The Dog-Chopper's Cold Gaze
While Dajeong and her classmates stood frozen in shock, the man swiftly scanned their IDs.
OB/GYN resident Shin Yumi. Emergency Medicine resident Lee Suhui.
And the one who had dared to say “Gaejakdu” out loud—the most grating of them all, pediatric resident Yu Dajeong.
“Ha.”
Of all people, the three money-bleeding deficit departments of Seohan Hospital were gathered right here.
It left him utterly speechless. Taekyung let out a dry, incredulous laugh.
The financial statements of Seohan Hospital, briefed to him the moment he was appointed foundation CEO, had been pathetic line after line. Crowned by those glaring scarlet negative numbers.
A deficit so severe it made one wonder how the organization had even managed to function.
The memory of him roaring that if those crimson figures had been stocks, they could have funded the reunification of the Koreas and still had change left over now flickered across the clear, innocent face of Yu Dajeong sitting before him.
And yet. The very culprits of the deficit dared to badmouth their CEO?
The man who had come to save their sinking hospital.
“I-I’m s-sorry. That was—”
“Coffee.”
As if her struggling apology hadn’t even registered, Taekyung turned his icy gaze on the café owner.
“It was good.”
With that, he dumped the coffee Dajeong had taken a single sip of into the trash can and turned on his heel.
In an instant the man strode far away.
“Whoa… we got caught red-handed.”
“I can’t breathe. Wow. What kind of person even is that?”
Amid her classmates whining about being marked by the CEO, Dajeong quietly pressed a hand over her still-pounding chest.
That low voice that had rung in her ears and the deep, clear residual vibration still clung thickly to her back.
“Whew, that was intense. Like walking on thin ice. Are you doctors all right?”
The café owner gave a bitter smile as he set their three coffees on the pickup counter.
“That CEO guy is way scarier than he looks on the news. Freezing cold, that man.”
“I know… We’re doomed now.”
Buzz. In the middle of their grave conversation a vibration went off. All three looked down at the smartwatches on their wrists.
“That’s mine. Gotta go first.”
“Huh? Me too. It’s the residents’ lounge?”
The pages had come for Dajeong, the chief resident among the three, and Lee Suhui. The two grabbed their coffees and hurried out of the café.
“…Still. He could’ve at least pretended to accept the apology.”
Inside the elevator heading to the residents’ lounge, Lee Suhui muttered as she replayed the disastrous encounter with Jang Taekyung.
Exactly. Dajeong even felt a little wronged. She had only been listening quietly and then blurted out one single line at the worst possible timing.
He was the kind of man who could freeze someone solid with just a glance. As if her soul had been briefly captured.
He was clearly a captivating person where overwhelming presence and elegant aloofness coexisted.
That handsome face of his had tilted slightly and he had laughed with a soft, breathy sound.
Somehow, this afterimage was going to linger for a long time.
“Dajeong, what do we do now? You think he’ll give us some kind of disadvantage?”
“Nothing we can do. We’ll just have to stay as invisible as possible.”
“Aargh! My big mouth!”
Lee Suhui, who had been clutching her head in frustration, suddenly lit up.
“But wait—why is Gaejakdu that hot? He’s way too good-looking!”
It was pitiful that her friend still hadn’t come to her senses, but it wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Yeah. If we’re gonna get chopped, better by a handsome guillotine.”
Lee Suhui kept spouting nonsense right to the end.
Hanju Foundation CEO’s Office.
“Pull up the residents’ résumés.”
CEO Jang Taekyung
The moment he sat at the desk with its gleaming new nameplate, Taekyung ordered his secretary.
“Yes, sir.”
Remembering the little ruckus at the café earlier, Secretary Kim discreetly sent a few résumés to his tablet.
Yu Dajeong. Resident. Chief of Pediatrics.
Special notes: From the orphanage under the Hanju Foundation. Graduated medical school on a full scholarship from the Hanju Foundation.
She had the harmless look of a herbivore—rabbit or deer type.
Well, objectively pretty, but looks didn’t necessarily correlate with work performance.
Rather, he felt a different kind of anticipation. Soon he would probably get to see that clear face crumple into a mess as she bawled her eyes out.
Now that he was here, there would be no leisure to sip coffee and badmouth the CEO.
As Taekyung stared hard at the pure face and history, his brow furrowed slightly.
“A scholarship student from the Hanju Foundation orphanage.”
Raised her practically on our family’s money and made her a doctor, and she goes around trash-talking the CEO.
Quite the bold and cheeky woman.
