I released a little of my presence.
Just a little.
I wasn't some supreme master, but I had spent years following my master, watching and learning from him.
They say even a dog that lingers by a village school for three years learns to recite poetry. Surely I could imitate an aura or two.
I'd already wasted enough time wandering around before finally finding a seat. The last thing I wanted was to deal with Jo Ha-neul.
I figured that if I projected an atmosphere that was difficult to approach, he'd simply turn around and leave.
Why is he freezing up like that?
Contrary to my expectations, Jo Ha-neul neither approached nor retreated.
He simply stood there, stiff as a statue.
“Uh... um.”
Even when I spoke to him, he seemed completely out of it.
Snap!
I flicked my fingers right in front of his eyes.
“What, are you hypnotized or something? Pull yourself together.”
“Ahem! Ah, right.”
Only then did he come back to himself and run a hand through his hair.
I led him outside the reading room.
“A few days ago you were full of confidence. Changed your mind? Decided to become a diligent student?”
“I'm always diligent.”
“A diligent student who skipped class yesterday? ...Never mind.”
I swallowed the rest of the sentence.
But Jo Ha-neul wasn't stupid.
He immediately realized I had been referring to Professor Lee Min-seok's lecture and his face turned red.
“I can learn all that stuff in a few hours before the exam anyway!”
“Sure you can. Who said otherwise?”
I shrugged.
I knew very well that Jo Ha-neul's memory was far better than mine.
Even from overhearing conversations in class, it was obvious.
The guy could know absolutely nothing until three days before an exam and somehow memorize every point the professor emphasized by test day.
Even with old exams and Hwang Sang-hoon's notes, nobody could absorb that much information so quickly without genuine talent.
“Why do you study so obsessively?”
“Hmm.”
I couldn't exactly tell him the truth.
Because if I don't, graduation and the licensing exam are genuinely in danger.
Nor could I say I was striving to become an excellent physician.
Just a few days ago I'd openly declared that real learning wasn't found in textbooks.
“So actually, I'm curious too.”
I looked straight at him.
“Whether I study or not, why do you care so much? Why do you hate me?”
I finally asked the question at its root.
“Hate you? Who says I—”
“Don't dodge the question. There has to be some reason. Maybe you don't like my face. Maybe you think I'm rude. Something.”
“...”
Jo Ha-neul stared at me with bloodshot eyes and remained silent.
Why hadn't I asked this sooner?
It's not like I didn't have my suspicions.
At first, I think I was afraid of hearing something negative about myself.
Then, at some point, disliking each other simply became normal.
“A nobody gets into the same school and suddenly thinks they're on the same level as everyone else. Watching them burn with competitive spirit is pretty funny.”
“...What?”
That answer was completely outside anything I'd imagined.
“You think becoming valedictorian through hard work is going to change your life? Hospitals don't teach you anything that actually makes money.”
“Well, obviously not. Nobody trains for money.”
“Then what? You aiming for a professorship? If that was your goal, you should've been chasing professors instead of studying.”
Jo Ha-neul forced a smile.
The way he crossed his arms and looked down at me was unbelievably condescending.
If this had been the old me...
No, even the old me probably wouldn't have gone home crying over something like this.
“I just felt sorry for you. Watching someone desperately cling to something impossible. I thought I'd teach you your place early. But you kept trying to beat me. The bigger your ambitions, the harder you'll suffer.”
“My place, huh?”
“Even if you somehow became a professor—which you won't—you'd still be nothing.”
I had intended to take him seriously.
Instead, I laughed.
Honestly laughed.
That's it?
He hated me because I was trying to beat him?
Here I was thinking I'd somehow annoyed him during group projects back in pre-med!
I'd expected some misunderstanding.
Something I'd done wrong.
Back when I desperately chased A+ grades because I needed scholarships, I'd assumed I must've made mistakes.
But this?
“That's funny. If your mother had known her place, you wouldn't even be in medical school.”
“...What?”
“Personally, I admire Director Choi Eun-hee. I've read every interview she's given and watched every television appearance.”
“You read my mother's interviews?”
“According to her story, she refused her parents' demands to marry after middle school, ran away to Seoul, worked in factories, and studied later in life before becoming a Korean medicine doctor. Or was that all fabricated?”
“That's...”
Probably not.
Director Choi Eun-hee, founder of the Haneul Korean Medicine Network, took immense pride in being self-made.
“You're thirty-one this year, right? Six years older than me. Four attempts at university after military service?”
