Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 7

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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 7.
“Why did you classify the PVCs as an abnormal signal?”
Seong-hyeok asked Min-ho. Still, he seemed to have developed a genuine interest compared to moments before.
Beom-jun squinted at the cardiac medical terminology he hadn’t heard in a long time. The hazy memory was overlaid with Seong-hyeok’s knowledge and became vivid.
PVCs were premature ventricular contractions—when the ventricle contracts and beats on its own amid the regular rhythm of the heartbeat.
It could be a warning sign of cardiac arrest to come, but it also occurred fairly often in ordinary people. Frequent caffeine consumption, extreme stress. In short, a common case.
“The rhythm was so close to textbook in the patient, and the form of the PVC seemed a bit… unusual.”
At Min-ho’s words, Im Seong-hyeok fell silent in thought. Beom-jun, knowing his cautious nature, swallowed hard. He was probably gauging whether Min-ho was a decent doctor or not.
‘I picked him, didn’t I! He’s not an idiot, so stop second-guessing.’
Beom-jun wanted to grab him and convince him, but he knew that wouldn’t work.
Min-ho didn’t just need recognition—he had to win over Seong-hyeok enough to be worth teaching. That way Min-ho could grow and his own hunger to nurture talent could be satisfied.
Meanwhile, Seong-hyeok was turning over Min-ho’s words and reached a conclusion.
“…Good instincts.”
For a moment, curiosity flickered in Seong-hyeok’s eyes, which had been responding listlessly. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and studied Min-ho intently.
Though the morphology was abnormal, every person’s heart rhythm looked different. The amplitude of the waveforms varied from person to person.
To perceive that and judge it as a potential problem—that was a matter of talent. Much like how Seong-hyeok himself pulled off impossible surgeries.
“Thank you, Professor!”
Min-ho was overjoyed at a single word of praise about his instincts, and Seong-hyeok gave a quiet nod.
He thought perhaps he’d only seen one side of things. As he had with the director before.
“Feel free to come in for tomorrow’s surgery.”
Im Seong-hyeok extended the invitation to Min-ho. This meant he was welcome to watch from the side.
“Yes, tomorrow’s TF2
*
—is that correct? I’ll head to the OR.”
*Turnover Frame: the second surgery after the first, meaning the third surgery of that day.
Min-ho, who had memorized the surgical schedule, answered, and Seong-hyeok nodded. Sensing the favorable atmosphere, Beom-jun smiled as he sipped his coffee.
‘Hmm, as long as those two get along well, it should be fine.’
Min-ho had a completely opposite personality to Seong-hyeok and different core skills. But because of that, he could fill in the gaps that Seong-hyeok lacked.
Soon after, Seong-hyeok received an emergency call and rushed out, and Min-ho also stood to leave.
“Thank you, Director. I never imagined I’d get to have a conversation like this with the Professor.”
[Lee Min-ho’s Affinity has increased by 1.]
[Talent Registration requirements have been met.]
[Will you register Lee Min-ho as Talent? Yes / No]
After earning Im Seong-hyeok’s recognition, Min-ho’s affinity rose.
In his excitement, he didn’t forget that it was Beom-jun who had created this opportunity and expressed his gratitude before leaving. He certainly had promise, unlike Im Seong-hyeok.
“It’s nothing special. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Beom-jun gave him a goodbye and registered him as Talent.
[Lee Min-ho is being registered as Talent.]
[Through the registration effect, the Talent’s knowledge is absorbed.]
After registering Min-ho, Beom-jun gained fundamental knowledge about the Cardiothoracic Surgery Department. It wasn’t that Im Seong-hyeok didn’t know it—he’d simply deleted it from his memory because he didn’t need it.
Still, laying a solid foundation proved far more helpful than expected. Grasping specialized knowledge required solid ground beneath.
While Beom-jun was reviewing the fundamentals of cardiothoracic surgery, a new status window appeared.
[A Hidden Quest has opened.]
[Hidden Quest: Save Im Seong-hyeok’s colleague.]
[Hidden Quest has been completed.]
