Chapter 105
Chapter 105
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Argh, It's the Flying Doctor! (1)
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“Sigh… How the hell did I end up here?”
The awkward, sticky boundary between spring and summer.
Late May, early June.
The unpleasant season when heat haze starts rising from the asphalt and sweat beads up along your spine just standing still.
I was holed up in a corner of the hospital’s main auditorium.
[Opening Ceremony for the Cardiovascular and Aortic Disease Hospital & Vision Proclamation]
A fancy banner glittered above the podium, and the auditorium was packed with suited bigwigs and reluctantly drafted white coats.
Even with the AC running, it wasn’t enough to cool the CO2 and pent-up frustration from hundreds of people.
‘What the hell does this have to do with me…?’
I grumbled inwardly as I loosened my tie.
It had been a while since I’d worn a shirt under my gown instead of blue scrubs.
And damn, it was uncomfortable.
Sure, a new heart hospital was something to celebrate.
A good thing.
Good for the patients, good for the local medical community.
But why did a second-year ER resident like me have to drag myself here to clap like some cheering squad?
“What does any of this have to do with me…?”
I’d just gotten off shift.
I needed to go home and crash.
“Has to do with you? Of course it does.”
Just then, a familiar voice came from beside me.
I turned to see Lee Min-jae, looking a bit plumper since becoming a fellow, sweating bullets.
“Whoa, you got dragged here too, sir?”
“Yeah. Yeah. The director said, ‘We need a few pretty faces from our department,’ and shoved me out the door. I’m not a damn screen.”
Lee Min-jae fanned himself with his hand, venting his irritation.
I felt a spark of camaraderie.
“But what do you mean it has to do with me? Why I’m here?”
“Kid, aren’t you the hospital’s very own Altia?”
Lee Min-jae snickered.
“You’re basically the unofficial ambassador for the cardiovascular hospital, the guy who perfectly distinguishes Altik dissections. This opening won’t feel complete without you. Won’t feel complete.”
I let out a disbelieving chuckle.
“You’re really milking that one time I had a good eye for it. And you weren’t even there.”
“Hey! Is that how you talk to a future professor?”
Lee Min-jae glared.
“Aren’t you just a first-year fellow now? Future professor feels… like five years too early.”
“Same difference! Dream big, you little punk!”
As we bickered, the announcer’s voice boomed through the hall.
“And now, Director Lee Jae-yoon is entering! Let’s give him a big round of applause!”
Waaaaah
Mechanical applause filled the auditorium.
Min-jae and I clapped soullessly too.
Clap, clap, clap.
“But why are they holding us here when we were about to head home?”
I mouthed the question while clapping.
It made no sense.
The ER runs 24/7, and off-duty residents need rest to handle the next shift.
Isn’t this a labor law violation?
“Something like…”
Lee Min-jae glanced at the director and muttered.
“Cardiovascular diseases are a race against time, golden hour’s key… So our ER, which handles acute cases first, is crucial… Come witness this historic moment and ignite your sense of duty… Or whatever the fuck. I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m here.”
Lee Min-jae had given up trying to rationalize it too.
“Look to the right—internal medicine’s got their first-years lined up solid over there.”
I nodded toward where the fresh-faced IM first-years stood in rigid formation.
“Hmm, they got dragged in too. We’re lucky by comparison. At least we’re sitting.”
“Poor souls…”
Was our department just short-staffed, so they stuck us here?
Anyway, we took a twisted comfort in others’ misery.
The director took the podium and grabbed the mic.
“Esteemed guests, beloved faculty and staff. Hello.”
Beloved faculty and staff.
That phrase grated on my ears.
“If you loved us, you wouldn’t drag us here.”
My true feelings slipped out before I could stop them.
“Khk…!”
Lee Min-jae coughed to stifle a laugh.
A few people nearby shot surprised looks my way.
“Keep it down, Hyun-jae. They’ll hear you.”
Lee Min-jae poked my side.
“Ah, yes. Sorry.”
I clamped my mouth shut.
But inside, the fact bombs kept dropping.
‘Love? Bullshit. If you loved us, give us time off. Raise our pay. Locking us in a stuffy auditorium on an early summer evening for a pep talk—that’s not love. That’s stalking.’
…Huh.
Why was I so twisted up?
If this were me as a first-year…
I’d have been like, ‘Director’s speaking, so listen up. Yes, sir, excellent points,’ groveling even in my head?
