Resident Playbook- Episodes 1-2
Debt, Drama, and Delivery Room Disasters
The premiere of Resident Playbook kicks off with chaos, confusion, and a lot of cold reality. We meet Oh I-yeong in the middle of a nightmare—literally. She’s drowning in debt and out of a job after walking away from medicine. But when she wakes up, the nightmare’s not over. Her bank demands 50 million won by next week, and since she has no job and no prospects, they want a certificate of employment—something she can’t provide. Legal threats push her back into scrubs and straight into the hospital she once left behind.
Why did she quit in the first place? A quick chat with her sister, Oh Ju-yeong, reveals the tragic backstory. Their dad was scammed, their family went bankrupt, and the private hospital he promised to build for her? Gone with the money. That dream died, and so did I-yeong’s will to keep going as a doctor.
Back at Yulje Medical Center’s Jongno branch, we meet the fresh crop of first-year residents. There’s Kim Sa-bi, a genius on paper but socially robotic. She checks off tasks like she’s solving math problems, even when it involves talking to terminal cancer patients. Pyo Nam-kyung, I-yeong’s former classmate, shows up, but she doesn’t even remember him. And then there’s Eom Jae-il—a former K-pop idol turned resident, all enthusiasm and no common sense. His attempts to impress just annoy his mentor.
I-yeong doesn’t ease back into hospital life—she gets thrown into the fire. Her first task? Observing a C-section led by Professor Seo Jeong-min, aka “the witch,” a legend in the OB-GYN world with a no-nonsense attitude. During surgery, I-yeong fumbles a simple task—throwing out a suture—and gets booted from the OR. Rough start.
It doesn’t help that her return to medicine wasn’t exactly voluntary. Turns out her sister’s brother-in-law, Gu Doo-won (also her OB-GYN senior), pulled strings to get her the spot. And she’s not exactly grateful.
When Doo-won asks her to monitor one of Seo’s patients, things go sideways again. I-yeong mistakes the patient's progress and calls in the professor too early. Oops. Meanwhile, Sa-bi is going through consent forms like she’s scanning barcodes, and Doo-won starts questioning whether she has any heart under that high IQ.
Then things take a turn—an actual medical emergency. I-yeong notices the patient is in labor and rushes her out, but the baby arrives before they even reach the delivery room. It’s messy, unexpected, and pure chaos—but I-yeong handles it. Professor Seo still scolds her, but flashes the tiniest approving smile. Maybe she sees something in I-yeong after all.
After a long, exhausting day, the residents are finally released. The next morning, Ju-yeong thinks the delivery might’ve sparked something in her sister. Maybe she’ll stick with it this time. But one scene later, I-yeong’s already zoning out in another delivery room.
Just before the episode ends, a fellow doctor recognizes her—cue intrigue. Who is he? What’s their story? And will I-yeong stay or run again?
One thing’s clear: this hospital’s not just about medicine. It’s personal. And Episode 1 sets the stage for a bumpy, emotional ride.
Grief, Gaslighting, and a Glimmer of Hope
Episode 2 of Resident Playbook picks up right where the madness left off—zero sleep, zero food, and zero time to breathe. Our poor residents are running on caffeine and desperation. On top of the soul-crushing shifts, they’re being forced to submit group reports to Dr. Myeong, a master of delegation who’s more interested in climbing the hospital’s social ladder than mentoring her interns. She milks their work for brownie points while they spiral into emotional freefall.
How bad is it? Let’s just say the residents are collectively cycling through the five stages of grief—some even multiple times before lunch. Meanwhile, the professors hold a crisis meeting: How do we keep these kids from quitting before the month’s over?
Dr. Myeong’s favorite punching bag this episode is Oh I-yeong. When I-yeong admits she’s uncomfortable with suturing, Dr. Myeong takes it personally and goes full petty. She sets I-yeong up to fail by inventing a fake emergency and making her call departments in the middle of the night. When chaos inevitably erupts, Dr. Myeong plays dumb and paints I-yeong as both incompetent and dishonest. Classic gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.
