Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 80

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Episode 80.
Early the next morning, around seven o’clock. An ambulance pulled silently into Korean University Hospital.
The sun rose late, leaving the sky dark as midnight.
From the Main Gate of Korean University Hospital to the Main Building Entrance, people streamed up the walkway in an endless procession.
It was an ordinary commute like any other day.
Staff members who would soon don various uniforms moved with the casual dress of everyday workers.
Someone wearing a padding hat over a baseball cap.
Someone else in sleep socks and slippers.
In the cold morning, everyone without exception thrust their hands deep into their pockets.
When they happened to greet a coworker, their breath misted white in the frigid air.
Hospitals vary slightly from one to another, but most begin their day at seven.
I’m not sure when this started. Everyone’s quality of life would improve if we just clocked in at nine, or even eight.
But since patients must wait as long as staff takes to prepare, flexible hours or staggered schedules are foreign concepts to a hospital.
In a rapidly changing world, some things must never be compromised. Just as hospitals always rush to wake before dawn.
“Why is someone being admitted at this hour? It doesn’t even look like an emergency.”
A nurse who’d just clocked in waited in front of the Emergency Room as the ambulance arrived.
In the distance, a private ambulance could be seen passing through the Main Gate. No siren—clearly not an emergency situation.
There were transfers from other hospitals, or patients with mobility issues coming for scheduled admissions. According to the night-shift nurse’s handoff, this was one of both.
“Hey, lower your voice. It’s a VVIP patient.”
“Really? Who?”
Her colleague brought a finger to her lips and gestured toward the ambulance, where a figure was emerging with assistance. The nurse focused intently.
He recognized the patient immediately. The name seemed unusual but familiar—he’d seen her on the news. She was the youngest daughter of the Eunseong Group.
“Oh wow!”
At the appearance of a VVIP, tension coiled through his body.
Eun Seo-young, pale-faced, was transferred into a wheelchair, and the colleague wheeled her inside the Emergency Room.
A middle-aged woman with voluminous short hair followed close behind.
‘Wow, just like I’ve seen on TV.’
She was the daughter of the Tae-ul Corporation chairwoman, a company no less prominent than the Eunseong Group. Despite being in her fifties, her hair gleamed with lustre as she swept past.
Not a celebrity, but seeing someone in person that you only know from the news was oddly thrilling.
The nurse, now aware of the patient’s identity, nodded knowingly. So that’s why she was being admitted so early in the morning—to avoid prying eyes.
While his colleague guided the patient to an empty bed, he registered Eun Seo-young in the Emergency Room administrative office.
Official admission wouldn’t be possible until nine, so they had to process through the Emergency Room first. Likely they’d just register the name and move her directly to the 77th Ward.
Seated at the computer, he logged into the Hospital Information System and clicked on Eun Seo-young’s name as it appeared.
— Please confirm the patient is under your care.
Unauthorized access to patient information may result in prosecution under Medical Law Article 19 (Prohibition of Confidentiality Breach).
— Cancel / Confirm
A warning popup appeared the moment he clicked the name.
A warning he’d seen countless times while working. When he clicked confirm, the referral form from Eunseong Hospital appeared.
Chief complaint: Seizure
History: Syncope with brief tonic-clonic movement
Family history: Syncope x1 (age 14), collapse at swimming pool. Was told at the time it was Vasovagal Syncope
Family history: None otherwise
Physician’s assessment:
Seizure-like activity
Convulsive Syncope suspected
r/o Epilepsy
r/o Convulsive Syncope
r/o Cardiac Arrhythmia
r/o Inherited Cardiac Condition
The medical record was filled mostly with vague phrasing: seizure-like, possible convulsive syncope, and the like.
The nurse scrolled through the physician’s notes.
Four suspected conditions: Epilepsy, Convulsive Syncope, Cardiac Arrhythmia, and Inherited Cardiac Condition.
‘So they still can’t tell if it’s a seizure or a fainting spell? It doesn’t look like typical epilepsy. Something about it feels cardiac, though?’
He didn’t pay particular attention to the fact that Eun Seo-young had collapsed in water before. There was already a definitive diagnosis listed.
Vasovagal Syncope—the most common cause of collapse in young women anyway. He assumed Eunseong Hospital had diagnosed and treated it properly, and moved on.
After finishing the Eunseong Hospital referral form, he began recording his observations of Eun Seo-young at Korean University Hospital.
— Patient presented to Emergency Room via ambulance….
Meanwhile, Beom-jun sat at a Gukbap Restaurant with Im Sung-hyuk. He couldn’t shake his discomfort about treating Seo-young. More precisely, about using her as a means to an end.
Her arrival at Korean University Hospital was purely a transaction between Eunseong Hospital and them.
Using a patient’s illness to secure advantages for Korean University Hospital, prioritizing profit—the thought that human life was being devalued gnawed at him.
He understood that for doctors like Im Sung-hyuk to devote themselves wholly to their patients, someone had to wade through the mud. And truth be told, not long ago Beom-jun himself had been one of those doctors treating patients.
“Director, is something troubling you?” Im Sung-hyuk asked across the steaming bowl of soup.
He watched Beom-jun picking at his food without really eating.
“It’s nothing, really.”
