Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 35

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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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Chapter 35.
The history of Korean General Hospital and Cheonhui General Hospital traces back to the Joseon Dynasty.
In the late Joseon era, missionary Allen entered the Korean Peninsula. Gojong established the Jeje Medical Institute for him, and there many people were exposed to Western medicine and received treatment.
But in , the roots of the Jeje Medical Institute split into two branches, becoming Korean General Hospital and Cheonhui General Hospital.
The Korean Medical Institute, inheriting the spirit of benefiting patients widely, gathered renowned physicians to treat epidemics,
while the missionaries centered around Allen established the Cheonhui Medical Institute and ventured deep into where people lived.
One chose depth, one chose breadth.
But contrary to how academia classified them, things changed greatly after they became hospitals.
Korean General Hospital dug deep into treatment and focused on research, surviving on government subsidies and research funding,
while Cheonhui General Hospital expanded broadly, opening branches throughout the provinces and eventually becoming the hospital with the most branch facilities nationwide.
Unfortunately, the former burned through money while the latter made it.
As Beom Jun flipped through Professor Shin So Jeong’s personnel file, he took note of her publication record.
— Comparative study of surgery and laser therapy in patients with intractable epilepsy
— Exploring novel gene therapy strategies for treatment-resistant glioblastoma
— Latest developments in electrical stimulation therapy for patients with intractable neuropathic pain
Though they seemed different, Shin So Jeong’s papers all centered on “intractable” conditions. A Cheonhui University graduate, but her temperament aligned better with Korean General Hospital, which plumbed a single disease to its depths.
Most would give up upon learning so late, yet she carved out her own path and came to Korean General Hospital.
“Impressive.”
Beom Jun murmured without thinking. Stepping into a battlefield where one cannot tell enemy from ally is never easy. Especially in the conservative medical field that prized hierarchy and foundational credentials.
Not only had she firmly established herself at Korean General Hospital, but she was serving as a professor. Honestly, her track record was a portfolio anyone would admire.
‘Is that why Lim Sung Hyuk fell for her? No, that’s not it.’
Beom Jun caught himself, nearly sympathizing with their romance. In any case, he couldn’t leave Shin So Jeong at Lim Sung Hyuk’s side.
He held the mouse and twitched his index finger. He was running simulations, concocting scenarios.
“Hmm.”
Beom Jun rested his chin on his left hand, gazing into the distance. Each time multiple scenarios crossed in his mind to drive Sung Hyuk and So Jeong apart, he tilted his head back and sighed.
Normally, Neurosurgery would handle the patient alone and struggle before contacting Thoracic Surgery, but since the patient had already deteriorated, Lim Sung Hyuk was involved actively.
‘So I’ll assign Lim Sung Hyuk as the patient’s primary doctor first, then toss it to Neurosurgery once the cardiac treatment is done.’
An handoff would have to happen eventually, but surely that wouldn’t spark romantic feelings.
Having made his decision, Beom Jun accessed HIS for the first time in a while. Using the master access code that allowed him to view all patient information.
— Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap
The sound of keyboard clicks and mouse presses came crisply.
But when Beom Jun clicked the patient search field, his fingers froze on the keyboard.
“Damn, what was the name again?”
This was ridiculous. He couldn’t remember the patient’s name.
Since the patient was North Korean military with no resident registration number, he’d been registered under a common name.
Beom Jun clutched his head.
‘Because it wasn’t his real name, barely mentioned it!’
Beom Jun agonized, recalling the contents of .
What was it—something like Kim Min Su, a common name.
Beom Jun uncertainly searched “Kim Min Su” in HIS and found 12,000 results.
When he narrowed the age to late twenties to early thirties, 3,814 names appeared.
— Ring-ring-ring, ding-ding
Meanwhile, the director’s private line rang. The caller ID showed it was Sung Hyuk.
“Director, the Neurosurgery Department is requesting we form a multidisciplinary task force. How would you like to proceed?”
