I Will Save This Life No Matter What

I suspected a tension pneumothorax the moment I saw the patient's lips had turned blue. Air trapped inside the chest cavity, pressing against the lungs and heart. That's why I stopped the medical staff from trying to stabilize the ribs first and immediately relieved the pressure inside the thoracic cavity. At least the airway was open now. After that, things should have been straightforward. Insert a chest tube to keep draining air and blood, check the torn lung, then examine the abdomen for damage. That was the plan in my head, at least.

Shhk. I widened the incision on the chest a little more with a hunter-exclusive scalpel. Blood surged out. Dark, viscous, oxygen-deprived blood.

“...Damn it.”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

A curse slipped out before I could stop it.

“This is...”

“Looks like your worst hunch was spot on,” Na Hayeong said.

I had expected it. But this was the absolute worst-case scenario among all the possibilities. It wasn't just a simple tear in one lung. Fragments of broken ribs had driven inward, shredding the lung tissue and damaging the blood vessels beneath it. The thoracic cavity wasn't just filled with air—it was also pooling with blood. The lungs were being compressed, blood was accumulating, and on top of that, there was abdominal damage. For an ordinary person, these would have been fatal injuries long ago. The fact that the heart was still beating was bizarre. The mere fact that the patient was still breathing felt like a miracle.

‘Is it because he's a hunter?’

I looked down at the patient's face, which had gone deathly pale. His body had clearly transcended human limits. A normal person's body would have already shut down, but his had somehow held on. Yet because of that incredible physique, he couldn't even die comfortably. He had nearly been given up on and left to rot. He had survived because he was strong. And he had almost been denied treatment because he was too strong. What a filthy, twisted joke of a body.

“Can... can this even be fixed?” Na Hayeong asked in a low voice.

Normally, as the youngest hunter trauma specialist in the country, she would have delivered a calm, professional assessment. But right now, her voice was trembling.

“I’m going to fix it.”

“No, no matter how you look at it... any specialist would have called this a death sentence. Lung damage, thoracic hemorrhage, abdominal trauma on top of it all. It's a miracle the patient's even holding on.”

“But he’s still alive, isn’t he?”

“Jihoo, you...!”

“As long as he’s alive, I can save him.”

I knew it sounded reckless. But the scalpel had already gone in. ‘I can’t back out now.’

I had laid hands on this patient. I had opened his chest, drained the air, and confirmed that his heart was still beating. From that moment on, this life was on my operating table. I had accepted the job of Hunter Trauma Surgeon—a profession I never wanted—and returned to a place I never wanted to stand in again. If that was the case, then at the very least, I refused to lose another patient I could have saved, like I had in my previous life.

“I’ll stabilize the chest first.”

“The chest...?” Na Hayeong echoed.

Instead of answering, I looked down at the patient’s thoracic cavity. There was still air and blood inside. The emergency decompression had gotten us past the worst of it, but that had only been buying a little time. If the torn lung was left as it was, air would build up again and blood would keep pooling. In a few minutes, even a hunter would die.

“Hunter-exclusive chest tube.”

A long, thin tube appeared in my hand. It was designed to drain the remaining air and blood from the chest cavity. For a normal patient, inserting a chest tube was something that could be done in the ER, but the patient was a B-class hunter. An ordinary tube wouldn’t even penetrate the skin, let alone the reinforced muscle layer. This one was different. Instead of forcibly tearing through mana-hardened tissue, it slid along the natural grain. Like a baby bird instinctively knowing how to fly, my hands handled the unfamiliar equipment with eerie familiarity.

‘I can do this.’

In my previous life, I had opened up bodies that everyone else had given up on. I had fought against doctors who wanted to call it quits and prepare a death certificate, then gone into the OR alone and managed to buy the patient even one more day. So this time too—

‘If it’s me, I can do it.’

I located the space between the ribs. Not too high, not too low. A spot where I could avoid damaging the lung while allowing the trapped air and blood to escape.

“Going in.”

“W-wait—!”

Shunk.

The chest tube slid in. Immediately, a mixture of air and blood rushed out through the tube.

Hisssss.

The compressed lung slowly began to reclaim a bit of space.

“O-oh my god... the speed...” Na Hayeong muttered under her breath.

But there was no time to be amazed.

“Hayeong.”

“Y-yes!”

“Maintain the field of view. Don’t spread the ribs too wide—keep the exact angle I’m holding.”

The silver lining was that there was at least one doctor beside me who could barely keep up with my pace. Normally, even five or six people would struggle to match my hands. But it seemed the title of hunter specialist wasn’t just for show. Na Hayeong was shaken, but she followed. She maintained the angle I wanted, opened exactly the areas I needed to see, and cleared the field of view every time blood began to pool.

“Good. Hold it there.”

“Yes.”

“Now I’m going to seal the lung.”

“The lung... directly?”

“The tear is still leaking. If I don’t close it, air will build up again.”

“Can you do it?”

“I have to.”

I reached out my hand.

“Hunter-exclusive forceps.”

“Hunter-exclusive suture needle.”

“Hunter-exclusive suture thread.”