[As reward, you can increase a Talent’s stat by 1.]
[Through Synergy Effect, you gain command over the Cardiothoracic Surgery Department: Stage 1.]
What? He’d cleared a Hidden Quest he didn’t even know existed. This time there was a reward too.
‘So I really can raise a Talent’s stats. The growth potential isn’t there for nothing.’
Beom-jun first thought of Min-ho’s treatment category. Right now it was below average. Or maybe it’d be better to funnel everything to Seong-hyeok instead.
After deliberating, Beom-jun decided to hold onto the reward. It seemed better to use it at the right moment.
‘For now, I’ll keep it.’
Beom-jun reclined in his chair. Korea University Hospital now had two registered Talents. Unlike the original director, who’d had no one on his side.
The start wasn’t bad. If he could keep raising the survival rate like this until it hit 100%, then the murder of Director Choi Beom-jun wouldn’t happen.
* * *
Beom-jun was signing documents that had come to the director’s desk. Honestly, he had no idea what most of them said.
As a professor, he’d never had the chance to handle hospital management duties. What did he know about how a hospital ran? As long as his salary came through and the incentives kept flowing, that was enough.
‘If I’d known it would come to this, I should’ve paid attention.’
It was too late for regrets. Beom-jun shuffled through the papers. The fact that they were already signed off by the vice-director was bothering him. She was the one who’d kill him in the later half of Doctor X.
She’d murdered the director by injecting Epinephrine into his blood vessel while he was unconscious. Thanks to the thin 24-gauge needle, there were barely any marks left, and the cardiac arrest could easily be disguised as death from overwork.
Beom-jun picked up one of the documents with a sigh.
— First Half Budget Settlement and Second Half Planning Report
From what he could tell, it was the first-half performance divided by department and the budgets allotted to each department.
Unlike most documents that ended at the director level, this was the only document requiring the board chairman’s approval. That meant it was important.
[A new quest has been created.]
[Main Quest: Attract the board chairman’s attention.]
Catch the attention of Han Myeong-jae, the board chairman of Korea University Hospital.
Reward: Survival Probability +3%, ???
Failure: Death
And a quest appeared demanding he draw the chairman’s attention. Han Myeong-jae, the chairman—he was the figure who stood by and allowed Director Choi Beom-jun’s murder in Doctor X. Or perhaps he even had a hand in it.
‘My first meeting with the chairman, then.’
The chairman was the head of Korea University Hospital’s board of directors.
Now that Beom-jun had possessed the body in Doctor X, he needed to rebuild his relationship with the chairman to keep from being manipulated by the board the way he used to be.
‘That’s the only way I survive here.’
Drawing the chairman’s attention would be a kind of declaration of war against him.
Unlike his past self, when he’d followed the chairman’s orders like a puppet, he wasn’t going to take it lying down anymore. That’s what the declaration meant.
At the sight of the word “death,” Beom-jun swallowed dryly. No matter how many times he saw it, he couldn’t get used to it. He squeezed the budget report he was holding.
Medical services were the hospital’s main function, but the hospital couldn’t run on that alone. Administrative work like this had to back it up.
But Beom-jun knew nothing about this field. How could he draw the chairman’s attention? After brief consideration, he called his secretary.
“You called for me, Director?”
“Sit down for a moment.”
The convenience of being director—everyone comes running when called. Beom-jun checked Kim Jae-gyeong’s Talent information again.
[Name: Kim Jae-gyeong / Position: Secretary-General]
Schedule Management: ■■■□□
Administrative Support: ■■■□□
Internal Communication: ■■■■□
External Relations: ■■□□□
Her practical skills—schedule management and administrative support—were at three bars, putting her at average level. But there was one stat that caught his eye.
[*Affinity has reached MAX, so she will never betray you.]
This was definitely a major advantage. Even if the hospital director asked something bordering on insane, she’d keep her mouth shut.
[Will you register her as Talent? Yes / No]
Beom-jun rolled his eyes and selected yes.
[Secretary-General Kim Jae-gyeong is being registered as Talent.]
[Through the registration effect, the Talent’s knowledge is absorbed.]
