Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Chaotic First Conference (4)
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Everything had frozen.
The presenter on stage stood rigid with a face drained of color, and even the veteran professor dominating the audience had fallen silent, at a loss for words.
The suffocating silence was shattered by a loud scraping of chairs from the back corner.
A middle-aged man who had been sitting in the rear climbed onto the stage.
Graying hair, an expensive-looking jacket.
*He’s probably the presenter’s supervising professor.*
What must it feel like to watch your trainee’s presentation get publicly demolished in front of dozens of experts?
The supervising professor gripped the microphone. His hand trembled faintly.
He cleared his throat a few times, then forced a calm voice.
“Ah… yes….”
“Thank you for the sharp observation. It seems we overlooked something. I deeply apologize to Chairman Professor and all the senior and fellow professors for the shortcomings in the presentation. We’ll contact the patient immediately and take the necessary measures.”
I stood from my seat and gave the supervising professor a light bow.
“Yes. Thank you.”
The chairman professor hurriedly called the next presenter to diffuse the awkward atmosphere.
But the seminar room’s air had already shifted irreversibly.
No one was focused on the next presentation anymore.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd nonstop.
I sat back down, trying to minimize my presence as much as possible.
The conversation between two white-haired professors in the seats ahead came through crystal clear.
“Heh heh, looks like a real talent just emerged. Mistaking apical HCM for Takotsubo—fine, imaging can be ambiguous. But missing that T-wave on the ECG… what was the supervising professor doing?”
“Exactly. Young folks these days lack the basics. But that kid who just asked….”
“Emergency medicine first-year, I heard.”
“Heh heh, Busan’s sent up a scary one.”
Behind me, excited voices from young residents buzzed.
“Hey, did you see that? Totally shredded them.”
“But who is he? Never seen him before.”
“Han Hyun-jae. Didn’t you hear his intro? Emergency medicine first-year.”
“What? First-year? No way. How’s a first-year asking something like that?”
“I’m telling you, it’s true!”
I grabbed Kim Ji-hoon like I was about to throttle him and dragged him out of the seminar room.
My one goal: escape this den of ferocious scholars as fast as possible and snag a free coffee from the booth in the distance.
“Hey, hey! Slow down! You’ll trip!”
With Kim Ji-hoon’s yells as background noise, I sped across the hallway.
As inconspicuously as possible.
As quickly as possible.
Right then.
“You there.”
Damn. I stopped in my tracks.
Should I pretend not to hear and keep going?
No—tomorrow morning, a call to our director was possible.
*Your hospital’s first-year, Han Hyun-jae, ignored a professor calling him and just walked off. How do you even train them? Heh heh.*
I turned around with the most polite smile imaginable.
There stood the exact old professor who’d given me that “oho?” look during my question earlier.
“Uh, you’re that… Han… Hyun-jae, right.”
He checked my name tag and nodded in satisfaction.
Behind him were two more professors around the same age.
“Haha, yes. Han Hyun-jae.”
I flashed an awkward smile and bowed nearly to the waist, folding like origami.
“I’m, uh, Kim Hyuk-jae, director of emergency medicine at Oseong Seoul Hospital.”
Oseong Seoul Hospital.
One of Korea’s top hospitals dominating the medical world.
And its emergency medicine director.
In my mind, I was already kowtowing on the floor.
“Oh my! Hello, Professor! I’ve heard so much about you!”
Of course, I hadn’t.
But you have to play along.
That’s the K-resident survival tactic.
Professor Kim Hyuk-jae seemed pleased by my over-the-top reaction, chuckling as he patted my shoulder.
“Good, good. Your question earlier really impressed me. I like that sharp eye—doesn’t just gloss over with ‘oh, I see.’ That’s what makes a doctor grow.”
“You flatter me.”
I didn’t know where to put myself.
Even receiving praise, my heart raced uneasily.
Why was this big shot treating a greenhorn like me this way?
“Uh, I’m Park Joo-sung, emergency medicine at Seoul Catholic Sacred Heart Hospital.”
Another professor standing nearby introduced himself.
Seoul Catholic Sacred Heart Hospital. Another powerhouse university hospital.
