Dr. Romantic Explained : Korean Insider Guide to the Legendary Medical K-Drama

Table of Contents

Why “Dr. Romantic” Still Owns Korean Medical Drama Hearts In 2025

In Korea, when people talk about medical dramas, the first title that almost automatically comes up is Dr. Romantic (낭만닥터 김사부). Since Season 1 first aired on SBS in November 2016, this series has quietly but firmly become the “standard” against which every new hospital drama is measured. By the time Dr. Romantic 3 ended in June 2023, it had already become more than just a show; it turned into a cultural shorthand. In Korean everyday conversation, you’ll hear people say things like, “We really need a Kim Sabu in this hospital,” or “That professor is totally like Do Yoon-wan, scary.” That’s how deeply Dr. Romantic has entered Korean social vocabulary.

From a Korean viewer’s perspective, Dr. Romantic matters because it captures something very specific about our medical reality: the clash between “romantic” idealism and the brutal, numbers-driven hospital system. The word “romantic” in the Korean title doesn’t mean lovey-dovey; it means living by conviction and principle, even when it’s impractical or costly. This is why the character Kim Sabu (played by Han Suk-kyu) resonates so strongly. He is the kind of doctor Koreans wish existed more often in real life: fiercely skilled, but even more fiercely ethical.

The series’ ratings prove its impact. Dr. Romantic 1 peaked at 27.6% nationwide according to Nielsen Korea, Dr. Romantic 2 hit 27.1%, and Dr. Romantic 3 still pulled an impressive 16.8% at its highest, despite the saturated K-drama landscape and streaming competition. For a terrestrial channel drama in the late 2010s and early 2020s, these numbers are enormous. In Korea, anything over 20% is considered a national drama.

Globally, the show has steadily built a reputation through platforms like Disney+ and Viki. But what many overseas fans don’t fully see is how often this drama gets referenced in Korean medical debates, online forums, and even in real doctors’ interviews. Korean medical students on community sites like DC Inside or local cafes regularly discuss Kim Sabu’s decisions as if they were real case studies: “In Episode X, was that treatment protocol realistic?” or “Would a trauma center like Doldam ever be allowed in Korea?”

In 2025, with constant rumors of a possible Dr. Romantic 4 still circulating in Korean entertainment news and fan communities, the series continues to be rewatched, memed, and analyzed. Understanding Dr. Romantic is not just about knowing a popular K-drama; it’s about understanding how Koreans dream about a better medical system, and what we fear about the one we actually have.

Core Reasons “Dr. Romantic” Became A Modern Korean Classic

Multi-season medical universe
Dr. Romantic is one of the rare Korean medical dramas that successfully expanded into a three-season universe (2016, 2020, 2023) with consistent worldbuilding centered on Doldam Hospital and Kim Sabu’s philosophy.
Ratings and public trust
Season 1 and 2 both broke the 20% viewership barrier on free-to-air TV, a sign that the general Korean public—not just drama fans—trusted and related to the show’s portrayal of doctors and hospitals.
Ethical conflict as main engine
Instead of relying only on love triangles, Dr. Romantic built tension around medical ethics vs. hospital politics, mirroring real Korean debates about profit-driven healthcare and university hospital hierarchies.
Iconic mentor figure
Kim Sabu became an archetype of the ideal senior doctor in Korea: blunt, eccentric, but absolutely committed to patients and to training juniors with tough love.
Realistic emergency medicine portrayal
Korean viewers often praise Dr. Romantic for its detailed trauma cases, realistic ER chaos, and accurate use of medical terminology, helped by medical advisors and careful research.
Rotating generations of doctors
From Kang Dong-joo and Yoon Seo-jung (Season 1) to Seo Woo-jin and Cha Eun-jae (Season 2 and 3), the drama shows how different generations of Korean doctors face the same systemic pressures.
Social commentary through Doldam Hospital
The small, rural Doldam Hospital functions as a “what if” space, where the show imagines a medical environment less controlled by money, prestige, and politics.
Ongoing relevance and rewatch value
With frequent reruns on Korean cable, strong streaming presence, and constant online discussion, Dr. Romantic continues to attract new viewers and medical students years after its initial broadcast.

From Tertiary Hospitals To Doldam: The Korean Context Behind “Dr. Romantic”

To really understand Dr. Romantic, you need to know how Korean hospitals and medical culture work. The drama’s core conflict is between big Seoul university hospitals and a small rural trauma center, and this mirrors a real structural problem in Korea.

