Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 145

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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 145.
Min-ho meticulously reviewed the team roster lists from the other volunteer groups.
Most were led by professors, and very occasionally a fellow. But Min-ho was the only resident serving as a team leader.
Min-ho scratched the back of his head.
He knew nothing about the volunteer site, couldn’t even guess at the patients’ conditions, and yet he’d somehow ended up in a position to issue orders and direct other doctors.
Min-ho was already overseeing other residents at Korea University Hospital,
but that was only because the fellow position was vacant, and as the most senior resident, he had no choice in the matter.
He had no confidence in his clinical experience, his skills, nothing—and yet team leader was the role he’d landed.
‘God, what if a patient dies out there because of me?’
Anxious now, Min-ho began to carefully read through the attached file in the email. He could almost hear his heart pounding.
– Each Team 2 will provide support to Team 1, but you’re welcome to perform your duties independently after consultation.
Reading the detailed description, Min-ho relaxed. H-2’s main role was to support H-1. And since H-1 had plenty of manpower with a professor and fellow, there shouldn’t be any major problems.
Min-ho calmed the heart that had been racing moments before.
He’d already been anxious about being separated from Im Sung-hyuk, fretting like a nervous poodle with separation anxiety.
Min-ho, whose leg had been trembling, opened a drawer.
Inside lay the pills he’d filled just recently, sitting exactly where he’d left them.
They were Inderal tablets that Sung-hyuk had prescribed for when he got shaky.
Inderal works by suppressing the sympathetic nervous system that activates during stress, thereby lowering heart rate and blood pressure.
It’s prescribed not only in cardiology but also frequently in psychiatry, and is used to lower heart rate when needed for cardiac testing.
Sung-hyuk had told Min-ho he took it himself occasionally.
‘I pop one whenever I have an important presentation. Just take some with you. You never know—you might even end up performing surgery out there.’
‘Huh, Professor! How could I possibly perform surgery?’
‘Why not? At your level now, you’re better than most professors.’
And so Sung-hyuk had prescribed Inderal to keep his hands from shaking if surgery became necessary—a parting gift to his student, solemn as a final card played from his sleeve.
But Min-ho, unprepared, denied his own circumstances. He covered his face with his hands.
“This is insane. No way. Surely not.”
Still, there was one thing he could rely on: the director was also in thoracic surgery.
The director was skilled enough to have performed surgery in Sung-hyuk’s place when the professor collapsed previously.
Min-ho had good memories of Beom-jun from that time. The director had seamlessly filled the void left by Sung-hyuk’s sudden absence and had taken pages even into the early morning.
Whenever Min-ho was at a loss despite careful deliberation, Beom-jun would immediately provide a solution. How to treat each patient, what needed to be done right now.
Thanks to that guidance, Min-ho had never been afraid to examine patients. Everything was Beom-jun’s responsibility after all.
So Min-ho reassured himself that this volunteer work would be fine too. This time he had another pillar to lean on: Director Choi Beom-jun.
* * *
Beom-jun called Sung-hyuk that afternoon.
Before the volunteer trip the following week, he wanted to ask Sung-hyuk about Min-ho.
“How’s Min-ho these days? His skills seem to have improved a lot.”
“Ah, so you’ve already noticed.”
Sung-hyuk didn’t express surprise that Beom-jun had already seen through Min-ho. Beom-jun was the kind of person who always did more than Sung-hyuk had anticipated.
“He’s improving dramatically. To be honest, I’m not sure I was doing as well as Min-ho when I was a resident.”
Sung-hyuk’s assessment of Min-ho was generous. In Sung-hyuk’s eyes, Min-ho—now at the completion stage and growing explosively—must have seemed even more impressive. Unaware that he himself had progressed far further.
“Is that so? His treatment experience still seems lacking, though.”
Beom-jun opened Min-ho’s talent profile.
[Name: Lee Min-ho / Position: Resident, Year 3]
Patient Interview: ■■■■■
Examination: ■■■■■
Diagnosis: ■■■■□
Treatment: ■■■□□
Follow-up: ■■■□□
– Growth Potential: Explosive
– Favorability: MAX
Min-ho’s abilities were concentrated in the early stages. After diagnosis, the skills needed to actively intervene were oddly mediocre—as if blocked by something.
“Yes. He’s actually quite timid. He won’t even do simple procedures unless I’m there.”
“Hmm, is that right?”
At Sung-hyuk’s words, Beom-jun nodded in understanding.
Residents are licensed doctors too. They can perform low-difficulty surgeries under the supervision of a professor. In emergencies, they perform surgery first and report to the professor later.
But Min-ho refused to claim the title of resident for himself or step into that role.
Sung-hyuk protected him from mistakes due to his lack of experience, but conversely, that prevented him from trying freely.
“So Min-ho can diagnose, but the treatment falls to you.”
“Right. Though since he’s still a resident, that’s appropriate too. Once he becomes a fellow, I’ll push him to try—whether he likes it or not.”
Beom-jun agreed with Sung-hyuk’s assessment.
Diagnosis was one thing,
but treatment was something you could only learn by running around in the field and confronting it directly.
Because you had to judge quickly and take appropriate action to save patients.
“I’m going to take it slowly. Once he becomes a fellow, he’ll do well. What he’s doing now is already a big help.”
