“Pituitary Adenoma, Adrenal Adenoma, Adrenal Cancer, and… one more…”
It was Ectopic ACTH Syndrome. But Geun-yeong decided not to say the last one.
“I’m not sure about the last one.”
“It’s Ectopic ACTH Syndrome. Ji Geun-yeong, I don’t like seeing you being lazy. If you don’t want people saying you’re getting cocky because of your father, be careful with your behavior in everything.”
The expression of the professor giving this advice was softer than before. Whatever the situation, the result would have been the same. However, if he hadn’t been able to answer even one of the four, the professor would have inwardly despised him. Conversely, if he had named all four, the professor would have hated him for making him look foolish. That’s why Geun-yeong didn’t say the last one.
The professor now turned his gaze from Geun-yeong to everyone and said:
“There’s no hope for nobodies who are lazy. Now, ten minutes break.”
The students, letting out a collectively massive sigh, started to collapse like accidentally knocked-over dominoes. But the professor didn’t just stand by and watch this scene. He made all those who were trying to take a nap get up and sent them all out. Go out, he said. Go out and wake yourselves up, he said. Naturally, Geun-yeong had to go out too.
The dominoes that escaped the lecture hall now flocked to the coffee vending machine in the lounge like fish swept away by a current, forming a line. Everyone started sipping from paper cups, but only Ji Geun-yeong sat empty-handed. Donghwa, who knew why he didn’t drink coffee, asked:
“Geun-yeong. Want just one sip?”
“I’m fine.”
“If you say so.”
Donghwa, who was thoughtfully looking into the cup of brown liquid that was aromatic but unhealthy, asked:
“What do you do when you want to wake up?”
“There’s coffee without sugar, you know. And I’m not that sleepy right now.”
Geun-yeong smiled at Donghwa, who was looking apologetic. Rather, Geun-yeong felt sorry for making him feel that way.
Turning his head away from Donghwa, who had started sipping his coffee again, Geun-yeong once more thought about “that man” in the hospital room, continuing from his thoughts during class. Donghwa, who was glancing at the deeply thinking Geun-yeong, asked:
“Do you have something on your mind?”
“Huh? No.”
“You’ve been weird all morning. Like a robot that keeps shutting down because its battery is dead.”
“Sorry.”
This time, instead of brushing it off with a smile, he apologized properly. He was sorry for making Donghwa feel unnecessarily apologetic because he couldn’t drink coffee, and he was sorry for making him worry by constantly zoning out. But he couldn’t tell him the reason for his distraction. Geun-yeong wanted to alleviate at least one of his guilty feelings. Looking at his friend who was pouting, he said:
“Donghwa, just one sip for me.”
“Huh? Oh. Sure. Here, you can drink it all. No, you can’t drink it all. Drink as much as you’re comfortable with.”
Donghwa, brightening up, quickly offered the cup, and Geun-yeong took a sip of coffee. He pretended to drink just a tiny amount, so small that nothing was actually swallowed. Nevertheless, the taste that touched the tip of his tongue was so rich and sweet. And thanks to the sweetness touching the tip of his tongue, Geun-yeong suddenly became extremely depressed. Still, he smiled brightly at Donghwa.
“It really wakes me up. Thanks.”
The truth was, Geun-yeong liked sweet things. So much so that he would occasionally get depressed because he couldn’t eat them. So much so that he still remembered the name, shape, and taste of that chocolate he had eaten back then.
* * *
After finishing the afternoon schedule, he made up an excuse to his friends who were waiting for him since they lived in the same direction, saying he had somewhere else to go today.
Wondering where this “somewhere else” might be, Woo Donghwa asked if he should come along. But Geun-yeong said it was fine, that he actually had to meet someone—this time making up an excuse that wasn’t entirely a lie.
Woo Donghwa was also curious about who this “someone” was, but noticing that Geun-yeong was uncomfortable, he didn’t ask any further. He let him go, unable to completely erase his somewhat disappointed expression.
After parting with his friends, Geun-yeong headed straight for the surgical ward in the main building. Earlier, he had been flustered by the sudden encounter, fumbling around and saying unnecessary things before leaving. But now he needed to pull himself together and properly confirm whether that man with the unique surname and name, and similar age, was indeed the person from back then.
To be honest, his sharp appearance and somewhat rude personality seemed like a different person. But they say even mountains change in ten years. One person changing would be nothing in comparison. Despite being rough and rude, it could still be him. Even a once infinitely kind boy could become a gangster with dragon tattoos after living through harsh years, and living that way could make his features sharpen and his words and personality roughen. It wasn’t impossible at all.
