A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 403

Chapter 78: Homecoming (3)

The cafe on the first basement floor was bustling. Every table was occupied, and many potential customers turned away at the entrance.

Soft piano music mingled with the lively chatter of the crowd, creating a vibrant atmosphere.

It almost felt like part of a performance.

Beeeeeep.

The vibrating pager buzzed on the table where Junhoo and Devin sat.

“I’ll go get it,” Devin said.

He seemed like a completely different person from the grumbling surgeon in the operating room.

Now, he was all respectful attentiveness, as if dealing with a superior.

Devin went to the counter.

He returned with a tray holding two cups of coffee.

‘He deserves the nickname ‘Monster.’ I thought it was nonsense.’

Devin’s gaze lingered on Junhoo.

Junhoo was already a well-known figure in the neurosurgery department.

He had achieved the impressive feat of topping all seven subjects during the boost-up program.

However, Devin had initially doubted Junhoo’s reputation.

He hadn’t truly believed it.

He knew the professors acknowledged Junhoo’s skills, but he didn’t think he was as skilled as the ‘rumors’ suggested.

Rumors were always exaggerated.

They always got inflated as they spread.

So, even in the early stages of the leg reattachment surgery, Devin remained skeptical.

The idea that Junhoo could save any patient seemed like sheer stubbornness.

When Junhoo suggested inserting a metal plate into the patient’s bone, Devin thought he was crazy.

Why were there so many people like that?

People full of unfounded confidence, believing they could do what others couldn’t.

The moment Devin’s disbelief began to crumble…

…was when Junhoo started the tendon suture.

Even though the suture was 2-0 [a relatively thick suture].

Even though the suture material itself was thick.

The Krackow suture was notoriously difficult.

The Krackow suture.

This was a type of continuous suture where the thread wasn’t cut in the middle.

The technique was so intricate that the suture often tangled, earning it the nickname ‘the time-eating hippo’ because it could ensnare the surgeon’s hands and consume vast amounts of time.

Even Devin, a seasoned professor, often struggled with it.

But then what happened?

Junhoo completed the suture quickly and precisely, as if gliding through water.

Instead of the suture or Junhoo’s hands getting tangled, Devin’s eyes struggled to keep up with the speed and precision.

Only then did Devin truly understand.

The phrase ‘another level.’

If the difference in skill had been moderate, he might have tried to challenge Junhoo, but the gap was too vast. He wouldn’t even dare.

It was like a wolf challenging a tiger, an unthinkable act for a rabbit.

After the tendon suture, the arterial and venous anastomosis [connecting blood vessels] and nerve anastomosis [connecting nerves] were completed just as smoothly.

The entire surgery was completed in just five hours.

Considering the complexity, it was an astonishing feat.

Perhaps even the head of the department couldn’t have performed the surgery as accurately and quickly as Junhoo.

Thump!

Devin, jolted back to reality, placed the tray on the table.

He sat down and took a sip of coffee.

The rich aroma filled his senses.

“I’m sorry for grumbling during the surgery. I never imagined you’d do so well.”

“I’m used to it. Being underestimated.”

“Really? I’m not the only one who’s like this?”

Devin tilted his head.

“There are quite a few people who are skeptical about the boost-up program. How can you finish a fellowship in just one year? They think we’re giving you a superficial education.”

Junhoo smiled wryly and raised his coffee cup to his lips.

“And I’m Asian, too.”

“I can’t deny that either.”

Devin lowered his gaze, feeling a pang of guilt.

The rights of Black people were gradually improving, but the prejudice against Asians seemed stubbornly resistant to change.

“I don’t know why people don’t realize it.”

“Realize what?”

“Coming to another country, speaking another language, and working is a huge challenge.”

“…….”

“It requires incredible problem-solving skills, social intelligence, and self-control.”

“…….”

“But instead of respecting that, they often ignore it.”

“I see your point.”

Devin stroked his chin thoughtfully.

If someone asked him to get a job and survive in a country where he couldn’t even communicate, he’d be terrified.

“The boost-up program completion ceremony is tomorrow. Have you decided where you’re going?”

“I have to go back to Korea.”

“Will things be better when you return?”

“I don’t know. I can’t guarantee it.”

Junhoo offered an ambiguous smile.

What could be the reason for his uncertainty?

Surely, after completing Mayou’s prestigious program, a bright future awaited him in Korea. He wouldn’t face racial discrimination.

But Junhoo remained silent, unwilling to elaborate.

Could there be a hidden story?

* * *

After his conversation with Devin, Junhoo left the building.

With his hands tucked into his gown pockets, he looked around the Mayou Clinic.

It felt like only yesterday that he had arrived, but now the familiar scenery felt comforting.

He had spent seven years here.

More time than he had spent at medical school or Shinwon University.

As his departure approached, he felt a pang of regret.

Junhoo, walking alone, pulled out his cell phone.

He accessed the Mayou Clinic website and clicked on the Hall of Fame tab.

