Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 82

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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 82.
Several professors from different departments gathered in one place to discuss the case of Patient Eun Seo-young.
Neurology Professor Shin So-jeong, Thoracic Surgery Professor Im Sung-hyuk, and Cardiology Professor Kang Se-ra, who had recently been promoted from fellow to professor.
At this meeting with all three present, Shin So-jeong spoke first.
“It doesn’t look like epilepsy after all. The Electroencephalography shows nothing, and the Brain MRI came back clean.”
She shared the test results that were still being reviewed.
“It won’t be a neurosurgery matter. I thought you should know in advance.”
“Ah, thank you. The Electrocardiography is a bit ambiguous, but actually the Cardiac Ultrasound is normal as well. There don’t appear to be any structural issues.”
Kang Se-ra from Cardiology also reported normal findings.
Since arriving at Korean University Hospital, Eun Seo-young had undergone just about every test imaginable from head to toe.
A comprehensive health screening would likely be less extensive than this.
Still, since her primary symptom was seizures, they had focused on Electroencephalography, Brain MRI, and Cardiac Ultrasound—and all came back completely normal.
‘If it’s not a neurological issue, then what could it be?’
Sung-hyuk reviewed the referral letter that had come from Eunseong Hospital.
r/o epilepsy
r/o convulsive syncope
r/o cardiac arrhythmia
r/o inherited cardiac condition
The doctors who had seen Eun Seo-young over the past month had listed four suspected diagnoses.
Epilepsy, the first one, had been ruled out by Professor Shin So-jeong,
and convulsive syncope fit the symptoms—seizures from insufficient oxygen to the brain.
That left cardiac arrhythmia and inherited cardiac condition as possibilities.
‘Even those aren’t certain.’
Sung-hyuk examined the referral letter with a critical eye.
It wasn’t because the patient was a chaebol’s daughter. It was because she wasn’t a first-time patient here.
If they continued treatment based on another doctor’s speculation, they might make things worse instead of better.
‘Whether this referral letter is trustworthy’ was the starting point, and that would require considerable time for treatment,
but since Korean University Hospital would bear full responsibility going forward, cross-checking was essential.
“We started Electrocardiogram Monitoring at 9 a.m. this morning. The 12-lead Electrocardiography was a bit ambiguous. I’ll let you know once the results come in.”
Both Shin So-jeong and Im Sung-hyuk agreed with Kang Se-ra’s assessment.
“Good. Let’s discuss it again once we have those results.”
“How long will that take?”
“The test should be done by tomorrow morning, so interpretation should take another two days or so.”
For now, it was time to narrow down rather than raise new possibilities. Accurately and sharply. This was the critical phase of narrowing the diagnosis.
After scheduling the next meeting, the first multidisciplinary conference concluded. Back in his office, Sung-hyuk accessed the Electronic Medical Record System.
He had lingering questions about the Electrocardiography that Professor Kang Se-ra had mentioned.
‘The Electrocardiography was a bit ambiguous.’
‘What exactly was ambiguous about it?’
HR: 96
PR interval: 170ms
QRS Duration: 110ms
Corrected QT Interval: 470mm
An electrocardiogram waveform has five peaks labeled P-Q-R-S-T.
Breaking it into three,
P is when the atrium contracts
QRS is when the ventricle forcefully squeezes blood coming from the atrium,
and T is the timing when the ventricle relaxes and refills.
For Eun Seo-young, the time from Q to T was slightly higher than normal.
The time from when the ventricle contracts to when it recovers was slightly longer than in most people,
and this was one of the factors that could destabilize the heart’s electrical signals.
Sung-hyuk singled out the values in her tests that fell within normal range. It wasn’t a dramatic difference, but at this stage, attention to small details seemed necessary.
And he tasked Min-ho and Hyun-ji with analyzing the patient as well.
“For Patient Eun Seo-young—are you doing a history taking?”
“Huh? You mean the granddaughter of Eunseong Group in Ward 77? Wasn’t her chief complaint a seizure?”
Min-ho replied to Sung-hyuk’s question. He’d assumed neurology would handle her since she was a seizure patient. Meanwhile, Hyun-ji was reviewing the medications prescribed for Eun Seo-young as she spoke.
“Yes. I was looking into it. It looks like she had Electroencephalography and Brain MRI done yesterday.”
“The results should be coming in soon. They’re going to be normal.”
Sung-hyuk shared the test results that had been discussed at the meeting. Though Professor Shin So-jeong had said normal, they wouldn’t be in the hospital system yet.
“Wow. Really? So what’s the cause then?”
“They couldn’t find it at Eunseong, so we probably can’t either, right?”
Min-ho and Hyun-ji, who had been expecting clear answers, deflated at this news.
Eun Seo-young wasn’t the only one in difficulty—she was a patient who’d given Eunseong Hospital troubles for a month, so treating her at Korean University Hospital came with considerable burden.
But Sung-hyuk remained unfazed.
“Then we’ll have to find it.”
She was a patient the director was watching closely. He’d specifically said she’d be coming as a Transfer/Special Status patient. He’d told Sung-hyuk to prepare.
“Prepare for a VIP Transfer/Special Status admission to Ward 77 soon. By the way, she’s the youngest daughter of Eunseong Group.”
‘Even if I don’t understand right now, the director must have his reasons. I’m sure there’s a purpose behind what he said.’
Sung-hyuk had absolute trust in Choi Beom-jun—like a faith beyond question—and entertained no other thoughts.
If the director said so, that was simply how it was.
That’s why he could prepare quickly for what came next.
“Min-ho, while you’re doing Electrocardiogram Monitoring on this patient, let me know if you see any abnormal findings. Close observation would be good.”
