The Code Red That Wouldn't Let Me Rest
I wanted a comfortable life as a doctor. After grilling my advisor like I was conducting an interrogation, I finally managed to piece together the situation. The reason our medical school had admitted me. Of course, there was the male special admission quota and my grades. It was also true that the personal statement and interview records I'd submitted, along with my entrance exam results, had been quite solid. But the biggest reason was something else entirely.
It was all about image. Korea's top medical university. A safe, advanced elite institution where even men could walk around without escorts. In this world, that phrase was a surprisingly powerful marketing tool. Most adult men registered with the Reproductive Resource Management Agency. They provided reproductive cells on a regular basis and received lifelong support guaranteed by the state in return. In nice terms, it was national protection. In harsher terms, it was high-end breeding. That was the most common path for men in this world.
So when a man with the grades and intellect to enter medical school walked in of his own accord, the university must have seen him as an irresistible promotional card. At first, they probably welcomed him with open arms. After all, the percentage of men who actually made it to university was extremely low. Even those who did get in rarely lasted long. Elementary, middle, and high school could be managed under the banner of protection and consideration, but university was fundamentally different. Major courses were evaluated by credits, exams were curved, and medical school was the place that ground people down the most. The school would get to keep its image as a "progressive university that accepted a male medical student," while I would attend for a while before quietly dropping out for the Saengjacheong or some other path. A win-win with no hard feelings. That was probably the extent of their calculations.
'The problem is that I actually stuck it out.'
Actually, "stuck it out" didn't even cover it. Top of the class in first year. Perfect score on the anatomy lab. Top ranks in all basic medical subjects. Even the paper I'd submitted on my own had been making the rounds among the professors. That was when the university belatedly realized something. This guy might actually graduate. He might even become a real doctor through us.
"Um… Jihoo."
My advisor continued, choosing his words carefully with an uncomfortable expression. "If you graduate, pass the national exam, and actually enter the medical field… no matter what kind of incident happens afterward, the university won't be able to escape management responsibility."
"I'll make sure nothing like that happens."
"It's not that simple…"
He pressed his fingers to his brow, looking exhausted. "There's something called the Male Social Activity Management Guidelines. If a man enters a public institution, educational institution, or industrial site above a certain level, that institution has to prepare safety assessments and protection measures. If an accident occurs, it doesn't stay a personal issue—it becomes the institution's management responsibility."
"So I got held back not because of my grades, but because of the risk I pose."
"……"
He couldn't answer. But I still had my last resort prepared for moments like this.
"Then I'll file a complaint too."
"A complaint?"
"To the Ministry of Male Family."
"H-Huh?!"
The effect was immediate. The Ministry of Male Family. After the gender ratio collapse, it had been established worldwide alongside the Saengjacheong as a dedicated ministry for male protection. Its official purpose was protecting male human rights, ensuring safety, and preventing discrimination in education and career paths. It sounded like an ordinary administrative body, but in this world, the Ministry's power was beyond imagination. The reason was simple: there were simply too few men. In a world where protecting men was treated as a matter of national survival rather than female discrimination, what would happen if a man directly filed a complaint saying he'd been denied educational opportunities because of his gender? And against the country's top medical school, no less? It would be a nightmare for the university. The school would be turned upside down, and I'd end up at the center of a "male medical student discrimination incident." That was something I didn't want either.
All I wanted was one thing: to keep attending medical school and quietly slip into a high-paying specialty without any fuss. After a long back-and-forth, the university finally offered a compromise. One month. I would do a clinical observation rotation at the university hospital for exactly one month. Officially, it was a special observation program to evaluate the clinical adaptability of male medical students. But in plain terms, it meant this: show us whether you can actually handle being in a hospital. And probably, their real intention was a bit more blatant. 'Get a whiff of blood, hear some patients screaming, and run away scared by the way your female colleagues look at you.'
And so here I was.
The lobby buzzed with murmurs.
"Mom, look over there…"
"Oh my goodness."
"Isn't that a man?"
"What's a man doing in a hospital…"
I stood in the middle of the university hospital lobby. Pristine white walls and the smell of disinfectant. Nurses and residents hurried past. Patients in wheelchairs, guardians lined up at the reception desk, waiting numbers flickering on the electronic board. It was a scene I'd seen to the point of exhaustion in my previous life. But this life was a little different. People weren't looking at the patients. They were looking at me. More precisely, at a man wearing a white coat.
"Fuck."
The curse slipped out before I knew it. "After everything, I end up back in this goddamn place…"
Of course, this wasn't a real clinical rotation. No matter how much they wanted an excuse to kick me out, they weren't crazy enough to hand patients over to a second-year medical student. The actual work was simple: help anyone in the hospital who needed assistance. Push wheelchairs, give directions to patients who got lost, calm crying children who didn't want shots. In other words, it was closer to hospital volunteer work than a medical student rotation. I'd heard that around the third or fourth week, there was supposed to be an item about assisting in the ICU observation, but the hospital had overturned that plan first.
"You're sending a male student to the ICU?!"
"Patients' conditions flip every single day in there. If this precious male student gets traumatized, who's going to take responsibility?!"
