Chapter Text
The standard fluorescent lighting of the Trauma Center at Seoul National University Hospital flickered, casting a cool glow over the continuous, chaotic rhythm of the night shift.
At the central nursing station, Dr. Lee stared intently at a surgical tray. He wasn't reviewing a complex procedure-he was attempting to balance a surgical stapler precariously on top of a rolled-up bandage.
"If you drop that, I am charging it to your personal department tab, Dr. Lee," Nurse Han Jisung warned, barely looking up from his stack of chart updates. Jisung possessed the uncanny ability to monitor five vital monitors simultaneously while calling out senior doctors for childish behavior.
"It builds dexterity, Jisung," Minho replied smoothly, placing the final piece-a cap from a pen-onto his metal tower. "Surgeons need steady hands. It's science."
Before Minho could admire his masterpiece, Hwang Hyunjin-an orthopedic resident who carried himself like he was walking a high-fashion runway rather than an ER floor-breezed past, deliberately bumping the desk. The stapler tower collapsed with a loud clatter.
"Oops," Hyunjin said, flashing a guiltless smile as he smoothed down his pristine white coat. "My bad, Senior. My long limbs are a hazard in tight spaces."
"Your long limbs are going to be in a cast if you do that again," Minho threatened, though his voice lacked any real bite.
Kim Seungmin, another senior trauma fellow, casually walked by, sipping iced coffee despite it being nearly 3:00 AM. He glanced at the fallen supplies, then at Minho. "Don't bother, Dr. Lee, doc Jinnie spent twenty minutes styling his hair in the scrub room mirror before checking on Bed 4. He's operating strictly on vanity tonight."
"It's called professional presentation, doc Minnie!" Hyunjin protested defensively. "Patients heal faster when their doctors look good!"
"Patients heal faster when you actually order their X-rays on time," Seungmin shot back, taking another slow sip of his coffee.
Jisung let out a sharp sigh, rubbing his temples. "I am surrounded by children. Capable, board-certified children."
Suddenly, the red alert light on the wall flashed, paired with the harsh, jarring siren reserved strictly for Level 1 Traumas. The lighthearted banter evaporated instantly. The atmosphere in the room shifted from relaxed banter to high-stress precision in a split second.
Jisung grabbed the emergency dispatch radio, snapping straight into professional mode. "Trauma Bay 1, go ahead."
*"Incoming ETA three minutes!"* the paramedic's frantic voice cracked over the speaker. *"Severe motor vehicle collision on the Han River expressway. Single occupant, foreign national, limited language comprehension. GCS is dropping, severe blunt force trauma to the chest, active arterial bleeding from a deep laceration on the left upper thigh. Vitals are unstable!"*
Minho snapped his rubber gloves onto his hands, his playful demeanor completely replaced by absolute laser focus. "Dr. Hwang, clear Trauma Bay 1 and get the rapid infuser ready. Dr. Kim, call the blood bank-get six units of O-negative on standby immediately. Jisung, prepare the airway kit and grab a translator device just in case, but assume we won't have time to use it."
"On it," all three answered in unison, moving with practiced, immediate synergy.
The automatic double doors burst open. Paramedics rushed through, shouting vital statistics over the sound of squealing gurney wheels.
Minho stepped up immediately to the head of the bed. The patient was foreigner by law, but actually looks korean, a fake blonde , pale from rapid blood loss, eyes wide with disorientation and panic. Curls were matted with blood near the forehead, and rapid, shallow breaths hitched painfully in the chest.
"We need to transfer on three!" Minho commanded, sliding his arms beneath the patient's shoulders. "One, two, three!"
They shifted the patient onto the trauma bed. The monitors immediately began chiming in erratic, panicked rhythms-tachycardic and hypotensive.
"I have no breath sounds on the left side," Seungmin declared, applying his stethoscope quickly to the chest. "Trachea is slightly deviated. Tracheal shift! We have a tension pneumothorax!"
"Grab a 14-gauge needle, decompression now!" Minho ordered. Without hesitation, Seungmin prepped the chest while Minho took the scalpel handed over by Jisung, applying a heavy pressure dressing to the gushing thigh wound to control the bleeding.
"Pressure's dropping-80 over 40!" Jisung shouted, hanging the first bag of blood onto the rapid infuser.
The patient gasped sharply as Seungmin performed the needle decompression, a sudden hiss of trapped air escaping the chest cavity. The patient's chest rose again, but the dark eyes darted around the room in absolute terror, overwhelmed by the harsh lights, foreign language, and the pain tearing through their body. A trembling, blood-stained hand reached out blindly into the air, reaching for anything to anchor to.
Minho caught the hand. His gloved fingers wrapped firmly around the patient's shaking grip.
Minho leaned down into the patient's line of sight. He dropped his voice to a steady, calm, and deeply reassuring pitch, stripped of all ER chaos.
"Look at me," Minho said, his eyes meeting the patient's frightened gaze. Even though he spoke in Korean, his tone carried absolute certainty. "You are at Seoul National Hospital. My name is Dr. Lee. You are safe now. I am not going to let anything happen to you."