The torn surface of the lung came into view. It was far tougher and thicker than a normal person’s. A thin layer of mana clung to the inside like a film; if I grabbed it wrong, the entire tissue could rip away. But the leak was clear. The spot where blood and air bubbled out like foam with every breath. I gently lifted the surrounding tissue with the forceps. Too hard and it would tear. Too soft and I couldn’t suture. Just the right amount. Then I pushed the needle through.

Shhk. First stitch.

Shhk. Second ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stitch.

The sound ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of leaking air gradually faded. The bloody foam escaping through the chest tube began to subside.

Huu...

The patient’s breathing grew a little deeper. A faint hint of color returned to his previously blue lips.

“He really... did it,” Na Hayeong’s voice shook.

But I shook my head.

“It’s too early to relax.”

I had barely stabilized the chest. I had stopped the lung from collapsing again. But from the beginning, this patient’s abdomen had also been in bad shape. Shattered protective gear. Blood soaking his side and stomach. Dropping blood pressure. The chest injury had hidden it, but the inside of his abdomen couldn’t possibly be fine.

“Now I’m opening the abdomen.”

“...Yes.”

At my next order, Na Hayeong’s eyes changed. The bewilderment from earlier vanished, replaced by pure tension and focus. I raised my hand again. The chest was saved. Now it was time to find whatever was still trying to kill him inside the abdomen.

Shhk. Shhk.

As expected, blood had pooled here too. It was a different kind from what I’d seen in the chest—thicker, hotter, and older, having stagnated deep inside.

“Suction.”

As the dark blood was sucked away, the interior finally became visible.

“...This side isn’t any easier either.”

The impact that had shattered the abdominal protective gear hadn’t stopped at tearing the skin. The membrane holding the internal organs in place had been ripped. The mesentery. In simple terms, the thin membrane that anchors the intestines and carries blood vessels into them. If it ruptures, blood leaks inside the abdomen even if the exterior looks fine. And that was exactly what had happened to this patient.

“Mesenteric rupture. There’s damage to the small intestine as well.”

“Yes. Looking at the wound direction... it seems a monster’s claw or tail pierced the side and thrashed around inside,” Na Hayeong said in a stiff voice. “It’s surprisingly common among hunters. The outer armor holds, but the shock transmits inward and tears the organs and vessels. That’s why so many die from it.”

Still, if there was any silver lining, it was that unlike the chest injury, this wasn’t something that would immediately stop breathing. The abdomen was a mess, but the bleeding points were visible and the damaged areas could be traced. There were vessels I could clamp and organs I could suture. Which meant I could fix it.

“I’ll control the internal bleeding first. Then I’ll check the intestinal damage and suture the tears.”

“By yourself?”

“Just keep the field clear for me, Hayeong.”

I moved my hands immediately.

“Hunter-exclusive hemostatic clamp.”

I clamped the leaking vessels first. One. Two. Three. Small bleeding points should never be underestimated. Especially in trauma cases like this—multiple tiny holes can kill a person more surely than one big ruptured vessel. It was messier, more annoying, and more maddening than a single major bleed.

“One small intestine perforation. No, two. They’re small but still leaking. If left like this, there’s a risk of peritonitis later.”

I grasped the torn intestine. Not too deep. Not too shallow. Just deep enough for the tissue to hold. Just wide enough to stop the leak.

Shhk. Shhk.

The suturing continued.

“O-oh my god...” Na Hayeong swallowed hard.

But there was still no time for admiration.

“Hayeong. Open the lower left side more. There’s another one behind the mesentery.”

“Yes!”

She moved immediately. It was much better than before. Earlier she had been flustered trying to keep up with my speed, but now I could see her actively trying to anticipate what I needed. I slid my hand into the field she had opened.

“Here.”

A small bleeding point. And deep, too. If I had missed it, blood would have continued leaking even after the surgery ended.

“Clamping.”

The clamp went in.

Click.

The bleeding stopped. The patient’s blood pressure rose ever so slightly.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The monitor, which had been fluctuating wildly, began to find its rhythm again.

“...It’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stabilizing,” Na Hayeong muttered in disbelief. “It’s actually stabilizing!”

“But it’s still too early to relax.”

Chest. Abdomen. I had put out the immediate fires. But there was one last thing that needed to be cleaned up.

“The broken ribs will be last.”

“You mean maintaining drainage takes priority over stabilizing the rib cage?”

“Yes. The lung is still fragile, and the drainage tube is still settling. If I make the exterior look neat now, the internal pressure will destabilize again.”

Bones and skin came last. Cosmetic treatment was always the final step. The first priority was eliminating everything inside that was trying to kill the patient, one by one. I calculated the remaining procedures in my head.

Securing the chest tube. Reconfirming the lung damage. Reconfirming the abdominal bleeding points. Checking the intestinal perforation sutures. Inserting the drainage tube. Temporary abdominal closure. Rib stabilization. Skin closure.

“Roughly one hour and thirty minutes.”

“...Pardon?”

“Just focus until then.”

I adjusted my blood-stained gloves and said,

“I’ll finish within that time.”

“What the hell do you even...”

Leaving the stunned Na Hayeong behind, exactly one hour and thirty minutes later—

Beep.

The lights in the operating room went out.