Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 149

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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 149.
Beom-jun, hidden beneath a semi-transparent cloak that stripped away his presence, had become “ordinary doctor number one.”
A few people noticed him, but only took him for a junior staffer with business at the storage room. No one thought anything amiss.
Beom-jun counted disposable syringes for no reason and observed who was speaking. The first to catch his eye was the Volunteer Coordinator.
The Coordinator naturally wouldn’t miss a gathering where the volunteer service’s management level assembled.
“Maintaining proper form is the absolute bare minimum!”
“Ugh, if Director Min were to show up here, he’d get sick. How old is he anyway? His kid’s in their final year of high school.”
“Good grief. But then—are you saying we should accept someone who never shows their face at the service into the Uigwonhoe?”
Even as others urged a pragmatic compromise, the Coordinator was adamant, fixating on Min Jeong-sik’s absence.
“All thirty came, except for Director Min Jeong-sik. Every single one.”
To stay in the Coordinator’s good graces, everyone else echoed the same view, though the Coordinator had no idea his own pressure was driving it.
“Funny thing is, he’s at Korea University Hospital, but he didn’t come through Director Han’s recommendation.”
“Really? That’s surprising. I naturally assumed he’d know Director Han Myeong-jae.”
“I’m certain. The referrer field was blank. We need to look into this carefully. The fact that he didn’t show up for volunteer service is already a bad sign. If we slip one troublemaker into the Uigwonhoe, the whole organization will spiral into chaos.”
They were discussing the membership applicant roster. The Volunteer Coordinator held a sheet of paper with a table listing where thirty-one applicants had been assigned and to which team at which location.
Those assigned to this location had been marked with a highlighter.
Behind the Coordinator, Beom-jun craned his neck. Watching the document the Coordinator held.
‘There’s one more besides Min Jeong-sik. Which team is he in?’
Beom-jun confirmed the name. He was in H-1 Team, composed of a Professor and a Fellow.
– H-1 Team: Kim Seung-min
The Coordinator, startled by Beom-jun’s sudden appearance from behind, jumped back.
“Yikes! Who are you!”
“Oh, I apologize. Just passing through.”
Beom-jun pretended to move past.
The storage room was packed with supplies for the coming week, so the aisles were cramped.
“Watch it, will you!”
The Coordinator looked at Beom-jun’s face but failed to recognize him.
“Why are you people talking here? There’s a perfectly good conference room.”
The Coordinator flinched at Beom-jun’s words.
The existence of Uigwonhoe membership applicants was not widely known.
Most of the people who came for the Medical Volunteer Service didn’t even know that they could apply for Uigwonhoe membership and wait until a position opened up.
The Medical Volunteer Service was, after all, one of several programs designed to inculcate Uigwonhoe ideology into interns and residents with malleable minds.
So doctors who came here
could only enter the Uigwonhoe
by providing grueling labor
through the Medical Volunteer Service and proving themselves.
‘How can you talk about membership applicants in a conference room!’
It was only a brief gathering of Uigwonhoe’s top brass, but Beom-jun happened to catch that moment.
And caught by a young man rummaging through disposable syringes of all things, on a morning like this.
Flustered, the Coordinator bristled.
“W-what business is it of yours! I’ll talk wherever I want. Who are you? Which team, and what’s your name!”
The Coordinator demanded identification from Beom-jun, speaking with intimidating authority. But Beom-jun still wore the semi-transparent cloak.
“I don’t have a team assignment. I’m Choi Beom-jun from Korea University Hospital.”
Beom-jun stated his affiliation. Leaving out the word “director.”
“What? Who did you say?”
The Coordinator heard him plainly but couldn’t quite process what Beom-jun was saying.
“Choi Beom-jun from Korea University Hospital.”
“…?”
The Coordinator failed to recognize Beom-jun, and like Beom-jun had spoken in an alien tongue, he couldn’t understand his words.
“All right, all right. You can go now.”
But the Coordinator pretended he’d understood, gestured dismissively with his chin toward the door.
‘What’s with him? Yesterday he was desperate to look good,’
Beom-jun was dumbfounded. The Coordinator’s attitude shifted one-eighty depending on who he was facing.
“You’re the one who needs to step aside.”
Beom-jun stood at an angle and spoke to the Coordinator. Even with his weight on one leg, his tall frame loomed far over the Coordinator.
“What? I’m the Coordinator here. Don’t you know me?”
The Coordinator thrust his face toward Beom-jun.
All the while oblivious that he himself hadn’t recognized Beom-jun. He apparently took him for an ordinary resident or fellow.
“Right, right. I understand. Move over. I’ve got rounds coming up soon, so there’s a lot to prepare. Or—help me out.”
Beom-jun, having established his cover, spoke to the Coordinator.
The Coordinator’s style was transparent: he was good at flattery, and when he had the upper hand, he’d crush people beneath it.
Exactly the type Beom-jun despised.
‘A collaborator? More like someone you’d have to wonder when they’d stab you in the back.’
Yesterday he’d briefly considered using the Coordinator as an inside contact for Uigwonhoe, but now it was clear he wouldn’t work.
He couldn’t even get registered as talent—how could he choose a two-faced bat like this?
Beom-jun changed his mind. And since his presence had been stripped away anyway, he said what he had to say without holding back.
“We’re dying for doctors as it is. You planning to keep running your mouth?”
Speaking through the persona of a rogue hospital director, crude language stuck to his tongue naturally. It seemed to suit him perfectly.
