Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 84

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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 84.
Lee Young-ran, the charge nurse of Ward 77, came to the Director’s Office.
“Hello, Director. I don’t think we’ve met like this before.”
[Name: Lee Young-ran / Position: Charge Nurse, Ward 77]
Patient Care: ■■■■□
Clinical Support: ■■■■□
Medical Administration: ■■■□□
Internal Communication: ■■■■□
– Growth Potential: Average
– Affinity: 5
[Quick with calculations and attentive to practical details. Good eye for detail.]
As Young-ran greeted him, her Talent Information appeared above her head. With an affinity of 5, she was someone who already held a favorable impression of Beom-jun.
Her abilities were reasonably well-rounded too. Given that she shared the same categories as Hyun-ji, it seemed nurses had fixed ability ratings just like doctors.
“Please, have a seat here.”
Beom-jun guided her to the sofa and sat down. He naturally took the seat of honor, while Young-ran sat on the left.
Before bringing up the matter, Beom-jun sipped some coffee to wet his throat, and the moment he touched his cup, Young-ran mirrored him and took a sip as well.
Beom-jun was planning to carefully phrase to her that she should exercise service-oriented spirit and treat patients with kindness.
The Medical Department was in disarray with the influx of doctors from Eunseong Hospital, so the nurses had to take the lead in setting the tone with service.
‘How do I put this?’
From the Ward 77 nurses’ perspective, it was as good as extra work. They’d been doing well without much friction, and now they’d have to change their approach.
“I heard quite a few VIP patients have transferred over from Eunseong Hospital. How are things in Ward 77?”
Beom-jun started the conversation with an easy topic.
“Yes, that’s right, Director. The VIP patients from Eunseong Hospital tend to have longer hospital stays, so our Ward 77 nurses are quite satisfied.”
The charge nurse smiled brightly as she spoke. The VIP patients were mere crumbs that fell from Beom-jun’s successful cooperation and dispatch arrangement with Eunseong Hospital,
yet Young-ran was content with them. She hadn’t expected much to begin with, so anything was welcome.
“Ah, I checked—the bed occupancy rate has increased only in Ward 77 recently.”
At the mention of numbers, Young-ran tensed slightly.
Like watching table turnover in a restaurant. A hospital with no empty beds means revenue.
Therefore, the bed occupancy rate—a measure of how often beds turned over—was one of the key metrics for a charge nurse.
Not intentionally, but the charge nurse of Ward 77 had ended up securing a success.
“Now that we’ve secured patients, I’d like to emphasize Customer Service
*
.”
*customer service
Beom-jun set down his coffee cup as he spoke.
Young-ran immediately grasped what he meant—treat patients like customers and provide service—but she didn’t relax her guard.
“…Director, I understand what you’re saying, but Ward 77 is already providing more Customer Service than other wards. We’re doing our best right now, so it might be difficult to do more.”
Young-ran’s eyebrows curved into a worried expression. Yet, true to her nature of being careful with losses, she declined his suggestion.
Of course, Ward 77, which dealt with VIP patients, was somewhat more courteous than other departments at Korean University Hospital. But since they were the same hospital, the difference wasn’t truly meaningful.
“With longer stays, caring for patients must have become easier for you.”
Like check-outs and check-ins at hotels, hospitals typically discharge patients in the morning and admit new ones around lunchtime, though rarely a patient might discharge in the evening and another be admitted the same day.
This was called Triple Cropping—sowing seeds three times in a single day.
Since Ward 77 was a place that catered greatly to patient convenience, Triple Cropping was common there.
But recently, there had been almost no admissions or discharges, with treatment focused on fixed patients, so naturally the nursing staff’s workload had decreased.
With breathing room created, they could take on other tasks. Or else elevate the quality of existing work.
“Yes, that’s true… but with our current staffing, it’s honestly not easy. In fact, the increase in patients has made things harder for us.”
Young-ran voiced what people commonly called a shortage of personnel. In other words, everything was manageable except for the lack of staff.
“What about the VIP patients from Eunseong Hospital? Have you noticed anything different about them?”
Beom-jun shifted the topic and asked for Young-ran’s opinion.
Her Talent Information noted that she had a good eye for detail. Beom-jun expected that Young-ran also understood the Eunseong VIP patients were somewhat different from the patients Korean University Hospital had seen before.
But at that moment, Young-ran’s affinity rose.
[Lee Young-ran’s affinity increased by 1.]
Approached with a question rather than a directive, her defensiveness cracked.
“…Now I understand why you suddenly mentioned Customer Service. The patients who came from Eunseong Hospital seemed rather demanding to us. We did our best to be courteous, but it seemed like they weren’t satisfied.”
She spoke honestly about what she felt. They tried, but it didn’t work.
Of course not. If Customer Service could work just by trying hard, Beom-jun wouldn’t have sought out Young-ran.
“I’ll arrange education on Patient Experience for the Ward 77 nursing staff. Please sit in on it as well, Senior.”
What companies call “customer satisfaction” is expressed in hospitals as “Patient Experience.” Through the attitudes of medical staff and the process of providing information, patients undergo various experiences. Satisfaction scores would be set according to these experiences.
