Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 81

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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 81.
[Main Quest generated.]
[Main Quest: Recruit Talent from Eunsung Hospital.]
Before the dispatch concludes, register one talent related to Eunsung Hospital.
Reward: Survival Probability +3%
Failure: Death]
‘Ugh, what’s this right from the morning.’
Beom-jun woke to the Status Window flickering in his vision.
Blackout curtains made no difference—the window appeared whenever it pleased.
With half-lidded eyes, he reviewed the quest.
Now that the opening ceremony was over, the Eunsung doctors would begin their real work in earnest.
He’d positioned physicians according to Eunsung’s request—pediatrics, neurosurgery, and thoracic surgery as the main departments. The hospital had grown large enough to add obstetrics and gynecology as well.
In the early stages, there would be a period of observation, a time for Korean University Hospital doctors to gauge whether these physicians were worth learning from. Eunsung ranked among the top five hospitals in , after all.
But many of the physicians came from overseas backgrounds, particularly America, so they lacked deep historical experience with domestic diseases.
They’d never encountered Korea’s unique healthcare culture either.
With Im Sung-hyuk heading thoracic surgery and Shin So-jung leading neurosurgery, at least two departments would be stable. Their skills matched or exceeded any hospital’s standards.
Since revolved around Im Sung-hyuk as the protagonist, information about other departments remained scarce.
‘The next episode’s patient will rotate through multiple departments simultaneously.’
They’d suspect epilepsy and route to neurosurgery, then soon transfer to thoracic surgery. Probably the original author forcing narrative connections, but there it was.
Beom-jun reached for his phone on the nightstand. No urgent messages waited—nothing that required immediate action, like a critical patient needing emergency intervention.
This was one advantage of shifting from doctor to administrator. No need to rush to the hospital for urgent matters.
He began his day reading news articles Ha-rin had sent.
– Korean University Hospital Holds Exchange Opening Ceremony with Eunsung Hospital
– Korean University Hospital–Eunsung Hospital Launch Collaborative Agreement…
The event was singular, yet each outlet described it differently. In any case, the articles covered Korean University Hospital and Eunsung Hospital undertaking a medical project together.
Scrolling further, Ha-rin’s message appeared.
– Director, Cheonhee University Hospital inquired about the project. Are you conducting the exchange with Eunsung Hospital as a one-time affair? They’re curious about future plans.
‘They’re asking in such a roundabout way if we can work together next.’
But unlike Eunsung Hospital, there was little to share with Cheonhee University Hospital. At most, Korean University Hospital’s deep, specialized medical research—nothing more.
Conversely, if he could adopt Cheonhee University Hospital’s infrastructure—they operated the most branches nationwide—into Korean University Hospital’s framework, that would be worthwhile.
The thought crystallized, and Beom-jun’s half-closed eyes snapped open.
‘If we could leverage Cheonhee’s infrastructure, that’d be excellent. If not, we build our own at Korean University.’
But that was a distant concern. For now, when faced with uncertain matters, postponement served as a practical tactic.
– Will observe and decide. If Cheonhee University shows interest, we’re open to engagement.
He pressed the keypad and sent the message to Ha-rin. The numeral 1 beside the message vanished, replaced by a thumbs-up icon.
She rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary, and her messaging mirrored that restraint.
After her hostility faded and her favorability gradually climbed to five, she still maintained this reserve—likely just her nature.
‘Quite the mysterious type.’
Yet since she’d taken charge of the Military Commissioned Hospital, business had accelerated at a startling pace.
Budgets were allocated, operational plans emerged nearly flawless requiring minimal revision, and the Hospital Information System installed at the military facility was nearing completion, now in a supplementary stage.
Her practical capabilities remained as formidable as ever.
The board already recognized her competence and trusted her accordingly. Approvals sailed through without major obstacles.
Through this project, Beom-jun learned that work success hinged heavily on the person assigned. Proper delegation to the right person demanded considerable talent across an organization.
This new quest also involved recruiting talent.
‘The directive to register an Eunsung doctor means embedding my talent there.’
As he prepared for work, Beom-jun considered which physician might suit the role.
After the dispatch ended, seeing them regularly would prove difficult. Physical distance created psychological distance. Ideally, he’d cultivate maximum loyalty like he had with—like with others.
Pondering, Beom-jun buttoned his shirt. He rolled up his sleeves deliberately—he usually left them loose, so he fixed them in place securely.
His forearms split with muscle, the anterior compartment creating pronounced ridges. Veins stood prominent beside them, branching downward across the back of his hand into multiple tributaries.
Capillaries would fragment further toward his fingertips, smaller and more numerous, nested beneath the skin.
Like individuals before they became a collective.
* * *
In the Conference Room, physicians from Korean University Hospital and Eunsung Hospital sat intermixed, clustered by department.