Since possessing the director’s body, Beom-jun had been careful with his behavior to match the director’s weight. But wearing the semi-transparent cloak gave him a strange sense of liberation.
Meanwhile, the Coordinator was so taken aback by Beom-jun’s words that he couldn’t speak properly. He stammered and babbled.
The Uigwonhoe had an absolute structure: those below could never challenge those above.
A top-down decision-making hierarchy,
and top-down information flow.
Rigid stratification divided by member rank.
All of it was Han Myeong-jae’s design, and the Coordinator worshipped it.
But now someone from below was pushing back. Worse, this was a volunteer service site where everyone was desperation itself to become a Uigwonhoe member.
The Coordinator, experiencing this for the first time, was left speechless, and his companions began to talk him down.
“Besides, we’ve finished our discussion anyway, haven’t we?”
“That’s right. It’s not like we were planning to stay.”
They seemed to have realized they couldn’t get through to Beom-jun.
“What a bastard.”
The Coordinator muttered a low curse as he passed Beom-jun—quiet enough that only Beom-jun could hear it.
Beom-jun heard the loser’s cry and flicked his ear dismissively.
* * *
That afternoon, rumors spread through Base Camp. Be careful—there’s a rogue here.
“The Coordinator said there’s a rogue among the volunteers on this trip.”
“A rogue? What’s he doing here…?”
“Exactly! Maybe he came without knowing this was Uigwonhoe business? It happens sometimes.”
Min-ho, gathering with teammates in clusters, also heard the rumor.
“Yeah, that’s possible. Honestly, I didn’t really know what I was getting into either.”
“No, no—your situation’s different. You came with the director.”
His teammates drew a line between him and others, saying Min-ho was different.
They were saying even rogues had standards, and within half a day the rumor had ballooned so much that people were saying the rogue had hit the Coordinator.
“I heard he kicked the Coordinator? Look how the Coordinator was limping earlier.”
“Really? But why did he hit him?”
But no one could answer the why. All they had was what came from the Coordinator.
“Actually, maybe the Coordinator had it coming?”
Heo Seong-hyun, sub-leader of H-2, voiced neutrality. Choi Woo-jeong, an intern, seconded him.
“Right. I think we should hear both sides.”
Min-ho, listening in, asked the doctor who’d brought the rumor.
“Does anyone know who this rogue doctor is?”
“Oh, only the Coordinator saw him, but he says he can’t remember the face.”
Rumor without substance. It was strange.
“Better to be cautious in any case.”
Min-ho nodded and spoke. When he, who’d been quiet, finally said something, his teammates agreed.
Not merely because Min-ho was the team leader. Min-ho, who seemed to have a special relationship with Korea University Hospital’s director, stood apart.
Rather than getting swept up in rumors, he’d grasped the core issue, and after hearing everything, he made his judgment carefully.
Just as Beom-jun always did. Having observed Beom-jun up close, Min-ho was unconsciously emulating him.
Choi Woo-jeong and Heo Seong-hyun agreed with Min-ho’s words.
“That’s true.”
“At least there’s none on our team.”
Starting with Min-ho’s words, the teammates who’d been buzzing about the rogue calmed down,
and began quietly preparing to see patients.
“This afternoon we need to go pick up patients who have mobility issues. We can split up and move them.”
The morning clinic had served patients who came to Base Camp,
but many elderly people in the rural areas found it too difficult to reach Base Camp.
So for H-2, a resident team, fetching patients by wheelchair was where the day’s work began.
“Three patients are gathered at the Village Chief’s house. Who’ll come with me?”
“I will.”
“I’ll go too!”
Heo Seong-hyun, who had extensive volunteer experience, took the lead in assembling the group, while Min-ho stayed at Base Camp to prepare for the clinic.
‘Our team needs to avoid running into that rogue.’
Min-ho shook his head as he thought. It never occurred to him that the rogue might be Beom-jun.
Min-ho was gathering supplies for the clinic at the camp.
Dressing materials for wounds and disinfectant. And disposable syringes for when he prescribed IV drips.
There was so much to use, but fortunately nothing was lacking. Yesterday, Min-ho had overheard what the Volunteer Coordinator said to Beom-jun—that they’d have everything they needed, and it was true.
After laying out the supplies he needed, Min-ho casually picked up one syringe.
It had a clear vinyl front and a paper back to the package. It was by chance that the expiration date caught his eye.
You might think—these aren’t food, why do they have expiration dates? But all medical supplies have undergone sterilization.
The expiration date guarantees there won’t be any bacteria inside it. Not to mention that the materials themselves won’t degrade.
But this expiration date had passed.
‘What? The expiration date is past?’
In alarm, Min-ho checked the dressing materials and disinfectant. Some were fine, but most had passed their expiration dates.
When he sorted out just what H-2 would need today, the quantity fell far short.
Min-ho stood up, syringe in hand.
‘Oh no, patients will be here soon. What do I do?’
It had to be solved before patients arrived at Base Camp. Min-ho went to find Beom-jun.
He figured Beom-jun would have extra supplies. Up to this point, Min-ho still didn’t know that most of the medical supplies were in terrible condition.
Min-ho wandered through Base Camp and found Beom-jun in the central hub—in the middle of the treatment room where patients gathered.
Beom-jun was carefully examining a glass bottle containing powdered medicine.
– Expired date.
Just as Min-ho had done moments before, he was looking at the medication’s expiration date.

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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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