I tilted my head.
“If Director Choi hadn't become so successful, do you really think you'd have received that much support?”
“Are you dragging my mother into this?”
“You were the one talking about knowing your place. Your mother succeeded. Why can't I?”
“Hah... Hahaha!”
Jo Ha-neul laughed in disbelief.
“You're even dumber than I thought.”
“Let's call it having big dreams.”
I smiled brightly.
Truthfully, these days all I wanted was to relax and enjoy life.
But I'd accumulated wealth and accomplishments that surpassed even his mother's.
“You only say that because you never met her. My mother is a genius. A monster obsessed with money.”
“Judging by how much she invested in a son like you, that doesn't seem true.”
“Hey!”
Jo Ha-neul exploded.
What?
Had I said anything wrong?
If she was still pouring resources into her eldest son in hopes he'd inherit the family business, she sounded pretty affectionate to me.
“Whatever. Whether I surpass Director Choi or not, we can find out at a reunion twenty years from now.”
I shrugged.
“But whether or not I beat Jo Ha-neul this semester? We only have a few months to wait.”
“Fine. Let's see you try.”
His eyes burned.
Hmm.
Maybe I'd pushed a little too hard.
“Well, if we're done here, I'll be going. Just make sure you apologize properly after you lose!”
Whatever.
Let him tremble with rage if he wanted.
If Jo Ha-neul studied harder because he wanted to beat me, then his future patients would benefit from it.
And besides—
I was going to win anyway.
School.
Library.
Dormitory.
The same peaceful routine repeated itself day after day.
About two weeks passed.
That morning's class had been Medical Law.
There were no afternoon lectures.
“Yeo-won! Professor Lee Min-seok wants to see you!”
Just as I was leaving the classroom for the library, the class president stopped me.
“Huh? Should I go upstairs?”
I pointed toward the faculty offices.
“Not there. He wants you at the hospital.”
She held up her phone.
Apparently Professor Lee wasn't teaching on campus today.
“Only Yeo-won? Do you know what it's about?”
“If he has business, shouldn't the professor come himself?”
I hadn't said anything.
Yet Hwang Sang-hoon and Hwang Seo-young immediately chimed in.
Seo-young was one thing.
But why did Sang-hoon care?
“How would I know? He just said to come now.”
The three of us checked the text message.
It contained exactly that.
Nothing more.
“I'll find out when I get there.”
I wasn't particularly concerned.
“Let me come too.”
Then Hwang Sang-hoon suddenly spoke.
“Why?”
“Uh... I have a question I wanted to ask Professor Lee.”
“Can't you ask it during class?”
I asked casually.
Yet Sang-hoon opened and closed his mouth without answering.
“Hey, hey! What question?”
Jo Ha-neul abruptly threw an arm around his shoulders.
“Let's go get a drink instead.”
He dragged Sang-hoon away.
Kim Min-gyu and Lee Cheol-jin joined them, whispering among themselves.
If I opened my senses, I could probably hear what they were saying.
I had absolutely no interest.
“I'll be back.”
Even Hwang Seo-young gave me a suspicious look.
Ignoring all of them, I headed to the hospital alone.
What's gotten into them?
After giving me those exam notes, Hwang Sang-hoon hadn't spoken to me once.
It wasn't as though he suddenly wanted to be friends.
Maybe he wanted a hospital position and was worried that I was getting close to Professor Lee.
Or perhaps he wanted to build a connection without going through Jo Ha-neul.
I considered several possibilities.
None of them seemed worth pursuing.
Though admittedly, I used to be even more stiff and awkward than he was.
“Good afternoon, Professor.”
These days, experience had made me considerably smoother.
I entered the consultation room and greeted him politely.
“You came quickly.”
“What did you want to see me about?”
Contrary to my expectations, Professor Lee's expression was grave.
He gestured toward the computer.
I stepped around the desk and stood beside him.
“Do you remember meeting patient Jung Gwang-soo?”
Huh?
So that's what this was about.
We'd already discussed that case several days ago in class.
When he chose another student's assignment for praise and left no comments on mine, I'd assumed he disliked my analysis.
“Yes. Actually, I ran into him by chance recently.”
There was no reason to hide it.
I answered honestly.
“Did he discuss his illness with you? How much do you know?”
“I helped him after he nearly got hit by a car. While calming him down, I heard a bit about his family situation. As for his condition, I don't know much beyond what's written in the chart.”
Professor Lee frowned.
Tap. Tap tap.
