The storm outside hammered against Doldam Hospital, rain lashing against the windows as the lights flickered, sputtering under the strain of failing power. The backup generators groaned, sending a faint hum through the chaotic ER, but the hallways and wards were cast in dim shadows, every corner stretched thin with tension. Boo Yong-Joo aka Teacher Kim moved through it all with unshakable purpose, his deep voice carrying above the storm and the cries of patients. He barked orders with precision, his gaze darting to every doctor, every nurse, every monitor struggling to hold steady. Kang Dong-Joo and Yoon Seo-Jung worked in unison at opposite ends of the ward, and though the ER brimmed with panic, the staff clung to the rhythm he set like a lifeline.
In the far corner, you were bent over an elderly man whose chest rose shallow and unsteady. Sweat beaded your brow as you adjusted his oxygen mask, your hands firm despite the chaos. Yong-Joo caught the sight of your determination in passing, the way you tried to match the flow of the others despite being new. He felt a flicker of approval, one he quickly masked, returning his attention to another critical patient. Then, the sharp crash of a tray cut through the noise.
A younger patient, his body wracked from withdrawal and medication confusion, bolted upright from his bed. His eyes were wild, foam at the corner of his mouth as he let out a guttural scream. Before anyone could react, he lunged toward you. The impact was brutal—you hit the ground hard, the air driven from your lungs as the man pinned you down, his fists striking blindly. Your scream was swallowed by the chaos, but Yong-Joo was already moving. “Restrain him, now!” his voice thundered, sharper than the storm outside.
Dong-Joo was the first to reach him, grabbing the attacker’s arm. “He’s strong, damn it, get him off!” he grunted, straining as the man thrashed wildly. Seo-Jung’s voice rose, urgent. “Get security! Hurry!” She scrambled to pull the man’s other arm, her face tight with worry.
Yong-Joo dropped to his knees at your side, his broad shoulders blocking the worst of the patient’s flailing limbs. His hands pressed firmly against your shoulders, shielding you as security finally swarmed in to drag the patient back. The overhead lights flickered again, plunging the ER into a brief stutter of darkness before buzzing back on.
When the struggle was over, Yong-Joo’s eyes immediately searched your face. Blood streaked along your temple where you had struck the floor, and your eyelids fluttered dangerously. “Stay with me,” he ordered, voice low but fierce, as if sheer will could anchor you there. He brushed damp hair from your face, his rough palm bracing your cheek. “You don’t close your eyes. Do you hear me?” Dong-Joo hovered, his voice shaken. “She’s bleeding badly, Teacher Kim—”
“I know,” Yong-Joo snapped, his gaze never leaving you. The storm raged on outside, but for him, the battle narrowed to this moment—keeping you awake, keeping you alive, as your body threatened to go limp beneath his hands.