Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Chaotic First Conference (1)
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After those few storms that had rocked my medical career passed, the emergency room's time returned to its usual pace.
Ambulance sirens blared dozens of times a day.
Naturally, I bolted out like Pavlov's dog at the sound.
“Argh! My finger! My finger!”
I heard the screams of a young factory worker whose hand had been crushed in a press machine.
“Grandma, are you awake? Did you eat breakfast this morning?”
I checked blood sugar levels from the limp arm of a diabetic patient who had lost consciousness right after an insulin shot following breakfast.
And my crazy online tutors never left me alone for a second.
Hell Korea Slave 1: 20-year-old guy comes in with fever and cough since yesterday, but chest X-ray is clean. Just give him some cold meds and send him home, right?
Respiratory Ghost: Here we go again. Young guy with fever and cough, clean X-ray—what's the first thing you're supposed to suspect, you idiot? Atypical pneumonia lolololol
Sometimes, they even dangled a carrot in the form of praise.
“Blood pressure's normal, and nothing stands out on the ECG.”
I stared intently at the patient's electrocardiogram.
Everything looked normal, but I noticed the intervals between heartbeats were just slightly prolonged.
First-degree AV block.
Usually a finding with no clinical significance.
But I recalled the knowledge the ghosts had drilled into me a few days ago.
Hell Korea Slave 1: This grandpa—is he on any cardiac glycosides like digoxin? First-degree AV block can be the first sign of drug side effects. You should check his serum levels.
Cardiology Ghost: Oh, not bad. You can spot those subtle changes on ECG now. Of course you should check. Good thinking.
Yeah, I was growing. Even if the method was pretty twisted.
Time passed like that.
Countless patients passed through my hands, and my head filled with endless curses and the occasional bit of praise.
Then one day, an email arrived.
[Korean Society of Emergency Medicine] We are pleased to inform you that the abstract you submitted has been accepted for poster presentation at the Fall Academic Conference.
I stared blankly at the email.
I did it.
Honestly, it would’ve been weirder if it hadn’t gone through.
With all those ghosts putting their heads together on it, no way it’d get rejected.
With a strange sense of pride, I closed the email window.
***
The morning of the conference dawned.
I barely opened my eyes to the hellish alarm blaring at the crack of dawn.
Fuck...
I don’t wanna go.
I really don’t wanna go.
I dragged myself into a car heading to Seoul.
Wearing an awkward suit I’d probably never need again in my life.
In the car to Seoul, I half-zoned out, staring out the window.
The familiar Busan scenery sped by.
My little officetel beyond that landscape.
My fluffy bed inside it.
I should be blissfully asleep there right now.
What the hell went wrong with my life?
Was it the moment I got the possession skill?
The moment I gained access to the gallery?
Or when I started university?
***
After a 4-hour-30-minute journey, I finally set foot in Seoul.
A massive hotel.
The moment I passed through the revolving doors into the lobby, I held my breath.
“Whoa... insane...”
The lobby was the size of a soccer field.
The floor was covered in marble that looked more expensive than my officetel’s deposit. Crazy.
“What’re you doing? Let’s go!”
Unlike me, Lee Min-jae shoved my back as if all this was routine.
He strode across the lobby like he owned the master bedroom of his own house and headed straight for the conference registration desk.
I desperately trailed behind him, trying not to look like a country bumpkin.
I received my name badge and a thick conference program booklet.
The moment I hung the name badge with my name and affiliation around my neck, I felt a weird sensation.
[Cheongjin University Medical Center - Han Hyun-jae]
Was this a sense of belonging?
I hate this hospital, though.
Anyway, after finishing registration, Lee Min-jae dragged me to a corner of the venue.
His expression had done a complete 180—now deadly serious.
“Hyun-jae.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Listen carefully to what I’m about to say. It’s very important.”
Lee Min-jae’s voice dropped low.
I swallowed dryly, tension building.
Here it comes.
‘Go greet that professor from Seoul National University Hospital over there.’
Or ‘Throw a sharp question in the panel discussion later to raise our hospital’s profile’—missions impossible for a first-year like me. I braced myself.
Yeah, I’m the genius first-year!
Just charge in.
“Yes! What is it? Just say the word!”
Lee Min-jae glanced around once, grabbed my shoulder tight, and whispered.
“After registration... make sure you hit up all the booths.”
...Pardon?
Booths? You mean the ones where pharma companies and medical device firms promote their products?
“What am I supposed to do there? Learn the latest insights or...”
“No!”
Lee Min-jae cut me off firmly.
“Forget the latest insights—give ’em to the dogs. You won’t remember them anyway. That’s not the real point.”
He scanned the surroundings again and whispered the conference’s deepest secret into my ear.