The patient squeezed Minho's hand tightly, a faint nod acknowledging the comfort in the doctor's voice before their eyelids fluttered and closed, slipping into unconsciousness.
Minho didn't drop the hand until the vitals stabilized slightly. He looked up at his team.
"Vitals are holding for now, but we have internal bleeding," Minho said cleanly, his voice steady as he looked toward the OR doors. "Hyunjin, prep OR 3. Seungmin, scrub in with me. We're taking them straight to surgery."
Through the chaos, the blood, and the storm of the emergency room, Dr. Lee Minho held the line-unaware that the life he was about to save in the operating room would end up changing his own forever.
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The operating room lights shone brightly over OR 3, casting an intense, clinical glow on the scrubbed-in team. The life-threatening tension from the ER had subsided into a stable internal repair, which meant one thing for the surgical unit: the humor was back with a vengeance.
Dr. Lee Minho held his hands outstretched as Nurse Jisung tied the back of his surgical gown with lightning speed.
"Suction," Minho demanded calmly, extending a gloved palm.
Hyunjin, standing across the table as first assistant, handed over the suction tip-and accidentally bumped Minho's elbow with his shoulder.
"Hyunjin, I swear on my medical license," Minho gritted out, not looking up from the incision, "if you lean your massive shoulders into my sterile field one more time, I will stitch your scrub pants to the operating table."
"It's not my fault my posture is immaculate, Senior," Hyunjin whispered dramatically under his mask. "Besides, I'm holding retractor duty here. My arms are suffering for the cause."
"Your arms are doing fine," Seungmin chimed in from the secondary monitor, adjusting the camera for the laparoscopy. "His ego, however, is critically injured. Jisung, do we have a scalp retractor big enough for Hyunjin's head?"
"Out of stock, Dr. Kim," Jisung answered without missing a beat, handing Minho a needle driver. "We used the last oversized one on Dr. Lee's self-esteem during shift change."
Minho paused, slowly raising his eyes over his mask to glare at Jisung. "I am the lead surgeon holding a scalpel near open blood vessels. Show some respect."
"I respect your surgical technique immensely, Dr. Lee," Jisung replied smoothly. "Your banter, however, needs work. Scalpel."
Minho took the instrument and worked with breathtaking precision. Despite the lighthearted crossfire, his hands were steady, swiftly cauterizing small bleeds and suturing the damaged tissue near the spleen. Seungmin kept the vitals in check with effortless efficiency, while Hyunjin managed the retraction like a seasoned pro- vanity aside.
"Look at that stitch," Hyunjin admired, leaning in close. "Truly poetry in motion. Almost as pretty as my side profile."
"If you drop a single tear of self-love into this abdominal cavity, you are scrubbing the entire OR floor, Hwang," Seungmin warned, watching the monitor. "Focus. Tie the knot here."
"I am focusing!" Hyunjin snapped back playfully, taking the suture thread. "Watch and learn, Seungmin. The Hyunjin Slip-Knot-flawless, elegant-"
Snap.
The thread broke.
Dead silence fell over the operating room. Jisung slowly turned his head to stare at Hyunjin. Minho closed his eyes, taking a long, deep breath to summon patience.
"Flawless," Seungmin repeated dryly. "Truly an artistic masterpiece."
"The thread was defective!" Hyunjin squeaked, his cheeks flushing red above his mask. "Jisung, you gave me weak thread!"
"Do not blame my equipment for your gorilla grip, Dr. Hwang," Jisung said calmly, placing a fresh suture package onto the tray with aggressive neatness.
"Give me that," Minho muttered, taking the needle driver back. "Both of you, stop arguing over string. The patient is completely stable. Spleen is repaired, bleeding is stopped, and the thigh laceration is prepped for closing."
Minho carefully laid the final, neat row of internal stitches, his movements turning gentle as he finished. He looked at the patient's face-still under anesthesia, peaceful, dark curls sprawling against the white pillow.
"Nice save, team," Seungmin said, stepping back to check the monitors one last time. "Vitals are rock solid. They're going to make a full recovery."
"Of course they are," Hyunjin sighed, dramatically stretching his long arms now that the procedure was over. "They had the absolute dream team. And me."
"You are part of the dream team, unfortunately," Minho smiled faintly under his mask. He placed a hand gently on the edge of the operating table, looking down at the sleeping foreigner who had held his hand so tightly in the trauma bay. "Let's get them transferred to Recovery."
"Ooh," Jisung teased softly, catching the soft look in Minho's eyes. "Dr. Lee, looking a little attached there?"
"I am attached to medical success, Nurse Han," Minho retorted, stepping back from the table to ungown. "Now help me close up before Hyunjin tries to tie another knot."
The post-op recovery lounge was usually a quiet sanctuary, but that tranquility shattered the moment Dr. Seo Changbin stomped through the double doors, his scrub sleeves pulled up to reveal biceps that looked entirely unnecessary for a pediatric surgeon.
