A Surgeon Who Uses Martial Arts [EN]: Chapter 334

Dawn the next day.

Large snowflakes fell like a torrent from the dark sky.

It was a heavy snowfall, the kind that would create a mound of shaved ice if you held a glass bowl outside. The wind howled.

The window frames rattled and danced clumsily.

But all of that was happening in the outside world.

Sitting cross-legged beneath the window, Jun-hoo was immersed in a subconscious state deeper and darker than the dawn.

He was training his Mana Heart [a core of magical energy within the body].

With each inhale, clear and cold natural essence flowed into his body like dew.

The natural essence moved through the twelve meridians [energy pathways in the body], subtle channels, Mana Heart, and dantian [energy center in the lower abdomen] in order.

The flow was gentle and natural.

With each exhale, the stale energies accumulated within his body flowed out in reverse order.

As he repeated the process, Jun-hoo’s Mana Heart became more solid and expansive.

Eventually, Jun-hoo, who had fallen into a state of complete absorption, opened his eyes.

He placed his right hand on his left chest.

A faint smile played on Jun-hoo’s lips.

It had been almost two years since he started training his Mana Heart.

The achievement was remarkable.

He could now wrap as many as four Mana Bands around his heart. In terms of fantasy novels, he had come to store Mana at the level of a 4th class mage.

This was nearly half the amount of internal energy accumulated in his dantian.

Was it thanks to the 4th class Mana Heart?

Since the end of last year, Jun-hoo had never once been troubled by a lack of internal energy.

At first, he hesitated because it seemed like a somewhat foolish idea, but…

Looking back now, that decision had taken Jun-hoo to a completely different dimension.

If you want to become new, you have to do new things. Hoping for new things to happen while doing nothing is foolish.

Jun-hoo recalled the advice the Martial Arts Alliance Leader had given him in the past.

At the time, he couldn’t understand why he was saying such obvious things so seriously, but…

Now, the depth of those words felt completely different.

Jun-hoo got up and looked out the window.

The temperature difference between inside and outside had fogged up the window. He couldn’t see beyond the glass.

It was just like Jun-hoo’s future.

-Jun-hoo, why don’t you choose neuro-oncology as your subspecialty?

As he stood there, lost in thought, Dong-hoon’s voice echoed in his ear.

His voice was persuasive.

Dong-hoon had been putting in effort to recruit Jun-hoo for a long time.

Yesterday’s surgery was also Dong-hoon’s doing.

He had deliberately created the opportunity to make Jun-hoo feel more drawn to brain tumor surgery.

There was no way Jun-hoo, who was quick-witted, wouldn’t know that.

Certainly, if he trained under Dong-hoon, he would have much to learn, and his fellowship would be comfortable.

Among the professors in the department, Dong-hoon was the one Jun-hoo trusted the most and thought was the most capable.

But why?

Even though the best path was right in front of him, he was reluctant to take it.

-Thank you for the offer, Professor… but I would appreciate it if you could give me some more time to think.

Jun-hoo avoided giving an immediate answer.

Even though there was nothing to be gained by delaying, he did so anyway.

These days, Jun-hoo somehow felt lost. He hesitated, and he often felt frustrated.

He also felt frustrated by the fact that he wanted to master all eight subspecialties derived from neurosurgery but had to choose only one.

Isn’t there really another good way?

A miraculous way to master all subspecialties at once.

Jun-hoo asked himself again and again.

The questions echoed and spread throughout his body.

The echoes were like parrots repeating the same sounds, so they couldn’t provide answers.

* * *

That day, at 7 a.m.

Jun-hoo stood in the hallway of the neurosurgery ward with his classmate, Kyung-soo.

Kyung-soo’s gaze, scanning Jun-hoo, was not friendly.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing?”

“Don’t you still realize what’s wrong? Can’t you feel the difference between you and me?”

Kyung-soo chuckled in disbelief.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, just tell me properly.”

“You should change your clothes. Are you going to take the exam in that state?”

Jun-hoo let out a hollow laugh at Kyung-soo’s remark.

It was just before he was about to take the specialist exam with Kyung-soo, and yet…

Jun-hoo was still wearing his scrubs and gown.

“Why are you acting so unlike yourself? You seem a bit uneasy today?”

“You know, sometimes things happen.”

Jun-hoo answered vaguely and returned to the on-call room.

After changing into casual clothes, he left the ward with Kyung-soo and exited the hospital.

The snow that had been falling all morning had stopped, but the world was still covered in white.

It was as if someone had sprinkled white powdered sugar on the streets, trees, and buildings.

The footprints of employees who had arrived early for work were imprinted on the path to the hospital.

Squeak, squeak.

Security guards were busy sweeping the snow with brooms and spreading salt on the ground.

“Looks like we’ll have some T.A. [traffic accident] patients today?”

“Don’t worry about the department; worry about us. It would be a disgrace to fail the specialist exam after four years of training.”

“Surely we won’t fail, will we?”

“Don’t you know the curse of ‘what if’?”

Kyung-soo asked as he walked through the snow first.

“The curse of ‘what if’? What’s that?”

“‘What if’ is… the curse that it could be ‘what if… me.’ You never know what might happen.”

Jun-hoo listened to Kyung-soo’s worries with one ear and let them out the other.

The probability of Jun-hoo failing the specialist exam was practically zero.

Recently, Jun-hoo’s medical skills had reached their peak.

Both in terms of physical abilities and medical knowledge.

To put this specialist exam into perspective, it was like a university professor majoring in mathematics going to solve elementary school arithmetic problems.

“Can’t you at least pretend to listen when someone is talking?”