Sung-hyuk instructed Min-ho on what to do going forward, along with orders to manage Patient Eun Seo-young specially.
It was like monitoring an ICU patient—watch her electrocardiogram without letting your eyes leave her.
“What? Patient Eun Seo-young? Why…??”
Min-ho, who had naturally assumed Eun Seo-young was a Thoracic Surgery patient, couldn’t answer immediately. Just as he was about to ask why, Hyun-ji elbowed him in the ribs, and he found himself agreeing without understanding.
“Y-yes, got it!”
But both of them had the same bewildered expression on their faces.
* * *
Beom-jun opened the Hidden Quest window that had appeared days ago.
[Hidden Quest: Build a Shield]
Chairman Han Myeong-jae has hardened his resolve. Become Eunseong’s benefactor and make yourself Director Choi Beom-jun’s shield.
Reward: Direct number of the Eunseong Group Chairman
‘To become Eunseong’s benefactor, I’ll have no choice but to go through Patient Eun Seo-young. Hah, just treating her won’t be enough.’
To become a benefactor, simply treating Eun Seo-young wouldn’t suffice. Without some event dramatic enough to shake her world, it would be difficult.
Beom-jun turned toward Ward 77 instead of heading to the Director’s Office. He wanted to find something worthy of becoming a benefactor.
‘In the original story, it was that disease.’
Beom-jun recalled the original plot. Since diagnosis should be coming soon, it wouldn’t hurt to give him a heads-up. Given how rare the condition was, it might take Sung-hyuk himself several days to figure it out.
Walking down the hallway, Beom-jun called Sung-hyuk.
“I’m heading to tell Patient Eun Seo-young her diagnosis. You should come listen too.”
“Has a diagnosis been made?” Sung-hyuk said with surprise.
Sung-hyuk’s reaction gave Beom-jun pause.
‘Oh, is this too premature for a diagnosis?’
Beom-jun corrected himself, gauging Sung-hyuk’s response.
“Ah, not so much a diagnosis as a rare disease I suspect. You know, Eun Seo-young has so many suspicious conditions, adding one more shouldn’t hurt.”
Patient Eun Seo-young already had so many suspicious diagnoses that one more wouldn’t be unreasonable.
“Right away, I’ll be right there!”
* * *
When Beom-jun arrived at Ward 77, Eun Seo-young was pushing herself around the ward corridor in a wheelchair.
Her form pushing the wheels seemed clumsy—as if she were using a wheelchair for the first time. Unlike when she’d been admitted with her mother, she was alone now.
“Hello, you must be Patient Eun Seo-young?”
As Beom-jun approached and greeted her, Eun Seo-young looked up at him intently, as if confirming who he was.
There was a subtle radiance in Eun Seo-young’s clear skin and lustrous hair. Even in a plain hospital gown, elegance emanated from her.
But it wasn’t purely a matter of appearance. She carried the bearing of someone well-educated and well-treated.
“Yes. Hello, Hospital Director.”
Just from recognizing Beom-jun as the director of Korean University Hospital and seeing her unbowed demeanor, that much was clear.
Beom-jun offered her the likeable smile that had worked so well in his previous life and responded to her.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Choi Beom-jun, director of Korean University Hospital.”
“Yes, I was told there shouldn’t be any inconveniences while I’m staying here. That my admission to Korean University Hospital won’t be exposed to the outside?”
To Beom-jun, Eun Seo-young stated only the facts plainly.
Even apart from her case, Korean University Hospital had a system for managing VIP patients.
She’d been admitted through the emergency room since she was a first-time patient, but the hospital had separate VIP entrances and exits. Only verified individuals could come and go.
Recently, after news coverage of Patient Lee Mu-seong’s case, security had been strengthened once.
“That’s standard protocol applied to all VIP patients, but is there anything else you’d like?”
“No, nothing in particular. Just make sure no articles get out.”
Eun Seo-young was more concerned with the media than with her own treatment. A rare disease in a chaebol family would certainly be fair game for the press.
But Beom-jun addressed her as a patient.
“Fortunately, your symptoms have subsided since admission.”
“…Please keep the explanation brief.”
Eun Seo-young paused for a moment, then spoke respectfully yet drew a clear line.
Her condition clearly wasn’t good, yet even from the wheelchair she remained composed.
Just from seeing how loose her hospital gown hung, Beom-jun could tell how thin she’d become.
She must have been lean to begin with, but a month of seizures and loss of appetite had hollowed her cheeks, leaving her cheekbones sunken.
Despite all this, Eun Seo-young’s gaze remained steady. Though she looked up at him from the wheelchair, she tilted her chin, looking down at Beom-jun.
“It’s not a simple explanation. Let’s go to your room.”
Instead of doing as she wished, Beom-jun suggested a more private place.
“Can’t you explain here?”
“I’m fine with it, but it would be difficult for you, the patient.”
Eun Seo-young considered for a moment, then followed Beom-jun’s suggestion. She had no real choice—she didn’t know what he was about to say.
“…Understood.”
Along the long corridor of Ward 77 back to her private room, there was no unnecessary conversation.
Though he didn’t fawn or grovel, most people would grow tense in her presence, but Beom-jun simply looked ahead as he walked.
Because of that, Eun Seo-young found herself glancing at Beom-jun with curiosity.
‘This person—he’s the hospital director, but he’s different somehow?’
When they arrived at the hospital room, someone was already there. Eun Seo-young recognized him: Im Sung-hyuk, the Thoracic Surgery professor.
“Perfect timing. You arrived just right.”
The director seemed to have known he would come.
Or rather, it seemed like the director had called him.

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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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