A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 318

Chapter 61: A Gentleman’s Revenge (3)

The commercial alleyway near Sangyu Apartment in Jung-gu, Daejeon.

The sky was unusually dark that day.

Clouds completely obscured the moon.

The streetlights flickered, struggling to provide enough light to compensate for the moon’s absence.

They flickered incessantly.

“Ssssh. Hooo.”

Hun-shik stood under a streetlight, smoking a cigarette.

The smoke, caught by the wind, swirled erratically.

Cough. Cough.

Hun-shik coughed painfully, cutting his smoke short. It had been ten years since he quit, and this cigarette was doing serious damage.

First, his head swam.

Then, his stomach churned.

His throat felt raw, as if he’d drunk a shot of hard liquor.

Still, Hun-shik stubbornly finished the cigarette in his hand.

As if that wasn’t enough, he put another cigarette in his mouth.

The second one was a little better.

The dizziness and nausea were less intense.

It was as if his body hadn’t completely forgotten cigarettes.

Hun-shik’s gaze followed the cigarette smoke as it drifted into the sky.

The sky was dark.

Hun-shik’s heart felt just as dark.

And even though the dark sky would see the sun rise tomorrow, it felt like the sun would never rise again in Hun-shik’s life.

“Ha… Why is this happening…?”

A sigh escaped his lips.

The kingdom that Hun-shik had built with his blood, sweat, and tears – the Department of Neurosurgery at Daejeon – was on the verge of collapse.

He couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t want to believe it.

Was the proverb that a carefully built tower never collapses really wrong?

Hun-shik flicked the ash off his cigarette with his index finger and stamped it out with his slipper.

He didn’t have the strength to stand, so he sat on the stairs leading to the second floor of the commercial building.

His butt became damp almost immediately.

Hun-shik had only hit Jun-hoo a few times for ignoring his orders.

He hadn’t hit him for no reason; Jun-hoo deserved it.

But that seemingly trivial action had brought ruin upon Hun-shik.

Coincidentally, Jun-hoo, while being assaulted, had staggered and hit his head on the corner of a desk.

He collapsed, suffering cardiac arrest.

‘Why did he have cardiac arrest from a head injury…?’

Hun-shik still couldn’t understand the situation.

Something felt off, unnatural.

But he couldn’t claim that Jun-hoo had deliberately induced cardiac arrest.

If he made such a claim…

Hun-shik would be branded as human trash and ostracized from society.

Weeeeng. Weeeeng.

The phone in his padded jacket pocket suddenly vibrated.

Oh, my lifeline.

Checking the number, it was a call from the Vice Director of Medical Affairs.

“Yes, Vice Director.”

Hun-shik bowed obsequiously as he answered the phone, even though the Vice Director wasn’t in front of him.

“How is the matter I mentioned progressing…?”

-I don’t think I can handle it with my influence this time. Things have gotten too big. The rumors have even reached the hospital director’s ears.

“The hospital director knows? Already?”

-It’s rare for a doctor, not a patient, to receive CPR, you know.

“Still… can I trust that you’ll take care of it, Vice Director?”

-Does this guy think I’m some kind of Superman? And I already covered up the incident when you went golfing during your on-call duty. My role ends there.

The Vice Director of Medical Affairs sighed and continued.

The Vice Director of Medical Affairs told him to prepare for the worst: dismissal from his professorship and revocation of his medical license.

The things Hun-shik feared most were rapidly approaching. The hand holding the phone turned ice-cold.

“Isn’t there always a way out, even when the sky falls? If we put our heads together, there might be a solution.”

-There isn’t. Not this time.

“You’re being too harsh, Vice Director. Haven’t I been loyal to you for the past year or two? I even gifted you a piece of art when your eldest daughter got into art school.”

-Are you threatening me right now?

The Vice Director of Medical Affairs’ voice became rough. Hun-shik could hear his angry breathing over the receiver.

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m just asking you to consider my situation. I’m not saying I don’t want to be punished, but let’s try to adjust the level of punishment.”

Hun-shik soothed the Vice Director of Medical Affairs as if he were calming a baby.