That was as far as the reflection went. He had confirmed who she was—that was enough.
Turning off the tablet, Taekyung opened a drawer and took out a wristwatch.
Click. He unfastened the multimillion-won watch he was wearing and put on another that would easily cost two or three times more.
“Shall we head straight to the breakfast meeting with the Vice Minister of Health and Welfare?”
As he looped a limited-edition necktie crafted by an Italian artisan into a Windsor knot and smoothed his hair, the secretary asked.
“Let’s go. Time to humble those annoying old fogeys.”
The pretext for the breakfast meeting was to celebrate Taekyung’s appointment, but the real motive was obvious.
If they had truly wanted to congratulate him, they would have invited only Taekyung. What other reason to gather all the foundation CEOs of the BIG 5 hospitals?
Breaking in the newbie. Cutting him down to size. Testing how much of an idiot Jang Taekyung—who didn’t know the first thing about hospitals—really was.
He had no intention of playing along with the old men’s games.
Taekyung strode out of the CEO’s office on his long legs.
Even in that short walk to the car waiting on the first floor, he issued several orders, approved some, and rejected others.
Such was the life of Jang Taekyung, the crown prince of Hanju Group. A world composed of nothing but perfect results—no half measures, no “good enough.”
Even if right now he was stuck with this hopeless headache of a Seohan Hospital.
Thanks to you, Hanju Construction that the eldest had ruined is back from the dead. That’s our Jang Taekyung for you.
One day his father, Chairman Jang Pilseung, had summoned him, dangling the carrot of praise to open, then handed him the ultimate ticking time bomb.
There’s no one more suitable than you, Taekyung. The future of our Hanju now depends on Seohan Hospital.
Turn the newly acquired money-losing general hospital into Hanju’s endless cash cow.
That was the absurd order Chairman Jang Pilseung had given him.
If you pull that off, I can retire in peace and miss your mother who went to heaven first to my heart’s content.
It was a threat that he would only hand over the chairman’s seat if he succeeded.
Well, if you can’t, then that’s that. If Jang Taekyung can’t do it, no one can. Right?
Even stroking his competitive spirit. His own father had looked downright vicious in that moment.
But what choice was there. Before he was a father, he was the head of the group. If the chairman said jump, you jumped.
Of course he would succeed this time too.
And so Taekyung had accepted this ambiguous post that was neither quite a demotion nor not.
Ding. The moment he settled into the back seat of the sedan, his phone rang. Taekyung scanned the screen with bored eyes.
“Fuck. They’re having a blast.”
Running the hospital so full of holes and still in the mood to swing golf clubs.
Not worth a reply. Turning off the phone screen, Taekyung sank deep into the leather seat and closed his eyes.
“Tomorrow’s my inauguration ceremony?”
“Yes, sir. Scheduled for thirty minutes starting at 1 p.m.”
“Cancel it.”
He heard the secretary in the passenger seat turn with a startled face. Taekyung’s closed eyes narrowed sharply.
“Prepare a report for the Chairman instead. A report that we’re launching the project in earnest.”
Forget the inauguration. He needed to show them properly. What Jang Taekyung’s way was.
He was the man who had grabbed the nearly decade-long money-losing Hanju Construction by the scruff and turned it profitable in a year.
The word “failure” had no place on Jang Taekyung’s path.
Why would a hospital be any different? The principle of making an organization profitable was the same everywhere.
“First, short-term goal: enter the BIG 3 within six months.”
Fifth out of five. Embarrassing.
“We’ll step on them one by one.”
Yeah. At least there was the fun of climbing up from the bottom. Taekyung’s thoroughly crumpled brow finally began to ease a little.
Seohan Hospital was going to be quite the challenging stage.
Pediatrics Residents’ Lounge.
“Cup ramen? Is there one for me too?”
“Yes. And little kimchi too.”
After ten hours of assisting in surgery, Dajeong was captivated the moment she entered the room by the appetite-stimulating spicy scent.
“You’ve got good sense.”
“I know all of your preferences by now, noona.”
Dajeong’s direct junior, second-year resident Kang Jiho, was overflowing with aegyo in everything.
“I even opened the chopsticks ahead of time.”
“Thanks. Looks delicious.”
Just as she lifted a big bunch of noodles with wooden chopsticks and was about to blow on them—
The announcement of a cardiac arrest patient blared. And in the neonatal intensive care unit, no less.
“……!”
Kang Jiho discreetly covered the ramen lid. Dajeong shot to her feet and dashed out of the lounge.