Medical Center.
Emergency room.
"What's the situation?"
Adam stepped forward with Shorty.
"Male, fifty-eight. Motor vehicle accident. Heart rate one-sixty, blood pressure eighty, weak breath sounds on both sides."
The paramedic spoke quickly.
"What is this?"
Adam frowned at the man in camouflage bent over the patient.
"I didn't do anything."
The paramedic spread his hands. "He did everything before I arrived."
"Can't you tell?"
The soldier, who was bent over the patient's neck and blowing air through a pen inserted into it, looked up at Adam.
"The ambulance hadn't arrived yet. All I had was a ballpoint pen. Don't worry, I sterilized it with ice and snow."
"Melendez, take over."
Adam instructed Shorty, then said to the proud man in camouflage, who looked like a Soldier King returning to the city, "Soldier, you can let go now."
"Major Owen Hunt, American Military, Second Frontline Surgical Team. I'm a trauma surgeon."
The man in camouflage was clearly dissatisfied with Adam calling him a soldier. He began listing his titles, eyeing Adam and Shorty as though doubting their competence. "Are you sure?"
"Before the ambulance arrived, using a ballpoint pen for intubation to save the patient in time was fine."
Adam pushed the patient toward the emergency room and glanced at him. "I would have done the same.
"But you got into the ambulance too.
"Don't tell me there wasn't even a basic bag-valve mask in there?
"You had to keep breathing for him yourself?
"Major Hunt, is that how you save people on the battlefield?
"Are you sure?"
"..."
Major Owen Hunt froze.
"Haha."
Cristina, who was waiting nearby with a group of interns for other ambulances, burst out laughing.
"Dr. Yang, help Major Hunt treat the wound on his leg."
Adam had already gone inside, but his voice carried