Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Strange Guy (2)
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When I came to, I had been dragged into the Emergency Medicine doctors' lounge.
I stood there like a criminal.
"What the hell? Han Hyun-jae? So all that bumbling bullshit I've seen so far was an act?!"
Standing in front of me was the fourth-year chief resident, Lee Min-jae.
...Fuck my life.
Why the hell was I standing here like this?
My mind went blank.
It had happened right after I'd sent up the ciguatera patient and finished almost all my backlog charting.
'Han, the chief's looking for you.'
That one sentence had sent my heart plummeting to the floor.
I was convinced the incident where I'd cursed out Senior Choi Soo-min had finally reached the chief's ears.
But the first words out of the chief's mouth completely missed my expectations.
"Answer me!!! Han Hyun-jae!!! Why the fuck have you been playing dumb this whole time!!! Huh?!"
The chief grabbed my shoulders and laid into me.
His tone was completely unhinged.
"...I'm sorry."
"Sorry? You're sorry now? VEXAS syndrome! And what else? Ciguatera? A first-year—our EM first-year no less—nailing two rare cases in a row that even Internal Medicine couldn't catch? You think that makes any goddamn sense?!"
It was the kind of thing that'd make anyone scoff.
Over the past few months, the chief had been running around covering for every screw-up I'd made.
When a drunk patient grabbed me by the collar, when I botched an IV line five times and the family filed a complaint—it was always a senior who'd stepped in to save my ass.
Lee Min-jae's tirade continued.
"I trusted you, Hyun-jae...! Sure, you fuck up a bit, but I thought you were a good-hearted, quiet guy deep down! But pulling a hidden camera prank like this? What am I supposed to do with my heart! My heart can't take it!"
"No, sir..."
The moment I tried to make some excuse, Yoo Sung-hoon, the fourth-year sprawled corpse-like on the beat-up sofa in the corner, scrolling his phone without so much as twitching, suddenly spoke up.
"Come on, Min-jae. Cut it out and sit down already. You're embarrassing yourself."
"Shut it, Yoo Sung-hoon! I'm channeling the pure passion I had back when I dreamed of theater and film! My inner method actor is awakening!"
The chief yelled, but Senior Yoo just snorted.
"Bullshit. What theater and film? You'd have to be a comedian at best."
"You little shit..."
The chief glared at Senior Yoo once, then turned back to me.
"Anyway, Hyun-jae. Be straight with me. It's one or the other."
He fixed me with a stare.
"Either everything up till now—the guy who couldn't stick a single IV line right and got chewed out for it, wandering the halls with those dilated-pupil zombie eyes like a total space case—was all an act? Or you're some freak with zero hand skills but a brain hyper-specialized for Internal Medicine stuff?"
An act, or a freak.
I couldn't answer.
No way could I say, 'One day I started seeing an internet community full of dead doctors, and I cheated off them.'
Nor could I claim it was all an act.
Just a few hours ago, I really had been that soul-less first-year flailing amid the flood of patients.
What answer would let me survive this bizarre interrogation unscathed?
Method actor doctor, or half-assed genius.
Excluding the ugly truth that I was just a cheating bastard, I had only two paths to survival.
First: Legendary method actor doctor.
The setup where I'm actually a perfect all-rounder munchkin who can do anything, but to respect the hospital hierarchy and peace, and show humility as a newbie, I've been pretending to suck.
That was insane.
Pick that, and I'd instantly become the lounge's top sociopath.
'That fucker's the crazy one, right? Telling the chief himself he's a genius?'
Second: Hands-only cripple half-genius.
Brain's a genius, but physical skills—aka procedural skills—are stuck at first-year level.
That was at least realistic. Plenty of people ace theory but suck at hands-on stuff.
Sure, I'd get teased as 'hands-cripple' forever, and as an ER doc who needs to do hands-on interventions in emergencies, it'd be a fatal flaw.
But at least I wouldn't get treated like a psycho.
Fuck, pick the first one and you're basically giving up on being human.
