A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 112

The Showdown (2)

“Ah, but senior, I have a question.”

Jun-hoo, who was about to drink his beverage, lowered his arm.

From Mi-ho’s perspective, it was a frustrating action. She needed him to drink it now so the laxative would take effect around the start of the suturing competition…

“Yeah, what is it?”

Mi-ho forced a smile and asked back.

“Didn’t you hear the sound of the cap when you opened the drink?”

“…”

“I probably just didn’t hear it, right?”

“Of course. How can you hear every little background noise? You wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything if you did.”

“…”

“But senior.”

“What now?”

“This Bacchus [Korean energy drink] smells weird. Like an artificial scent, maybe?”

Mi-ho started sweating profusely at Jun-hoo’s continuous remarks.

Jun-hoo’s senses were quite sharp.

Usually, when a colleague offers a drink, you just gratefully accept it.

He was focusing on the sound of the cap opening?

He even noticed the unique smell of the Dulcolax syrup in the Bacchus?

A sense of unease washed over her, wondering if Jun-hoo had caught on to her plan.

“Bacchus is an artificial drink, so it’s bound to have an artificial scent.”

Mi-ho tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Even if she wasn’t good at her job, she was confident in manipulating people with her words.

“Do you want to drink this, senior?”

Jun-hoo offered the drink to Mi-ho instead.

“Why? Do you think I put something like poison in it? Are you accusing me of being too unscrupulous?”

“I just have a bad feeling. But I’d feel less uneasy if you drank it first.”

“Are you really going to act like this? Can you just trample on someone’s sincerity like that?”

Mi-ho retorted, getting angry instead.

Her carefully built plan was about to collapse, and she couldn’t give up like this.

“I don’t know why you’re getting angry. If there’s nothing wrong with the drink, you can just drink it yourself, right?”

In that instant, Jun-hoo’s eyes sharpened.

The gentle demeanor had vanished without a trace.

It was as if he had transformed in an instant.

This guy.

Could it be that he knows I messed with the drink and is doing this on purpose?

“Prove it yourself. Prove that there’s nothing wrong with the drink.”

Jun-hoo forcibly shoved the drink into Mi-ho’s hand.

The situation had suddenly reversed.

If she didn’t drink the beverage, it would be obvious that she had done something shady.

If she drank it, she would get diarrhea herself.

Either way, it was a harsh punishment for Mi-ho.

Damn it!

Why did things have to get so twisted!

It should have been a simple matter that passed by smoothly.

Mi-ho stared blankly at the bottle of drink mixed with the laxative.

The hesitation didn’t last long.

Gulp. Gulp.

She emptied half of the drink in one go.

“Do you feel relieved now? Do you believe there’s nothing wrong with the drink?”

“How ridiculous. Believe? What is there to believe?”

Jun-hoo suddenly spoke in a cold tone, using informal language.

“You should try to deceive someone who can be deceived. Reflect on your wickedness in the bathroom.”

Jun-hoo turned around and left the on-call room.

Mi-ho stared blankly at Jun-hoo’s retreating figure.

The feeling of emptiness washed over her belatedly.

A bitter and painful sense of self-disgust.

Mi-ho sat down on the chair as if collapsing.

She didn’t want to admit it, but she had to.

That Jun-hoo was already several steps ahead of her.

That Jun-hoo had already noticed her plan.

* * *

Thud. Thud.

Jun-hoo left the main building and headed towards the annex.

He was on his way to attend the suturing competition.

The pouring sunlight was warm.

The gentle spring breeze teased the doctor’s gown and Jun-hoo’s hair before leaving.

Spring flowers bloomed in the flower beds planted throughout the hospital, and the trees showed off their fresh green energy.

I almost messed up big time.

Jun-hoo stroked his surprised chest.

Just when his guard towards Mi-ho was down, she launched a sneak attack on Jun-hoo.

She had tampered with the drink.

A normal person would have gratefully accepted the drink Mi-ho offered, but not Jun-hoo.

