We're Taking the Private Jet!
As Donovan's words lulled David back into peaceful sleep, the VVIP recovery room erupted into pure chaos.
The patient had returned to perfect calm from death's doorstep, yet the medical staff who had witnessed the surgical results with their own eyes could not contain their shock.
David's original attending physician, in particular, stood by his side with a vacant expression, alternately checking the monitors and the charts.
"I-is this even medically possible? Survival rate under ten percent... No, this was a case where dying from excessive bleeding on the operating table was the expected outcome!"
Shocked gasps kept bursting from his lips.
"We cut out the entire tumor and the aorta and connected artificial vessels, yet the patient's vitals are stable as if it were a lie...! No bleeding at all, and the recovery signs are overwhelmingly better than before the surgery!"
What others could not guarantee even in forty minutes—the most dangerous vascular anastomosis—he had completed perfectly in a mere ten.
Thanks to that overwhelming speed, the patient had completely avoided fatal damage and excessive bleeding.
A desperate surgery with less than a ten-percent chance of survival had ended in miraculous success.
There was no word for it but miracle.
There was no word for it but miracle.
But the astonishment lasted only a moment.
The attending physician's hands began to move instinctively, with mechanical precision. He constantly adjusted the IV drip to stabilize David's blood pressure, still fluctuating from the surgery's aftermath, checked the minute vital signs, and poured out prescriptions for recovery.
Watching from outside the glass window with his arms crossed, Donovan's lips curled upward.
As expected, that doctor was perfect for post-op care.
At this rate, recovery would not be a problem either.
It was while he was looking at David that it happened.
"Doctor."
In the corridor outside the operating room, the wife who had clung to her husband and sobbed the night before was nowhere to be seen.
Impeccable formal attire without a single wrinkle.
There stood Victoria, the empress who had elevated Aero Dynamics to number one in the industry.
She approached Donovan and bowed her head with a polite yet firm gesture.
"Thank you for changing my husband's fate."
"It was possible because of your intuition. Otherwise you never would have trusted me."
When Donovan shrugged, Victoria gave a faint smile and gestured with her chin to the secretary behind her.
The secretary presented an elegant document folder and a single matte-black metal card.
"This is the promised reward. A specially manufactured ultra-long-range mid-size private jet from our Aero Dynamics."
As Donovan looked down at the card with interest, Victoria continued in a calm voice.
"Large aircraft have many restrictions on the airports they can use. So this is a special custom model that maximizes mobility with a small-to-medium size while packing in ultra-long-range capability to cross the Atlantic nonstop."
Inside the documents were photos of the sleek, sharp exterior and interiors that looked as if a five-star hotel suite had been transplanted whole.
It was certainly an aircraft that captured both practicality and luxury—something money alone could not easily buy.
"You need not worry about dedicated pilots and crew at all."
The scale of the reward coming from the head of the world's number-one aviation empire was extraordinary.
"Hiring dedicated pilots and crew, hangar rental fees worldwide, jet fuel, and lifelong maintenance. Our group's VVIP management team will handle it all as a complete package."
"Oh."
"Just tell the destination whenever you want via the hotline number on that card. Your personal private jet, perfectly set up, will be ready for takeoff anytime."
It meant owning a private jet of overwhelming performance while the world's top aviation group handled the troublesome management like their own limbs.
Even free for life.
"I like it. I'll put it to good use."
Donovan cheerfully pocketed the documents and card.
"We look forward to borrowing that amazing intuition of yours again when our couple needs it."
"Depending on the request."
Donovan smirked and raised a hand lightly.
Having obtained wings that money could not buy, Donovan walked out of the corridor without lingering, leaving behind the respectful send-off from the world's best hospital and the corporate tycoon.
And the moment he turned the corner, he ran.
Resist a private jet?!
He absolutely had to go try it out.
In front of Memorial Sloan Kettering Hospital.
The old man who had finished the surgery had not left; he was waiting for Donovan.
A desperate case with under ten percent survival. Yet miraculously not a drop of blood had leaked, and the patient's vitals had stabilized. The patient had perfectly endured his extreme surgical method.
As a result he had even received massive research funds as compensation. But that was not why the old man was waiting for Donovan.
Matching this patient with me was no coincidence.
He was waiting to confirm whether this was real. Shortly after, Donovan leaving the hospital spotted the old man.
"Were you waiting?"
"I waited because I have something to say. Let's talk in the car."
"Yeah? This way."
They moved to the parking lot and got in. The moment the doors closed, the old man got straight to the point.
"It was a crazy surgery—cutting out the entire aorta. Even I, the one operating, had no confidence the patient would live. But you—how the hell did you know?"
"I told you. I see fate."