In reality, Korea has a strong concentration of top hospitals—like Seoul National University Hospital, Asan Medical Center, and Samsung Medical Center—in the capital area. University hospitals are seen as the peak of prestige. Young doctors compete fiercely to get into these institutions, because their entire career trajectory—from academic titles to income—can depend on it. In this context, the idea of a genius surgeon voluntarily “escaping” to a small countryside hospital, like Kim Sabu does, is almost unthinkable in real life. That’s exactly why Koreans find his story both romantic and subversive.

In Season 1, Dr. Romantic shows Geodae Hospital (a fictional tertiary hospital) as a symbol of this prestige-obsessed system. Characters like Do Yoon-wan represent the administrative power that prioritizes VIP patients, hospital rankings, and profitable departments over emergency care. For Korean viewers, this is uncomfortably familiar. We often hear news about hospitals competing for high-profit surgeries while emergency rooms are overloaded and understaffed.

Doldam Hospital, the main setting, is modeled after a regional trauma center. Since the late 2000s, Korea has been trying to strengthen its trauma care system, especially after public criticism that preventable deaths were occurring due to long transport times and lack of specialized centers. The government designated regional trauma centers, but there have been ongoing debates about funding, staffing, and working conditions. Dr. Romantic taps directly into this discourse, showing Doldam as under-resourced yet miraculously effective thanks to Kim Sabu’s team.

The drama also reflects Korean work culture in medicine: brutal hours, hierarchical relationships (선후배 culture), and pressure to obey seniors. In Korean hospitals, the “professor” (의사 교수) at a university hospital holds enormous power over residents and fellows. Kim Sabu, who rejects being called “professor” and insists on “teacher” (사부), is deliberately set up as an alternative model. His teaching style is harsh, but he constantly tells his juniors to think for themselves and to disobey when necessary for the patient’s sake. This is a quiet rebellion against traditional hospital hierarchy.

In the last 30–90 days, Korean portals like Naver and Daum have still seen steady search volume for 낭만닥터 김사부, especially after occasional reruns and streaming promotions. After the success of Dr. Romantic 3 on Disney+ globally, Korean entertainment media such as SBS official site and portals like Naver News have periodically reported on cast interviews hinting they are “open” to a Season 4 if the story is right. Fan communities on sites like Theqoo and DC Inside continue to post medical case discussions and character analyses whenever the series is re-aired.

Another culturally specific point is the word “낭만” (romantic) itself. In Korean, 낭만 has an old-fashioned, almost nostalgic feel. It implies living by values, not just by logic or profit. Older Koreans might associate it with 1970s–80s student idealism, while younger viewers feel it as “doing what’s right even if it’s stupid for your career.” Dr. Romantic uses this word to question what kind of doctors our society is producing: technicians chasing promotions, or humanists willing to take risks for patients.

Finally, the show’s setting in a provincial area taps into Seoul vs. non-Seoul tension. Many Koreans outside the capital feel neglected in terms of healthcare quality. By portraying Doldam as a place where patients are treated with dignity regardless of their background, Dr. Romantic offers a kind of emotional compensation to viewers who live far from the big-name hospitals.

Inside The World Of “Dr. Romantic”: Plot, Characters, And The Meaning Of “Romantic” Medicine

Dr. Romantic is not a romance-centered drama, despite some love lines. At its core, it’s a story about what it means to be a doctor in Korea. Each season explores this question through different characters, but Kim Sabu is always the axis.

Season 1 introduces us to Boo Yong-joo, now known as Kim Sabu, who used to be a top surgeon at a prestigious hospital. After a traumatic incident involving hospital politics and a patient’s death, he disappears from the elite world and reappears as the eccentric head surgeon at the small Doldam Hospital. He recruits Kang Dong-joo (Yoo Yeon-seok) and Yoon Seo-jung (Seo Hyun-jin), both talented but emotionally wounded doctors. The season’s plot weaves together high-stakes surgeries, corporate interference from Geodae Hospital, and the growth of these young doctors as they learn to prioritize patients over ambition.

Season 2 shifts the focus to a new pair: Seo Woo-jin (Ahn Hyo-seop), a cynical, debt-ridden surgeon, and Cha Eun-jae (Lee Sung-kyung), a brilliant but anxiety-prone doctor who faints in operating rooms. Their arrival at Doldam allows the drama to revisit its themes from a new generation’s perspective: what happens when medical students who grew up in a hyper-competitive, debt-heavy system meet a mentor who tells them to throw away their fear of failure and their obsession with status?

