The Doctor With a Diagnosis System

CHAPTER 4: Lethal Misdiagnosis

"I told you, Mr. Han," Si Jae sighed, clearly irritated. He shoved the phone into his coat pocket. "It's severe gastric reflux. You admitted you had a massive plate of spicy pork belly and three bottles of soju for dinner, then laid flat on your back to sleep. Your EKG is totally normal. Your troponin levels are negative. You are not having a heart attack."

"It tears," the man gasped out. His voice was a strained, desperate wheeze. "Doctor, please... it feels like... something is ripping apart in my back..."

"That's just the stomach acid hitting the mucosal lining of your esophagus," Si Jae said dismissively, checking his gold wristwatch. "It causes referred pain to the back. I'll have the nurse push forty milligrams of IV pantoprazole. You'll feel better in an hour. Stop working yourself into a panic attack, it's just elevating your heart rate."

Si Jae turned on his heel and walked out of the room, not even bothering to pull the heavy wooden door completely shut behind him. He strolled past me without making eye contact, his mind already halfway to his car in the parking garage.

I stood frozen by the vending machine, my hand still holding a cold can of synthetic coffee. The man in the bed let out another sharp, agonizing hiss of pain, twisting the bedsheets in his fists. 

I knew that symptom. Tearing pain radiating to the back. Sweating. A sense of impending doom. It was textbook. But an EKG wouldn't catch it. 

Before I could take a step, a sharp, violent spike of heat flared directly behind my eyes. I dropped the coffee can. It hit the linoleum with a heavy thud, rolling away. I gripped the sides of my head as the digital, high-pitched ringing pierced my eardrums. 

The air in front of me shimmered. The translucent blue screen flared into existence, floating perfectly between me and the glass wall of Room 3.

[Target Acquired]

[Male, 52 years old]

[Condition: Ascending Aortic Dissection]

My breath hitched. Aortic dissection. A tear in the inner layer of the aorta, the body's main and largest blood vessel branching off the heart. The blood was currently pumping under massive pressure, ripping the layers of the artery apart from the inside. It mimicked heartburn. It hid perfectly on a standard EKG. But inside his chest, a ticking time bomb was expanding. If that artery burst, he would bleed to death internally in less than sixty seconds. 

The screen shifted, typing out new lines with terrifying speed. 

[Misdiagnosis Risk: Critical. Administration of antacids will result in fatal hemorrhage.]

[Death Probability: 100% upon rupture.]

Then, the timer appeared. A bright, glaring crimson red that pulsed in rhythm with the man's failing heartbeat.

[Time Remaining: 00:14:00]

Fourteen minutes. 

I looked down at my chest. No badge. Only a faded gray hoodie. I was suspended. I had been explicitly threatened with arrest by the highest-ranking resident in the hospital. If I walked into that room, if I touched that patient, Kang wouldn't just fire me. He would ensure my medical license was permanently revoked, and he would throw me in a jail cell for unauthorized practice of medicine. 

Just walk away, Ryeong Bin, a voice screamed in my head. It's not your patient. It's not your problem. You're off the clock. You're done.

I took a step toward the exit. The sliding glass doors leading to the street were less than fifty feet away. The cold, crisp, uncomplicated air of the outside world was waiting for me. I could just leave. The System couldn't force me to move my legs. 

Groaaaan.

The jagged, desperate sound echoed through the crack in the wooden door. 

I stopped. I looked back at the screen hovering in the air. 

[Time Remaining: 00:09:45]

My stomach dropped into my shoes. The timer wasn't ticking in real-time. It was dropping in massive chunks. The tear in his aorta was expanding faster than the System initially calculated. The sheer pressure of his panic was spiking his blood pressure, accelerating his own death. 

I dropped my duffel bag. The heavy canvas hit the floor with a loud slap. 

I cursed Si Jae's arrogance. I cursed Kang Min-Jae's rigid, unfeeling hierarchy. But most of all, I cursed whatever this System was for forcing me to see the invisible reaper standing over that bed, sharpening its scythe. It was a curse wrapped in a miracle. It wouldn't let me be ignorant. It wouldn't let me look away.

I sprinted toward the nurses' station down the hall. It was completely empty; the night shift was chronically understaffed, the nurses likely tied up in the ER after the trauma pileup. Sitting against the back wall, plugged into an outlet, was a bright red, fully stocked crash cart. 

I grabbed the heavy metal handle. I didn't care about the noise. I ripped the plug from the wall and shoved the cart down the hallway, the heavy rubber wheels squeaking violently against the polished linoleum. 

[Time Remaining: 00:01:30]

"Hey!" a nurse shouted from a side corridor, holding a tray of medications—likely the antacids Si Jae ordered. "What are you doing? You can't take that!"

I ignored her. I lowered my shoulder and sprinted faster. 

[Time Remaining: 00:00:10]

[Warning: Aortic Rupture Imminent]

I reached Observation Room 3. I didn't slow down. I hit the heavy wooden door with my shoulder, bursting inside the room with the crash cart just as the man on the bed let out a final, breathless gasp. 

His back arched off the mattress. His eyes rolled entirely back into his skull, showing only the stark, terrifying whites. 

The heart monitor beside his bed stopped its erratic beeping. 

A single, continuous, piercing wail filled the room as the green line on the screen went perfectly, horrifyingly flat.