Hadn’t he suffered so much in the Murim world [world of martial arts]?

That’s why he never let his guard down.

Back when he first entered the Murim.

Jun-hoo had been poisoned by the San Gong poison [poison that weakens internal energy] and was in danger.

San Gong poison was a poison that temporarily scattered internal energy.

And he had almost lost his life to a 10-year-old assassin.

He couldn’t have imagined that a 10-year-old kid would be an assassin. (Later, he found out that the assassin was a young man with dwarfism.)

In any case, because he didn’t let go of his suspicion.

Jun-hoo noticed that the cap didn’t make a sound when Mi-ho handed him the drink.

He also smelled the unique scent of Dulcolax syrup in the drink.

He reversed the situation and induced Mi-ho to drink the laxative drink.

Indeed, villains don’t reform.

I shouldn’t open my heart carelessly.

Jun-hoo closed the latch on his heart even more tightly.

If 99 out of 100 villains are impossible to reform, and only 1 can be reformed.

Jun-hoo was just going to ignore that one reformable person.

It was too tiring to leave the possibility open to 99 people for the sake of just one person.

While moving to the annex, Jun-hoo played rock-paper-scissors with both hands.

He had been practicing the Ambidextrous Tiger Palm technique.

Jun-hoo was even making the most of his spare time.

* * *

When Jun-hoo entered the lobby of the annex.

A familiar hand touched his right shoulder.

Jun-hoo turned his head to the left and said.

“Ah-young, long time no see?”

Indeed, Ah-young was standing behind Jun-hoo.

Ah-young had her index finger on Jun-hoo’s right cheek.

She looked surprised that her ambitious plan to poke Jun-hoo’s cheek had failed.

“Huh? How did you know it was me?”

“It’s simple if you know. Ah-young, you run like a sparrow, scurrying around.”

“…”

“You’re the only one who would be able to sneak up behind me at this hour with that kind of running.”

“How did you notice that I was going to poke your cheek?”

“Your hand touched my shoulder, but I didn’t feel a finger.”

“Are you a doctor? Or Sherlock Holmes?”

Ah-young shook her head as if she was fed up.

Seeing Ah-young’s disappointed appearance.

Jun-hoo thought he should have just let her do it.

“Your new hairstyle looks good on you.”

Jun-hoo changed the subject to Ah-young’s changed hairstyle.

Ah-young, who had straight hair since she was in medical school, had permed it for once.

The style with moderate waves and curls was a perfect match for Ah-young.

“Really?”

Ah-young shyly touched her hair.

“I had a day off yesterday, so I got it done. Do you know what this hairstyle is called?”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s called Long Hair Lovely Perm. The name is quite flashy, isn’t it?”

“What does it matter if it’s flashy? It looks good on you.”

Jun-hoo chatted with Ah-young and moved to the 4th-floor conference room where the suturing competition was being held.

From the moment he applied for the competition.

Jun-hoo had expected to run into Ah-young.

Ah-young had been interested in specializing in thoracic surgery since high school.

The importance of suturing in thoracic surgery was beyond question.

In the case of OPCAB (Off-Pump Coronary Artery Bypass Graft) [heart bypass surgery performed on a beating heart].

You have to perform surgery on a beating heart.

“Have you practiced enough?”

“I think I have enough. But I won’t know the result until I open the lid [until the competition starts].”

Ah-young smiled and continued.

“But I think Seung-beom oppa [older brother/male friend] will be a dark horse in this competition.”

“…”

“He’s training with me in plastic surgery, and he’s been practicing really hard. He’s even getting training from the resident seniors.”

The news Ah-young delivered was unexpected.

He didn’t know that Seung-beom would also be participating in this competition.

The door to the 4th-floor conference room was wide open.

On the ‘ㅁ’-shaped table.

There were plastic nameplates with numbers from 1 to 30 written on them.

It seemed that about 30 interns were participating in the suturing competition.

Behind the nameplates were models with wounds.

The tools needed for suturing were neatly arranged.