Behind him ambled Dr. Yang Jeongin, a second-year resident who held a clipboard in one hand and a half-eaten bag of chips in the other, looking completely unbothered.
"Minho!" Changbin boomed, his deep voice carrying straight across the ward. "I heard you had a Level 1 trauma and didn't call me in for consultation! Are you hoarding the interesting surgical cases again?!"
Minho, who was reviewing the patient's post-surgery charts at the nurse's station alongside Hyunjin, Jisung, and Seungmin, slowly pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dr.Seo, it was a vascular and orthopedic emergency. Why would I call a pediatric surgeon to stitch up a grown adult's thigh?"
"Because my expert hands bring comfort to all ages!" Changbin declared, puffing out his chest.
Jeongin took a slow bite of a chip, leaning casually against the desk. "He just wanted to show off his arm muscles in the trauma bay, Dr. Lee. He did fifty push-ups in the breakroom when the alarm went off."
"Hey! Yang Jeongin!" Changbin snapped, turning on his heel to glare down the junior doctor. "Whose side are you on?! I am your senior! You are supposed to back me up, not expose my pre-workout routine!"
"I'm on the side of truth, Dr. Seo," Jeongin replied smoothly, his eyes narrowing into dimpled, fox-like crescents of pure cheekiness. "And the side of whoever buys my dinner tonight. Which currently isn't you."
Hyunjin snorted into his coffee, while Jisung pointed a finger at Jeongin. "I like this kid. Smart, honest, zero respect for authority."
"I have immense respect for authority!" Changbin protested, turning back to Minho. "Anyway, I grabbed the police report on my way up. Jeongin, read the statement."
Jeongin flipped a page on his clipboard, suddenly shifting into a professional rhythm despite his mischievous smirk. "According to the traffic police and the expressway CCTV, the patient wasn't at fault at all. A heavy freight truck blew a tire near the Han River bridge, swerved blindly across three lanes, and clipped the patient's rental car from the side."
Minho's expression darkened slightly. "A rental car? So they're definitely a tourist or here on business."
"Yep," Jeongin continued, scanning the paper. "The impact spun the car directly into the guardrail. It's a miracle the frame held up long enough for the airbags to deploy. The truck driver walked away with minor bruises, but our friend over there took the full brunt of the collision."
"Single occupant, late at night, foreign territory..." Changbin mused, his loud voice softening into genuine concern as he glanced toward the private recovery room where the patient was sleeping. "That's rough. They're going to wake up in pain, in a foreign country, surrounded by strangers shouting in Korean."
"Not entirely strangers, his hair looks foreign, but his face is not" Seungmin pointed out, nudging Minho with his elbow. "Dr. Lee here made a very dramatic, movie-style promise in the ER. Held their hand and everything."
"I was stabilizing a terrified patient!" Minho snapped, his ears flushing a telltale shade of red. "It's standard bedside manner!"
"You don't even have a bedside manner for us!" Hyunjin laughed. "Last week, you told me my whiny headache was caused by a lack of brain cells!"
"That was an accurate diagnosis," Minho countered smoothly.
"Anyway," Changbin cut in, slinging a heavy arm around Jeongin's shoulders-and nearly knocking the resident over-"Jeongin and I are going to stick around for the wake-up I want to make sure there's no hidden pediatric trauma in their soul."
"They are an adult, Binnie!" Minho sighed, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Minho flipped open the patient's passport, which the police had just dropped back. He blinked, did a double take, and looked at the sleeping face on the bed.
"Wait a minute," Minho said, staring down at the document. "This foreigner's name is *Bang Christopher Chan*?"
Seungmin leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the official blue passport. "Christopher? With a face that looks like it was born, raised, and brewed right here in Pork soup of Seoul?"
"Look at those cheekbones!" Hyunjin crowded in, gasping dramatically. "That is 100% a pure-blooded Korean face! If this guy is a 'Christopher from Australia', then I'm a Nordic prince from Sweden!"
"Maybe his ancestors took a very wrong turn at the Han River and ended up in Sydney?" Changbin suggested, flexing a bicep as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Like a 200-year delayed layover?"
Jeongin popped a chip into his mouth, staring at the patient's very sharp, entirely East Asian features. "Dr. Seo, please don't apply your conspiracy theories to medical charts. But seriously... if he gets lost in Seoul, does the police report just say 'Local-looking Aussie named Chris has gone missing'?"
"Nurse Han," Minho called out, rubbing his temples as the room devolved into quiet snickering. "When he wakes up, what language am I even supposed to start with? 'G'day mate, welcome to Korea, you look like my cousin'?"
"I am typing *Bang Chan* into the system, Dr. Lee," Jisung deadpanned without looking up from his keyboard. "Because if I put 'Aussie Chris' in the official SNUH database, the Chief of Surgery will banish me to pediatrics with Dr. Seo."
"Hey!" Changbin yelled, as the heart monitor beside the bed suddenly gave a sharp, amused hitch.
Inside the quiet room, the heart monitor began to beep a little faster. The heavy eyelids of the foreign patient fluttered, slowly fighting against the weight of the anesthesia.
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