An uneasy feeling seized Beom Jun, and he gripped the handset tightly. Surely the Neurosurgery Department Lim Sung Hyuk was referring to wasn’t Professor Shin So Jeong.
* * *
As the saying goes, “what you fear comes to pass.” The patient in question from Neurosurgery requesting consultation was indeed the North Korean soldier Beom Jun had anticipated. The attending physician was, as expected, Shin So Jeong.
And she was apparently viewing the multidisciplinary team with interest, having contacted Sung Hyuk to say so.
‘This is absurd. When she first presented on the multidisciplinary system, she said absolutely not.’
“On CT, it’s not clearly visible, but it seems the bullet lodged near the heart,” Sung Hyuk relayed.
Yet Shin So Jeong’s clinical assessment, as conveyed by Lim Sung Hyuk, was accurate. In the initial phase, the pericardium wasn’t entirely torn. Rather, it was blocked by a major vessel, which was stemming the bleeding.
Because the bullet was metallic, MRI imaging using a magnetic field was impossible, and since the bleeding itself was minimal, they planned to proceed with observation for now.
So they would perform Spinal Decompression Surgery as needed, but later when pericardial pressure increased, Lim Sung Hyuk appeared and resolved it.
Learning the name during the call, Beom Jun searched HIS for the North Korean patient.
— Kim Jun Ho / 29 years old / ER-14
— Diagnosis: Multiple Gunshot Wounds
He’d been admitted through the Emergency Room just fifteen minutes prior. As depicted in , the diagnosis was Multiple Gunshot Wounds.
“What should we do, Director?”
And Lim Sung Hyuk, usually stubbornly headstrong, didn’t decide alone but asked for Beom Jun’s opinion.
Already, from the very start, things were different from the original. So what came after could also be different.
“We can’t refuse. It means the heart team’s pilot operation went well. Tell them we accept and hand the team lead over to them. The patient should be reviewed in-house by Thoracic Surgery first.”
“Understood.”
Beom Jun spoke calmly. Matching his tone, Sung Hyuk remained composed. Doctors likely shared the trait of their minds cooling as situations grew urgent.
“Yes. Incidentally, they say emergency surgery is ongoing.”
But what followed was enough to shake Beom Jun’s emotions.
Surgery was still in progress, yet she’d already contacted Thoracic Surgery?
Professor Shin So Jeong’s judgment was remarkably swift. Alarmingly so. Beom Jun tilted his head.
‘Too fast.’
For surgery to be decided this quickly suggested it was likely the opinion of one person, not multiple. This was a shortcut to hasty judgment. Beom Jun’s instincts were uneasy.
After hanging up, Beom Jun turned the next page of Professor Shin So Jeong’s personnel file.
* * *
The next day.
Administrative documents moved swiftly, and the Brain Heart Team was assembled within a day. It had proceeded rapidly to accommodate the patient who had already undergone one surgery.
As per Beom Jun’s suggestion, Professor Shin So Jeong took the position of team lead. Initially, he’d wondered if the assertive Sung Hyuk would be all right with it, but seeing him stand alongside Professor Shin So Jeong put his mind at ease.
Standing next to her, who knew he could look so docile?
If Beom Jun was a white tiger with an icy image, she was a lion with the heart of a beast.
Lim Sung Hyuk’s disposition seemed rough, but aside from his patients, he was largely silent. He didn’t seek to entangle himself with others.
Shin So Jeong, by contrast, stated what she wanted clearly.
“Patient Kim Jun Ho underwent Spinal Decompression Surgery yesterday. We’re awaiting results from the MRI taken this morning. We’d appreciate a rush reading from Radiology.”
“Yes! I’ll request it again.”
“I’ll confirm as well!”
The multidisciplinary meeting proceeded with Shin So Jeong, as team lead, finishing her remarks while the surrounding Neurosurgery staff responded with affirmations.
Lim Sung Hyuk and Min Ho, along with the rest of Thoracic Surgery, watched this curiously.
Of course, each department had its own atmosphere, and much depended on who sat at the head,
‘This is incredible.’