Above all, he was someone who had been injured, admitted in the early morning, and undergone surgery today. He might have been frowning all along because of discomfort at the surgical site, which could explain his rough speech. Yes, that must be it.
While attending the afternoon class, he had been thinking it might not be him, but as he approached the hospital room, his mind suddenly shifted to thinking it might indeed be him. Setting everything else aside, it wasn’t a common name to begin with. Just that alone somehow made him feel it must be the same person. And, if, it really was him, he wanted to make him remember him. And after making him remember, then, well then…
He couldn’t decide what he wanted to do after making him remember, but he had already arrived at the hospital room.
Standing attached to the doorframe, he peeked his head in slightly to look inside the room. The curtain drawn by the patient in the bed near the door made it difficult to see the bed near the window. Geun-yeong held onto the doorframe and pushed his upper body in a little more. Then he stretched his head forward.
“What are you doing?”
“Hup!”
Startled by the sensation of a hand patting his shoulder and the voice that had fallen from the air before that, Geun-yeong quickly hunched his stretched neck.
“Seriously.”
The man who had tapped Geun-yeong’s shoulder, with his hand still raised in the air, snorted. Muttering that he was like a startled turtle, he lowered his hand and then leaned his shoulder against the wall.
“What now? What’s the matter, Doctor Jang Saetbyeol?”
Looking up at the face of the person asking what was the matter, Geun-yeong once again lost himself. He hadn’t noticed in the morning when the man was lying in bed, but he thought he was extremely tall. Comparing with his own height, he figured the man must be about 187 or 188 cm. And what followed, hitting the tip of his nose, was the acrid smell of smoke. Unless he had been playing with fire out of boredom, it seemed he was returning from smoking a cigarette. A person who had surgery yesterday, no, early this morning. Well, never mind the cigarettes, but he hadn’t expected someone who had appendix removal surgery after being stabbed to be walking around already.
Lost in these thoughts, Geun-yeong momentarily forgot his purpose for coming here. Instead of stating the reason for his visit, he asked a question.
“Ah… you’re… walking?”
“Why? Can’t I walk? It’s not like my legs are broken.”
The man, who had grumbled something about pointlessly testing his memory earlier, briefly seemed to soften his eyes before sharpening them again and asking once more.
“I said, why did you come?”
“Um… I came because… I have some questions… to ask you.”
Geun-yeong’s words trailed off as he became nervous, intimidated by the man who was glaring at him with his head lowered and eyes raised. Despite this, his clearly flustered eyes were moving around indecisively. Up, down, this way, that way—as the man slowly followed Geun-yeong’s frantically fleeing eyes, he said:
“I heard they make students pick a patient to write a report on, so I guess I’m your homework, Doctor Jang Saetbyeol? But don’t you think you picked something too easy? ‘Got stabbed and appendix ruptured.’ What else can you write besides that one line? Are you the type who always takes the easy path in life, Doctor Jang Saetbyeol?”
The man was sneering while still leaning his shoulder against the wall.
“It’s not… homework…”
As Geun-yeong struggled to connect his scattered words, he lowered his head, avoiding the gaze of the man whose expression seemed to say “then what is it?” That’s when he noticed the large hand supporting the surgical site on the man’s side. Thinking back, it seemed there might have been barely audible groans between the man’s sarcastic remarks. It seemed the surgical site was pulling as he continued to stand. Raising his head again, Geun-yeong looked directly into the man’s eyes and said:
“First, go back to bed and lie down.”
The man, raising one eyebrow sharply, had an expression that seemed to say, “So this isn’t your usual way of speaking?”
After sitting down on the bed, stretching his back, and starting to lean against the raised head of the bed, the man had to groan—ugh—as he tensed his stomach and felt the pull of the surgical site. Geun-yeong instinctively reached out his arms and grabbed the man’s back and shoulders.
The man was still eyeing Geun-yeong suspiciously. First he had lied about his name, and now he was a clinical student trying to do an easy assignment—it was unlikely he would look favorably upon him. Though he looked as gentle as a puppy, somehow every action he took seemed to have ulterior motives. The man glared at him as he settled into a proper position, and the pain subsided. After letting out a not particularly deep sigh, he said:
“If you have something to do, do it quickly. If you try to do another dementia test like earlier, I’ll kick you right away. My legs aren’t broken, you know.”
Geun-yeong’s hands came together naturally. Respectfully. The man’s face no longer looked particularly pained, but his words remained harsh. It seemed he wasn’t speaking harshly because of his perforated stomach; rather, he was probably a man whose speech was never gentle, even before his stomach was perforated. With his mouth tightly closed, Geun-yeong took a deep breath through his nose—hweep—and exhaled, releasing his tension. He opened his mouth to state the purpose of his visit.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