Kyung-soo asked in a sulky voice, noticing that Jun-hoo wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m listening.”

“Sure, you are. By the way, there’s one more source of anxiety.”

“Can you stop being anxious and just relax?”

“The biggest source of anxiety is you.”

Kyung-soo said only what he wanted to say with a serious expression.

“Why are you picking on me again?”

“You’re a walking disaster. I wouldn’t be surprised if we ran into an emergency patient on the way to the exam.”

“……”

“Then will you choose the patient? Or will you choose the specialist exam?”

Jun-hoo was silent for a moment at Kyung-soo’s question.

The probability was extremely low, but… that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen at all.

“Of course, I’ll save the patient and take the specialist exam.”

“What if it’s the worst-case scenario and you have to choose between the patient and the specialist exam?”

Kyung-soo’s questions were unusually harsh today.

It felt like he was deliberately cornering Jun-hoo.

“Okay, what would you do?”

Kyung-soo pressed Jun-hoo again.

The atmosphere suddenly became serious.

Jun-hoo felt the pressure of having to choose between the two.

“Before that, let me ask you something. What would you do in that situation?”

“If it were me… of course… I would take the specialist exam. I would do some simple first aid, report it to 119 [emergency services in South Korea], and then go to the exam.”

“You’d prioritize the exam over a life?”

“What kind of great treatment can you do outdoors anyway? Just do what you can and get out.”

Kyung-soo’s answer was realistic and calculated.

It was typical of Kyung-soo.

“So, what’s your answer?”

“You probably expected this, but… of course, it’s the patient. I became a doctor to save patients. I didn’t become a doctor to become a specialist.”

“You mean you don’t care if you waste a year because of a patient?”

Jun-hoo nodded in response.

“If I can save a patient’s lifetime and their family’s lifetime with my one year, I think it’s a worthwhile trade.”

“If you keep insisting on that approach, you might end up with nothing left in your own life.”

Kyung-soo said with a worried voice.

“Since we’re on the topic, let’s have a more serious conversation. When I look at you…”

“I am?”

“I think you have a Messiah complex. And it’s in its final stages.”

Messiah complex.

This is a psychological term that refers to a complex in which a person feels guilt or helplessness if they cannot help others and compulsively helps others.

“……”

Jun-hoo was greatly shocked by Kyung-soo’s remark.

He had firmly believed that helping others was unconditionally good and worthy of emulation, but… he had never once considered that it might be the result of a complex.

“I’m not saying I’m right, but it’s just a way to approach it. Think about it slowly.”

* * *

The neurosurgery specialist exam was held at a high school located in Nowon-gu [district in Seoul].

Jun-hoo and Kyung-soo barely managed to arrive at the exam hall before the start of the exam.

The roads were jammed with snow, and the traffic was even worse due to an accident.

When the bus they were on passed the scene of the accident, Jun-hoo tensed up, and his heart pounded.

But the traffic accident was just a minor fender-bender.

The extreme situation that Kyung-soo had talked about earlier did not occur.

There were approximately 30 examinees in the waiting room.

Because the number of neurosurgery residents was decreasing day by day, the number of neurosurgery specialist exam applicants was ridiculously small.

The orthopedic surgery specialist examinees using the space right next door numbered over 100.

While other examinees were looking at expected question books, Jun-hoo looked up at the ceiling.

He was pondering the Messiah complex that Kyung-soo had mentioned.

Jun-hoo’s concern and affection for patients and their families were undeniably excessive.

But so what?

If Jun-hoo were in the position of a patient or their family, he would want to meet a doctor like himself.

Isn’t there a ‘golden rule’ that you should treat others as you want to be treated?

Jun-hoo was simply following the ‘golden rule.’

If Kyung-soo wanted to call the golden rule a Messiah complex, Jun-hoo was willing to remain a person with a Messiah complex.

Was it because his mind was settled?

Jun-hoo felt like an open landscape was unfolding in his heart.

This heart and this determination. He would protect them until the day he died.

“Examinee number 14, Seo Jun-hoo, please enter the examination room.”

The supervisor called Jun-hoo.

Jun-hoo got up from his seat, and Kyung-soo gave Jun-hoo a look of encouragement.

Jun-hoo nodded and entered the examination room.

Three examiners were sitting side by side at a rectangular table. Perhaps it was due to prejudice, but all three of them looked strict.

In particular, the person sitting in the middle had an appearance like a grumpy toad.

Jun-hoo bowed to the examiners and sat down in his chair.

“The case that examinee Seo Jun-hoo will present is this patient.”

The professor sitting on the far left finished speaking and displayed the patient’s chart on the projector.

Age 60.

No past history or underlying diseases.

C.C [Chief Complaint] is severe headache and dizziness.

Blood pressure is 150mmHg/130mmHg.

GCS [Glasgow Coma Scale] score is 7 out of 15 points.

Blood tests show that glucose levels and CRP levels are particularly abnormal.

No abnormalities on skull X-ray.

…….

Jun-hoo’s eyes, scanning the chart, were determined.

Jun-hoo was thinking of it not as just a case but as an actual patient.

He was worried that a major disaster would occur for the patient if he didn’t establish the correct diagnosis and treatment plan.

The reason why Jun-hoo was able to grow faster than others.

There were various factors, including martial arts and internal energy, but it was also because Jun-hoo always treated practice as if it were a real battle.

“Isn’t this case too difficult? It seems unfair compared to the other examinees.”

“That’s all their luck and fate.”

“We can adjust the scoring considering the difficulty.”

The examiners whispered among themselves, but Jun-hoo, who had sharp ears, heard everything.

What are they talking about?

It’s so easy that I’m about to yawn.