He clicked through the records.
Then he opened Jung Gwang-soo's hospitalization history.
“He was always a difficult patient. Smuggled alcohol into the ward. Left the hospital without permission. Refused herbal prescriptions.”
“Ah.”
Really?
He'd seemed like an ordinary timid middle-aged man.
“Then, about two weeks ago, he suddenly asked to start medication. So I prescribed something.”
“That's good.”
“For the first two or three days, the results were excellent.”
The professor pointed at the records.
“Then side effects appeared on the fourth day. The constipation wasn't a major concern, but his digestion worsened and he developed heat sensations.”
“...Ah.”
Was he saying my suggested prescription had caused problems?
“What did you prescribe? Jeonggi Cheonhyang-tang? Tongmyeong Iki-tang?”
“You wrote those in your assignment.”
Right.
In my paper I'd explained that if prescribing for a month, I would use Tongmyeong Iki-tang to clear liver and gallbladder fire while supporting kidney function, addressing tinnitus and the patient's broader symptoms.
In Murim, medicine was usually prepared every three or four days.
If I had an inpatient, I'd first prescribe Jeonggi Cheonhyang-tang for several days to release stagnant qi, then adjust depending on the response, eventually transitioning to formulas that reduced heart fire before tonifying deficiencies later.
“I prescribed Bojungikgi-tang combined with Yukmijihwang-tang.”
“Wait. Wasn't his qi stagnation too severe to start with tonics? He practically screamed when I touched the Danzhong point.”
Professor Lee narrowed his eyes.
So he didn't follow my recommendation.
Well, of course not.
This wasn't the Tang Clan Medical Pavilion.
I wasn't the Divine Physician.
I was merely a student.
And he wasn't my disciple.
There was no reason for him to follow my advice.
Bojungikgi-tang and Yukmijihwang-tang are excellent tonics, though...
They were practically synonymous with restorative herbal medicine.
Most elderly patients suffered from deficiency syndromes.
Regardless of symptoms, strengthening the spleen and stomach with Bojungikgi-tang usually improved appetite and vitality.
For elderly patients with poor appetite, it was almost guaranteed to help.
I'd often kept pre-made batches on hand.
Still, deficiency and excess need to be distinguished.
The formula was generally safe.
But in robust patients with excessive internal heat, side effects occasionally occurred.
Jung Gwang-soo appeared frail and elderly on the surface.
Professor Lee had likely misjudged him.
Even so, the signs of internal fire had been obvious.
Too safe.
Too conservative.
“The first three days were excellent. Then I increased the dosage.”
Professor Lee folded his arms.
“That's when the side effects appeared.”
Now I understood.
He thought it was the correct prescription and increased the dose!
The initial improvement hadn't come from the herbs.
When I'd treated Jung Gwang-soo, I'd loosened the blockage at Danzhong and subtly circulated a bit of qi.
The effects had lasted for several days.
Since Professor Lee didn't know that, he naturally assumed the herbs were responsible.
“So what did you do?”
“I suspected he'd been drinking.”
The professor sighed.
“I thought perhaps temporary abstinence had improved his condition.”
My eyes widened.
Please don't tell me he scolded the poor man.
I'd worked hard to convince him to seek treatment.
“I suppose that's understandable. Had he been drinking?”
“No. He insisted he hadn't. Then he mentioned your name.”
“...Ah?”
“So I decided to trust him. I switched the prescription to Jeonggi Cheonhyang-tang.”
Oh.
At least he hadn't made the worst possible choice.
“How did it go?”
“I've never seen a response this fast. Everything that looked like a side effect disappeared overnight. Even his tinnitus improved slightly.”
“That's probably psychological. Tinnitus severe enough to involve hearing loss doesn't improve overnight.”
“Probably.”
Professor Lee nodded.
“But he slept without alcohol.”
“...That's good.”
I smiled with genuine relief.
Hearing news of Jung Gwang-soo's improvement eased a weight I hadn't realized I was carrying.
Even I wasn't one hundred percent confident in my recommendations.
He wasn't my patient.
I had no control over how the treatment was ultimately prescribed.
There had been a few detours.
But if he'd improved significantly, that was all that mattered.
“Who advised you?”
Unlike me, Professor Lee wasn't celebrating.
Instead, he stared at me with his arms crossed.
“If someone guided you, say so.”
His gaze sharpened.
“And if nobody did... tell me honestly.”
A brief silence settled between us.
“Was all of that truly your own judgment?”
