It was a five-minute drive to the accident site.
The car slammed on the brakes and came to a stop on the riverside embankment.
The moment the doors opened, Taeho and Jo Hyeongjun jumped out with the emergency kit. A dozen or so residents stood in a circle on the wet sand, and inside it, three middle school students in soaked clothes lay side by side.
“Uncle Taeho!”
Minsu came running over, his face deathly pale.
“Yeah, Minsu. What about 119?”
“I called them! They said they’re on their way.”
“How long were the kids in the water?”
“About ten minutes. I’m not sure exactly.”
“Good. Keep timing it for me. From now on, you’re the timer.”
“Yes!”
Minsu nervously took out his phone.
Taeho quickly examined the three children with Bio-Vision.
The child on the far right had a faint bluish-purple chill spreading across his lips and fingertips. A pale blue wave rose and fell at regular intervals over his rib cage. He was cyanotic, but his respiratory waveform was regular. The golden threads extending from his heart maintained a weak but steady rhythm.
The light at the center of the middle child’s chest, where the heart lay, had gone out completely. The lungs were blurred all over, as though submerged in gray mist. The fine strands of light representing airflow had stopped, and the golden threads flowing along the pulse had also been severed. He was clearly not breathing. The light of blood flow toward the brain was also fading rapidly.
The child on the left had vivid red bands wrapped around the front and sides of his neck, while a compressed shadow hung around the trachea. Murky water-colored stains rippled across the lower lobes of both lungs. The waveform over his rib cage was broken and erratic. Signs of airway compression and aspiration were revealed in the light. Even so, the lifeline at the center of his chest, though irregular, had not yet been severed.
To the naked eye, the child on the right appeared to be in the greatest danger, but was actually in the safest condition. The seemingly most ordinary child in the middle was standing at the threshold between life and death.
“Dr. Jo, start from the left.”
Taeho lightly caught Jo Hyeongjun, who was heading toward the right, and turned him around.
“The child on the right has more severe cyanosis.”
“His breathing and pulse are still present. The child on the left has signs of compression around the neck. Secure his airway first.”
A sharp glint flashed in Jo Hyeongjun’s eyes.
Only then did he notice the obvious signs of airway compression, just as Taeho had said.
He quickly supported the left child’s head with both hands.
“I’ll immobilize the cervical spine. I’ll use a jaw thrust, not a chin lift.”
“Good.”
Taeho hurriedly knelt beside the child in the middle.
He quickly checked the airway, pupillary reflex, and pulse. There was neither reflex nor pulse.
“Minsu, I’m going to start CPR. Check every two minutes.”
“Yes, Uncle!”
Taeho’s two hands found the exact center of the chest.
The depth was one-third of the thorax, and the speed was one hundred compressions per minute.
The regular sound of compressions rang out across the sand.
“One, two, three…”
Minsu began counting in a trembling voice.
On the left, Jo Hyeongjun cleared the secretions from the child’s airway, secured it with a jaw thrust, and fitted a mask over his face.
“Starting assisted ventilation.”
The child’s chest began to move shallowly but regularly. Jo Hyeongjun adjusted his position slightly so the secretions would not pool again.
After confirming this, Taeho spoke to the villagers standing nearby.
“Take off the wet clothes of the child on the right and raise his body temperature first. Don’t rub his arms or legs. Cold blood could be driven toward the heart.”
“Yes, Doctor. Come on, let’s move.”
The villagers found blankets and dry towels and wrapped them around the child, focusing on his torso.
“Uncle! Two minutes!”
Minsu shouted.
Taeho stopped compressions and quickly checked the carotid artery. There was still no pulse.
“I’ll keep going. Start timing again!”
“Yes, Uncle!”
After finishing treatment on the child to the left, Jo Hyeongjun came over to the middle.
“Director, I’ll help with artificial respiration. Let’s do fifteen to two.”
“Good. Start.”
Fifteen compressions, two breaths from Jo Hyeongjun, then fifteen more compressions.
It was perfect teamwork.
Taeho’s hands continued the compressions with unwavering precision. Jo Hyeongjun checked the rise of the chest with every breath.