Divided into small groups, they introduced themselves and discussed the schedule ahead.
Walking into a field of talent, Beom-jun’s Status Window exploded with notifications. Each turn of his head brought fresh alerts; the dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.
[Talent detected.]
[Talent detected.]
[Talent detected.]
Yet the Eunsung physicians fundamentally harbored hostility toward him.
‘This is disaster. Not a single doctor I can register as talent?’
Beom-jun felt genuine alarm. There were degrees—low, moderate, high. Objectively, most of them registered substantial hostility toward him.
[Talent information confirmed.]
[Hostility: Moderate]
‘Why would that be? Was it irksome just transferring from Eunsung to Korean University?’
Even accounting for that, the situation seemed odd. Not one or two individuals, but a pervasive hostility spreading across all the dispatched physicians.
Despite this, the Eunsung doctors extended handshakes the moment they encountered Beom-jun.
“Good to meet you, Director. It’s an honor to see you in person.”
“Pleased to work with you. We’ll show you our best effort.”
Had hostility not glowed red in the talent information, Beom-jun might have fallen for their pleasant expressions.
‘Well, a hospital that emphasizes service culture would approach patients this way too.’
Sincerity, paradoxically, requires moments of insincerity to be genuine. No human burns at full intensity constantly. Eunsung apparently allowed no such respite.
Even Im Sung-hyuk grew weary attending to Kim Gang-woo’s case, so without divinity itself, no physician could treat every patient identically.
Yet recently, more patients demanded this kind of service. Medicine, they reasoned, was a commodity—paid for and received—and physician courtesy factored into the cost.
Beom-jun couldn’t know which answer was correct, but the atmosphere clearly differed between Eunsung Hospital and Korean University Hospital.
He’d assumed all physicians were interchangeable. He was mistaken.
‘The hospital I attended before possession was similar to Korean University.’
Perhaps he’d simply been fortunate not to feel alienation upon entering .
Meanwhile, Beom-jun focused on locating registrable talent.
Find someone without hostility first, and he’d already achieve half the objective.
Then a familiar figure greeted him.
“Ah, Director, you’ve arrived.”
It was Cha Woo-jin.
[Talent detected.]
[Talent information confirmed.]
[Name: Cha Woo-jin / Anesthesiology Physician]
Currently, Cha Woo-jin was the only person in this room displaying goodwill toward him.
Since he’d already transferred his affiliation to Korean University Hospital, he couldn’t serve as a quest target. Still, Beom-jun was genuinely glad to see him.
“Good to see you here. I heard you’ve been paying special attention to the Eunsung exchange.”
“Not at all. I’m simply grateful for the opportunity you’ve given me. It’ll be a meaningful time. Thank you.”
The other Eunsung physicians noticed their conversation. Heads half-turned, they strained to listen.
The Eunsung doctors, seated in clusters by department, kept their awareness trained on Beom-jun. Meanwhile, Korean University physicians held forth passionately, explaining what would be accomplished during the dispatch period.
They weren’t oblivious to his presence, but they lacked the intensity of Eunsung’s focus.
‘Shouldn’t it be the opposite?’
The Korean University doctors were the ones whose evaluations and disciplinary records fell under his purview, yet their demeanor reflected the opposite concern.
Likely, they believed Beom-jun wouldn’t surveil them or issue arbitrary commands. They trusted they’d been granted autonomy here.
The Eunsung doctors, conversely, accustomed to oversight, reacted keenly to every environmental shift.
Cha Woo-jin, bearing qualities of both environments, spoke to Beom-jun with warmth.
“If there’s anything you need, I’ll help.”
“Your mere presence is invaluable. I hope the Eunsung medical staff settles in well.”
The Status Window, which had fallen quiet, suddenly erupted again.
[Talent information updated.]
[Talent information updated.]
[Talent information updated.]
The simultaneous cascade of alerts made Beom-jun pause to absorb the changes.
Hostility levels had plummeted—high became moderate, moderate became low.
Beom-jun smiled wryly to himself. The moment he showed concern for the Eunsung staff, their favorability spiked. They were remarkably thin-eared, these types.
Not that they were wholly susceptible to atmosphere—otherwise they’d never have transferred to the radically different Korean University environment in the first place.
Rather, they were sharpening their senses now to respond swiftly to circumstances.
Beom-jun’s mouth twitched into a grin as he traced his lips with one hand, and Cha Woo-jin, reading the expression shift, suddenly straightened with military precision.
“Whatever you need, just let me know.”
He understood now how to manage the Eunsung physicians.
‘If they’re accustomed to control, then all I need do is let them be controlled exactly as desired.’
They already recognized the shift in leadership; Beom-jun simply had to ensure they followed his lead.

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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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