There was also a seat that looked like the judges’ seat, a little away from the table.

Was it because they arrived about 30 minutes early?

Besides Jun-hoo and Ah-young, there were no other participants.

“Are you here to participate in the competition?”

The staff member who was organizing the conference room noticed the two and approached them.

The staff member was already holding a file in his hand.

“Can you call out your names?”

“I’m Seo Jun-hoo.”

“I’m Lee Ah-young.”

“Seo Jun-hoo, please move to seat number 3. Lee Ah-young, please move to seat number 12.”

“Aren’t you nervous? Should I give you a massage?”

Jun-hoo asked Ah-young.

Ah-young was smart, but she wasn’t very bold.

She had also suffered from hyperventilation syndrome during the college entrance exam.

“I appreciate the thought. I’m okay now. I don’t get nervous easily. I’m not the same as before.”

Ah-young smiled as if to tell him not to worry.

Jun-hoo felt relieved at Ah-young’s smile.

It seemed that Ah-young had grown as much as Jun-hoo had.

“Jun-hoo, fighting [good luck/do your best].”

“Ah-young, you too, fighting.”

After exchanging cheerful encouragement, Jun-hoo sat down at his seat.

Since there was still time to spare.

He touched the needle holders and forceps in advance.

His hands and fingers felt light as if they had wings.

His condition was at its best.

It seemed that the competition results would also be the best.

* * *

“What? You’re next to me?”

A young man sat down next to Jun-hoo with a sarcastic voice.

The protagonist was Seung-beom.

He smoked in the school bathroom.

He caused controversy by posting pictures taken with cadavers on social media.

He had also clashed during thoracic surgery consultations.

Seung-beom had a bad relationship with Jun-hoo in every way.

“Hey, say something. Are you scared?”

“I don’t particularly want to talk to you.”

“Ha, this bastard. Look at your manners towards someone a year older than you?”

“Show me the respect of an older brother if you want to be treated like one.”

A coldness emanated from Jun-hoo’s voice.

Jun-hoo hated Seung-beom’s type.

Arrogant.

Self-centered.

A reckless person only caused trouble for those around them.

“Whatever. Just get ready to be defeated. The gold prize in this competition is mine anyway.”

“You’re overflowing with confidence?”

Jun-hoo asked with a smirk.

It was as Ah-young had told him earlier.

Whether he had special training or not, Seung-beom was much more intoxicated with himself than usual.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been grinding my teeth for this day.”

Seung-beom sneered and continued.

“Your grades may have been better than mine, but you can’t follow me in suturing, right?”

“That’s true. Only in your head, of course.”

“You’re all talk.”

The argument with Seung-beom didn’t last long.

The judges sat down as the appointed time arrived.

There were a total of three judges.

Professor Lee Dong-hoon from orthopedics, who was among the top three in Korea.

Jun-hoo also knew Professor Lee Dong-hoon.

One person was a professor of thoracic surgery.

The last person was Yoo Seung-yong, the head of gastroenterological surgery, the deputy director of medical affairs, and Seung-beom’s father.

“I’m Yoo Seung-yong, the deputy director of medical affairs. Nice to meet you all.”

Seung-yong, holding the microphone, looked around the table and continued.

He began a kind of opening address.

Thank you for participating in the competition despite being busy with your internship.

Show off the skills you’ve honed so far, etc.

The opening address was nothing special.

After the opening address, the chief resident of plastic surgery, who was in charge of the proceedings, explained the competition format.

It was just a repetition of the recruitment guidelines, so there was nothing to listen to.

“Now, we will begin the 1st Intern Suturing Competition.”

The host finally announced the start of the competition.

The relaxed atmosphere in the conference room instantly became tense.

The participants’ eyes were determined, and their gestures were urgent.

Jun-hoo held the needle holder in his right hand and the forceps in his left hand.

Participate in the competition moderately with his left hand?

There was no such option.

He wasn’t going to favor anyone.

Today’s Jun-hoo was at 100 percent.