Season 3 expands the universe even further, introducing a government-backed Trauma Center project at Doldam. This season emphasizes system-level issues: budget cuts, political interference, media scrutiny, and the difficulty of maintaining an idealistic medical space in a profit-oriented healthcare structure. It also brings back many familiar faces, creating a sense of continuity and long-term character development rare in K-dramas.

The “romantic” in Dr. Romantic is less about love and more about an idealistic worldview. Kim Sabu often delivers lines that have become famous among Korean viewers, such as his repeated emphasis that “the patient comes first” (환자가 먼저다) and his criticism of doctors who see medicine as just a career. He pushes his juniors into impossible surgeries not for drama’s sake, but to force them to confront what kind of doctors they want to be.

One very Korean aspect of the plot is how it handles hospital hierarchy and politics. In many scenes, Kim Sabu defies hospital directors, administrators, and even government officials to protect his team or his patients. To Korean viewers, this is cathartic because in real life, most doctors cannot openly challenge their superiors or the system without risking their careers. The drama exaggerates for effect, but it taps into a real frustration.

Another key element is the portrayal of patients. Dr. Romantic frequently uses cases involving industrial accidents, elderly patients from rural areas, undocumented migrants, and victims of social inequality. By choosing these types of patients, the drama implicitly criticizes a healthcare system that often treats such people as burdens rather than as human beings. Many Koreans have commented online that certain episodes felt like watching the news, especially when the show deals with issues like hospital closures in rural areas or emergency room overcrowding.

The surgical scenes are also worth noting. Korean viewers have praised the series for its detailed depiction of procedures like emergency thoracotomy, liver resection, and cardiovascular surgery. While not 100% accurate (no medical drama is), Dr. Romantic clearly invested in medical advisors and technical detail. This level of realism differentiates it from older Korean medical dramas that focused more on melodrama than medical accuracy.

Finally, the romantic subplots—Dong-joo and Seo-jung in Season 1, Woo-jin and Eun-jae in Seasons 2 and 3—are interwoven with their professional growth. Love is not the main reward; becoming a better doctor is. This is another reason why many Korean viewers, including those in the medical field, respect the drama: it never forgets that its true love story is between doctors and their calling.

What Koreans See In “Dr. Romantic” That Global Viewers Often Miss

Watching Dr. Romantic as a Korean, you pick up layers of nuance that are easy to miss if you’re not familiar with our medical and social context. Let me share a few insider angles that often come up in Korean discussions.

First, the way titles are used. In Korea, titles like “professor,” “director,” and “chief” carry heavy weight. In Dr. Romantic, Kim Sabu actively rejects these formal titles and chooses “sabu,” a word that evokes martial arts masters or traditional craft mentors. This is a deliberate contrast to the university hospital culture where being called “professor” is the ultimate status symbol. Korean viewers immediately understand this as a philosophical stance: Kim Sabu sees medicine as a craft and a calling, not an academic ladder.

Second, the subtle class and regional dynamics. Many of Doldam’s patients are from lower socioeconomic backgrounds—factory workers, elderly farmers, small business owners. Their dialects, mannerisms, and even clothing are carefully chosen. Koreans can instantly tell whether a patient is likely from Gyeongsang-do, Jeolla-do, or another region based on speech patterns. When these patients are dismissed or mistreated by big-city hospitals in the drama, it mirrors real feelings of discrimination that non-Seoul residents often describe.

Third, the depiction of “gapjil” (abuse of power). When hospital directors yell at junior doctors, or when VIP patients are prioritized over emergency cases, Korean viewers recognize this as a broader cultural problem. Online, many comments say things like, “That’s exactly how my boss acts,” or “This is just like my hospital.” Dr. Romantic uses the hospital setting, but it’s really criticizing a wider Korean workplace culture where superiors often abuse their authority.

Fourth, the realistic burnout and debt storyline. Characters like Seo Woo-jin carry massive debt due to family circumstances and education costs. In Korea, medical school is long and expensive, and many students feel trapped by loans and family expectations. When Woo-jin chooses to stay at Doldam instead of chasing a more lucrative, prestigious path, Korean viewers know exactly how big that sacrifice is. It’s not just about pride; it’s about giving up a more secure financial future.