Beom-jun lifted his spoon and stirred the broth idly.
Each time meat and noodles rose up through the steam, the vapors intensified.
His vision blurred as the steam thickened the air, yet warmth and the aroma of good food wrapped around him.
His mind was confused, but strangely his heart felt at peace. As if someone were telling him, ‘This is right. What you’re doing now is right.’
[Current Survival Probability: 62%]
Beom-jun checked his Survival Probability. He’d climbed here by increments of three, five percent at a time. Right, to survive, you do whatever it takes.
Yet Beom-jun thrashed against losing himself in the process.
He fought to hold onto his center—the doctor’s core that had always put patients first.
And it was Im Sung-hyuk sitting across from him who had preserved that center even in harsh circumstances.
Beom-jun looked up from his soup to Im Sung-hyuk.
“Why do you do it? I mean, why’d you go into Thoracic Surgery? You must’ve known it doesn’t pay well.”
Thoracic Surgery was brutal among all the brutal specialties. Surely Im Sung-hyuk hadn’t been unaware.
He seemed about to speak, hesitated, let the silence linger.
“Well, money isn’t everything, is it?”
He spoke with uncertainty, unsure whether Beom-jun would understand what came next.
“…Don’t you know it yourself, Director? The thrill of saving a life.”
At his words, Beom-jun found himself laughing despite everything. He knew that thrill far too well. In some ways, it was a perfectly apt description.
“I know it. How could anyone forget?”
Even though he hadn’t treated a single patient since inhabiting Doctor X, Beom-jun could feel vividly what Im Sung-hyuk meant by that ‘thrill.’
The weight of knowing that one person’s decision could mean someone else’s death—conversely, that same person might save them.
Failed memories burned brighter, but truth was Beom-jun had succeeded far more often than he’d failed.
A life flickering out under his hands reigniting,
Moments of utter despair transforming into hope.
A stilled heart beginning to beat, lengthening one person’s lifespan,
Sustaining the family and small community bound to them.
The exhilaration of becoming a savior in that moment—it defies words.
It’s like electricity coursing through your entire body. Goosebumps rising across your skin.
What’s certain is that it’s incomparable to the dopamine easily obtained elsewhere—
Potent. Addictive.
Once anyone tastes it, they can never easily escape it.
“That’s what makes being a doctor worthwhile, isn’t it?”
At Im Sung-hyuk’s words, Beom-jun let out a hollow laugh.
“Hah. You’re crazy.”
“In a way, yes. But I like myself this way—obsessed with patients.”
If Im Sung-hyuk hadn’t become addicted to saving patients, he wouldn’t be able to throw himself into it so fully now.
And Im Sung-hyuk would feel that addiction all the more, experiencing what might be called the ‘taste of being a doctor’—something impossible if you merely practice medicine like a corporate employee.
This virtuous cycle, repeated countless times, is how doctors like Im Sung-hyuk are born.
“I suspect you weren’t so different from me, Director.”
“Perhaps, but you’re definitely something else. Punk.”
Beom-jun spoke playfully, turning his attention back to his soup.
‘That’s what you’d see.’
Even without being Doctor X, those who stand beside truly good people are rare indeed. The closer you draw to the light, the more you see your own shadow.
Simply by moving through the world together, Im Sung-hyuk seemed to sense that Beom-jun was like him.
Beom-jun found it remarkable to see Im Sung-hyuk alive before his eyes. He’d never dreamed that by inhabiting Doctor X, he and Sung-hyuk would become such close friends.
But Im Sung-hyuk denied Beom-jun’s words.
“No, Director. You have a similar grain to mine.”
“Do I?”
Beom-jun found it somewhat absurd. What could he know? He let Im Sung-hyuk’s words slide past one ear.
“Yes. There is no other doctor who thinks of patients the way you do, Director.”
Im Sung-hyuk spoke once more, pressing his point.
His steady gaze showed he truly believed what he was saying—that Beom-jun cared for patients with the same intensity he did.
“Above all, you truly understand the taste of being a doctor, don’t you?”
Beom-jun laughed quietly.
“Think what you like.”
It was something he’d said to spare Im Sung-hyuk’s faith in him, but the truth was Beom-jun didn’t agree.
Not every doctor in a hospital treats patients directly.
Some develop new treatments,
Some train disciples,
And some, like Beom-jun, run the hospital itself.
Beom-jun—or rather, Ui-jin—had long been one of the pillars supporting the hospital. Now he had become the roof sheltering all those pillars from wind and rain.
‘My path lies elsewhere.’
With a certainty he hadn’t felt before, Beom-jun addressed Im Sung-hyuk.
“A TS Patient will be admitted to VIP 77th Ward soon. Get ready. Incidentally, she’s the youngest daughter of the Eunseong Group. She should be in the Emergency Room by now.”
There was no time for sentiment. The hospital ran twenty-four hours without pause, even as they spoke.
“Yes, understood.”
Unaware of the complex backdrop,
Thinking only of the patient,
Im Sung-hyuk responded with full commitment.
He quickly finished his soup and hurriedly stood. By then, Beom-jun who had been across from him was nowhere to be seen.
Beom-jun had already settled the bill and was waiting for Im Sung-hyuk.
“Let’s go.”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————