Fine. Time to commit to a concept.
"The truth is, I've been studying my ass off!!!!"
I decided to go with the pitiful but hardworking, brainy good-student character to survive.
At my shout, the chief's eyes narrowed.
"Oh ho, is that so? Studying? Not just a little—you've been studying your ass off?"
His voice mixed suspicion and expectation half-and-half.
"Yes! That's right!"
"Even rare diseases? VEXAS, ciguatera—stuff you see once in a lifetime? You've memorized every textbook cover to cover?"
"Yes!!!!!!"
I was barking affirmatives like Pavlov's dog, mechanically responding to every question.
"Is that right? Perfect, then. From now on, any Internal Medicine cases coming into our ER—you handle them all yourself, Han. No need to bother seniors, staff, or fellows, yeah?"
...?
What? No seniors attached?
Seniors were tough to approach, but now no access to fellows and staff whose answers were always spot-on?
Wait, could the chief even decide that on his own? No way? Could he?
"...Yes?"
I doubted my own ears for a second. What did he just say?
"Did you hear wrong?"
"No, you said you've been studying your ass off. Nailing diagnoses even third-years miss. At that level, you can handle and diagnose routine Internal Medicine cases solo, right?"
Cold sweat poured down my back like a waterfall.
This madman was testing me.
Answer "Yes, exactly!" here, and tomorrow I'd really get dumped with every Internal Medicine patient.
Without the Gallery's help, I might not distinguish simple gastroenteritis from pancreatitis and kill a patient.
Okay, exaggeration, but the Gallery doesn't guarantee 24/7 instant answers.
I needed insurance too.
"N-no, sir! I mean, I've only read books, so knowledge and real clinical experience are different! I need your seniors' vast experience and wisdom..."
As I desperately spun excuses, the chief finally couldn't hold back and burst out laughing.
"Joking, joking. Look at this guy's face go white."
The chief patted my shoulder.
"I get it, I get it. You guys are all the same—smart but green, total chickens in the field. I was the same, back when I was a first-year. I saw a new LBBB (Left Bundle Branch Block) on an EKG (ECG) and..."
"Again with that story?"
Senior Yoo, still lounging on the sofa, muttered boredly. The chief bristled and shouted.
"No, it's true—I became the ER star that day! Everyone thought it was MI and was gearing up for thrombolytics, but I yelled LBBB and saved the patient!"
Senior Yoo just shook his head instead of replying.
As I listened to them, I thought to myself.
This guy's a real nutcase too. Especially obsessed with EKGs.
The chief was a total ECG pervert, nailing even the freakiest, most nonspecific cases like a ghost.
A fake genius cheating off the Gallery trying to flex in front of a real genius.
Reality hit hard.
Once the commotion died down, Senior Lee Min-jae looked at me seriously again.
"Anyway, Hyun-jae. You're gonna be busy from now on."
"Yes?"
"You know how fast rumors spread? Especially in our tiny hospital world. Word's probably already out: 'A diagnostic ghost possessed one of our first-year EM docs.'"
The chief mixed a cup of instant coffee and handed it to me, continuing.
"Soon interns'll come swarming to you. 'Doc, check this EKG?' 'Doc, these labs look weird—what is it?' Why? They're scared of asking me or Sung-hoon and getting ripped apart like dogs if we don't know. But you're different. They thought you were just a slightly better version of themselves—a fellow bumbling first-year—then boom, genius. Perfect way to get answers without the chew-out risk."
"..."
"Not just interns. Your classmate Ji-hoon, the other first-years too. Before notifying profs, seniors, or fellows on patient status, they'll hit you up first. 'Hyun-jae, this patient seems like X—what do you think?' Double-checking, you know. You're like a human UpToDate."
I couldn't say a word.
I'd just nailed two diagnoses, and now I was on the verge of becoming the unofficial consultant for every junior in Emergency Medicine.
Oblivious, the chief with his innocent grin patted my shoulder.
"Brace yourself, our ER's new star."