Surviving as a Rogue Hospital Director - Chapter 97

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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 97.
“Haha, Director Choi Beom-jun, you’re a man of reason.”
Deep dimples creased Eun Tae-gyeong’s round cheeks.
The condition was simple: Korean University Hospital would provide incentives to its medical staff, then share that framework with Eun Seong Hospital.
For Eun Tae-gyeong, there was nothing to lose. If he framed it as a system already in use at Korean University Hospital, implementing it at Eun Seong would be straightforward.
Sending a resident to Korean University Hospital for a year was slightly disappointing, but not bad. Doctors’ hardship was hardly Eun Tae-gyeong’s concern.
“If that’s what you’re willing to do, we’re grateful indeed. Ah, while you’re here, how about we draw up a contract before you leave?”
Eun Tae-gyeong, wary that Beom-jun might change his mind, hastily prepared a contract. The terms were vague—details to be determined later—but a signature would suffice.
– Eun Seong Group CEO Eun Tae-gyeong
– Korean University Hospital Director Choi Beom-jun
Eun Tae-gyeong signed first, his pen moving briskly. Beom-jun studied the fountain pen carefully—not the serpent-emblemed one the board chairman used.
‘First, it’s not the Physicians’ Rights Organization. He’s not even a doctor in the first place, so it wouldn’t apply.’
The Physicians’ Rights Organization had membership requirements. Min Jeong-sik could only attempt to join because he was a physician.
‘If Eun Tae-gyeong had any connection to the Physicians’ Rights Organization, the Status Window wouldn’t have tied him to a quest.’
The Status Window didn’t respond to Eun Tae-gyeong—he wasn’t a subordinate or affiliated with Korean University Hospital. But one thing was certain: Eun Tae-gyeong was someone Beom-jun had learned about because of the Status Window.
Eun Tae-gyeong’s contact information was a Reward Item from the Hidden Quest, and establishing a partnership with him was part of the Main Quest. The Status Window was guiding him toward a favorable relationship.
Beom-jun studied Eun Tae-gyeong with the same habit he’d developed during patient consultations—observing every physical detail.
By then, Eun Tae-gyeong had finished signing and handed Beom-jun a business card.
The card was made of durable paper that wouldn’t tear, with silver lettering embossed against a black background.
It contained only basic information: his name, contact number, and email.
“I hope this proceeds smoothly. Haha. I’m confident you’ll make it happen, Director.”
The moment Beom-jun took the card, the contact information appeared in his Status Window.
[Reward Item ‘Eun Seong Group Chairman’s Direct Number’ has been registered.]
The direct number that had been registering for days was finally complete.
‘It’s a Reward Item—could’ve just given it freely without all this hassle.’
Either way, the quest was cleared now, so it didn’t matter.
‘Actually, this is perfect. Two birds with one stone.’
[Main Quest completed.]
[Main Quest: Establish a partnership.]
[Your Survival Probability has increased by 3%.]
[Current Survival Probability: 68%.]
His survival probability had climbed another three percent.
* * *
On the drive back to the hospital.
Sung-hyuk opened his mouth with evident pride.
“I’m proud that our director is the head of Korean University Hospital.”
Sung-hyuk was clearly delighted by how thoroughly Beom-jun had negotiated with Eun Tae-gyeong.
“To guide them toward strengthening Eun Seong’s medical care—that’s wisdom.”
“Hm? Yeah, I suppose you could call it that.”
It hadn’t been his intention exactly, but close enough. Incentives motivated doctors, after all.
Those days of chasing mentors around and learning medicine by apprenticeship were long gone.
‘How many doctors fail to improve simply because they don’t know modern methods?’
Medical information was searchable online now. Papers and old textbooks were easy to find. Given enough time and money, anything was possible. The problem was that no one bothered trying.
“Having Eun Seong residents train here at Korean University Hospital seems worthwhile too. I’ve noticed since coming on dispatch—with multiple people rotating through, we actually have quite a bit more free time.”
Sung-hyuk praised the proposal Beom-jun had made to Eun Tae-gyeong.
“Since we just had someone arrive from Eun Seong, it’d be good if opportunities like this keep coming.”
Beom-jun spoke as if it were nothing. Honestly, he hadn’t calculated everything before approaching Eun Tae-gyeong. That last part, especially, had occurred to him on the spot after seeing Sung-hyuk.
“I didn’t realize you’d thought that far ahead. You’re remarkable.”
Yet Sung-hyuk thrust his thumb up and began recounting Beom-jun’s words like an epic tale.
“That CEO seems rather… incompetent. Does he think a hospital is a factory? His thinking is all wrong.”
Still, Sung-hyuk’s assessment of Eun Tae-gyeong was poor. After their earlier verbal sparring, he’d clearly taken issue with how the chairman treated the hospital as a business.
Well, for Im Sung-hyuk—a man who’d devoted his life, without exaggeration, to saving patients—money talk would’ve grated. In Doctor X, he’d always fought the hospital over financial matters.
‘I’m no different, really. Will I become like Eun Tae-gyeong given time?’
Beom-jun saw himself reflected in Eun Tae-gyeong.
If he leveraged his decent appearance, his social acumen, and his business instincts, he sensed he’d eventually become a man much like him.
Managing Korean University Hospital according to the quests left no room for contemplating the dignity of human life. Beom-jun had already been swayed by money—and he’d only been a director for how long?
In his previous life, he too had disliked how hospitals obsessed over money, which was why he’d watched Doctor X. But now that he was actually a director, he found himself much the same.