“Eight minutes!”
Minsu shouted for the fourth time.
Taeho checked the pulse again.
Still nothing.
‘Fluid has filled the alveoli, so gas exchange isn’t working. Even so, the brain can only hold out if we get oxygen in and restore blood flow.’
“Keep going!”
The child on the left twisted slightly, coughing and gagging. Jo Hyeongjun reflexively pressed down on his shoulder to stabilize his neck and said,
“Good. The breaths are going in. We’ll wait for him to expel it naturally.”
Color slowly began to return to the child’s lips.
The child on the right, wrapped tightly in blankets by the villagers, trembled and mumbled with quivering lips.
“Co… cold.”
“His consciousness is returning. Keep warming him.”
“Yes!”
While giving instructions to the villagers, Taeho never stopped the chest compressions.
“Twelve minutes!”
Taeho checked the pulse again.
Damn it…
There was still nothing.
“I’ll take over, Director,” Jo Hyeongjun said.
“No. My hands have memorized the rhythm. You keep providing artificial respiration.”
Jo Hyeongjun nodded. Two breaths entered with the proper volume, and the child’s chest rose and fell to the same height each time.
“Fifteen minutes! Jintae…”
Minsu cried out tearfully.
They were effectively at the borderline of a poor prognosis.
All eyes gathered on Taeho’s hands.
Taeho briefly closed and opened his eyes, maintaining the rhythm without the slightest wavering.
“Sixteen minutes!”
Covered in sweat, Taeho felt for the child’s carotid artery again.
He concentrated every sensitive nerve in his fingertips.
A faint elasticity—barely perceptible.
“Wait. I feel a weak pulse. Dr. Jo, slow down the artificial respiration. Be careful not to hyperventilate.”
At those words, Jo Hyeongjun lengthened the interval between breaths.
“What are we supposed to do now? Looks like it’s too late!”
“Oh, dear. What are we going to do with that child?”
The villagers clicked their tongues in pity.
Minsu wiped away the tears falling one after another with his elbow and asked,
“Uncle, what do we do about Jintae?”
“Wait. We’re not sure yet.”
Taeho checked the pulse, skin color, and breathing pattern in succession.
“It’s weak, but the pulse is holding. Dr. Jo, make sure the child’s body temperature doesn’t drop.”
Jo Hyeongjun quickly brought another blanket and covered Gu Jintae’s body.
“Director, you’re going to keep going, right?”
“It’s not over yet. His body is still warm, and his pupillary reflex hasn’t disappeared completely.”
Above all, the electrical activity of the brain cells he had seen through Bio-Vision was still faintly present.
The hope was slim, but it existed.
“Let’s hold on a little longer.”
Jo Hyeongjun stared at Taeho’s hands.
For more than fifteen minutes, the depth and speed of the compressions had not wavered even slightly. Those were not hands pressing down through sheer strength, but hands saving a life through rhythm.
‘He should be exhausted by now… I’ve never seen such persistence.’
Around the eighteen-minute mark—
“Cough!”
Water poured from Gu Jintae’s mouth.
Then came a very weak cough.
“Wow…”
A cheer was about to erupt among the residents when Taeho calmly restrained them.
“He’s not out of danger yet. Turn him into the recovery position and clear the water first.”
He supported the child’s shoulder and pelvis and turned him onto his side, then gently pushed his chin forward to keep the airway open. More foamy water trickled out, and his chest rose and fell shallowly.
Through Bio-Vision, Taeho could see the fluid in the child’s lungs slowly draining as well.
“Uh… Mom…”
The child mumbled in a thin voice.
Taeho gently enclosed the back of the child’s hand in his own and met his eyes.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now. You were scared, weren’t you?”
At that moment, Jo Hyeongjun felt his chest grow hot.
Those hands that had refused to give up for eighteen minutes.
And the warm smile he offered the instant the child woke.
It was a scene that showed what Gang Taeho had endured so fiercely for.
The sirens of an ambulance were drawing closer in the distance.
The child on the right, having fully regained consciousness, asked with trembling lips,
“I… what happened?”
