A Strange Guy (4)

People who might have once been called "God's Hands" in their respective fields were now, after their deaths, raving over a petty diagnosis made by a mere first-year resident. Were they really that starved for actual patients and clinical practice? These crazy, workaholic ghosts.

At that moment, I remembered myself sewing up a child's forehead earlier. The jagged, messy stitches. Any other senior could have finished it in five minutes, but I spent twenty minutes sweating over it just to barely wrap it up. In the end, Senior Choi Sumin, unable to watch any longer, came over to finish it and said, "Hyeon-jae, you need more practice with your procedures."

I could borrow their brains, but I couldn't borrow their hands.

On an impulse, I started writing a post on the gallery.

Regret washed over me the moment I hit submit.

Ah, damn it. Why did I post that? What if they mock me, telling me to quit being a doctor if my hands are useless?

I closed the gallery window. I was an idiot for expecting anything.

...Well, screw you too.

I let out a hollow laugh and leaned my head against the wall. This damn gallery didn't let me download physical skills.

Ha, is there really no way to use Possession for this? Would the day ever come when I could gather 5,000 LP and summon Mes-ui Sin into my body for thirty minutes?

As I was wallowing in self-pity, the automatic doors at the ER entrance slid open, and a completely unexpected figure walked in. It was Professor Choi Yeong-jun from the Rheumatology department, whom I had run into a few days ago because of the VEXAS syndrome patient.

My heart sank. Why at this hour? Why of all places the ER? Was he here to chew me out because it turned out not to be VEXAS?

Without even looking around, Professor Choi walked straight toward me.

"Doctor Han Hyeon-jae."

"Yes, Professor! What brings you here!"

I jumped up reflexively and bowed.

Professor Choi gave a light nod in response and thrust the tablet PC he was holding right in front of my eyes.

"I happened to be passing by while checking on a patient's progress, and today's bone marrow biopsy results were quite interesting. So I stopped by."

The screen was packed with all sorts of English abbreviations and numbers.

"Doctor Han, does anything come to mind when you see this? You said you were very interested in rheumatology, didn't you?"

Since it was the VEXAS patient's result, it obviously had to do with VEXAS. But I had absolutely no idea what these specific numbers and words meant. Shit. Emergency. My mind went completely blank.

The UBA1 mutation was confirmed, so the VEXAS diagnosis was definitive. But there was no way a first-year resident like me would know the clinical significance of the other findings. Besides, I was an Emergency Medicine doctor, not an Internal Medicine specialist.

Either way, to avoid ruining my image, I had to desperately buy some time. I put on my most intellectual expression and pretended to scrutinize the tablet screen. At the same time, I opened the gallery window at lightning speed.

As soon as I uploaded the post, I opened my mouth to start babbling and buy time.

"Uh, Professor. Could you give me just a moment? In my opinion, considering these bone marrow findings and genetic markers comprehensively, there are parts that make it difficult to view this solely as an autoinflammatory disease..."

I threw out random words, stringing together nonsense. Professor Choi Yeong-jun crossed his arms and watched me with an intrigued look.

Please, just one comment! As if my silent scream had been heard, a small notification finally flashed in the corner of my vision.

All the fog in my mind cleared.

"Professor, I'll start with the conclusion."

Professor Choi's eyes widened slightly.

"It is highly probable that this patient is already progressing into Myelodysplastic Syndrome, which is a pre-leukemic state."

I pointed to the "ring sideroblasts 18%" section on the tablet.

"In particular, the ring sideroblasts exceed 15%, which is a high-risk indicator. At this rate, there is a very high probability of transitioning to acute myeloid leukemia within a few years. We should contact Hematology-Oncology immediately to establish a new treatment plan, considering chemotherapy and, in the long term, an allogeneic hematopoietic stem cell transplant."

A heavy silence fell over the ER station as I finished speaking. Professor Choi Yeong-jun stared at me with his mouth slightly open, his eyes filled with disbelief.

At first, it seemed like intellectual curiosity—an expression that said, 'Oh, not bad.' But as my explanation continued, his gaze shifted to sheer astonishment.

He stared at me blankly for a long time. During that silence, I felt like I was going to suffocate. Did I go too far? Did I act too smart for a first-year resident? Did it seem arrogant of me to encroach on Hematology-Oncology's territory?

"Doctor Han."

"Yes, Professor."

"Are you by any chance preparing for a double board in Internal Medicine?"

...?

"...Pardon?"

A dumbfounded sound escaped my mouth. Double board. One doctor obtaining two specialist licenses. And he was asking me that?

Seeing my blank expression, Professor Choi chuckled and shook his head, as if realizing his own question was absurd.

"Ah, no. Right. I suppose my thoughts went too far. A truly great talent has joined our hospital's Emergency Medicine department."

Professor Choi patted my shoulder with genuine admiration.

"I learned a lot today thanks to you. I'll make sure to speak highly of you to your department head."

With those final words, Professor Choi turned and left the ER with a lightened expression.

Wait, what? Department head? What exactly are you going to tell him? Excuse me, what the hell?

I could physically feel the gazes of everyone around me shifting. As I stood there dazed in the awkward silence, a massive shadow loomed over me from behind.

I turned around very slowly. Standing there—who knew since when—was our EM Chief Resident, Lee Min-jae, staring at me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with his jaw dropped. With that expression, he had definitely heard every single word of my conversation with Professor Choi.

The Chief looked back and forth between me and the direction Professor Choi had vanished, looking as shell-shocked as if he had seen a ghost.

"You crazy bastard!"

Grab!

Senior Lee Min-jae grabbed me by both shoulders. No, why this time? Why are you trying to torture me again?

"You... you punk! You're preparing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for a double board without me knowing?! No wonder! No wonder you seemed so unusual!"

I couldn't gather my wits under the Chief's roar.

"Hey! Is that why you were so knowledgeable about Internal Medicine cases? Huh? Spouting off all those rare diseases we didn't even know about—was that all just groundwork to jump ship to Internal Medicine? Was Emergency Medicine just a stepping stone for you?! Were you planning to betray us—your comrades in this ER—and run away to Internal Medicine, you traitor?!"

The Chief's dramatic wailing had already crossed the river of misunderstanding and was sailing into the ocean of delusion.

All I could do was stand ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there and let myself be shaken. My head was starting to spin, but I kept my mouth shut. An explanation? What could I possibly say? It's not like this guy would listen to anything I said anyway.

Damn it, Senior, what kind of first-year resident prepares for a double board? I'm just a low-ranking grunt whose sole goal is to survive each day without getting chewed out and without letting patients die. Double board my ass. Right now, my only wish is to eat a double cheeseburger and get some damn sleep.