Chapter 90
Chapter 90
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Spring Conference? (1)
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And so, I dove into my daytime shift in a state of utter exhaustion.
Hmm, things are nice and peaceful today, too.
As of 10:14 a.m. during my shift, four total assholes had already passed through the ER.
That's pretty damn good.
Number one asshole came in right at seven sharp.
Guy had a scratchy throat since last night, looked it up online, decided it was early-stage laryngeal cancer, and threw a thirty-minute tantrum demanding an immediate ENT professor consult and a neck CT.
Number two at eight-thirty.
Thought she'd sprained her ankle, so we did an X-ray—bones were fine.
Explained it was probably just a ligament stretch, and this grandma lost it, foaming at the mouth about how dare some young punk diagnose her ankle and demanding the orthopedic director right then.
Nine-ten.
Number three.
Needed a health checkup but didn't have time, so he pitched a twenty-minute fit demanding an ER slot.
And just now, number four's been screaming at the billing desk for twenty minutes straight about why there's an ER management fee on top of his simple cold visit.
Yeah. Nice and good. Totally peaceful.
I buried my face in the mountain of charts piling up.
That's when Lee Min-jae tapped me on the shoulder.
"Ah, yes, sir. What is it?"
I flashed my best sweet second-year smile.
"Uh, Professor Cheon wants to see you."
"Huh? Why?"
"No idea. Go check it out."
Lee Min-jae shrugged as he said it.
...What the hell was that weird look on his face?
He's definitely smirking.
A chill ran down my spine as I got up from my seat.
'Is it a disciplinary committee? Nah, I've got nothing to get dinged for.'
A parade of worst-case scenarios flashed through my head.
'No way they're already taking the Doctor Helicopter away? Or did Baek Eun-seo rat me out for brushing off her questions yesterday? Nah, no chance.'
I trudged down the hall and knocked on the door to Professor Cheon's office.
Inside, Professor Cheon Eun-jeong was intently studying something on her tablet PC.
"Yes. You called for me."
"Yeah, come in."
Professor Cheon looked up.
Her face bore the most innocent, pure, terrifying smile.
"You ready?"
"...Ready for what?"
My brain blared warning sirens.
This pattern... it's familiar. Some shitty memory's about to surface.
Ready?
Ready for what?
Back-to-back on-calls?
Or is there a dinner tonight or something?
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Professor Cheon spun the tablet screen toward me.
A flashy poster crammed with logos filled the display.
[April 14~16 | Daegu EXCO Convention Center]
[Korean Society of Emergency Medicine Spring Academic Conference]
"Of course, the spring conference!"
"Huh?"
"You remember last year, that sore throat myocardial infarction poster? How was that? It was great, right!"
...Was it?
I recalled last fall's nightmare.
Dragged to Seoul in a suit for the first time in my life, turned into the avatar of the cardiology ghost to publicly execute residents from other hospitals, got cornered by Korea's top professors exchanging business cards, and ended up fielding mad late-night calls because of those cards.
'Great?'
Sure, I got some praise.
'Time to play the social game.'
I flipped my inner K-slave switch.
"Ahaha... Of course! It was amazing, Professor! So educational and rewarding!"
I summoned the acting skills of a lifetime to plaster on the most感動 face possible.
"Good, good!"
Professor Cheon nodded in satisfaction, clearly loving my reaction.
"Anyway, you're a second-year now. Time to hit the spring conference, too."
"R-right?"
My response was more question than answer, but she took it as agreement.
"So, you ready?"
...I'd totally forgotten the conference even existed.
Spring conference.
March.
I'd just shed my first-year sticker, with new slaves like Baek Eun-seo and Park Seong-jeong coming in, thinking I could finally breathe.
Why does this hell have no end?
Spring conference? Spring's for cherry blossoms, not conferences.
But I couldn't say it out loud.
I just stood there awkwardly smiling in front of the beaming professor.
Cherry blossom ending? Nah, hellgate ending it is.
But what can you do.
When the professor says go, you go—that's the fate of a slave, er, second-year resident.
I survived last fall somehow.
Hell, I mobilized the whole gallery ghost squad and whipped up a green light in thirty minutes flat.
I'll survive this, too.
I channeled all my resignation into a maximally positive response.
