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After that, the Martial Assembly became mind-numbingly busy.
This was how all epoch-changing 'events' played out, anyway—rather than the actual event itself, the clean-up afterward was usually much harder to deal with. And the ripples from last night's battles had left behind a much bigger impact than Lee Hyeon-Su had anticipated. The number of injured people was figuratively uncountable, while scores had died.
Obviously the aftermath wouldn't be straightforward at all. And the responsibility of handling all this mess was naturally dumped on the shoulders of one poor man.
“I bloody knew it! Why don't you just freaking shoot me or something!”
Lee Hyeon-Su was already regretting his life decisions while glaring at the mountain of paperwork sitting pretty right before his eyes. Why did they have to go and start this whole damn thing? When it was plainly obvious that he'd have to deal with the aftermath!
“Sir! They say they don't have enough hospital beds!”
“What the f*ck!” Lee Hyeon-Su roared at his subordinate. “Haven't I told you to find more hospital beds already?! Are you telling me you still haven't found any yet?!”
“But, sir! We've already called up every hospital we have connections with. Sending the injured to unaffiliated regular hospitals will only get the police involved!”
“Fine! What about doctors, then? Can't we just call some doctors and have them look at the injured? Shouldn't that be enough?”
“Please calm down, branch director! Sir, them being martial artists is the only thing keeping them alive. Without their stubborn cockroach-like lifeforce, they would all be dead by now.”
“Argh...!” Lee Hyeon-Su rubbed his face...
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