"The ICU is a place even senior students enter with caution! You're just dumping a bomb on us!"
So this was what internal division looked like. The hospital staff, who should have been trying to scare me off, were now pushing back against the university in the name of my safety.
"Jihoo, you can rest anytime if you're tired."
"Jihoo, if it's too hard, just call me right away. I'll give you my number. Ah, not in a weird way!"
"Jihoo, drink this. You can't let your blood sugar drop."
From seniors who'd graduated from the same school to nurses and even residents working at the hospital. The patients were the same.
"Hohoho, young man. Take it easy. This old lady can walk on her own."
The grandmother who'd been sitting weakly just moments ago sprang up before my hand could even touch her.
"I won't cry, so just hold my hand once!"
The child who'd been sniffling about not wanting blood drawn suddenly stopped crying and grabbed my finger tightly.
"I can't show weakness in front of a man!"
The patient dragging a casted leg suddenly shouted a battle cry and hoisted the wheelchair onto his shoulder before heading back to his room.
I stared blankly at the scene and thought, This is a sweet deal, isn't it?
At this rate, the university hospital might not be so bad after all. As long as it wasn't the severe trauma center. As long as it wasn't the emergency room. As long as it wasn't the operating room thick with the smell of blood. That was what I thought. I figured the fourth week would pass just as smoothly.
Until the siren blared.
WEEEEEEEE—!
The warning light embedded in the hospital ceiling flashed red. At the same time, the announcement blared through the speakers.
— Hunter Trauma Code Red. Hunter Trauma Code Red.
I looked up. "So this is the Code Red I've only heard about."
It was an alarm I'd never encountered in the ordinary hospitals of my previous life. But from the reactions around me, I could tell it was no small matter. The medical staff who'd been moving through the lobby all stiffened. Patients and guardians waiting at the reception instinctively backed toward the walls. Several nurses started running while talking into their radios, and the residents exchanged glances before dashing toward the emergency center.
Soon, a familiar smell drifted over. The scent of blood. Even after all this time, my body recognized that metallic tang first.
"Make way! Hunter patients incoming!"
The emergency center doors burst open. Stretchers came rushing in one after another. One. Two. Three… A total of seven people. They were dressed in outfits that didn't belong in modern Earth. Torn combat uniforms, cracked protective gear, gloves soaked in blood, and dark red stains that looked like monster fluids. Women wearing equipment straight out of a game. Hunters. The heroes of this world who protected humanity from the monstrous aberrations called monsters.
"How many patients?"
The emergency medicine professor rushed forward and asked.
"Four E-rank, two D-rank, one B-rank!"
"Triage status?"
"Two E-rank with suspected lacerations and fractures, one conscious and alert! One D-rank with an open left femur fracture, the other with shoulder dislocation and bleeding!"
"And the B-rank?"
"Suspected abdominal injury! Blood pressure is dropping, and she was in temporary shock at the scene!"
"The B-rank is in shock?"
The air around us grew heavy in an instant. A B-rank hunter. In this world, B-rank was no weakling. They could go head-to-head with most monsters and were practically human weapons by civilian standards. For a hunter like that to be brought in in shock meant something had gone seriously wrong inside the dungeon.
The stretcher with the most medical staff gathered around it held a woman. Brilliant golden hair, tangled and messy with blood and dust, yet vivid enough to stand out even from a distance. Her abdomen and side were soaked beneath her broken breastplate, and her lips were faintly blue. At a glance, it looked like an abdominal injury. I could understand why the field rescue team had made that call. But… something felt off.
Her breathing is way too shallow.
It was different from someone suppressing their breath because of abdominal pain. One side of her chest wasn't rising properly. The veins at the nape of her neck were slightly prominent, and her collarbone area sank strangely with every inhale. Her face was pale, and the bluish tint at the corners of her lips was the proof.
Yet—
"Prepare the ultrasound!"
"Set up two IV lines and get blood ready!"
"If there's intra-abdominal bleeding, contact the OR immediately!"
The medical staff's attention was focused entirely on her abdomen. Of course, since there was blood on her stomach and she was showing signs of shock, it was only natural to suspect intra-abdominal bleeding first. But that breathing wasn't it. Neither was the cyanosis. And definitely not the chest movement.
Memories from my previous life clicked coldly into place in my mind. Blunt trauma. Rib fractures. Lung injury. Air accumulation in the pleural cavity. Decreased venous return. Compression of the lungs and heart. Tension pneumothorax.
A chill ran down my spine. It's not the abdomen that's the priority.
One of the medical staff removed the B-rank hunter's chest protector and shouted, "Suspected left rib fracture! We'll attach a healer to the chest as well!"
A woman who looked like a healer raised her hands. A faint light began gathering at her fingertips. She was probably trying to mend the broken ribs first. At that moment, my mouth moved on its own.
"Stop!"
All eyes turned to me at once. Only then did I realize I'd stepped forward.
"…Yes?"
The healer turned around with a startled expression. Damn it… I was trying to live comfortably in this life.
"If you heal the ribs first, she'll die."
My mouth kept moving on its own. "Her lungs are being compressed right now."