The Hall of Fame.

A place reserved for doctors who had achieved exceptional accomplishments at Mayou.

Professor Charles of Gastrointestinal Surgery, who had performed over 100 Whipple surgeries [a complex operation to remove tumors from the pancreas, small intestine, or bile duct].

Professor Kairi, who had completed 50 pediatric heart transplants.

A terminal cancer resident who had selflessly donated organs and passed away.

The Hall of Fame showcased a diverse range of remarkable individuals.

Some were familiar faces.

Like Professor Austin of Pediatric Neurosurgery.

Professor Austin was recognized for successfully separating Siamese twins.

Junhoo swiped down the screen and chuckled.

Another familiar face.

It was his own.

First graduate of the boost-up program.

Grand Master who topped seven subjects.

The caption read.

In the photo, Junhoo smiled confidently, arms crossed.

Seven gold badges gleamed on his gown.

‘But I have no regrets. Because I got everything I wanted.’

Junhoo nodded quietly.

He could have lived comfortably in Korea, so why had he bothered coming to Mayou?

To master the seven subspecialties of neurosurgery.

And in the shortest time possible!

Brain tumor surgery.

Cerebrovascular surgery.

Pediatric neurosurgery.

Stereotactic neurosurgery [using precise 3D coordinates to target specific areas in the brain].

Cervical spine and spine surgery.

Hand surgery.

Trauma surgery.

Through the boost-up program, Junhoo had honed his skills in all these areas.

He had transformed into a formidable surgeon capable of handling the workload of seven specialists.

First, he would secure a chief position in Korea.

Once established, he would train future generations.

He would create a Korean-style boost-up program.

He would develop a new surgery to treat brain-dead and vegetative patients.

Furthermore, he would establish a specialized neurosurgery hospital.

That was Junhoo’s grand ambition.

None of it would be easy.

But with the experience he had gained at Mayou, and with his inner strength and martial arts skills, he was confident he could overcome any obstacle.

If he possessed abilities that others lacked, it was his duty to use them.

Junhoo used his phone to search for his NewTube channel.

The channel had over 2 million subscribers.

The videos were 10 to 20 minutes long.

He uploaded videos twice a week.

The average view count per video was 1 million.

American subscribers had replaced the Korean subscribers who had slowly drifted away.

Not long after arriving at Mayou, a shooting in the library had thrust Junhoo into the spotlight.

The video of his emergency treatment had gone viral.

Since then, Junhoo’s NewTube channel had become a hit.

Seven years later, the initial frenzy had subsided, but he still had a loyal following.

His NewTube revenue far exceeded his doctor’s salary.

Junhoo saved the money, planning to use it to start his own business.

He only spent it to support patients or families in need.

An hour and a half passed as he wandered around Mayou, lost in thought.

Looking up, he saw the setting sun painting the sky.

The hospital buildings glowed in brilliant orange.

‘This is the last time I’ll see this view today.’

Junhoo wearily headed toward the dormitory.

But before he reached the halfway point, his phone vibrated.

Another emergency call?

Or were Oliver and Maxwell calling to throw a farewell party?

Curious, Junhoo checked the number.

It was an unexpected call, one he hadn’t anticipated.

“Yes.”

-…….

“Really? You should have told me in advance.”

-…….

“Okay. I’ll leave right away.”

Junhoo hung up, his pace quickening.

He hurried toward the dormitory, passing the basketball court where some colleagues were playing.

“Anyone have a car I can borrow?”

“A car? Don’t you have one, Junhoo?” Raymond asked, tilting his head.

“I sold it a while ago, since I’m going back to Korea.”

“Then take mine. You know what kind of car it is, right? It’s in the parking lot.”

Raymond readily handed over his car key.

Raymond and Junhoo had initially gotten off on the wrong foot, but they had become close.

After the Siamese twins separation surgery, Raymond had acknowledged Junhoo’s superior skills.

He had been trying to learn from Junhoo ever since.

The fact that a person’s personality doesn’t change easily also meant that it could be changed with effort, albeit with difficulty.

“Thank you.”

“Looks like you have something urgent. Don’t rush too much. You’ll have an accident. The completion ceremony is tomorrow, and it would be a shame if you got hurt, right?”

Junhoo nodded.

* * *

He went to the parking lot and drove Raymond’s car out of the Mayou Clinic.

An important meeting had been scheduled.

But it wasn’t so urgent that he needed to drive recklessly.

Junhoo drove at a moderate speed.

After an hour, he arrived at Cleveland Airport, bustling as usual.

His eyes scanned the crowds of people and luggage.

After parking, Junhoo hurried inside.

The terminal was packed.

But Junhoo recognized them instantly.

Those who were waiting for him.

Those he had been waiting for.

Those he never imagined he would see again in this foreign land.

To love someone.

Was to distinguish them from all others.

“Over here!”

Junhoo strode toward the two people looking around.