Fifth, the casting and industry context. Han Suk-kyu is a legendary actor in Korea, associated with serious, high-quality films like Shiri and Christmas in August. When he took on the role of Kim Sabu, many Koreans saw it as a sign that the drama would aim for depth, not just light entertainment. Similarly, Ahn Hyo-seop and Lee Sung-kyung’s casting in Season 2 initially raised eyebrows because some viewers worried they were “too idol-like” for such a grounded series. But their performances, especially Ahn Hyo-seop’s portrayal of Woo-jin’s internal conflict, won over skeptics. This casting journey is part of how Koreans experienced the show.

In the last couple of years, real Korean doctors and residents have occasionally commented on YouTube and on platforms like YouTube and Naver Cafes about the drama. Many say things like, “It’s exaggerated but emotionally accurate,” or “I wish I had a Kim Sabu during my training.” That kind of endorsement from insiders has helped solidify Dr. Romantic’s status here.

Lastly, the ending of Season 3, with its open yet hopeful tone, hit Koreans differently. We know that in real life, building and maintaining a trauma center like Doldam is almost impossible under current funding and staffing conditions. So when the drama shows the team choosing to stay and fight within the system, it feels both inspiring and bittersweet. We’re moved because we know how unrealistic it is—and yet we want to believe it could be true.

“Dr. Romantic” Versus Other Medical Dramas: Unique Impact And Legacy

From a Korean perspective, Dr. Romantic stands in a very specific place within the medical drama landscape. To see its impact, it helps to compare it with other well-known titles.

Aspect	Dr. Romantic	Other Korean Medical Dramas
Main focus	Ethics, mentorship, system critique	Romance, episodic cases, hospital politics
Setting	Rural trauma center (Doldam Hospital)	Mostly big Seoul university hospitals
Lead archetype	Idealistic, rebellious mentor (Kim Sabu)	Cold genius surgeon or warm rookie doctor
Seasons	3 seasons, shared universe	Usually 1 season, limited continuity

Earlier hits like “Behind the White Tower” (2007) were acclaimed for their realistic portrayal of hospital politics, but they focused heavily on power struggles within university hospitals. Later series like “Good Doctor” (2013) and “Hospital Playlist” (2020–2021) emphasized individual character growth and friendship. Dr. Romantic, starting in 2016, took a slightly different route: it mixed high medical tension with very direct social commentary about the structure of Korean healthcare.

Globally, many viewers compare Dr. Romantic to Western shows like Grey’s Anatomy or The Good Doctor. But Korean audiences notice a different tone. Grey’s Anatomy leans into long-term romance and personal drama; Dr. Romantic centers more on moral dilemmas and the contrast between the ideal of medicine and the reality of the system. Even when love stories are present, they’re secondary to questions like: “Should we operate on a patient who can’t pay?” or “Do we obey hospital policy or do what we believe is right?”

Another key difference is the multi-season continuity. Korean dramas traditionally end in one season, even when they are successful. Dr. Romantic is one of the few that returned with new seasons while maintaining narrative and thematic consistency. This allowed it to explore how a doctor’s career and values evolve over years, not just months. Korean fans often say that watching the three seasons feels like watching an actual residency and fellowship journey unfold, with juniors becoming seniors and taking on new responsibilities.

In terms of measurable impact, Dr. Romantic has had a noticeable effect on public perception of trauma centers and regional hospitals. After Season 1 aired, Korean news outlets reported increased interest in emergency medicine and trauma surgery among medical students. While it’s hard to quantify precisely, some surveys and anecdotal interviews with students referenced the drama as a factor in their career thinking. The show also sparked debates in comment sections about whether Korea is doing enough to support non-Seoul hospitals.

On the global stage, Dr. Romantic’s availability on platforms like Disney+ in many regions (especially for Season 3) has positioned it as a “gateway” medical K-drama. International fans who first discovered Korean content through romance or fantasy dramas often find Dr. Romantic refreshing because it feels grounded but still emotionally intense. Its success has likely encouraged Korean producers to consider more multi-season, character-driven medical series rather than one-off melodramas.

From an industry perspective, Dr. Romantic also demonstrated that a strong, older lead (Han Suk-kyu was in his 50s when Season 1 aired) can anchor a hit franchise. This has opened more doors for projects that center on veteran actors as mentors rather than only on youth-focused romance, subtly broadening the range of stories Korean TV is willing to tell.

