Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Possession (2)
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My shoulders felt heavier than usual.
I couldn't tell if it was because of those crazy ghosts or just chronic fatigue.
'Anyway, at least I've got an ace up my sleeve now.'
I comforted myself with that thought as I returned to the station.
A backlog of charting hell awaited me.
I was tapping away at the keyboard, killing time pointlessly, when—
The phone in the center of the emergency room rang. All eyes turned toward it.
The veteran nurse closest by picked up the receiver.
Her expression hardened in an instant.
"Yes, this is the Emergency Medical Center."
"...."
"Yes... male in his 30s... Understood. Multiple vehicle collision on the highway... vehicle rollover... consciousness level?"
The nurse's voice grew faster and more urgent.
Every movement in the station ground to a halt.
"Vitals at the scene? Yes... yes... Got it."
The nurse slammed the receiver down and yelled loud enough to shake the entire station.
"TA patient ETA 9 minutes! 34-year-old male, vehicle rollover from chain-reaction collision on the highway. Took some time to extricate! GCS low at the scene, BP 80/50, pulse 130! Abdominal distension noted, suspected left femur deformity!"
At her words, the emergency room burst back into frenzy.
"Clear Bed 1 in Resus! Pull the trauma cart!"
"Call up portable X-ray now—tell them to get down here!"
"ICU bed available? You checked the messages properly, right?"
The ER transformed into a warzone in seconds.
Shouts erupted from everywhere as the medical staff scrambled.
I stood there dazed in the middle of the chaos for a moment.
Someone slapped my shoulder hard. It was Fellow Park Se-young.
"Get it together! Suit up in the lead apron first."
"Oh, yes!"
I hurried over and threw on the heavy lead vest.
Over it went the plastic PPE gown, and I strapped on a face shield.
My whole body was drenched in sweat in no time.
Back in the resus room, the team was already assembled.
Team leader: Park Se-young. Airway: fourth-year resident Yoo Sung-hoon. Circulation: second-year Nam Joo-hyun.
And me plus one intern, designated as spare parts for all the grunt work.
"Role assignments. Yoo Sung-hoon, you're on airway securing and C-spine protection. Nam Joo-hyun, lines in both arms and check for bleeding sources. I'll handle overall status report and ultrasound as team leader. Han Hyeon-jae."
"Yes, ma'am."
"When the patient arrives, you and the intern strip him from the waist up—no, everything. And follow my orders to the letter when I give them. Got it?"
"Yes! Loud and clear!"
In a major trauma like this, a first-year resident isn't the hero.
Just fast, efficient hands and feet.
I accepted my role and stood by the resus bed, waiting for the patient.
Those 9 minutes felt eternal.
Finally, ambulance sirens wailed in the distance.
The ER doors slid open as paramedics pushed the stretcher, screaming like banshees.
"BP dropped again en route—to 70!"
The patient rolled into resus.
He was a gruesome sight.
Covered head to toe in dirt and blood, left leg twisted at an unnatural angle.
"One, two, three!"
The paramedics and we heaved him from stretcher to bed together.
And just like that, everyone sprang into pre-assigned action with machine-like precision.
While Yoo Sung-hoon shook the patient's shoulder to check responsiveness, the intern and I started cutting away his clothes.
Blood- and sweat-soaked garments tore free, exposing his body.
Abdomen bloated, covered in deep bruises and abrasions.
"Breath sounds bilateral, clear!"
"18-gauge in right arm! Can't find a vein on the left!"
"I'll get the other line in the femoral!"
At the same time, Park Se-young grabbed the ultrasound probe with her free hand and pressed it to his belly.
"Oh... Morrison's pouch... ruptured."
Everything happened at breakneck speed all at once.
I just followed orders—wrapping the BP cuff around his arm, clipping on the pulse ox—like a good first-year drone.
As the patient's BP kept tanking, Park Se-young finally yelled,
"O-neg PRBCs, 4 units—now! Skip crossmatch, transfuse immediately!"
The intern bolted.
Moments later, the red blood bags arrived and started pumping into his veins.
He needed emergency surgery.
The外科 call went out; OR prepping.
We were just the crew keeping him alive until the surgeons took over.
Ten minutes dragged like an hour.
Finally, the surgeons arrived.
"Let's roll!"
festooned with tubes and monitors, no CT scan, straight to the elevator.
The doors closed; patient out of sight.
Whew.
Back in resus, tension drained, leaving me boneless.
"What a shitshow."
I muttered low, leaning against the wall.
No one died.
He left our hands alive.
I replayed the scene in my head.
Yeah.
Even with trauma that bad, our hospital, our team handled it fine. Did I really need that possession skill?
In team play like that, me suddenly awakening as 'God's Scalpel' would just screw things up.
I'd be the disruptor wrecking the flow.
As if that skill would ever come up in my career.
I chuckled, starting to pick up trash from the floor.
Cleanup in resus was always hollow drudgery.
Traces of the life-or-death battle for one soul: just bloodied gauze strewn about, empty fluid bags, alcohol swabs reeking sharp.
I shed the sweat-soaked PPE and lead apron; my crushed shoulders throbbed.
"Ow, my poor shoulders."
Muscles screamed, but I felt good.
A strange fulfillment.
We nailed it.
Perfect moves from our stations yanked a fading life back.
Yeah, this is the system's power.
Not one genius—a tight team saves the patient.
No room for some alien powerhouse skill like possession.
'As if that skill would ever come up in my career.'
I chuckled, tying off the last trash bag.
Just expensive insurance.
Hope I never cash it in.
Right then—
"Aaaagh!!"
A piercing scream ripped from the triage desk at the entrance.
Not sirens or paramedics.
Raw human agony.
Every head at the station snapped that way.
ER doors ajar, a man staggered in.
Construction worker by the coveralls, abdomen soaked dark red.
Pale-faced, clutching his gut, he took a few steps before thudding face-first to the floor.
"Help... somebody help! He's... he's...!"
Another man followed, near-sobbing the words.
"What the hell! No ETA?!"
Park Se-young's voice sliced through the ER.
No time to prep.
Sudden disaster.
Pure chaos.
"Don't panic! Get him to Resus Bed 2 now! It's empty?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Yoo Sung-hoon, Nam Joo-hyun, Han Hyeon-jae! Lead aprons on—now!"
Oh, my fate.
I swallowed a sigh and raced back to resus.
Slung that damp, heavy lead vest over my shoulders again.
Hell redux.
Resus Bed 2 was pandemonium.
Nurses fumbling to shift him to the bed, shouts flying.
"Patient barely responsive! Barely twitches to pain!"
"Pulse 140!!"
The same team reformed.
But the vibe was 180 degrees different.
Anxiety and shock etched every face.
"Han Hyeon-jae! Intern—cut the clothes off! Gotta see the injury!"
At Park Se-young's shout, I snapped to and grabbed scissors.
Slicing through blood-and-dirt-caked coveralls exposed his abdomen.
We all swallowed hard.
A gruesome wound, easy 2-3 cm diameter gaping there.
Edges blackened; some dirty rag crammed in for hasty hemostasis, stuck fast.
"Rebar... rusty rebar at the construction site stabbed him!"
Amid the ER frenzy, my brain froze.