Hugging the Vice Director of Medical Affairs and jumping off a cliff would be pointless. [Meaning: Trying to bring someone down with you when you’re already failing is futile.]

Ultimately, Hun-shik would be destroyed anyway.

-If that were possible, would I be doing this? The evidence is too clear.

“Evidence?”

-Yes. There’s a recording. And you know what else? There’s a video of you assaulting a resident.

Hun-shik’s eyes widened at the news he’d never heard before.

-You didn’t even know about that?

“No… I’m hearing it for the first time from you, Vice Director.”

-Tsk tsk tsk. That’s not all. There are also rumors that you habitually beat residents.

“…”

-I heard that a second-year resident in neurosurgery couldn’t stand your harassment and left. There’s talk that he’ll attend the disciplinary committee tomorrow and reveal additional assaults.

“…”

-If you have a mouth, say something. In this situation, what can I possibly do for you?

Hun-shik laughed hollowly at the Vice Director of Medical Affairs’ words.

He was surrounded by cliffs.

No matter which way he turned, his destruction seemed certain.

After ending the call with the Vice Director of Medical Affairs, Hun-shik lit another cigarette.

He thought about the Vice Director of Medical Affairs’ words about the recording and video files proving the assault.

Seo Jun-hoo. You son of a bitch.

No, you cunning viper.

You orchestrated all of this.

From the beginning, you intended to make me angry and get beaten.

Hun-shik belatedly realized Jun-hoo’s vicious scheme.

But the venom from the viper named Jun-hoo was already spreading throughout his body.

Since there was no antidote, Hun-shik was destined to die without a fight.

* * *

The next day, in the morning.

Hun-shik attended the hospital’s disciplinary committee.

The incident had become so big that the hospital couldn’t bury it internally.

The consensus was that trying to bury the incident would only make it bigger.

Building a sandcastle takes a long time, but it collapses in an instant.

Through an emergency internal procedure,

Hun-shik was stripped of his professorship on the day of the meeting.

He also received a penalty of being unable to work at any Shinwon University Hospital-affiliated hospital for the next 20 years.

He also heard news that there would be disciplinary action from the Korean Medical Association.

It seemed they were considering suspending Hun-shik’s medical license.

A day later, Hun-shik’s assault was splashed across newspapers and news reports.

Everyone in the world pointed fingers and criticized Hun-shik.

He even received a summons from the police.

Due to the butterfly effect [small actions having large consequences] of simply assaulting Jun-hoo, Hun-shik had to lose everything he had.

* * *

One week after Hun-shik was kicked out of the department.

Jun-hoo was on duty in the on-call room as usual.

“Ah, that’s a relief.”

Jun-hoo muttered to himself cheerfully as he scrolled through news articles related to Hun-shik.

Hun-shik was reportedly being investigated by the police and had been detained in a detention center.

He was finally paying the price for his crimes.

Jun-hoo leaned back in his chair and stretched, feeling refreshed.

Although the Hun-shik case was well resolved, it was best not to expect things to go so smoothly in the future.

There are levels to villains.

Hun-shik was a low-level villain.

To use a martial arts analogy, he was just a third-rate martial artist, like a street thug.

He reeked of the “I’m a bad guy. I do bad things” vibe.

In general, the really scary villains are the ones that people around them don’t even know are villains.

Like the psychopath Si-ho, whom Jun-hoo had difficulty dealing with.

Still, Si-ho was a fellow resident, so it was relatively easy to handle him.

If a professor-level person set their mind to doing something evil, it would be difficult for Jun-hoo to deal with it.

In any case, the loose ends of the case were tied up well.

Hun-shik had become a cast-off gourd [meaning: someone who has been discarded or is no longer useful].

And Jun-hoo kept his promise to the chief.

It seemed he should focus on mastering cervical and lumbar spine surgery during the remaining dispatch period.

Soon, Jun-hoo’s eyes fluttered shut.

An amazing transformation began to take place in the pitch-black darkness.

A surgical table appeared.

A microscope hung above it.

