KIBM Ch 0

It was the moment of truth.

The man swallowed hard as the splint that had been holding his nose in place was removed.

“Did… it go well?”

Instead of answering, Bosung handed him a mirror.

Seeing his nose for the first time in a week, the man realized that all his anxiety and worry had been for nothing.

Bosung took off his latex gloves.

“You’ll be pleased.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

“It’ll look even more natural once the swelling goes down.”

The man was overwhelmed. It was the perfect nose he had always wanted.

“Doctor, thank you so much!”

His eyes, fixed on Bosung, were filled with awe.

The hands of God, as they were called. Cheon Bosung, known as the “God Cheon” of the plastic surgery world!

They said that regardless of age or gender, anyone who went under his knife felt reborn.

And this man had waited a whole six months to experience that feeling.

Indeed, patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet. The long wait had gifted him the perfect nose.

But human greed is a fickle thing.

Looking at the nose sculpted onto his face, a new desire quickly blossomed.

“Doctor…”

The man hurriedly stopped Bosung as he was about to leave.

“Could you take a look at my forehead? It’s so flat…”

Bosung lightly brushed off the man’s hand gripping his lapel and looked at the nurse.

The nurse, who had worked with Bosung for years, quickly stepped between the two.

“Sir, consultations for other areas require a separate appointment.”

“Excuse me? But you could just take a quick look…”

“We have another patient scheduled right after this.”

“Excuse me, Doctor! Just one moment…!”

Thump.

The man’s desperate voice faded beyond the closed door.

Time is money.

It is also the soul of business, and one of the most valuable things a human can spend.

Bosung valued time greatly, enough to ponder the words of various philosophers on the subject.

He couldn’t waste it frivolously or squander it on inefficient tasks.

Bosung went back to his seat.

Day had already turned to dusk.

Light poured in through the large panoramic window.

Bosung’s office basked in the beautifully reflected glow of the city’s splendor.

The most expensive piece of real estate in Cheongdam.

The royal floor of the building that stood upon it.

And among them, the room with the best view was Bosung’s office.

The reason a hired surgeon occupied a larger and better office than the director was simple.

Performance.

Bosung was the doctor who conducted the most consultations and surgeries in the hospital. He didn’t need advertising. Every patient he operated on was a walking, talking advertisement.

Knock, knock.

The person who opened the door simultaneously with the knock was the director of the plastic surgery clinic.

In other words, Kang Daeun, the owner of the hospital and the man raking in profits thanks to Bosung. As his name suggested, he was a lucky man.

Bosung stood up as if he’d been expecting him.

“What brings you here?”

With a perfunctory greeting, he slipped on his suit jacket.

“Our Cheon shouldn’t be a doctor, but an actor.”

The director chuckled and then stated his purpose.

“Free for dinner?”

“No.”

He knew that “dinner” inevitably led to drinks.

“Don’t be so stiff.”

“I have a big one tomorrow.”

A “big one” meant an important surgery, which also meant a substantial income.

“You know reputation can be tarnished by a single mistake.”

Who was the director, and who was the hired surgeon?

“I need to manage my condition.”

Waking up at 6 a.m. for morning exercise.

A light lunch and a short break.

Reading research papers and a protein-rich dinner after work.

This was Bosung’s routine for maintaining peak performance.

“You have surgery tomorrow too, Director. Surgery is also a battle of stamina. The day before surgery…”

The director hurriedly waved his hands.

“I know, I know. Okay, okay.”

“Please cut back on the drinking.”

Bosung always had to have the last word.

Knowing that, it was the director’s own fault for bringing it up. He quickly agreed and, as if escorting him, walked ahead of Bosung.

In this world where skill is money, and money is power, pride was a luxury.

“Go ahead.”

The director opened the office door and gestured for Bosung to leave first.

Bosung, as if accustomed to it, politely nodded. Buttoning his jacket, he stepped out of his office. It was an ordinary end to the workday. However,

“Are you Dr. Cheon Bosung?”

As soon as he left his office, five or six people approached him.

“You can’t do this!”

The protests of the physically imposing male nurse were useless.

Bosung raised an eyebrow, his expression displeased.

“What is this?”

One of the group, holding a camera, asked Bosung with a self-righteous look.

“Have you ever operated on a minor?”

“No.”

“They say it was without parental consent. Is that true?”

“What are you…,”

“Did you really not know she was a minor?”

Click.

Bosung grabbed the camera lens and pushed it down.

“Do you have proof?”

If they had pointed a camera at him without any evidence, he wasn’t going to let it slide.

Rustle.

The reporter pulled a piece of paper from his chest pocket as if to show him.

Bosung quickly scanned the words waving in front of him.

Boom!

It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck the clear sky.

A reputation could be tarnished by a single mistake, but it could also be sent plummeting into the abyss in an instant.