The moment he registered Jae-gyeong, the structure of Korea University Hospital unfolded in his mind. He could almost see the organization chart’s members and even their faces.
The work each department did, how the hospital operated, and what Korea University Hospital had accomplished so far.
The headache wasn’t severe. There was a slight throb, then it subsided. The pain seemed to vary with the quantity and depth of knowledge.
‘So that’s how it works.’
Beom-jun thought as he mentally reviewed hospital administration matters.
It was far more complex than he’d expected. Part of it was because the knowledge Jae-gyeong possessed was limited. Without seeing the bigger picture, fragmented knowledge was tangled in lumps.
“Director, are you all right?”
Jae-gyeong asked when she saw Beom-jun frowning.
“Ah, I’m fine.”
Still, it was more than nothing. Without the secretary-general, he’d have started from absolute zero.
What would draw the chairman’s attention was likely money. In Doctor X, he was someone who invoked great causes while ultimately scrambling to line the hospital’s pockets.
To do that, he first had to master these documents thoroughly.
Beom-jun handed the budget proposal to Jae-gyeong and had her brief him.
“About this document. I’d like you to explain it to me.”
“Pardon? This… why?”
Jae-gyeong sounded flustered, though her tone carried a note of concern.
“Since the accident, my memory’s been spotty. I don’t quite understand how the first half went.”
Jae-gyeong’s eyes went wide. Beom-jun brought his index finger to his lips. Shh.
“For now, only you know about this.”
“Oh, yes. I understand.”
Jae-gyeong immediately nodded at his words.
[Sharing secrets generates loyalty in Kim Jae-gyeong.]
[Emotional sharing is now possible.]
Thanks to the emotional sharing effect, he could sense Jae-gyeong’s tension at the confidential nature of the conversation.
After that, Jae-gyeong began her explanation. Since she didn’t know his exact condition, she started from the basics and was meticulous.
“In the first half, the Orthopedic Surgery Department and General Surgery Department were profitable. Pediatrics and Cardiothoracic Surgery are still running deficits.”
As degenerative disc disease had nearly become a lifestyle disease in adults, Orthopedic Surgery had become a highly profitable department.
Moreover, while pain could be managed with medication, treatment meant surgery—so the treatment costs differed significantly from other departments.
“Pediatrics was bound to run a deficit anyway. Wasn’t even the government budget enough?”
As a national hospital, Korea University Hospital was forced to separately operate pediatric surgery, pediatric psychiatry, and similar specialized divisions, but they received government subsidies so there was no shortage.
“No, it’s perfectly balanced. Neither insufficient nor surplus.”
As expected, the secretary-general confirmed that Beom-jun’s statement checked out perfectly.
“Then the problem is TS—Cardiothoracic Surgery.”
Beom-jun clicked his tongue without opening his mouth.
University hospitals that meet certain conditions receive the designation of “Advanced General Hospital,” which allows higher treatment fees for the same procedures. Among those conditions is maintaining exactly 20 departments of medical specialization.
So even if a department runs a deficit, the hospital can’t eliminate it entirely. Instead, they allocate less budget and reduce the number of professors. Unfortunately, patients have to wander from place to place seeking a hospital that will take them.
‘That’s why Cardiothoracic Surgery only has Seong-hyeok as a professor. If there are fewer professors, fewer patients seek treatment, which reduces the deficit.’
Hmm, Beom-jun tapped the desk with his index finger as he listened to Jae-gyeong’s explanation. It was a small gesture, but his mind was busy listing all the things he needed to do.
— Tap-tap-tap.
While Beom-jun wrestled with his thoughts, Jae-gyeong remained frozen in her seat before him.
“I need to pull more budget toward Cardiothoracic Surgery.”
“Pardon? But the budgets are already allocated by department.”
Jae-gyeong questioned what she didn’t understand.
Instead of answering, he flashed a grin—his cheek muscles trembled slightly, making his expression look menacing.
“Secretary-General, shall we run something big?”
What Beom-jun meant was a way to make money for the hospital. Money from a field that had been nothing but a headache.

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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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