Shadowless lights that cast no shadows poured out light.

Patient monitoring devices appeared, and so on.

In just 30 seconds, Jun-hoo created an operating room in the darkness.

He also created a patient.

He also created staff to assist with the surgery.

He stimulated the occipital lobe of the brain, which is responsible for vision, with acupressure to create a vivid image of the operating room scene.

In the world he created, Jun-hoo began to perform lumbar spine surgery.

The surgery he was performing today was for a metastatic spinal tumor.

It was the surgery he had assisted with just yesterday, and he had memorized the surgeon’s surgical method, step by step, without missing a single detail.

And Jun-hoo was becoming the surgeon in his mind, imitating the surgeon’s operation.

Developing new surgeries was something to do after becoming a professor.

What he needed to do now was to absorb the skills of the masters like a sponge.

Jun-hoo didn’t realize how time was passing with the late-learned simulating surgery.

Suddenly, he came to his senses and stared out the window, and the east was glowing with the sunrise.

The dark sky was gradient with orange light.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A sudden knock.

When Jun-hoo told them to come in, a stranger entered the on-call room.

A skinny man with a triangular jaw.

It was Seo-jin, the second-year who had left due to Hun-shik and Hyuk-jae’s harassment.

Seo-jin approached Jun-hoo, wearing a crisp, white doctor’s gown.

“Congratulations on your return.”

Jun-hoo offered Seo-jin a handshake.

They had been in frequent contact and were the same age, so he spoke informally without hesitation.

“…”

Seo-jin didn’t say anything.

He just stared at Jun-hoo’s outstretched hand.

“What’s with the awkwardness? My arm’s going to fall off if you wait any longer.”

“I was checking if your hands were clean. Fortunately, they’re not dirty.”

Only then did Seo-jin shake hands with Jun-hoo, as if relieved.

“You’re not an ordinary character either. Do you have mysophobia [fear of germs] or something?”

“Well, not exactly mysophobia… I just have a very clean personality.”

Then Seo-jin scanned the on-call room and frowned.

“It’s still the same pigsty as ever.”

“That’s too harsh! I cleaned it once because you were coming, you know?”

“Then don’t say you’re going to clean in the future. It’s a complete mess.”

Was cleaning a more urgent and important issue for Seo-jin than catching up?

Seo-jin immediately opened the window and started cleaning.

Wiping every corner of the window frame with a wet tissue, dusting the books on the bookshelf, cleaning and tidying the inside of the refrigerator, and so on.

Seo-jin’s cleaning was comparable to that of a professional cleaning service employee.

So Jun-hoo sensed it.

It was obvious that he would be nagged by Seo-jin about cleaning issues in the future.

Seo-jin’s cleaning lasted nearly an hour, and during that time, Jun-hoo had time to prepare for the morning conference.

He printed out summaries of the progress of hospitalized patients.

He organized the surgical schedule.

He created a file of key points to be discussed at the conference.

Preparing for the conference was actually the responsibility of the interns and first-year residents, but Jun-hoo did it himself without any particular reluctance.

He knew that such small considerations could be a great help to his juniors during a difficult time.

Beeeeeep.

The phone rang just in time.

Jun-hoo answered the phone.

He was hoping for an emergency room call, but it was a call from the ward.

-Doctor, this is the station. It’s about patient Kim Jeom-rye in room 607. Her fever won’t go down. It’s still at 37.5 degrees Celsius [99.5 degrees Fahrenheit] even after taking antipyretics [fever reducers]. What should we do?

“Hmm… It seems like she has an infection? I’ll be there soon.”

Jun-hoo ordered a lumbar puncture [spinal tap] to check for infection and stared at Seo-jin.

Seo-jin was still cleaning.

No, to be precise, he was aligning the objects in the on-call room.

Like a soldier aligning the items in his locker.

“Seo-jin.”

“What?”

Seo-jin said with an expression that he was annoyed at being disturbed. He didn’t even look at Jun-hoo.

“Do you want to try a lumbar puncture?”

Jun-hoo wanted to test Seo-jin’s abilities.