Over in “tragic comedy” territory, Eom Jae-il is having a week. He forgets to give a patient breakfast, accidentally assumes another is pregnant, and slowly becomes the intern nobody wants to deal with. Tasks vanish from his to-do list—not because he finished them, but because the doctors are actively avoiding him.
Pyo Nam-kyung, already sleep-deprived and basically living in the hospital, gets saddled with Jae-il’s problem patient: a woman who demands her bandages be changed four times a day, on the dot. Nam-kyung powers through, but she’s hanging by a thread.
Meanwhile, Kim Sa-bi faces her own reckoning. A patient complains about her cold, robotic demeanor, calling her unfit to be a doctor. Professor Kong scolds her, but Professor Seo offers better advice: lean into your strengths. Sa-bi quietly waits outside the patient’s room, and when the woman suddenly collapses, Sa-bi’s right there to catch her. Turns out, the patient had been grieving a lost twin. The moment softens them both, and Sa-bi earns her first genuine “thank you.”
Back to I-yeong, who nearly quits again—until she hears a Code Blue in OB-GYN. Instinct kicks in, and she charges in to help save both mother and child. Professor Seo shows up just in time to see I-yeong in action—and more importantly, to call out Dr. Myeong for slacking on her on-call duties. Vindication!
Later, Doo-won sends I-yeong to escort a pregnant patient to another branch. On the way, the woman panics over stomach pain, and I-yeong soothes her—not with medicine, but with simple human kindness. When they arrive, she meets Dr. Chu Min-ha, now a glowing fourth-year resident and newlywed. Min-ha hands her an envelope for Doo-won, secretly empty, just to make sure I-yeong doesn’t disappear again.
The envelope trick works. I-yeong returns and clears her name after facing down an anesthesiologist who believed Dr. Myeong’s smear campaign. Even Dr. Myeong, cornered by facts, finally admits the whole “emergency” was just a misunderstanding. Mmhmm.
Elsewhere, Nam-kyung reaches her limit and actually runs away in a taxi… only to panic and come running back, thinking her patient might’ve died. Spoiler: she didn’t. She even apologizes, revealing that her constant requests were because a professor praised Nam-kyung’s technique. Another emotional wall comes down.
In a sweet full-circle moment, the residents coax Jae-il out of his sulk and back to the hospital. Just when they’re bracing themselves for another all-nighter, they get a shock: no more reports! Doo-won negotiated with Dr. Myeong to scrap the whole thing. For once, they win.
The episode ends on a rare high: the residents finally leave the hospital... with their very first paychecks in hand. Exhausted, broke, traumatized—but maybe, just maybe, starting to believe they belong here.
Let’s hope they get at least one decent meal before Episode 3.
DramaZen's Opinion
A Gritty, Charming Start with Heart and Chaos in Equal Measure
From the very first frame, Resident Playbook throws us headfirst into the messy, sleep-deprived world of rookie doctors—and I’m completely hooked. Episodes 1 and 2 strike a delightful balance between emotional depth and absurd intern-level chaos. Oh I-yeong is instantly relatable as the burnout queen reluctantly re-entering medicine, her financial desperation clashing hilariously with her zero enthusiasm for hospital life. She’s the reluctant heroine we didn’t know we needed.
The series isn’t afraid to show the uglier side of medicine (hello, 50 million won debt, fake emergencies, and five stages of grief on a loop), but it does so with warmth, wit, and just enough sass. I love how each resident already feels distinct—Sa-bi's emotionally stunted genius routine, Jae-il's earnest flailing, and Nam-kyung’s quiet unraveling all add texture without leaning on clichés.
Bonus points for the cameos from Hospital Playlist favorites—nostalgia done right. And can we talk about Doo-won? Calm, competent, and totally oblivious to I-yeong’s adorable chaos. Their dynamic has slow-burn potential written all over it.
So far, the show has given us surgical blunders, accidental hallway deliveries, a generous sprinkle of petty power plays, and just enough heart to keep us emotionally invested. If this is how Resident Playbook begins, I’m more than ready to scrub in for the rest of the season.
