With his quiet personality that didn’t put him forward, and his tendency to avoid group dinners, he wasn’t usually popular in daily life, but his popularity exploded when it came to presentations or forming study groups. Especially during exam periods, everyone—not a single person excluded—made copies of Geun-yeong’s notes. He was annoying for being a good student, but not so annoying since he readily shared his notebooks.
So today, the news that Geun-yeong would be attending the second round of the dinner caused a stir among his classmates. There was no malice. They were just curious, wondering what wind had blown his way.
Having already told his classmates and made up his mind, Geun-yeong took out his phone. He immediately called Ji Seokhun. Deliberately in the noisy lecture hall, especially when Woo Donghwa was nearby.
Donghwa, who was pretending not to listen while eavesdropping on Geun-yeong’s call, suddenly jumped up, put his face next to Geun-yeong’s phone, and shouted:
“Professor! This is Woo Donghwa, Geun-yeong’s best friend! I’ll make sure Geun-yeong doesn’t drink too much and I’ll take good care of him until the end! Don’t worry!”
It was just as Geun-yeong had expected. Up to this point was as planned and intended, but what came next was the problem. Hearing this, Park Sanghun and his loud-voiced friends rushed over.
“Professor! I’m the class representative, Park! Sang! Hun! I promise to take good care of Ji Geun-yeong!”
“Prof-fessor! I mean, Professor! I’m—mph!”
The guy who tried to shout after Park Sanghun had his mouth covered by classmates who wouldn’t accept his verbal slip as an accident. Don’t try to suck up to Professor Ji Seokhun with nonsense.
Donghwa was enough, but with the class rep and his friend also shouting, Geun-yeong was a bit flustered. The man, who must have been as flustered as Geun-yeong, finally permitted him to attend the second round. Though his voice wasn’t much different from usual, Geun-yeong sensed the man’s discomfort.
Ji Seokhun, who had become a star for adopting a child with juvenile diabetes, always wore a thick mask to hide the immoral fact that he was having sexual relations with the child he had adopted. He was someone who maintained a thorough image management to ensure that mask was never removed or damaged. That’s why Geun-yeong deliberately called him when his classmates were gathered around. Because he knew the man would act like a caring, intellectual, and reasonable father.
If he was not just uncomfortable but actually angry about this, he might come to Geun-yeong’s room with the box even though it wasn’t insulin replacement day, but it didn’t matter. Right now, Geun-yeong wanted to go to the second round. He had to go.
As announced by Park Sanghun, the first round was at “Gomo’s,” an all-you-can-eat pork belly restaurant near the back gate of the hospital, and the second round was at “Blue Frog,” a karaoke place right nearby.
The third-year medical students, who had been under stress from balancing academics and clinical rotations, occupied the ondol room on the second floor of Gomo’s and sat in a circle.
It was noisy from the moment they ordered. There was the meat faction who wanted to eat meat continuously and have cold noodles later, and there was the meal faction who wanted to order soybean paste stew and rice in advance to eat together. Geun-yeong raised his hand for ordering soybean paste stew and rice in advance, not as a matter of preference but of survival.
The meat, haphazardly placed on the grill, was being cooked without care. Meat with oil sizzling on the surface, not even fully cooked inside, was being snatched by the impatient ones’ chopsticks and disappearing into mouths that moved faster than the chopsticks.
Geun-yeong, who had merely picked up his chopsticks, watched with curiosity as the gluttons threw hot meat into their mouths and chewed with contorted expressions, as if they weren’t afraid of oral burns.
Woo Donghwa, one of those gluttons, used his particularly quick hands at these times to pick up properly cooked meat and place it on Geun-yeong’s plate.
Among the guys devouring meat at a speed not much different from wild carnivores, except for cooking their food, Geun-yeong was able to finish his meal while gauging his protein intake to ensure it wasn’t excessive or insufficient, thanks to Donghwa.
Having eaten a moderate amount, Geun-yeong had finished his meal early. But the grill wasn’t turned off, and meat continued to be placed on it endlessly. Glancing up at the clock, Geun-yeong whispered to Donghwa, whose lower jaw was busy chewing the stuffed meat:
“I’m going to make a phone call and come back.”
“Who? Professor?”
“Huh? Yeah.”
The guy, who had gulped down his meat, said with a serious face:
“Right. Be sure to tell him that Woo Donghwa is taking good care of you. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
Woo Donghwa showed a wide grin, and Geun-yeong felt quite sorry for having lied.
