Chapter 77
Chapter 77
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Cleanup (3)
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Chapter 77
How much time had passed?
Lee Min-jae said he’d head out first and left the emergency room.
His footsteps faded away, and silence returned once more.
I slowly opened the blue window.
I wondered what state it was in now.
Sure enough, the gallery was already in full festival mode.
At the very top of the popular posts list sat a post from the very soul who had just borrowed my body moments ago.
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Title: Review of Touring the Living World.txt
Poster: God's Scalpel
Saved a guy who was basically dying from a car accident by blocking his aorta with REBOA.
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The post was flooded with comments below it.
Anonymous (210.94): You did the REBOA... good work, anon.
OR Ghost 3: Sooooo jealousㅏㅏㅏㅏ
Cardiology Ghost: Blocking that off, huh.
Bone Enthusiast 88: So what about the bones? Wasn't it a pelvic fracture? No bone pics?
I skimmed through the rowdy reactions.
Ha... yeah.
It was done well.
No denying that.
If it hadn't been for God's Scalpel's crazy stunt, that patient would already be a cold corpse heading to the morgue.
Hell Joseon Slave 1: So am I legit screwed now...? Gonna face the committee again.
A brief silence fell over my comment.
ㄴ God's Scalpel: Hold on, brb.
God's Scalpel left a short reply and vanished.
I stared anxiously at the screen.
What scheme now?
No way he's about to say something ridiculous like 'I'll take full responsibility.'
You're already dead, you bastard.
And moments later.
A new post appeared in the gallery.
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Title: Listen Up, Hell Slave Anon
Poster: God's Scalpel
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I swallowed dryly and clicked on it.
In the center of the screen was a crudely drawn stick figure in terrible MS Paint skills, slamming its head into the ground.
The grand zel.
The most dramatic apology pose in the world.
And below the drawing, three short lines of text.
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I'm really sorry.
Good luck out there.
At least I didn't use informal speech this time.
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....
I stared at the screen, speechless. Should I laugh? Cry? Or maybe wring that stick figure's neck?
No informal speech?
True.
Except for that time he told me to shut up and focus.
A huge step forward.
It was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
With a hollow laugh, I buried my face in the screen.
I rubbed my dry face.
You did great, you son of a bitch....
I slumped into the back seat of a taxi like a corpse and headed home.
The moment I opened the door to my officetel, I collapsed onto the entryway floor without even taking off my socks.
It was all over.
At least for today.
Ding-
Then my phone buzzed briefly in my pocket.
The moment I checked the screen, my vision went white.
Sender: Education and Training Department.
[Education and Training Department] To Emergency Medicine 2nd-year resident Dr. Han Hyun-jae. Regarding the intervention procedure that occurred in the ER today, a training committee meeting will be held tomorrow at 10 a.m. in the East Wing 14th-floor conference room. Please attend on time.
...Tomorrow?
What the hell.
Are they insane?
Last time I sliced open that guy's abdomen, they at least gave me a few days' grace period.
Time to write the report, rumors to spread, time to mentally prepare.
But this time?
One day?
Less than a day before the summons?
They gave a little leeway last time, so why this now?
Are they labeling me a repeat offender(?) and planning to boot me out for good?
Yeah, I was convinced.
The hospital had decided to crush me!
Two major incidents.
Habitual offender.
Time bomb.
“Arrrgh! No! I'm fucked!!!”
I slammed my head against the entryway floor and screamed.
Was this the end?
Ending my 2nd-year residency so pathetically?
No.
I couldn't give up yet.
I had to survive somehow.
To do that...
With trembling hands, I opened the window again.
My one hope.
Hell Joseon Slave 1: Hey!!!! God's Scalpel, you bastard!!!!! Get out here NOW!!!!! I've got a training committee tomorrow!!!!!
At my emergency call, God's Scalpel appeared, followed by a swarm of ghosts munching popcorn.
We spent the whole night prepping my defense with God's Scalpel.
I desperately built a survival logic from various advice and my own squeezed-out excuses.
I didn't sleep a wink.
