Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 61

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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 61.
Beom-jun and Jeong-sik, their cheeks flushed with alcohol, stepped out of the restaurant.
Jeong-sik had suggested they leave early after noticing Beom-jun’s condition deteriorating since registering as a talent.
The alley at the restaurant’s entrance remained sparsely populated, darker than when they’d arrived.
That’s when Jeong-sik’s phone rang.
— Ring-ring-ring!
Beom-jun noticed him glance at the screen and smile fleetingly.
Jeong-sik stepped a little distance away from Beom-jun and took the call.
— Dad! Dad!
From the youthful tone, it was clearly his son.
Beom-jun recalled Jeong-sik’s talent profile.
[However, he shows warmth toward very few people.]
‘Ah, so he’s the cold-on-the-outside type.’
Perhaps that’s why Jeong-sik’s manner toward his family remained blunt, yet somehow radiated affection.
“Yeah, what’s wrong?”
— Dad! I got perfect scores on Korean, English, and math on the September mock exam!
Unlike Jeong-sik, his son was extremely excited, and Beom-jun could hear the conversation through the phone.
“Is that so? Nice work.”
— The science subjects were a bit… For next year I’m thinking maybe I’ll switch to natural sciences…
He couldn’t catch it all, but clearly the boy was a test-taking student. Still, given Jeong-sik’s age, his son wouldn’t be that young.
— I’m going to be a doctor too. Just wait a little, Dad.
And that last statement came through crystal clear. Beom-jun could sense the boy’s solemn determination.
“That’s right! Dad will always be waiting for you.”
The same man spoke to his son with such tenderness that Beom-jun had to double-check they were the same person.
Standing a short distance away, Beom-jun spoke after Jeong-sik ended the call.
“You’ll have a junior colleague soon.”
“If that happens, the Hospital Director will have a junior too. His goal is Korean University Medical School.”
Jeong-sik couldn’t hide his pride in his son and spoke with obvious satisfaction.
‘Wait, his son?’
Someone came to mind.
There was that troublemaking kid who wouldn’t listen.
There was now a place to seek advice about the one who was giving Im Sung-hyuk such a hard time.
* * *
It’s rarely used now, but there was once a time when “Doctor God” was a common phrase.
What began as praise for physicians
has now come to embody both the hope that doctors might cure patients like divine saviors
and a certain mockery of the reality that demands blind obedience to medical authority.
Yet unfortunately, most doctors are mechanics fixing hardware, not software. Statistically speaking, doctors are simply one more category of immature human beings.
“I tell him all these things for his own good, but he doesn’t listen at all! It drives me crazy! I swear, I’d get better results talking to a wall.”
“You mean the Kim Gang-u patient? I had a bad feeling about him from the outpatient clinic. The guardian kicked us out, so the professor examined him one-on-one.”
“Really? I knew something was off about him from the start.”
Inside the clinic room, Min-ho and Hyun-ji chattered away, shaking their heads. Min-ho had been dealing with Gang-u lately and was under considerable stress.
Since Professor Im’s specialty was congenital diseases, he must often see adolescent patients. Or perhaps this was a patient he’d been following since the boy’s teenage years.
But now that Min-ho had actually dealt with the Kim Gang-u patient, communication was proving nearly impossible.
‘How can someone be this difficult to reach?’
It was almost suspicious whether they were even speaking the same language. Gang-u either couldn’t understand the explanations or deliberately ignored them.
If the treatment process hit a snag, he could research it separately or ask his seniors, including the professor, about alternative approaches.
But the current situation was somewhat different.
Min-ho felt awkward mentioning that the patient’s personality was causing him grief.
Outside the hospital, it would be a breach of privacy; inside the hospital, it would feel like spite.
At least when Hyun-ji, who knew Gang-u relatively well, listened to his complaints, it helped a little. Even if nothing changed, his heart felt lighter.
“When I told him not to smoke in the hospital, he just goes, ‘Whatever you say, I already know.’ Like that!”
“Ha! I know exactly what you mean! He does the same to me.”
Min-ho mimicked Gang-u’s tone as he spoke, and Hyun-ji high-fived him on the shoulder, laughing.
The aggressive, cynical Gang-u was even more uninhibited with Min-ho, who appeared relatively young.
Min-ho also noticed that Gang-u behaved differently toward the professor than he did toward him.
“But he still hasn’t quit smoking. Won’t the treatment just fail if the professor does the ASA anyway?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
And Hyun-ji, without trying to appeal to his emotions, zeroed in on the core problem. Min-ho agreed with her assessment.
“Right, there’s no way he’ll manage it properly.”
At the mention of recurrence, Min-ho’s shoulders sagged. Hyun-ji nodded at his words.
When patients don’t take care of their own health, medical staff lose their will to continue. It’s painfully obvious that their best efforts will be wasted.
Of course, if one thought, “Do whatever you want and just pay the bill,” it wouldn’t matter. But Min-ho wasn’t built that way. Hyun-ji, who shared his sentiment, wasn’t either. And Im Sung-hyuk least of all.
That’s when Sung-hyuk entered the clinic room.
“Professor? You haven’t gone home yet?”
“I left behind a chart.”
At Hyun-ji’s words, Sung-hyuk strode over and picked up the file from the desk.
Min-ho, having just spoken ill of the patient, felt embarrassed and scratched the back of his head.
‘I should’ve kept my voice down! He must have heard. Or did he not?’
Min-ho moistened his lips and studied Sung-hyuk’s expression carefully.