After going downstairs and out of the restaurant, Geun-yeong entered the alley beside the building. Leaning against the wall, he took out his phone. First, he confirmed his blood sugar was fine, then opened the dial pad.
And hesitated.
After wrestling with himself for the time it took to take five quicker-than-usual breaths, he dialed the number he had been continuously reciting so as not to forget.
During the two rings, his heart rate rapidly increased. In the brief moment of silence when the ringing stopped, Geun-yeong inhaled and held his breath.
[Hello?]
“Ah.”
Bursting out the breath he had been holding due to tension, Geun-yeong found himself at a loss for words. The person who answered the phone wasn’t that man, Kyung Jiho. It was the other man who had been speaking in dialect all along. The man, who seemed to have detected it was a young guy just from Geun-yeong’s short burst of sound, asked:
[Who is this?]
“Ah… I…”
[Enough of the ‘ah’ and ‘I’, who are you?]
The man who heard Geun-yeong’s voice seemed to have figured out not only that he was young but also that he had some ulterior motive. Hostility could be felt in his now roughened tone. If Geun-yeong didn’t speak quickly, it seemed he’d be in trouble.
“Hello. I’m… the… student from the hospital where you… were recently admitted.”
His words came out incoherently, as he hadn’t figured out what to call the man or how to introduce himself. The moment he realized the number he had memorized for days wasn’t the man’s, his rapidly beating heart calmed down, but now he was worried. He thought he might not be able to talk to that man.
[The hospital where hyung was admitted? Ah. That Dr. Saetbyeol?]
He really shouldn’t have mentioned that name. Geun-yeong repeated the regret he’d been feeling all along and answered.
“…Yes.”
[Ah. Well, it’s nice to hear from you. While we never see doctors around, our Dr. Saetbyeol kept checking in with his concerns, and I’m truly grateful. Our hyung doesn’t listen well, talks with a lisp, and is quite rude. I was thinking we should apologize before discharge, and we did.]
While the man was pouring out words, Saetbyeol, or rather Geun-yeong, tried to interrupt with “Ah…” or “Um…” But the man, despite his weighty image, was surprisingly talkative. Geun-yeong’s sounds, no better than a puppy’s whimpering, were completely buried under the low, husky voice flowing without pause. After saying his piece, the man finally asked about the purpose of the call, well after the conversation had started.
[So, why are you calling?]
“……”
Now that he could finally speak, the purpose didn’t come out right away.
He had planned to say he wanted to meet briefly because he had something to say if the man answered directly. If refused, he planned to insist. If necessary, he was prepared to explain his current situation. He was even going to tell about what he had endured from the man who adopted him. He wanted to confront him about not remembering him while saying all this. But he hadn’t anticipated someone else answering. While briefly searching for what to say to this person, Geun-yeong decided to lie.
“…I wanted to check if your surgical site is okay.”
[Ah. Do student doctors even do such menial tasks these days?]
“…Yes.”
[That must be tough. Well- Ah, here he comes. Hyung, phone call. Dr. Saetbyeol called.]
As the man’s voice grew distant and the phone passed through the air to the other man’s hand, surrounding noises could be heard. The sounds of singing, women laughing, and glasses clinking were raucous.
Geun-yeong suddenly remembered something he had momentarily forgotten. That’s right. The man was a gangster. The place he was at now seemed to be some sort of entertainment establishment with hostesses. His heart rate began to climb steeply again. The reason his heart was racing now was due to fear and anticipation. He knew exactly what he was afraid of—the situation of dealing with a gangster whose rough personality and speech surely meant a disorderly lifestyle. And the anticipation was the hope that this man might still be the person from back then. Through the noisy phone, he could hear the conversation between that man and the one who had initially answered and was now passing the phone.
[What. What’s going on.]
[They called to check on you. Asking if your wound is healing well.]
[Bullshit.]
Bullshit?
Looking at the drain on the floor, Geun-yeong, who had been listening intently to the conversation, was extremely flustered. He raised his gaze from the drain to the empty wall and blinked twice rapidly.
Whether he was flustered or not didn’t matter. Medical students on clinical rotation never make courtesy calls to discharged patients. It was as absurd as horns on a dog’s head. The man’s observation of “bullshit” wasn’t unfair. His throat felt dry. He was starting to consider hanging up when—
[What is it. Tell me. If you give me that nonsense about a courtesy call, I’ll come find you and kick you.]
“……”
Though the content was rough, the low voice resonated gently, making Geun-yeong’s ear tingle. And so he was speechless again. His heart began to beat even faster.
Why is my heart acting like this…
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