Drenched in muscle aches and anxiety, I greeted the morning.
***
The next day, afternoon.
East Wing 14th floor, outside the Education and Training Department conference room.
I stood there in my most decent semi-formal suit, the one I'd ironed all night.
My palms were slick with sweat, and my heart pounded like mad.
Thump thump.
“Haa....”
As I caught my breath, the conference room door opened.
The department staffer called me with a blank expression.
“Dr. Han Hyun-jae, come in.”
I swallowed dryly and dragged my heavy feet forward.
The scene inside was eerily identical to last year's.
A long, heavy table.
Professors seated around it.
In the center, the ever-stoic Education and Training Director Professor Oh Man-seok.
Flanking him were internal medicine and surgery professors I didn't recognize.
And at the far end of the table, in the corner nearest me, our department director Park Woong, right on cue.
I stood before the table.
My legs shook.
Professor Oh looked up from his papers at me.
“...Dr. Han. Didn't we meet last year over something similar?”
'Yeah, it's an honor to see you again, Professor—total shitshow.'
I bowed deeply, forcing the most polite, remorseful expression I could muster.
“I'm deeply sorry to face you again over something like this, Professor.”
I held my breath, waiting for Professor Oh's next words.
Every word from his mouth held my fate.
Probation? Pay cut? Training suspension? Firing?
Professor Oh began flipping through the stack of documents.
What papers were those?
Would he show them if I asked?
Professor Oh meticulously checked each thick bundle, adjusted his glasses, and spoke.
“This committee has reviewed the REBOA procedure performed by Emergency Medicine resident Dr. Han Hyun-jae and hereby announces the following decision.”
...?
Hold on, no chance for defense? Straight to the verdict?
No, this can't be right.
The hospital really is set on canning me this time.
With a resigned expression, I swallowed dryly.
What had to come, came.
“First, per hospital regulations and training rules, REBOA procedures are permitted as part of trauma resuscitation training, allowing Emergency Medicine residents to participate under the direct supervision of a clinical instructor or staff physician. While a 2nd-year resident leading it is highly unusual, it is not explicitly prohibited.”
...Yes? Wait, there's a rule like that?
Hold on, something's off with how this is going.
Buildup?
To hit me harder?
“Second, at the time, Emergency Medicine clinical instructor Dr. Lee Min-jae was present as team leader overseeing the scene. Thus, the procedure can be considered conducted under the supervision of a qualified Emergency Medicine specialist.”
He trusted me, sure... but was that really supervision?
Wait, no, this is really going sideways.
“Third, the most critical and risky phase of the procedure—final catheter positioning and balloon inflation—was performed directly by Professor Jeon Tae-jeong's trauma surgery team upon arrival. Dr. Han Hyun-jae's role was limited to initial vascular access and guidewire insertion. It is difficult to view this as the resident independently handling the entire procedure.”
No, hold up. God's Scalpel did everything up to positioning.
Professor Jeon just took the wire... no, he followed God's Scalpel's instructions too.
If we're splitting hairs, Professor Jeon did handle it... mostly.
My head started spinning.
The committee's logic was airtight.
Regulations, supervision, diffused responsibility.
My mind reeled, but...
Professor Oh checked the final document and delivered the verdict.
“Therefore, comprehensively considering the above, while Dr. Han Hyun-jae's actions were procedurally immature and highly risky, they do not constitute a clear violation of regulations or unauthorized medical practice. Furthermore, factoring in the decisive contribution to saving the patient's life...”
Professor Oh paused, scanning me and all the committee members.
“This training committee hereby votes to dismiss the matter without action.”
He then lightly tapped the small gavel on the desk.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
I couldn't process what I'd just heard.
Dismiss without action?
No punishment, just sweep it under the rug?
Does this make any sense?
I looked up.
My eyes met those of Professor Jeon Tae-jeong, seated at the far corner across the table, watching the whole thing.
Still expressionless, but his gaze held some complex, meaningful message.
An implicit 'you owe me'? Or a warning that next time there'd be no mercy?
I couldn't read it.
What the hell was going on?