Donovan answered nonchalantly, leaning an arm on the steering wheel.
"I just saw that if your surgical method connected to that patient's fate, a path to life would open."
Normally he would never have believed that fate showed the success of a surgery. But the old man who had created the miracle himself could not refute it.
Instead his cloudy eyes flashed with madness.
If only I had this man's eyes, I could accumulate clinical cases of successful surgeries!
Currently treated as a heretic in academia, but if successful clinical data piled up, his extreme surgical method could become mainstream.
This meant the completion of a lifetime of research.
The old man could not hold back and blurted out a proposal.
"Young man. If another patient like this comes up, call me anytime. I will never refuse your request."
"······Oh."
Donovan's lips curled into a grin.
"For real?"
It was a good proposal for Donovan too.
Like police to prevent crime, doctors to prevent disease were one of the sure ways to change fate.
However, there was one problem.
"But don't doctors have specialties? You said you're a pancreas specialist."
At that the old man burst into a snicker.
His cloudy eyes filled with fierce madness and pride.
"Do you think I'm the only heretic driven out of the medical world?"
"Oh?"
"There are people all over America holed up in labs digging into the extremes of medicine. I'll connect you to the top specialists in those fields regardless of disease name, so just bring the patients."
Like attracts like, as the saying goes.
Next to a weirdo, weirdos gathered in droves.
Donovan took out his old flip phone and handed it over.
"Leave your number. I'll contact you."
The old man looked down at the crude flip phone for a moment, then snickered and punched in the number with his rough fingers.
"I'll wait for your call."
And so a dedicated medical team that would change the fate of death regardless of disease name came into his hands.
The private jet was different starting from the airport.
It was not a place noisy with crowds and rolling suitcases like JFK.
Teterboro Airport in New Jersey, a short distance outside New York City.
This was a private airport where only the personal jets of billionaires and top celebrities took off and landed.
The car that slid into the dedicated hangar came to a stop.
Cole, looking out the window, sucked in a sharp breath.
In the center of the massive hangar, a matte pearl-white aircraft gleaming smoothly in the sunlight was showing off its overwhelming presence.
Not a passenger plane that was merely large, but a mid-size craft with sleek, elegant curves.
"Boss. Is that really what we're riding?"
"I explained the whole way here. Why are you asking again all of a sudden? Get out already."
"No—the real-life scale is too different from hearing about it."
At Cole's complaining, Donovan also opened the car door and got out with a snicker.
Honestly speaking, Donovan was surprised too.
The intimidation radiating from the special custom aircraft before his eyes was beyond imagination.
"Actually, I was a bit surprised just now myself."
Just as he was about to casually start walking while tossing the light joke, Cole, who had followed out from the passenger seat, stopped dead and stared down at his own hand.
In his large hand dangled a thin plastic bag stamped with a familiar Korean mart logo, out of nowhere.
A plastic bag that did not match the dazzling ultra-luxury private jet at all.
Cole asked with a serious face.
"Boss. But are we really eating this inside that plane?"
To that serious question Donovan shrugged and replied.
"Why? Do you think we should be slicing steak topped with caviar?"
"Honestly, it doesn't... really match, does it?"
"How provincial. Cup ramen broth on a plane is the real deal. Don't be surprised after you eat it later."
Donovan grinned and took the lead.
Then the crew members in suits lined up beneath the stairs all approached and bowed.
"Welcome, sir."
Donovan who stepped out of the car was bare-faced, without even the mask or sunglasses he usually wore.
A face that looked barely twenty—far too young and boyish.
Moreover, the giant bodyguard following him had a dangling plastic bag.
The chief pilot and flight attendants facing that sight head-on had their pupils shake ever so slightly.
The VIP that Chairman Victoria personally instructed via hotline... is such a young man? And what's with that bag?
But the surprise did not last even a tenth of a second.
They were the elite management team of Aero Dynamics selected through hundreds-to-one competition.
No matter who the other party was, they maintained perfect professional smiles and courteously opened the way.
Whoever he is, to us he is a VVIP equal to the Chairman.
"All flight preparations are complete. Please come inside."
The moment he stepped onto the red-carpeted stairs and into the cabin, Donovan's eyes curved softly with interest.
Definitely, the scale is different.
It was completely different from a regular airplane interior.
Walls finished in top-grade mahogany, real-leather sofas fluffy as if one were lying on clouds, lighting that softly illuminated the space, and a mini bar set with top-grade champagne.
It was at the level of tearing off a five-star hotel penthouse and floating it in the sky.
"This is... insane."
Even Cole, still holding the cup-ramen bag, rounded his eyes and looked around.
Donovan casually sank deep into the widest main suite seat.
The sensation of the seat gently wrapping around his body shape was amazing.