‘Eun Seo-yeong must return from Korean University Hospital having had the finest experience.’
Only then could it amount to something like repaying a debt.
Training that hadn’t existed before was scheduled, and Young-ran’s face broke into a smile. Her earlier tension had almost entirely vanished.
‘The Director listens to voices from the field.’
Moved, Young-ran spoke to Beom-jun.
“Yes, I understand. Thank you, Director.”
[Lee Young-ran’s affinity increased by 1.]
[Would you like to register Lee Young-ran as a Talent? Yes / No]
‘Do I need to?’
Honestly, Beom-jun didn’t need her as a Talent.
Having her or not having her—neither made much difference. Still, more Talents might be better.
Beom-jun moved his eyes and clicked Yes.
[Lee Young-ran has been registered as a Talent.]
[Knowledge transfer from the Talent begins.]
Beom-jun braced his neck, expecting the headache that would soon flood in.
But instead of pain, a warm sensation spread through him like entering a sauna.
Young-ran’s knowledge consisted mainly of personal observations rather than medical information.
She had been watching and managing everyone who passed through Ward 77—VIP patients, nurses, and attending physicians alike.
‘So that’s what “good eye for detail” means.’
In particular, her information about patients was exceptionally thorough and specific.
From allergies to everyday habits, speech patterns and mannerisms, even the times when patients were most active—providing customized care for VIP patients proved to be more demanding work than expected.
Beom-jun sifted through the information, looking for details about Eun Seo-yeong.
But there was one doctor who visited Eun Seo-yeong’s bedside almost every day. At first glance, it didn’t seem to be Im Sung-hyuk. Above all, the doctor was a woman.
She had a petite frame and small stature. At first glance, she appeared to be around Eun Seo-yeong’s age, and when Eun Seo-yeong was with this doctor, she seemed at ease, like she was with a friend.
* * *
Among the many doctors who came from Eunseong, only one caught Young-ran’s attention.
She appeared to be at the Resident level and trailed after Professor Im Sung-hyuk on all his rounds with her hair pulled back tightly.
She hovered near him, moving about the surroundings and noting down important things—a detail that didn’t escape Young-ran’s notice.
“Professor, this patient has hepatic congestion from heart failure.”
“Keep them under observation and prioritize setting up OT/PT. The CRP is a bit concerning—let’s check the lab results coming out today and consider culture.”
“Yes, I understand.”
She watched as Sung-hyuk and Min-ho exchanged words, then briefly jotted down “Culture.”
Writing only what needed to be done next meant she fully grasped Sung-hyuk’s treatment plan.
And whenever the surrounding Residents struggled to keep up with Sung-hyuk, she would point to the middle of the chart with her finger to guide them.
‘Here. This patient.’
Watching Da-eun signal to the Residents with just the shape of her lips, Young-ran realized she took care of her juniors with equal diligence.
And her instinct was right.
“Um, you’re Senior Lee, aren’t you?”
“Yes, hello.”
After rounds in Ward 77 ended, Da-eun sought out Young-ran briefly.
“I saw the Lab Label attached, and I was wondering if the patient’s name might be labeled incorrectly. Could you double-check for me?”
She indicated the blood sample drawn from the patient, suggesting that perhaps the wrong patient’s sample had been taken.
“The jaundiced patient
*
has a blood color that seems a bit lighter, and today’s lab is really important.”
*showing signs of jaundice
When blood is left sitting too long after collection, the serum and blood cells separate into two layers, and in patients showing jaundice, the serum takes on a slightly more yellowish hue.
Da-eun had detected that subtle difference and asked Young-ran to verify.
“Hmm? Is that so? Double-checking shouldn’t be difficult. I’ll look and let you know.”
Da-eun bowed and joined the procession of Rounds moving to the Adjacent Ward.
Young-ran looked at the blood sample again at Da-eun’s words, but felt uncertain. All blood really did look the same to her.
Young-ran actually suspected Da-eun might be overthinking it. She seemed a bit overly sensitive.
‘Taking over nurses’ duties too? That seems like a bit much.’
But it was soon revealed that the new nurse had indeed drawn the wrong patient’s blood.
‘It was real? That could’ve been a disaster!!’
They’d nearly run blood tests on an unrelated patient’s sample.
“Phew, I’m sorry. I apologize.”
“Professor Da-eun pointed it out. Thank her next time you see her.”
Young-ran spoke to the new nurse, whose eyes were brimming with tears.
And Young-ran looked at Da-eun again. She was more than just competent. She was exceptional.
She was the type who prevented problems before they arose rather than solving them after. The kind of person who filled gaps and connected things.
“With someone like her, everything runs smoothly.”
And she seemed unusually close to the patient Eun Seo-yeong.
Whenever Professor Jung Da-eun came to see her, Eun Seo-yeong would drop her composed demeanor.
“Teacher!! I was waiting to see when you’d visit again.”
“Really? I should have mentioned it beforehand. How’s your treatment going? Any progress?”
“Well, we figured out the cause, but… I still liked it better when you were my attending physician.”
Young-ran, overhearing their conversation in passing, nodded.
Given that Da-eun had served as attending physician at Eunseong Hospital, her history with Eun Seo-yeong didn’t seem to be a short one.

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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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