Why “Dr. Romantic” Matters So Deeply In Korean Society

In Korean society, doctors hold a complex position. They are highly respected, often well-paid, and seen as part of the elite. At the same time, there is growing public frustration with long waits, unequal access to care, and high-profile medical disputes. Dr. Romantic steps right into the middle of this tension and asks a basic question: What is a doctor for?

The series constantly contrasts two models of a doctor. On one side, there is the “spec doctor”: someone who builds a perfect resume, chases prestigious positions, and sees patients as cases or numbers. On the other side is the “romantic doctor”: someone who sometimes makes irrational decisions, sacrifices their career, and even breaks rules to save a life. Kim Sabu embodies the second model, and Korean viewers are drawn to him because, in reality, our system tends to reward the first.

The drama’s emphasis on regional healthcare is also significant. Korea has one of the world’s highest densities of doctors per capita in cities, but there are well-known shortages in rural areas and in less profitable specialties like pediatrics and emergency medicine. By making Doldam Hospital a kind of “heaven” for medical ethics in the countryside, Dr. Romantic gives emotional voice to the idea that good medicine should not be limited to rich urban centers.

Socially, the drama has influenced how ordinary Koreans talk about medical issues. When news breaks about emergency room overcrowding or doctor strikes, you often see comments like, “Where is our Kim Sabu?” or “If only our hospital had a Doldam team.” This shows that the series has provided a shared reference point for thinking about what a “good” hospital could look like.

The show also touches on generational conflict. Younger doctors in Dr. Romantic are portrayed as more financially pressured, more anxious, and more skeptical than Kim Sabu’s generation. This reflects real generational shifts in Korea, where younger professionals often feel trapped between idealism and survival. By showing characters like Seo Woo-jin gradually choosing principle over profit, the drama offers a kind of moral encouragement to young Koreans who feel disillusioned with their own fields.

Finally, Dr. Romantic has become a comfort drama for many Koreans, especially those working in high-stress jobs. The sight of Doldam’s team rushing into the ER, arguing fiercely, then somehow saving the patient at the last moment, provides emotional release. It reassures viewers that there are still people in the world who put duty above self-interest, even if they are fictional.

In that sense, Dr. Romantic is not just entertainment. It’s a wishful vision of what Korean medicine—and Korean work culture more broadly—could be if more people chose “romantic” principles over safe compromises.

Questions Global Fans Ask About “Dr. Romantic” – Answered From A Korean Viewpoint

1. Why is the series called “Dr. Romantic” when it’s not mainly about love?

For Korean viewers, the word “romantic” (낭만) doesn’t primarily mean romantic love. It carries the nuance of idealism, passion, and living according to one’s beliefs, even if it’s inconvenient or irrational. Think of an artist who refuses to sell out, or a teacher who stays in a poor neighborhood school despite better offers—Koreans might call that person “낭만적인 사람,” meaning someone who lives romantically in this deeper sense.

In Dr. Romantic, Kim Sabu represents this type of person. He walked away from a top university hospital position, high salary, and social prestige after seeing how politics and profit overshadowed patient care. Instead of chasing titles, he chooses a small rural hospital and focuses on doing “pure” medicine. To most Koreans, this is a very “romantic” choice—not because it’s smart, but because it’s faithful to his inner values.

The series does include love stories—Dong-joo and Seo-jung, Woo-jin and Eun-jae—but these relationships are secondary to the central romance between doctors and their calling. Korean viewers often say that the real love line in Dr. Romantic is between Kim Sabu and Doldam Hospital, or between the doctors and their patients. So the title is less about dating and more about a worldview: what does it mean to live and work romantically in a cold, system-driven world?

2. How realistic is “Dr. Romantic” compared to actual Korean hospitals?

From a Korean perspective, Dr. Romantic is emotionally realistic but operationally dramatized. Real doctors and residents who comment online often say that the atmosphere—the hierarchy, the burnout, the ethical dilemmas—feels very familiar. The way junior doctors fear professors, the pressure to discharge patients quickly, and the tension between emergency care and VIP treatment all reflect real patterns in Korean hospitals.

