Chapter 199

Episode 199 Everyone's Han Hyeonjae (2)

That day at lunchtime.

I was walking with Son Jong-woon along a highly artificial promenade built near the hospital. The rain that had been pouring during the monsoon season had vanished as if it had never happened, leaving only its traces behind. It was humid. In a word, it was the kind of weather where the discomfort index reaches its peak. Son Jong-woon came over holding an iced Americano in each hand, handed one to me, and brought up the subject.

"The kid's fever is completely under control."

"Fever? Oh, that DADA2? What about the confirmed diagnosis?"

For now, they had to go through with the definitive tests.

"A genetic test is scheduled. Clinically, it's pretty much justified. Other diseases have mostly been ruled out... It's practically a confirmed atmosphere."

"I see. So, why did you call me? Just to chat?"

Son Jong-woon began to get straight to the point in earnest.

"Anyway, because of that. I think we'll write a case report, but..."

"Yeah."

With the straw in my mouth, I answered half-heartedly. In a way, it was a natural progression. A dramatic case where DADA2, which has only about 600 reported cases worldwide, was even accompanied by MAS. They were about to use etoposide but made a dramatic pivot to Enbrel or Anakinra to save the patient. From the pediatrics department's perspective, this was a paper topic that would make their mouths water.

"It's a bit awkward to squeeze your name into it, isn't it? Of course, you made the diagnosis, but anyway, it's a paper led and published by the professors in pediatric hematology and pediatric rheumatology. It's easy for me to put my name on it, but..."

Son Jong-woon read my expression and made excuses. I understood. Being listed as an author on a paper at a university hospital is a strictly managed territory. If it were the related internal medicine or rheumatology departments, it might be different. But there are almost no cases where an emergency medicine doctor, who handles acute medicine, comes to help a friend, catches a diagnosis, and gets their name casually thrown onto the paper as the first author or co-author by a resident from another department.

"So, I feel sorry about it, but if there's an opportunity next time, an academic conference..."

Trying to make up for his guilt, Son Jong-woon started talking about looking into the next conference attendance or presentation opportunity for me.

However...

"I am banned from entering all academic conferences."

"...Huh?"

Son Jong-woon, who was walking along the promenade, stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?"

"I said I'm banned from entering conferences."

"No, well. Whose order is it? The association's order? Or your Section Chief?"

"Section Chief Park Woong's order."

As if it were absurd, Son Jong-woon pulled the straw out of his mouth and scanned me up and down.

"Why on earth? What did you do? Did you cause trouble?"

"...I did do something."

Looking into the distance, I recalled a faint memory from the past.

The time was toward the end of my 2nd Year. The Spring Academic Conference of the Society of Emergency Medicine. An opportunity had been given to present a case on emergency resuscitative laparotomy and four-quadrant packing. Because it was an unconventional trauma management case performed right inside the emergency room, I ascended the oral presentation stage quite proudly.

The problem was that the surgical ghosts from the gallery, who practically lived in my head while I was preparing the paper back then, had pumped my ego up to a lethal dose.

'This is it! Now is the time to emphasize the legitimacy of surgical intervention by the Emergency Medicine Department!'

'Go, Hell Slave! Let them know that the era of opening bellies in the emergency room has arrived!'

Bewitched by those madness-ridden whispers, I stood on the stage of the academic conference where I should have calmly presented medical data and prognoses... and threw myself into a crazy stunt. Grabbing the microphone, I started a wide-area provocation like a revolutionary leader, screaming, "Expansion of the role of Emergency Medicine!!! Screeech!!!"

The result?

Thanks to the excellence of the overwhelming and stimulating case itself—where a resident from a non-surgical department split a belly in the emergency room—I did receive the Best Oral Presentation Award.

However.

[Medical Information News]

[Han Hyeonjae, Resident of Emergency Medicine at Cheongjin University College of Medicine, Receives Best Oral Presentation Award]

[Cheongjin University News]

[Han Hyeonjae, Resident of Emergency Medicine at the Affiliated Hospital of the College of Medicine, Wins Best Oral Presentation]

The contents of the press releases distributed to the medical journals the next day were, of course, censored. No matter how hard I washed my eyes and looked through the articles, there was no mention of my passionate speech.

'...Received the Best Oral Presentation Award for a case on initial skills and resuscitation for treating severe trauma patients within the emergency room...'

Seeing how it came out only as a very dry and polite article, with words like laparotomy or surgical intervention completely castrated, it felt as if the hospital's public relations team and the Section Chief had issued a total erasure of the record while tidying up. Since that day, the Section Chief issued a restraining order on me, saying, 'You are banned from all external events until you get your specialist license.'

'Why on earth did I do that?'

A dark history that wouldn't be enough even if I kicked my blankets thousands of times. This is all because of the ghosts. Yes.

Chomping on ice, I stared into the void.

'It's because of that.'

"Well, something happened to warrant it. I just caused an accident at a conference. I failed to read the room and accelerated a bit too abruptly."

Having roughly understood my explanation, Son Jong-woon shook his head.

"Crazy bastard. But then, for you to take the specialist exam..."

For a resident to sit for the specialist examination, there are conference points, presentations, and various training credits that must be filled during the training period.

"I did the oral presentation back then, passed the mid-term evaluation for the society, and completed both KALS and KTAT. If I just attend a conference once during my 4th year, the requirements will probably be met."

