"His daughter has been waiting for you." She continued.
Se-na rubbed her temple. "He died. Why does she want to meet with me when she already knew he would die?" she asked with scorn.
"She just wants to know if he was in any pain before he left... Could you just... five minutes?" Min-ji replied, breathing heavily.
Se-na stopped and looked at her watch. She didn't look at Min-ji's face. "My job ended when his soul left his body. Give me a reason, Head Nurse. Why should I spend five minutes discussing a dead man?"
Min-ji blinked, startled. "Yes, but..."
Se-na leaned in. "Yes, BUT...you don't have a reason. I know you already explained everything to her, and I don't want to be disrespectful, Head Nurse, but if I wanted to hold hands, I would have worked in a kindergarten. So please, try not to come to me with such requests. It's not my headache that he signed a DNR. I have a schedule to keep."
Saying this, she walked away, hearing the sharp, pained sigh from the nurse as if she had expected nothing less.
"Tsk... what a productive way to start the day," she muttered under her breath. When she checked her tablet, she found that her entire morning schedule had been wiped clean. Instead of feeling relieved, the "favor" from the Chief only annoyed her more.
She spent the next few hours in the residents' lounge, leaning back and scrolling through a real estate app, scouting for new investment properties.
As she was going on, a frantic, heavy knocking shattered the silence. Dr. Kim burst in, he was a senior resident who always smelled like a stale mix of tobacco and cheap soap.
"Dr. Maeng, please! Dr. Choi is in OR 4 and it's a total disaster," he panted, his face pale. "It's a thoracic case. He's been in there for five hours. The patient is only twenty; an athlete. He cannot do more! he's about to give up."
Se-na didn't even look up from her phone. "And?"
"And? Se-na! AND?!" Kim cried, exasperated. "You're the only one who can handle that kind of micro-suture! you have experience in that! You have to help him, the Director is watching this case personally!"
"That's not my problem," Se-na replied coolly, her thumb swiping to a new property listing. "I'm in the middle of a transaction. Close the door on your way out."
"Se-na! This could be a blessing in disguise for your career! Help Choi! Please!" he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation.
"Tell him to declare the time of death and move on," she said, still not looking up. "It's the natural conclusion to his failure."
"You... you monster," Kim whispered, his face getting more pale with anger and desperation.
Se-na finally looked up. "Monsters are people who lack the skill to be efficient, and take on cases just to kill." She looked back down at her screen, dismissively waving a hand toward the exit.
Dr. Kim looked at her with a mix of horror and disgust. Without another word, he turned and sprinted back toward the OR, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway making her ears go dumb as he ran with a frantic beat of a drum.
Ten minutes later, Se-na grew bored of the app. She stood up, adjusted her perfectly tailored coat, and wandered toward the surgical wing, not to save a life, of course, but because the air conditioning in the halls was superior to the stuffy lounge.
As she passed OR 4, the "In Use" light was still a bleeding red. Through the viewing window, she saw a massacre. Blood was everywhere, the staff was in a state of sheer panic, and Dr. Choi stood frozen, his shoulders slumped in total defeat. A nurse was trying to snap him back. But then Dr. Kim spotted her through the glass; and as if color flooded back into his face, he scrambled out of the room, nearly tripping over his own feet.
"You CAME!" he gasped, reaching out as if to hug her in his desperation.
"I am only here for the..." Before she could finish, he practically shoved her into the scrub room.
Se-na stood there, looking at dr. kim from behind the glass, a flicker of regret crossing her mind, while he was looking at her with his hands joined pleading her. she looked inside the OR, and at the chaos and her curiosity won out. afterall was a perfect opportunity to put someone in her debt. So sighing she started moving with a rhythmic, tired motion, scrubbing her hands slowly. She didn't rush. In her mind, if the girl died while she was scrubbing, it didn't matter. A dead body was just a machine that had finally run out of power in hands of incompetant mechanic and not in her hands.
But the girl was "lucky." The flatline hadn't happened yet even after she spent more than 5 minutes. Se-na sighed again, kicked open the OR doors, and suited up. Her presence seemed to cool the room by ten degrees as everyone looked at her, while she stepped over the puddles of blood on the floor.
"Move," she commanded. Dr. Choi stepped aside, his eyes bloodshot and trembling. "Dr. Maeng... it's too late... it's beyond repair..."
"Late?" she huffed, picking up the needle driver.
She worked in a heavy, suffocating silence. Every eye was pinned on her. Her fingers moved with precision; stitching, joining, and rerouting tissues that looked like raw pulp to everyone else. The room held its breath. Even in the observation gallery above, the air had turned unstable. The senior faculty and the Hospital Director pressed toward the glass, their faces tense. This wasn't just any patient; she was a national icon, a star athlete whose every heartbeat was currently being tracked by the media vans parked outside. Her life or her death, was now intricately tied to the hospital's reputation. To the Director, that girl on the table wasn't a human; she was the hospital's stock price.
But then, Se-na's hands stopped.
The movement was so sudden, so final, that the entire panel in the observation room gasped in unison, leaning so close to the glass that their breath fogged the view.
"What is she doing?" the Chief choked out, his hands trembling as he gripped the railing. "Why did she stop? Is it over?" he looked toward Dr. Kim who was biting his nails an anxiety response behavior he had been trying hard to stop.
Beside him, the Director stood like a statue, his eyes fixed on the bloody field below. He didn't say anything; his silence was more terrifying than any shout. He watched as the monitor's rhythm began to stutter.
"Is she dead?" the Chief cried, his voice cracking. He turned to the Director, his face a mask of pure panic. "Director, I…I didn't authorize this! Se-na... she just walked in! If she just lost a patient on my table..."
The Director finally turned, his gaze cutting through the Chief like a blade. "Your table?" he repeated, his voice low. "If that girl doesn't breathe, there won't be a table left in this department for you to stand behind Chief Han Moon Bin!"
Then a piercing feminine shriek cut through the air, snapping their attention to the voice below. It was Se-Na…her hand was dripping with blood.
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