"Haha... So, what should I prepare for the poster session..."
Before I could finish, Professor Cheon cut me off.
"Huh? Poster?"
She burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing.
"No, no. You did posters as a first-year."
Her eyes sparkled.
That glint felt twice as dangerous as last fall when she ordered the poster submission.
"Oral presentation!"
"Y-Yes?"
The dumbest squeak in the world popped out of my mouth.
Oral presentation?
Poster was a one-year sentence standing awkwardly by a wall for an hour or two.
Oral? Life imprisonment.
Climb alone onto a dark, massive stage with hundreds of professors and doctors staring up at you, grab the mic, and talk for ten minutes.
That the end?
Nope.
Then five minutes of naked Q&A hell—the worst academic torture a resident can face.
"You'll do an oral! You're a second-year now."
"Professor, I'm still just a lowly second-year—how could I possibly..."
"Psh, it'll be fine. Second-year's perfect."
Professor Cheon swiped through the tablet, eagerly hunting topics like she was browsing the supermarket for dinner ingredients.
"Uh... REBOA... that's recent, data might be tough to organize... Ah!"
Her finger stopped on one spot.
"How about that belly you sliced open as a first-year?"
"Huh? No... I didn't..."
I choked like something was caught in my throat.
Sliced open a belly?
No, I didn't—it was that psycho God's Scalpel who did it.
That legendary insane stunt I pulled in the ER resuscitation room last year.
"Huh? Why not?"
Professor Cheon stared at me like she had no clue why I was hesitating.
"No, Professor. Hold on."
I fired up every brain circuit to avert this disaster.
Excuse.
I needed a perfect, logical, unassailable excuse.
"Professor, I've been thinking."
"Yeah?"
"If I present this, even at an emergency medicine conference, it'll cause chaos..."
"Yeah?"
She tilted her head.
Like, what's the problem?
"Because I sliced open a belly. In the ER. As a first-year."
"Right?"
"Even calling it damage control, a first-year in the ER..."
"Yeah."
"If I present this, won't the surgeons hate my guts?"
Yeah, that's it.
Perfect logic.
'One of your own department's residents dared invade sacred surgical territory.'
This could turn into an inter-hospital, inter-department pride war.
No need to poke the surgical bear in this hospital system.
Professor Cheon rested her chin, pondering my argument.
'Got her! Please! Buy it!'
"Ooh... That's a solid analysis."
'Yes!'
I inwardly cheered.
"Yes! Exactly! No point presenting and pissing off surgery... I'll just do a nice quiet poster..."
My relieved smile was blooming—
"Mm..."
Professor Cheon smacked her lips.
"Too bad. Professor Kang Hyun-jun from trauma surgery was raving about it."
"...What?"
Another dumb sound escaped me.
What? Professor Kang? That trauma surgery prof who watched me—er, God's Scalpel—open the guy up as a first-year.
No way.
Why would those prideful surgeons love this?
"Professor, that guy's face back then was no joke..."
"Yeah, on the surface. But he called me later, said that first-year's got guts, solid basics on the drinking game too. Even Vice Director Yoon Tae-ryong heard and cracked up."
'...Thanks, God's Scalpel?'
Excuse blocked.
I tried one last desperate flail.
"Even so, isn't it a bit too heavy a topic for a second-year resident like me?"
"Hm, maybe?"
She pretended to mull it, then fixed me with a devilish grin.
"Then slice a few more—three or four cases, retrospective study..."
"Huh?"
My face went white.
What the hell is this madwoman saying...
"Haha! Kidding, kidding!"
She slapped my shoulder, laughing heartily.
"No way that'd happen. You're not crazy enough to slice another belly."
She was laughing, but I couldn't.
"..."
My silence.
I couldn't respond.
'How can I promise I won't?'
I've already got that button in my hand—bought with 5,000 LP, ready to summon the devil anytime.
Oh right. Points.
Check later.
My silence dragged, and her laughter faded.
"Doc?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Why so quiet?"
I snapped to, forcing a grin.
"Haha... Y-yeah. Why would I do something that crazy again."
"Good."
She still looked suspicious but dropped it.
I thought to myself.
Who knows.
Will I really never slice again?
Who knows. For real.