The Doctor With a Diagnosis System

CHAPTER 8: Citizen's Arrest

I reached directly into his chest. The heat of his internal organs radiated against my bare, blood-soaked hands. I pinched the tough, leathery tissue of the pericardial sac with my fingers and made a sharp, vertical slice with the blade. 

The sac split open. 

A massive, sickening rush of dark red blood and thick, gelatinous clots poured out of the incision, overflowing the chest cavity and spilling off the side of the mattress onto my pants and shoes. 

But as the blood cleared, I saw it. 

His heart. 

It was pale, shivering, and barely moving. The muscle was practically fibrillating, exhausted from trying to beat against the incredible pressure of the trapped blood. 

Above the heart, branching upward, was the ascending aorta. It was a thick, pale tube, and halfway up, I saw the tear. It was a jagged, two-inch rupture. Bright red, highly oxygenated blood was rhythmically pulsing out of the tear every time his heart managed a pathetic twitch. 

[Target Identified: Aortic Rupture]

I threw the scalpel aside. "I need a vascular clamp! Biggest one on the tray! And heavy silk ties!"

Mi-Sun fumbled blindly through the sterile packs on the cart, her hands slick with sweat. She shoved a heavy, curved metal clamp into my hand. 

I plunged both of my hands into the open chest cavity. 

The blood was incredibly slippery. My fingers slid over the wet, pulsing surface of the heart muscle. I dug my fingers behind the ascending aorta, separating it from the pulmonary artery with blunt force. I could feel the heat, the slickness of the fat, the terrifying fragility of the tissue Daewon had warned me about. 

"Come on," I muttered through gritted teeth. 

I slid the heavy metal clamp onto the aorta, positioning the jaws just below the jagged tear, effectively cutting off the blood flow to the rupture. I squeezed the handles together until the ratchet locked.

Instantly, the pulsing fountain of bright red blood stopped. 

[Bleeding Halted]

[Patient Stabilized]

"Epi is circulating!" Mi-Sun shouted, her voice jumping an octave in pure shock. 

Inside the chest cavity, right between my hands, Mr. Han’s heart suddenly shuddered. 

Freed from the crushing pressure, and fueled by the adrenaline Mi-Sun had injected, the pale muscle contracted. A strong, singular beat. 

Then another. 

And another. 

On the wall behind the bed, the heart monitor picked up the signal. 

Beep... Beep... Beep...

The green line formed distinct, sharp peaks. The rhythm was fast and panicked, but it was real. 

"Blood pressure is coming back," Mi-Sun whispered, staring at the digital numbers climbing on the screen. "Sixty over forty. Seventy over fifty. He has a pulse. God in heaven, Intern Ryeong, he has a pulse."

I let out a ragged, shuddering breath. My arms were buried up to the wrists inside a man's chest. My grey hoodie was soaked in dark red gore. The floor looked like a slaughterhouse. 

But he was alive. 

[Mission Success: Patient Survives]

[Skill - Master Surgeon's Hands: Deactivated]

The cold, mechanical calm in my mind abruptly vanished, replaced instantly by the crushing weight of reality. My hands began to shake uncontrollably again. The physical exhaustion hit me like a freight train, nearly dropping me to my knees. The coppery smell of the blood suddenly made my stomach violently heave. 

"We stopped the bleeding," I gasped, fighting the urge to throw up. "But the clamp is cutting off blood flow to his upper body and brain. He has maybe twenty minutes before the brain damage is permanent. We have to get him to an OR and put him on a cardiopulmonary bypass machine so a surgeon can graft the aorta."

"Daewon won't do it!" Mi-Sun cried. "He abandoned the patient!"

"I don't care," I snarled, grabbing the metal railing of the bed with my bloody hands. "Unlock the wheels! We're crashing Operating Room 1. They have the bypass machines prepped for emergencies."

Mi-Sun didn't argue. She kicked the brake levers up. She kept one hand on the oxygen bag, squeezing rhythmically, and used her other hand to push the IV pole. 

I threw my weight against the foot of the bed. It was incredibly heavy, the wheels catching on the shattered glass of the medication vials I had dropped earlier. I shoved it forward, bursting out of the observation room and into the dim, quiet hallway of the step-down ward. 

"Out of the way!" I roared at a passing orderly, who took one look at the gaping, bloody hole in Mr. Han’s chest and plastered himself against the wall in sheer terror. 

My sneakers slipped on the polished linoleum, leaving a trail of bloody footprints. My chest heaved, my lungs burning for oxygen. We reached the double doors leading to the main surgical corridor. I slammed the bed against the metal push-plates, bursting through. 

"OR 1 is at the end of the hall!" Mi-Sun shouted, sprinting alongside me, pumping the bag. 

We were fifty feet away. Forty feet. Thirty feet. 

Suddenly, the heavy steel doors of the main staff elevator slid open with a soft, electronic chime. 

Stepping out into the surgical corridor was Dr. Kang Min-Jae. 

He was still in his pristine white coat. But he wasn't alone. Flanking him were three massive hospital security guards in dark uniforms, their radios crackling softly. Behind them stood Dr. Si Jae, looking pale, terrified, and incredibly smug. 

Kang stopped dead in the center of the hallway. 

His pitch-black eyes locked onto me. He took in the terrifying sight: a suspended intern in street clothes, soaked from the chest down in fresh arterial blood, pushing a bed with a patient whose chest had been brutally cracked open with trauma shears. 

The cart squeaked to a violent halt. 

"Intern Ryeong Bin," Kang Min-Jae said. His voice echoed down the sterile hallway, perfectly calm, utterly devoid of mercy. "You are under citizen's arrest for the attempted murder of a patient." 

He gestured to the guards. "Restrain him."