“Ah, yes! Hello, Professor!”
What the hell—why were all these major hospital folks swarming me?
Warning sirens blared wildly in my head.
This wasn’t normal.
I felt like a monkey at the zoo.
Seoul’s heavyweights had gathered to gawk at the exotic first-year resident from Busan.
Did this look normal?
“Thanks to your question, we’ve got some real discussion fodder now. That Asung Hospital kid who presented is probably getting torn apart by his supervisor right now. Heh heh heh.”
Professor Park Joo-sung laughed heartily.
I couldn’t even muster a smile at the brutal joke.
“That kind of edge is rare in young folks these days. Most keep their mouths shut in a setting like that.”
“Tell me about it. Busan had this gem hiding out. Director Cheongjin must be thrilled.”
“Who’s the supervisor? Professor Chun Eun-jeong? Raised her trainee well.”
I just stood there awkwardly smiling and nodding like a mannequin.
Please.
Just let me go.
I’m just a first-year who wants to go home and sleep.
After a long critique session, Professor Kim Hyuk-jae slipped his business card into my pocket.
“If you’re ever in Seoul or have questions, call anytime. Let’s grab a meal.”
With that, they finally released me.
Kim Ji-hoon and I watched from afar as they cleaned up the disaster that had just unfolded.
In the seminar room’s corner, the Asung Hospital team that had been publicly humiliated was visible.
The pale-faced third-year presenter hung his head as his supervisor tore into him relentlessly, and that supervisor was bowing 90 degrees to an even higher-up professor, sweating bullets.
One of them pulled out his phone with a rotten expression and frantically dialed somewhere.
Probably the hospital. I clicked my tongue watching.
*The supervising professor was too busy, so they didn’t check the presentation materials properly.*
Still, the patient probably survived.
Seeing them panic-dial like that, it was clear: “Contact the patient now—tell them it’s dangerous, come to the ER!”
My nosy question had ultimately saved a life.
As I lost myself in thought, Kim Ji-hoon, standing beside me with a near-tearful face, nudged my arm.
“But Hyun-jae, what do we do?”
“About what.”
“Our poster presentation later!”
“What about it? Just stand there, done.”
“You idiot!”
Frustrated, Kim Ji-hoon punched my chest lightly.
“Don’t you get it? Do you even realize what you did in there? You’re the hottest topic at this conference now! The crazy Busan first-year who fact-smashed Asung Hospital! By now, everyone’s memorized your name, mine, and our poster numbers!”
I snorted at that.
“Yeah right. Who’s gonna swarm a first-year poster just because of one good question? Other residents are busy drinking coffee and gossiping.”
I offered what I thought was a perfectly reasonable, realistic prediction.
Exactly two hours later.
I painfully realized how naive and stupid my prediction had been.
“Fuck.”
Standing at the Crystal Ballroom entrance, I muttered in disbelief at the scene before me.
I’d endured ghosts harassing me through two more sessions half-forced, dodged Lee Min-jae while sneaking around, harvested three eco-bags and pens from pharma booths—spent the time productively enough.
Finally, at 4 p.m., I arrived at the poster hall with grim resolve.
Normally, the hall should be deserted by now.
Most people exhausted, sprawled on lobby sofas, or prepping to head into Seoul for evening drinks.
But the sight before me resembled an idol fan signing event.
Dozens of doctors packed a specific area of the hall, buzzing intensely. At the crowd’s center gleamed two painfully familiar poster numbers.
P-116. And P-117.
“…….”
Kim Ji-hoon beside me paled and froze at the view.
The throng included professors from the seminar room earlier, fellows and senior residents from other hospitals, even curious juniors—all sorts staring holes through my poster, locked in heated debates.
“Is this the sore throat MI diagnosis case?”
“Wow, check that EKG change. Caught it perfectly.”
“But a first-year really spotted this? A senior must’ve tipped him off.”
“He says he saw and judged it himself.”
I shoved Kim Ji-hoon’s back.
“Let’s go.”
“I can’t. I’ll just die here.”
“Cut the crap. Just stand there.”
We dragged our heavy feet into the crowd.