Chapter 237
Drenched in memories, I slowly returned to reality at Dongjin's urging.
"Hey, the meat's burning. Eat up quick."
The culprit behind that incident had been the former section chief, driven mad by his desire to nab both the orphanage director and Han Young Group. Right now, he was under prosecution investigation for issuing fake medical certificates, and naturally, he'd been fired from Myeongdae Hospital too.
Every incident has a root cause. And when that cause vanishes, the incident never happens.
Just like how I'd stopped Antrozol from hitting the market before it could kill people.
"But why bring up proxy surgeries all of a sudden? Hear something?"
"Just rumors floating around the hospital."
Dongjin let out a groan like he couldn't believe it. "Damn, you get info fast. That's supposed to be hush-hush even among us. Not university hospital docs like me—it's those private practitioners who do it sometimes. Get this: they don't just make nursing assistants do the surgeries. They have medical device sales reps cutting people open too?"
Tutting his tongue, Dongjin launched into the proxy surgery stories he'd heard. Most cases involved non-specialists leading the operations, and I chuckled along, responding appropriately. I just added lightly that even certified specialists could get burned bad doing proxy work.
"Anyway, you're not getting tangled up in that Han Young Group second son's surgery, right?"
"Well, if they really pushed, I could assist. But nothing beyond that."
"Any chance surgery could cure him?"
"Glioblastoma's a beast, but total cures aren't impossible."
"Meaning they're extremely rare?"
"Yeah. Post-op radiation, then chemo—and even then, recurrence is common."
"How tough's the surgery?"
"Insanely. And this patient's tumor is in such a vicious spot, one slip could mean brain death or a vegetative state. Honestly, when the old chief grabbed that case, I wondered what the hell he was thinking. Guy's barely done any glioblastoma ops."
I nodded slowly. Vegetative states or brain death usually get diagnosed after closing the skull and the patient doesn't wake. But in my previous life, the patient died on the table.
"Anyone at your hospital who can handle it? You?"
"Hell no. I wouldn't touch a tumor that nasty. But the new chief? Who knows. Dude's got skills."
As a layman, I couldn't fully grasp it, but I knew from my past life the patient died during tumor resection. If the new chief took the case and nailed it, Dongjin would be in the clear. Or if he passed on it altogether.
"Why the third degree?"
"Just worried about you."
"Why worry?"
"What if something goes wrong and it blows back on you?"
"Aigoo, no way it'd touch me. Worst case, it hits the chief. Lead surgeon takes the heat, right? And we've already warned the family: tumor location makes it brutal, high recurrence even if successful."
He brushed it off casually. My own tension eased bit by bit.
If the new chief was that good, he'd do it himself. A provincial uni grad landing Myeongdae Hospital's main campus neurosurgery chief? With all the other chiefs from Seoul National, U.S. med schools, or Myeongwoon U? That was one hell of a promotion. Had to be real talent.
After parting with Dongjin, my mind felt lighter. This was the second incident I'd braced for in this life, so I couldn't fully relax until that surgery wrapped. But still.
"Lawyer! Good morning!"
"Morning, Kang."
Parking in the office lot for a smoke, Kang Minjae approached, slapping his cigarette pack against his palm.
"About today's consult—the guy scammed out of 2 billion."
"What about it?"
"You sending him away too?"
Kang's face was pure complaint. Oh's words from yesterday echoed. Keep teasing, and even with just us three, he might walk. Dongjin's thing looked fine anyway—why not?
"We'll see after the consult."
"Oh! New case! New case!"
"Said I'd decide after hearing it."
"Still!"
Fair enough. No reason to turn away work Kang could handle. We needed the business, and he needed the cash. Unlike Oh the manager on salary, Kang was freelance—no billables, no pay.
Time flowed like water. Without constant reminders to myself, I'd have forgotten all about Dongjin's potential mess. In my past life, he'd been referred to prosecutors February 2011—two months after the December 2010 blowup.
Now it was December 31, 2010. The shaky period had passed, but I was still watching close. If today went smooth, we were golden.
"May our office boom even more next year!"
We'd booked a private room at a nearby Chinese spot for our year-end party. Jo Bongjun and Choi Jonghyeon were supposed to join but bailed for a New Year's countdown stream with viewers. Who spends peak season—prime time for sights, spots, and schmoozing—with internet streamers? Wild.
Anyway, me, Oh, and Kang raised glasses to toast a turbulent 2010.
"Hear a vibration?"
Mid-Kang ramble, he paused.
Oh checked his phone and shook his head. Mine? Pocket dive—yep, my burner smartphone buzzing. Caller: Dongjin.
"Mine. Be right back."
Stepping out to a quiet spot, I picked up. A grumpy voice barked through.
"Hey, asshole. Why so long to pick up?"
"Year-end party. Was gonna call you anyway—you weren't answering."
"Was in surgery. Just wrapped. Nearly rang in 2011 on the table. Thought it'd take 13 hours—12 ain't bad."
He huffed like he wouldn't stand for it, and I couldn't help laughing.
"What surgery drags 13 hours?"
"Neurosurgery always runs long. Tumor spot was a nightmare."
"Bad spot? Don't tell me—"
"Bingo. Han Young Group second son's glioblastoma."
I yelled before I could stop myself.
"You said you weren't involved! Why tell me now?"
"Whoa, why yell?"
"You lead?"
"Nah, chief did. I assisted."
"Went smooth?"
"Yeah, patient's in recovery. Chief's a beast. Heard he's GS, CS, triple board—only like 40 in Korea, director's proud as hell. Didn't get it till now. Dude's different."
His breezy chatter meant no worries. I let out a long sigh.
In my past life, it was a table death. That hadn't happened.
"Thank God."
"Huh? What?"
"Surgery went well. Relief."
"Told ya."
"Still gotta watch prognosis?"
"Sure, but it went so clean, he'll wake soon."
If Dongjin was this confident, I could exhale. Chief praise flowed on, and I grinned through it all, mood soaring.
"Gotta crash tonight—no meet. Lunar New Year?"
"Sure. Head in. Wife's waiting."
"Cool. Happy New Year. Office boom next year. Heh."
"You too. Professor next year."
"Professor already? Bullshit. Hanging up."
Nothing happened. That was all my head could hold.
Surgery clean, no proxy crap, no frame job for Dongjin.
Light steps carried me across the hall to the room.
"Lawyer, sit quick. Food's here."
Oh pulled my chair.
"...Hold up, Lawyer."
As I went to sit, Kang bolted up, closing in.
"Lawyer."
"What."
"Isn't this a smartphone?"
He snatched the one in my hand, face pinched in betrayal.
...Ah. Dongjin's good news had me so buzzed, I'd strolled back gripping it instead of pocketing.
"You said no smartphone! Didn't pop in KakaoTalk friend recs either!"
Still felt great, though.
"Hey, Lawyers. It's midnight! Happy New Year, both of you."
"You too, Manager."
I answered Oh's greeting over Kang's whine.
"...What about me."
"You too, Kang. Lots."
Even his griping couldn't sour the best New Year's mood.