I shrugged my shoulders and replied. The crazy ghost bastards had thrown such a frantic fuss, telling me to sign up for every single educational program available online and offline, that I had filled the required credits in no time.

"You already finished it all during your 2nd year?"

"That's why the Section Chief comfortably sent me into exile, telling me not to even loiter near a conference venue."

"Wow, you spiteful bastard."

Son Jong-woon stuck out his tongue and sipped the coffee in his hand. Showing a look of regret on his face as a bonus.

"Anyway, it's really a shame. Even though you did something decisive for the diagnosis, you can't put your name on the paper."

"..."

I silently observed Son Jong-woon's face. While his mouth was uttering words of regret, his cheekbones were ascending uncontrollably, and the corners of his mouth were twitching. Dumbfounded, I let out a chuckle.

"You're just thrilled, aren't you?"

At my words that hit the bullseye, Son Jong-woon gave up on controlling his expression and burst into a broad grin.

"Of course, you punk. This goes straight to SCI."

"Oh, yes, yes."

After finishing the short lunchtime chat with Son Jong-woon, I turned my steps back toward the emergency room where I belonged. As I walked back to the ER, I familiarly flicked my finger in the air to open a blue, translucent window.

Flash-

Dead Medic Gallery

Title: Bowing

Author: Korean Slave 1 (Male)

Hell Slave is in a good mood.

Why? Because I diagnosed DADA2 yesterday.

Kiyahou!

Thanks again.

Even I thought it was a pretty obnoxious tension, but what could I do? An emergency room resident had correctly guessed an ultra-rare genetic disease that only 600 people in the world have—I had to put on at least this much of a show. As soon as the post went up, the reactions of the gallery ghosts began to pour in real-time.

[Comments]

Pediatric Ghost: Is this the tone that's trending these days?

IWillMoveTheBridgeOfYourNose: Doesn't seem like it...

Rheumatology Old Woman: My help was quite significant.

Korean Slave 1 (Male): Thank you for telling me how to treat it when MAS was accompanied, grandma.

Pediatric Ghost: What about me? What about me? I pointed out everything from pathophysiology to symptoms, so what about me?

Korean Slave 1 (Male): Thx.

Pediatric Ghost: You son of a b—

Leaving the convulsing Pediatric Ghost's comment as the last one, I closed the window with a satisfied smile.

Whirrrr-

The automatic door opened, and a cool blast of air conditioning greeted me.

'Come to me, air conditioner.'

The alarm sound of the patient monitors ringing without rest, and the footsteps of the medical staff moving busily. It was a peaceful university hospital emergency room, no different from usual. As I walked further inside the ER toward the station, I saw the familiar back of a gown.

Lee Minjae (Male).

Instead of burying his nose in the monitor to look at charts as usual, he was standing near the entrance of the station with his arms crossed, posing as if he were waiting for someone. And as soon as he noticed me entering, he tilted his head.

"Hyunjae."

"Yes, Teacher?"

"There's an urgent matter."

"What is it, Teacher?"

Reflexively, I fiddled with my stethoscope and looked back toward the emergency room entrance. However, the sound of an ambulance siren could not be heard.

"It's not a patient."

Lee Minjae lowered his voice and grabbed my shoulder.

"There's someone waiting for you."

Waiting? For me?

"Me?"

Someone waiting for me? A guardian? Or a resident from another department? If not that, then someone from some committee or the director's side again? Because my name value had been fluctuating in an odd direction within the hospital recently, the words that someone was waiting for me triggered a strange sense of anxiety.

"Yeah. Go quickly. Follow the inside of the ER all the way down, to Meeting Room 2 next to the doctor's office."

Lee Minjae didn't explain any further and pushed my back, pointing toward the hallway of the doctor's office.

"Got it."

Something about that gentleman makes me anxious. Scratching the back of my head, I plodded toward the directed path.

Passing the emergency room station and turning into the secluded hallway toward the doctor's office, the noise subsided.

'Is the Section Chief calling me again?'

Did he have more to say about the dispatch matter? Turning tens of thousands of useless hypotheses over in my mind, I reached the end of the hallway. I took a deep breath and politely knocked on the door with my knuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in."

A voice heard from beyond the door. What was it?

'It's a voice I'm hearing for the first time.'

Creeeeak.

As I turned the doorknob and carefully opened the door, the scenery inside the meeting room entered my field of vision.

"..."

A man sitting squarely in the head seat of the meeting room table with his back to the window. A strangely sharp, groomed beard. And above all, a ferocious gaze that overwhelmed people. A rather sinister-looking bearded Mr. who looked like he had just popped out of a noir movie was waiting for someone with his arms crossed.

My instinct immediately bypassed my brain and issued a command straight to my spinal cord.

"I came into the wrong room."

Creeeeak.

Click.

I closed the window and the door very politely and swiftly. My heart was pounding like crazy.

'No, what kind of strange gentleman...'

Is he a gangster? A trouble-maker guardian holding out without paying hospital bills? Or did I unconsciously offend an organ trafficking broker? Why do I have to lock eyes with a mafia boss-like human in a hospital meeting room? Feeling sweat breaking out on my hand that was still tightly gripping the doorknob, I slowly looked up, praying fervently that I had found the wrong room.

[Meeting Room 2]

A sign written very clearly was right there, as if mocking me.

Shit. I found the right place.