“And about the Kim Gang-u patient.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“I’ve requested a youth counseling referral. Arrange it. They’ll contact you.”
“Ah… yes, sir.”
— Click.
After the professor said what he needed to and left, only Hyun-ji and Min-ho remained.
“Wow! Just as I’d expect from the professor!”
“Right, counseling should work. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
A hospital’s internal infrastructure is the hospital’s greatest asset. It’s no exaggeration to say that Korean University Hospital has everything a patient could need.
* * *
“Hey, what am I, some kind of lab rat!”
Unfortunately, Gang-u never made it to the counseling. His guardian didn’t want a psychiatric record on file.
In the clinic room, Sung-hyuk waited with an expressionless face, eyes wide and unblinking, until Gang-u exhausted his complaints.
A mountain is a mountain; water is water.
Hyun-ji, sitting diagonal to Sung-hyuk and staring at the wall, Gang-u, and his mother—all three had the same expression.
‘Maybe that’s enough.’
As Gang-u grew relatively quiet, his mother spoke up.
“Yes, doctor. Of course. This is the perfect treatment for Gang-u, right?”
“Are you sure about that? I mean, this is supposed to be the best treatment, but why is this the first I’m hearing about it!”
“Gang-u! Listen to what the doctor is saying!”
His mother began to be swayed by Gang-u’s protests, and the squabbling started all over again.
Sung-hyuk was thoroughly exhausted.
He’d proposed the best method under optimal conditions in the ideal situation, yet the patient couldn’t seem to grasp it.
Ever since Gang-u latched onto the words “trial application” written in the consent form, communication had broken down entirely.
Even when told that the Jason Therapy had already been validated and didn’t apply, his ears seemed shut.
‘Can’t I just sedate him, do the treatment, and kick him out of the hospital? Probably not.’
It was impossible. Sung-hyuk had never voiced it, but he indulged in similar fantasies whenever moments like this arose.
“Mom, please! Stop nattering and going along with everything!”
Gang-u’s struggles continued, and the consultation dragged on.
When the number of waiting patients exceeded ten, Sung-hyuk remembered something.
‘The Hospital Director suggested trying to separate the patient from the guardian.’
He hadn’t caught the full reasoning and could barely recall it. Perhaps the director hadn’t even explained.
“Ma’am, would you mind stepping out for a moment?”
“Me?”
“Since Gang-u is the one receiving treatment, I’d like to talk to him directly.”
Though his mother had been siding with the medical staff and trying to restrain Gang-u, Sung-hyuk sent her out of the clinic room.
But surprisingly, left alone without his guardian, Gang-u looked anxious. The way he forced his eyes wider to avoid seeming intimidated made it clear he was still just a kid.
Sung-hyuk attempted conversation with Gang-u.
“You seem to have misunderstood. This isn’t an experiment. This treatment method has already been validated, and we’ll only use the results for research later.”
“What’s this then? It says ‘trial application’ right here!”
“That consent form is designed to work for all patients. If you want, we can remove that phrase.”
“…What? Then why didn’t you say so from the beginning?”
Once separated from his guardian as the Hospital Director had suggested, Gang-u was considerably more receptive than before.
“I did. You should listen carefully when you get the chance. If you miss out on this procedure, you’re the only one who loses.”
Sung-hyuk was direct but stated it matter-of-factly, and Gang-u hesitated at this different approach from his mother’s.
The boy, who normally raised his voice between the doctor and his guardian, shifted nervously and sat up straighter in his chair.
Yet the way he regarded Sung-hyuk remained different from how he regarded his mother—it was wariness rather than defiance.
‘Can I trust this person?’ A primal instinct of doubt.
Sung-hyuk explained as calmly as Gang-u had become.
“I won’t force you if you don’t want it. I’m suggesting it because it’s the right treatment for your current situation. Think it over carefully.”
At that, Gang-u turned his head away from Sung-hyuk and muttered.
“…Yeah, honestly I’m not thrilled about it, but… I’ll think about it.”
Not a mere response—perhaps a sign that he was beginning to accept the doctor’s direction. Sung-hyuk spoke to him uncertainly.
“Anything else you want to say?”
“…I can’t quit smoking.”
Gang-u confessed what was really troubling him. And for Sung-hyuk, every such confession was vital health information.
‘So he’s been trying to quit. He hasn’t been refusing treatment after all.’
“I mean, I’m trying not to smoke! But those nicotine lozenges, they’re pretty useless. They don’t help at all.”
“Quitting is never easy. This time, I’ll give you a Nicotine Patch. Try it.”
“Oh? That’s awesome.”
A solution came immediately, and Gang-u let out an approving sound, his tone turning lighter.
But Sung-hyuk realized that Gang-u had actually been making an effort all along. Even if he couldn’t express it properly or find the right method, the boy had been trying in his own way.
“Try it and let me know if it doesn’t work. And if you’d prefer to talk separately from your mother next time, we can do that too.”
“Ah, well… it’s okay. Mom should know too.”
At Sung-hyuk’s words, Gang-u finally met his gaze.
“When a patient won’t communicate, try separating them from the guardian. They need a chance to speak for themselves.”
Sung-hyuk realized how accurate the Hospital Director’s advice had been.
‘Didn’t he say he’d just happened to pass by?’
He’d mentioned seeing the Kim Gang-u patient only briefly in passing, but how did he know all this?
Without that guidance, there was so much about Gang-u he might never have understood. He probably would have structured a much harsher treatment plan.
‘I shouldn’t dismiss even casual remarks.’
Sung-hyuk regretted having treated Beom-jun’s advice like nagging.

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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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