“You fell into the water, but you were rescued right away. You’re okay now. Once the hospital examines you, you’ll be able to go home.”
Jo Hyeongjun’s voice was gentler than before.
Two ambulances arrived.
Taeho gave a concise and accurate handoff.
“The child in blue has a secured airway, but cervical spine injury is suspected. The child in black pants has hypothermia, but is conscious and being warmed. This child regained spontaneous circulation after eighteen minutes of CPR. There’s a risk of cerebral and pulmonary edema, so he needs twenty-four hours of observation in the intensive care unit.”
After checking Gu Jintae’s condition again, Taeho asked the paramedic,
“Can you request a helicopter ambulance? This child needs a neurosurgical intensive care unit.”
“Please wait a moment.”
The paramedic picked up his radio and began communicating. A short while later, he shook his head.
“I’m sorry. Both helicopter ambulances are currently dispatched to another major accident. We’ll have to transport him by road.”
Taeho’s expression hardened.
The nearest university hospital was at least an hour and a half away by ambulance. They would have to take the mountain roads, with numerous tunnel sections that would limit emergency treatment.
Taeho examined the middle child again through Bio-Vision. Spontaneous circulation had returned, but his condition was still unstable. Signs of rising intracranial pressure were beginning to appear as well.
“Dr. Jo, I think we’ll need continuous monitoring during transport. Can you ride with me?”
“Of course.”
The paramedic brightened.
“It would be a tremendous help if the doctors could come along. It’s difficult to respond to changes in the patient’s condition during transport.”
The stretchers began to move. Low sighs and prayers passed among the residents gathered around them.
“I hope the little ones make it home safe…”
“Still, it’s a blessing the doctors got here so quickly.”
Minsu’s face was red from crying. Taeho put an arm around his shoulder and said,
“Because you kept track of the time and told me, the rhythm never broke. You did a really good job, Minsu. Don’t worry about your friends. Go stay with your mother, okay?”
“Yes… Uncle.”
Minsu knew what kind of person Gang Taeho was.
Because he was Uncle Taeho, Jintae would be all right.
If he went to stay beside his mother, Jintae would come back smiling.
He believed it.
Because it was Uncle Taeho—and no one else.
Jo Hyeongjun stood still for a moment and looked back over what had happened.
The child on the right, who had appeared the most serious, had actually been the safest. The child in the middle, who had looked the most ordinary, had been in the greatest danger.
Gang Taeho had seen it at a glance.
And he had never given up until the end.
‘How did he recognize it so quickly?’
Gu Jintae’s chest rose and fell on its own, shallowly but unmistakably, on the stretcher.
The other two children would be taken to a nearby hospital, while Gu Jintae would be transported to the university hospital.
When the stretcher was loaded into the ambulance, Taeho sat beside Gu Jintae.
The ambulance set off.
Inside the ambulance racing along the narrow mountain road, Taeho and Jo Hyeongjun took turns checking the child’s condition.
About fifteen minutes after the ambulance departed, the vehicle began to shake violently as it climbed and descended the narrow mountain road.
“His blood pressure is dropping to ninety over fifty!”
The paramedic reported.
Taeho quickly checked Gu Jintae’s condition.
Through Bio-Vision, he saw that the intracranial pressure was gradually rising. Pulmonary edema was also worsening again.
“Dr. Jo, raise his head about thirty degrees. I’m seeing signs of increased intracranial pressure.”
Jo Hyeongjun supported the child’s head and raised it. But every time the ambulance rounded a curve, the child’s body tilted, making it difficult to maintain the position.
Taeho said,
“I think we need to suction the airway. Foam is building up again.”
The paramedic handed the portable suction device to Jo Hyeongjun beside him, but accurate suction was difficult with the ambulance shaking.
It was because of the winding country road.
“Wait. I’ll do it.”
Taeho fixed the child’s head with one hand and manipulated the suction catheter with the other. Even when the vehicle shook violently, his hand did not tremble at all.
Watching him, Jo Hyeongjun was filled with admiration.
‘How much concentration does it take to have that kind of steadiness?’