-jae.
And below that, in the sibling section, the three characters “Lee Jae-hun” were written.
Yo-han felt suddenly so nauseated he could retch. Especially his hand, gripping the mouse, tingled as if insects were crawling across it.

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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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