Nah. Was I always like this back then?
Now, director or whoever, I just wanted to flip them all off.
‘Am I turning into that scalpel god, or was I always like this?’
Maybe the antisocial gene lurking in me was blooming from hanging with those crazy gallery ghosts.
“With our state-of-the-art ORs and 24/7 dedicated teams, this specialized hospital will be the golden hour fortress ensuring no one in Busan-Gyeongnam dies en route from cardiovascular disease!”
The director’s voice boomed through the speakers, echoing across the auditorium.
Behind him, a massive screen flashed a shiny new building render with “Golden Hour Fortress” in tacky gold Gothic font.
The VIPs in the front row applauded in admiration.
“Hey.”
Lee Min-jae, clapping mechanically beside me, leaned in and whispered.
“Yeah, sir?”
“Isn’t this just a fancy rebrand of the existing cardiothoracic surgery and cardiology departments? Just slapping a new sign on it?”
I smirked at Lee Min-jae’s sharp jab.
My soulmate, as always.
“Who knows. They say 24/7 surgery teams, though. Maybe they’ll pay on-call properly.”
“Hmm… True. Packaging is their real talent.”
As we griped, the director took a sip of water and grabbed the mic again.
“But our mission doesn’t stop here!”
‘Please stop.’
My ass was screaming.
Just wrap it up and send us home.
“Today, I officially announce our hospital’s new challenge: the establishment of Cheongjin University Medical Center’s Geoje Branch!”
“Branch out of nowhere?”
Lee Min-jae’s eyes went wide.
Geoje Island.
Even by car, you need the Geoga Bridge.
Sure, the bridge makes it feel like mainland, but from my base here, it’s a whole different life zone.
Plus, that toll’s a killer.
“The foundation must’ve raked in cash lately. Building a branch?”
“How much can a Busan private uni squeeze? Must’ve scored some investment.”
“Hmm…”
Considering our hospital’s raise rate, they could barely afford a single brick.
Hit the lottery or what?
“Man, folks from Tongyeong or Geoje just hit the jackpot. Teacher Kim Min-wook could’ve hung in a few more years. No need to go local.”
I thought of Kim Min-wook, who’d left last year for his hometown Tongyeong.
Sticking it out here as a fellow might’ve landed him a branch professor spot.
“Min-wook? Nah, local ER suits him better. Pays more.”
“Really? Haven’t seen him much.”
“Guy’s all about the long, lean life. Not university hospital material.”
We killed time during the boring speech, munching on others’ life choices.
“But that’s in some new development, right?”
“Seems like. Heard something about development there.”
“Ooh, not bad? Get in early, secure your spot later.”
Lee Min-jae’s eyes sparkled.
First-year fellow ambition stirring.
“Ew, no.”
I shook my head.
“What?”
“I’m from that new town. Early days, nothing there. Just fields and a lone hospital—straight path to suffering.”
“Still, builds your resume. No patients? Sweet ride. Lots? Stack those stats.”
“Yeah?”
“Either way, we’re grinding wherever.”
Couldn’t argue that.
Then the director’s voice pitched up an octave.
Speech hitting its climax.
“And! As a regional trauma center, we’ll strengthen our role even further!”
A massive doctor heli photo popped up on the screen.
The director clenched his fist.
“Through even more intensive doctor helicopter training, we’ll dramatically boost rescue and transport capabilities in maritime, mountainous, and hard-to-access harsh environments!”
Fuck.
The curse slipped out.
What?
What did I just hear?
Maritime? Mountains?
Rescue capabilities?
That heli I have to ride starting August, two months from now—what?
It’s not just a patient taxi?
Shouldn’t fire department helis handle rescues, not doctor helis?
I get docs flying in, treating, and flying out.
But rescue?
Maritime?
Mountains?
That’s special forces or firefighters.
Why’s a doc with a stethoscope and scalpel rappelling into the ocean?
I was foaming at the mouth with injustice.
Already terrified of just riding the damn thing, and now the director declares they’re jacking up the difficulty.
“Hyun-jae.”
Lee Min-jae called me with a grave face.
“Yeah, sir.”
“That’s just talk, right? For show?”
Well, he might ride one someday too.
No, as a board-certified doc, Lee Min-jae could get drafted anytime.
“…Let’s hope.”
Please let it be bluff.
Please, no rappelling from a heli into the sea in August.
This summer.
I might be puking from the skies.