“Sweep up every single free goodie without mercy!”
...Pardon?
“Pens! Those three-color ballpoints with pharma logos! You know they write like a dream, right? Grab at least ten! Post-its! The cute-shaped ones! USB drives! If you’re lucky, you might score a 16GB! And eco-bags! The ones with the conference logo are super handy for grocery runs at the local mart! Wet wipes! Band-Aids! Even snag an extra bottle of water if you can!”
Lee Min-jae’s speech was passionate.
He preached with his whole body that the true essence of an academic conference wasn’t knowledge exchange, but goodie plundering.
“This is your first mission—and the most important one. Beat out all those competitors over there and seize the most practical, valuable swag. Got it!”
I stood there dumbfounded.
Did I come to a medical conference or a supermarket sampling corner?
Lee Min-jae patted my shoulder hard one more time with a deeply satisfied look and vanished, saying, “Then I’ll go network with some renowned scholars.”
What renowned scholars crap.
You’re just a resident too.
And so I was left alone in the middle of the massive venue.
In my hand, a thick conference program; on my shoulders, the grave mission to plunder free goodies.
I momentarily forgot Lee Min-jae’s absurd mission and wandered around the huge conference hall.
It was packed with doctors in awkward suits just like mine.
The affiliations on their badges were diverse.
From Seoul’s Big 5 hospitals to provincial national university hospitals.
They clustered in groups of twos and threes, sipping coffee and engaging in heated discussions, or greeting famous professors.
I didn’t belong to any group.
“Hyun-jae!”
I turned at the familiar voice to see Professor Cheon Eun-jeong approaching.
“There you are. Did you see where your poster’s up?”
“No, not yet.”
“Oh? Check it later for sure. Then at 2 p.m., go stand super awkwardly next to it in Crystal Ballroom Hall 2 with Ji-hoon! Got it?”
Professor Cheon emphasized “super awkwardly.”
“Yes! Got it! 2 p.m. in Crystal Ballroom...”
I desperately memorized the location and time.
“You remember the number, right? 117.”
“Of course! No way I’d forget.”
“Good. See you later.”
Professor Cheon finished her brief business and left.
I stayed put and opened the thick conference program in my hand.
Let’s see...
The densely printed text made my eyes swim.
Might as well check it out.
I flipped through the pages one by one.
Morning: subspecialty workshops. After lunch: Plenary Lecture. Afternoon: oral presentations and poster sessions.
Plenary Lecture? General session. Oh... Who’s the speaker?
A renowned scholar.
Topic: Latest advances in septic shock treatment.
Just the title made me drowsy.
I opened the oral presentation session page.
[Oral Presentation Session 1: Critical Care Medicine]
- O-01: Development of a Prognostic Model for Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome Patients Using Multicenter Domestic Data
- O-02: Prospective Study on New Protocols for Targeted Temperature Management in Post-Cardiac Arrest Care
- O-03: Analysis of Factors Affecting Long-Term Survival in Severe Cardiogenic Shock Patients Treated with ECMO
...Enough. No more.
It’s in Korean, so why can’t I understand it?
That stuff isn’t for mortals like me.
I quietly turned the page.
Finally, the poster presentation list appeared.
A page crammed with hundreds of titles like ants.
I rolled my eyes to find my number.
Found it.
P-117. Han Hyun-jae (Cheongjin University Medical Center)
- A Case of Acute Myocardial Infarction Presenting as Isolated Sore Throat.
My name. My affiliation. My title.
Just one tiny line in this dense list.
A few words printed in ink, but for some reason, it made my chest tighten.
What is this.
All that bullshit and pain felt rewarded by this single sentence.
I glanced at the topics near my name.
P-116. Kim Ji-hoon (Cheongjin University Medical Center)
- A Case of Rhabdomyolysis Induced by Excessive CrossFit.
‘He actually got it in.’
I chuckled.
The 20-something gym bro who’d ended up in the ER after overdoing it chasing a 500kg three-lift total at the gym. He’d been discharged fine in the end.
Well, he’s become a regular in the ER these days, so yeah, good case report material.
P-118. Lee Jin (Jeongseon University Hospital)
- A Case of Button Battery Ingestion in a Pediatric Patient.
‘Whoa, that’s brutal.’
My face hardened for a moment.
A kid who swallowed a button battery.
The moment it lodges in the esophagus, current leaks out, melting the mucosal lining in hours and perforating into mediastinitis—potentially fatal worst-case emergency.
The Dr. Lee Jin who handled that case must’ve had a hellish night.
I silently paid my respects to the unnamed—no, named—fellow doctor’s hard work.
Then I looked back at that one line with my name.
Soon, I’d have to stand in front of the huge poster with that title printed on it.
I quietly closed the program.