Beom-jun recalled how, when Eun Tae-gyeong discussed the hospital’s profits, he’d unconsciously nodded along. He’d worried about how to generate revenue for Eun Seong, never questioning the hospital’s fundamental purpose.
‘Lucky I brought Im Sung-hyuk. I almost left talking only about money.’
Beom-jun gazed at Sung-hyuk and spoke.
“Thanks. For speaking up back there.”
“It seemed like you were already thinking the same way, Director. Given the circumstances, you couldn’t say everything.”
Sung-hyuk was clearly under a misapprehension about him, but Beom-jun didn’t mind the confusion. His mind had been churning with conflicting thoughts, and Sung-hyuk’s misreading felt almost welcome.
“Ah? Was it obvious?”
Beom-jun asked playfully, raising his eyebrows, and Sung-hyuk said he didn’t need to say it—he already knew.
“Of course. You’re a director who understands what medicine truly is.”
That phrase again—the essence of medicine. Seeing Sung-hyuk chuckle, Beom-jun couldn’t help but smile.
[Im Sung-hyuk’s emotions are shared with you.]
As his joy reached its peak, the Status Window appeared. This man talked a lot; his good mood must be genuine.
Yet Sung-hyuk’s gaze soon turned serious as he addressed Beom-jun.
“I’m certain now, after seeing this. You’re different from other business leaders, Director.”
Beom-jun’s chest grew warm at his words. He’d seen his own future reflected in Eun Tae-gyeong, but Sung-hyuk showed him the opposite.
“I too believe that for a hospital to survive, saving patients must come first.”
‘Yes, that’s right.’
Sung-hyuk’s words brought clarity to Beom-jun’s previously muddled mind.
Beom-jun had definitely reached a different conclusion than Eun Tae-gyeong, who focused on supplementary revenue. Instead, he’d chosen to motivate his medical staff and strengthen treatment.
‘How things unfold from here depends on the choices I make now.’
Daily decisions accumulated—one year, two years—until a life was shaped. What seemed now like pouring water into a leaking vessel might eventually carve new pathways that flowed forward.
“I’m truly grateful you’re leading Korean University Hospital.”
Beom-jun understood then why Sung-hyuk’s misapprehension didn’t bother him. His hopes and desires aligned with Beom-jun’s own.
Beom-jun playfully slapped Sung-hyuk on the back.
“Your flattery’s getting better. Professor Im.”
“Hm? Flattery? I don’t do that.”
Sung-hyuk bounced at the remark, but Beom-jun just laughed it off.
* * *
Meanwhile, Han Myeong-jae learned that Beom-jun had visited Eun Seong Group.
“What? Where did who go?”
“Director Choi Beom-jun went to meet with Chairman Eun Tae-gyeong of Eun Seong Group.”
Han Myeong-jae hurled a glass at the employee who’d brought the news.
-Crash!
The cup shattered to pieces at the employee’s feet. He’d deliberately missed—not thrown it directly at the worker. Even in his rage, Han Myeong-jae avoided crossing into abuse.
If he’d had any intention of creating unnecessary trouble, he wouldn’t have kept this employee around. And if problems did arise, it could plausibly be dismissed as an accident—someone dropping a glass.
Long tenure in an organization taught you to be mindful of many things.
There are no secrets in a hospital,
and no eternal allies either.
“Do you think my ears don’t work?”
Contrary to his violent gesture, Han Myeong-jae spoke in a low, measured voice.
The whites of his eyes had reddened, the conjunctiva inflamed. The employee, witnessing rage contained rather than unleashed, bowed at ninety degrees.
“I’m—I’m sorry!”
The messenger, guilty only of being first to report, had become a scapegoat.
“Get out.”
At Han Myeong-jae’s dismissal, the employee vanished from sight.
Once he was gone, Han Myeong-jae threw the saucer at the wall. Unlike before, the saucer flew in a straight line and shattered into finer fragments.
-Crash-crash-crash!!!
One glass shard flew at Han Myeong-jae’s cheek, leaving a diagonal cut along his cheekbone. Blood trickled from the wound.
Unmindful, he picked up the fountain pen with the coiled serpent and wrote three characters: Choi Beom-jun.
He’d meant to give him trouble after he’d gained some ground, but he should have recognized him sooner—when he brought that doctor from Eun Seong Hospital. Or earlier than that—when he won over board member Min Jeong-sik? When the vice-director wavered?
He couldn’t quite remember when it all began.
But Beom-jun hadn’t stopped at simply climbing. Now he’d allied himself with the chairman of Eun Seong Group!
Han Myeong-jae viewed their meeting as a threat. He felt his plans—to elevate physicians’ rights and control the medical world—beginning to crack.
‘With Chairman Eun Tae-gyeong, the Physicians’ Rights Organization can’t touch him anymore.’
This couldn’t continue. He had to uproot the problem.
Han Myeong-jae picked up the phone on his desk.
“Tell Kim Mu-hyeong to come here.”
“Kim? I’m sorry, did you say something? Could you repeat that?”
The employee, bewildered by the vague order, asked for clarification.
“Kim Mu-hyeong, the executive director at Eun Seong Hospital! The one who orchestrated the dispatch!”
“Yes, understood!”
After the call ended, Han Myeong-jae picked up a tissue and wiped the wound. But the blood had already dried on his cheek, stubborn and resistant.
He scrubbed irritably, and the barely-closed cut began to bleed again.

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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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