However, the speed and frequency of extreme surgeries are exaggerated. In the drama, Doldam’s team handles a near-constant stream of massive traumas, rare conditions, and high-profile emergencies. In reality, even busy trauma centers would not see such a dense concentration of dramatic cases in such a short time. Also, the same small group of doctors in the drama cover a wide range of specialties; in real hospitals, subspecialization is stricter.

The portrayal of hospital politics is probably the most realistic aspect. The influence of hospital directors, conflicts between departments, and the importance of reputation and rankings are all based on real issues. The idea of a genius surgeon like Kim Sabu completely escaping the university system to run a semi-independent rural hospital is unlikely, but that’s precisely the fantasy the drama offers: a place where the system’s worst aspects are held at bay by one stubborn, idealistic doctor.

3. Do Korean medical students and doctors actually watch and like “Dr. Romantic”?

Yes, many do, and their reactions are quite nuanced. On Korean online communities where medical students and residents gather, such as specialized Naver Cafes or anonymous boards, you’ll often find threads discussing Dr. Romantic episodes. Some posts are purely technical—people debating whether a specific surgery sequence was accurate, or whether a certain diagnosis made sense. Others are emotional, with comments like, “I cried at this scene because it reminded me of my intern year.”

A common sentiment is that while the drama exaggerates the heroism and independence of doctors (especially Kim Sabu), it captures the emotional core of why many people went into medicine in the first place. The scenes where young doctors question whether they’re becoming “spec machines” instead of healers resonate deeply. Some junior doctors have said that watching Dr. Romantic during tough rotations gave them temporary comfort or even renewed motivation.

At the same time, there’s also a layer of dark humor. Some medical professionals joke that Doldam is a “labor law-free zone” because the doctors never seem to sleep or rest properly. Others point out that in reality, a lot of what Kim Sabu does—ignoring administrative orders, bending protocols—would get a doctor disciplined or fired. So they enjoy the drama as a kind of wish-fulfillment fantasy where the “right” thing always wins, even if they know real life is harsher.

4. Is there any chance of “Dr. Romantic 4”? What are Koreans saying recently?

As of late 2024 and early 2025, there is no official confirmation of Dr. Romantic 4, but speculation remains very active in Korea. After Season 3 ended in June 2023, cast members and the production team gave interviews hinting that they were open to continuing if a strong story emerged. Korean entertainment news on portals like Naver and SBS’s own site occasionally publishes articles revisiting these comments, especially whenever reruns or streaming promotions bring the series back into public conversation.

On Korean fan communities, the discussion tends to fall into two camps. One group strongly wants a Season 4, arguing that the Doldam universe still has many stories to tell—especially about the development of younger doctors like Woo-jin and Eun-jae as future mentors. They imagine arcs where Doldam’s Trauma Center faces national-level crises or where former juniors return as full-fledged leaders.

The other group is more cautious, worried that stretching the story too far could dilute its impact. They point out that Season 3 already tied up many emotional arcs nicely and that part of Dr. Romantic’s charm is its relatively grounded tone. If a new season relied too much on sensational plots or fan service, it could damage the franchise’s reputation.

Recently, whenever a cast member appears on a variety show or in a new drama, Korean viewers flood comment sections with questions about Dr. Romantic 4. So while nothing is decided, the demand and emotional attachment are clearly there, and Korean media continues to keep the possibility alive.

5. Why do so many Korean viewers say they want a “Kim Sabu” in their workplace?

When Koreans say, “I wish I had a Kim Sabu at my job,” they’re not literally asking for a surgeon; they’re expressing a desire for a mentor who is principled, competent, and willing to protect juniors from an unfair system. Kim Sabu’s appeal goes far beyond medicine. In a society where many people feel trapped in rigid hierarchies—whether in corporations, schools, or public institutions—he represents the rare senior who uses his power to shield, not exploit.

In Korean workplaces, it’s common for superiors to demand loyalty, overtime, and obedience, sometimes without offering genuine guidance or support. Kim Sabu is the opposite. He yells, criticizes, and pushes people to their limits, but he always backs them up when they take ethical risks for the right reasons. When a junior doctor disobeys a director’s order to save a patient, Kim Sabu stands in front of them and takes the blame. This is the kind of leadership many Koreans dream of but rarely experience.

So the phrase “We need a Kim Sabu” has become a kind of meme and wishful slogan. It means, “We need a leader who cares more about people and principles than about politics and appearances.” The fact that this character resonates so widely shows how strong the hunger is in Korea for ethical, courageous leadership in all fields—not just in hospitals.