When Beom-jun’s response seemed ambiguous, Sung-hyuk covered his tracks so that Beom-jun wouldn’t think badly of Min-ho.
Sung-hyuk didn’t push Min-ho. It seemed he believed the resident was doing his sufficient part.
But Beom-jun thought differently.
Having trained countless residents and fellows in his previous life, Beom-jun regarded Min-ho’s situation gravely.
‘Being a resident is just an excuse. If Min-ho had wanted to do treatment, it would’ve been different. And Im Sung-hyuk wouldn’t have prevented him from treating patients.’
If Min-ho held onto his current disposition, it would become a chronic restraint on his future.
A doctor, no matter how afraid of patients, must never avoid those situations. There’s no way to avoid them anyway.
In Beom-jun’s experience, people like this didn’t last long at university hospitals. To avoid places with critical patients, they’d seek out small clinics in neighborhoods.
Beom-jun flicked his index finger—unlike the unhurried Sung-hyuk.
“You’ve had him try before, haven’t you? Min-ho’s doing suturing, right?”
“Yes, he handles all the prep and cleanup around surgery. His control is pretty good and he has good instincts.”
“Hmm, that so?”
Beom-jun touched his chin as he spoke.
‘So he can do it.’
An eagle only knows its wings are strong after it’s pushed off a cliff. If it won’t leave the nest,
you have to kick it out.
During this medical volunteer service, Min-ho had to perform properly. That way the Uigwonhoe would shake and create an opening.
Beom-jun raised one eyebrow in thought.
Watching him, Sung-hyuk sensed that Beom-jun had a different perspective on Min-ho than he did.
But Sung-hyuk didn’t stop him. Even if their methods differed, once it was done, Beom-jun was always right. Sung-hyuk chose to trust him this time too.
“Please take good care of Min-ho, Director. Have a safe trip.”
“I’m doing well.”
Beom-jun left Korea University Hospital in the hands of Sung-hyuk and his other talented staff, and departed for the volunteer work.
* * *
The following Monday, Beom-jun’s group exited the KTX.
The volunteer medical team consisted of fifteen people total, including Min-ho. Beom-jun had assembled the group with fellows, residents, and interns—no professors.
Though the volunteer trip had been decided somewhat abruptly, it wasn’t a particularly important event for Korea University Hospital.
So Beom-jun had arranged the personnel so that clearing his quest wouldn’t interfere with Korea University Hospital’s patient care.
Beom-jun waited for someone to come pick them up. They’d surely be out ahead of time. He didn’t know who exactly, but they seemed to lack some organizational sense.
Min-ho was in conversation with someone next to him—a female doctor he’d never met before.
“Who’s that? Someone you know?”
“An intern, interested in thoracic surgery. Looks like she already applied.”
“To our hospital?”
“Yes. I might see her as a resident in a few months.”
“That so? You’ll be a fellow by then.”
At Beom-jun’s words, Min-ho wiped his nose, looking a bit bashful.
“Ha, well, that’d be nice.”
The acceptance results hadn’t come down yet, but with Min-ho, there’d be no need to wait. Still, he was being cautious, treating nothing as confirmed.
That was probably why Min-ho excelled at examinations—his careful nature showing through. Beom-jun confirmed the person Min-ho had just been talking to behind him.
In fact, except for Min-ho, he’d left all the capable doctors at Korea University Hospital. So a talent discovery notification hadn’t appeared.
But the person Min-ho mentioned was slightly different.
[Loading pre-registered talent profile.]
‘I feel like I’ve seen this person before.’
[Name: Choi Woo-jeong / Position: Intern]
Patient Interview: ■■■□□
Examination: ■■■■□
Diagnosis: ■■■□□
Treatment: ■■■□□
Follow-up: ■■□□□
– Growth Potential: Sufficient
– Favorability: 5
[The embodiment of diligence and sincerity. Completes assigned tasks with a strong sense of responsibility.]
Despite her appearance, the talent profile was familiar.
Ah, now he remembered.
He’d seen her when looking for a good doctor to assign next to Im Sung-hyuk. All the abilities were solid, but she was an intern so he’d decided not to register her then—she was far too junior to place next to Sung-hyuk.
After that, he’d discovered Min-ho. Beom-jun kept a careful eye on Choi Woo-jeong. Probably the youngest, she was running around getting to know the personnel. She was working hard on her assigned tasks just as the talent profile indicated.
Then someone approached Beom-jun.
“Welcome, Director Choi Beom-jun of Korea University Hospital! Please come this way!”
Beom-jun followed him onto the bus—the bus heading to the rural village where the medical volunteer service would take place.
Once on the bus, the people inside began murmuring at the sight of Beom-jun. In fact, many had recognized him from outside the bus.
“That must be him.”
“What’s the director of Korea University Hospital doing here?”
“Didn’t Chairman Han Myeong-jae skip this one? I think he came as a substitute.”
The bus interior grew even more restless with his entrance.
Word had spread that Chairman Han Myeong-jae wasn’t coming to the volunteer service, so Beom-jun had been sent instead. Most doctors only knew that Beom-jun used to be treated like Han Myeong-jae’s lapdog.
It hadn’t even been half a year since Beom-jun possessed the body of Doctor X, so that made sense. But actually, this was good. It meant they were letting their guard down.
Beom-jun sat down in the front row of the bus with a knowing smile.

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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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