Really different.
The feeling of buying comfort with money.
That leisurely pleasure was not bad.
Then the chief flight attendant in neat uniform approached and knelt on one knee on the carpet.
Perfectly matching eye level, she asked in a soft voice.
"Sir. If you tell us your desired destination, we will take off immediately. We've prepared so you can go anywhere within the United States."
He had come to ride the private jet, but had not thought of a destination.
Ah... I didn't decide the most important thing. I was too excited.
Originally Donovan did not know American geography well.
He turned his head toward Cole sitting opposite.
"Cole. Where do you want to go?"
"Yes? Me?"
At the sudden question Cole was briefly flustered, then answered seriously.
"If you're riding a private jet like this, a warm resort is perfect, isn't it? I recommend Miami."
"Miami? Doesn't seem bad."
When Donovan looked at the attendant as if confirming, she chimed in with a soft smile.
"The current Miami route has perfectly clear weather conditions as well. If you're thinking of a warm vacation, I also strongly recommend Miami."
"Yeah? Good. Then let's go there."
"Understood. Destination will be Miami."
The moment the attendant was about to touch her finger to the tablet—
······Huh?
A chilling shiver ran down Donovan's spine.
Right in the center of the brightly smiling attendant's forehead, above the Indang that represented the life line, pitch-black dark clouds were pouring down like a waterfall.
It was the Death Shadow.
Flustered, Donovan's gaze quickly scanned the cabin.
The other attendant preparing champagne, the pilot visible beyond the open cockpit, even Cole and Donovan's own face reflected in the window.
All the same.
Death Shadow had risen on everyone's faces.
What is this.
They had just confirmed the weather and route were perfect.
Then is the plane the problem?
He did not know the exact reason, but physiognomy does not lie.
This needed confirmation.
"Wait."
Donovan urgently raised his hand.
"Cancel Miami."
"Yes? Is there something inconvenient······."
"No. Just suddenly Miami doesn't appeal."
Donovan quickly rolled known American place names through his head and tossed out the first one that surfaced.
"Las Vegas! How about there?"
The moment he spat out Las Vegas out of the blue—
Crack—!
The Death Shadows filling everyone's faces disappeared as if they had never been.
It seemed the destination was the problem, not the plane.
Phew, we lived.
Just as Donovan was about to sigh in relief—
······Huh!?
In the place where the Death Shadow had cleared, a brilliant golden aura so dazzling one could barely open one's eyes began to pour out madly.
A huge windfall one might touch once in a lifetime. The aura meaning sudden fortune was reddening the tip of the attendant's nose.
Not just the attendant. On Cole's face, even on Donovan's own face reflected in the window, that crazy golden light was wavering.
Twisting the fate of death, and enormous luck was waiting?
"······Understood. Destination will be changed to Harry Reid International Airport in Las Vegas, Nevada. Since we have secured air-traffic-control priority over New York currently, we will depart immediately without waiting for takeoff."
The attendant re-entered the destination on the tablet and smiled softly.
"Wait a bit."
"Yes? Is there something inconvenient······."
"Let's make one phone call and then depart."
Donovan immediately took out the Aero Dynamics VVIP card from his pocket.
Victoria's direct number was engraved small on the back of the card.
He opened his old flip phone and dialed the number without hesitation.
Ring—.
Before the ringtone even rang twice, the call connected.
"What is it? Has something gone wrong with the aircraft?"
The calm voice of the aviation empire's empress came through the receiver.
"Sorry to call out of the blue, but I just saw something huge."
"Go ahead."
"There seems to be a problem with the Miami route. If we'd forced it... you never would have seen me again."
At Donovan's words, Cole's face across from him went pure white in an instant.
Victoria on the other end of the line was the same.
"······How much damage is expected?"
Even with the sudden claim, Chairman Victoria trusted Donovan.
"Total fatalities."
"······Probability of aircraft defect?"
"When I changed the destination to Las Vegas it cleared up. Doesn't seem to be a plane problem."
A short silence.
Then a firm answer came back through the receiver.
"Thank you for telling me. I'll take full responsibility for the rest."
"Yeah. Appreciate it."
Click.
Donovan ended the call and shoved the flip phone into his pocket.
Heavy silence settled over the cabin.
Cole, covered in cold sweat, felt like sewing shut the mouth that had recommended Miami.
"Job done."
Donovan grinned at the frozen attendant.
"Depart. Ah—and prepare some cup ramen."
"Ah, yes! We will take off immediately!"
The soul-departed attendant hurriedly bowed and ran for the galley.
Whoooosh—!
The massive aircraft spat heavy exhaust as it raced down the runway.
Avoiding death and racing toward massive gold, Donovan's private jet soared into the New York sky.