The discipline in Neurosurgery was no joke.
Watching this, Sung Hyuk sent Beom Jun a distress signal with his eyes. He too seemed bewildered by the sight of this frail-looking commander.
‘Just wait. Let me see what kind of person she is first.’
Beom Jun glanced over Shin So Jeong.
[Checking personnel information.]
[Name: Shin So Jeong / Title: Professor
History Taking: ■■■■□
Examination: ■■■□□
Diagnosis: ■■■□□
Treatment: ■■■■■
Follow-up: ■■■■■
— Growth potential: Low
— Favorability: 3
She possesses a disposition like fire. She has a strong sense of medical ethics and shows quick judgment.]
Beom Jun tilted his head as he reviewed her personnel information.
The phrase “sense of medical ethics” struck him as amusing, but what Beom Jun noted was what came after. Quick judgment? He’d expected her to be authoritarian or domineering, but this was unexpected.
‘For someone like that, she seems to have no intention of talking with Lim Sung Hyuk. Maybe she’s just swamped with work.’
Even as Beom Jun pondered this, Shin So Jeong’s words continued unbroken.
“As you know, Neurosurgery is under severe workload stress right now. We’ll keep meetings to announcements only and won’t be taking other opinions.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes, yes.”
Without exchanging any words with Thoracic Surgery, So Jeong moved to close the meeting.
That wouldn’t do. Beom Jun, who’d been listening quietly, stopped her.
“Then there’s no need to attend these meetings at all. A multidisciplinary meeting is where we discuss. debate. decide. on matters concerning the patient.”
He emphasized the word “discuss,” underlining its importance, and posed a question on agenda items requiring clarification.
“And how much patient consent has been obtained? There seems to have been an emergency surgery.”
At the director’s words, the medical staff who had begun to rise from their seats hesitated and sat back down.
The patient had gone into surgery just fifteen minutes after admission. The patient would have been unconscious. If so, adequate explanation must have followed afterward.
So Jeong, hesitating briefly, opened her mouth.
“…That’s impossible because the patient is uncooperative with South Korean treatment.”
Several sighs followed So Jeong’s words. Beom Jun’s brow furrowed. It made no sense. Even if not a thorough history, the basics should have been covered.
Above all, obtaining consent wasn’t the professor’s job. Usually, it was the resident’s. Difficult patients might have a fellow do it.
Yet failing to obtain patient consent was already being reported to the professor, and that had somehow been accepted.
Beom Jun scanned the medical staff arrayed beneath Shin So Jeong.
None of them met his gaze. They were fixated on Shin So Jeong alone.
“Hmm?”
It struck Beom Jun as calculated. As if they were deliberately demonstrating that they held no opinions of their own.
Unlike salarymen who pass approvals upward, doctors are a profession where individuals make decisions. Yet every decision and responsibility was concentrated on Shin So Jeong.
Understanding the situation, Beom Jun let out a short laugh, grinning darkly.
‘Do these fools think a professor is an easy mark?’
His eyes widened, the whites showing prominently, looking eerie. As his unsettling smile appeared, the Neurosurgery staff averted their gazes.
“Is that your personal opinion, Professor Shin, or is it the consensus of Neurosurgery?”
At Beom Jun’s words, the other medical staff besides Shin So Jeong looked like they’d been struck dumb, their mouths flapping silently, and they deferred to her for an answer by bowing their heads.
“Ah, I see you don’t quite understand.”
Beom Jun crossed one leg as he spoke to them.
“I’m asking whether you became doctors to be yes-men.”
At that, the doctors who’d been showing only the crowns of their heads suddenly lifted their heads in unison.
An excellent physician from a rival medical school with a fiery temperament.
And the overwhelming majority of medical staff surrounding her.
At first, Beom Jun thought Shin So Jeong was acting unilaterally, but that wasn’t it. The Neurosurgery staff was collectively freeloading off her.
In Beom Jun’s view, she had no time now to worry about Lim Sung Hyuk. She should be overwhelmed just managing the staff beneath her.

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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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