“My parents were a campus couple.”

“That's romantic.”

“Romantic?”

“Usually, campus couples don't last long.”

Park Min-Cheol chuckled.

“Romantic, huh... There was no such thing as romance back then.”

“……”

“Mr. Kim, have you heard of the student movements?”

“You mean the democratization movements that college students used to do back in the day, right?”

“Both of them participated in the student movement. They were wanted by the authorities and, of course, were busy running away.”

“……”

“But in a country as small as a monk’s palm, how far could you run? They got caught soon enough and were dragged to the police station.”

“……”

“I didn't hear all the details. Whenever my father talked about it, you could see the anxiety in his eyes. What’s certain is that after he got out, he was left disabled.”

“It must have been... aftereffects of torture.”

Park Min-Cheol nodded.

“My father was sentenced to three years for leading a protest. He was released after two years for good behavior, but he couldn't use his hands properly because of the aftereffects of torture.”

“……”

“At least my mother came out unharmed, but it was still an era of harsh oppression, though in a different sense from now.”

“……”

“They were branded as communists everywhere they went.”

Park Min-Cheol chuckled bitterly and filled his glass with alcohol. He downed it with a faraway look on his face.

“Communists, huh... Yeah, I was the son of a communist. That label stuck with me like a tail. All through elementary school, I was the son of a commie bastard.”

“Kids might be like that, but didn't the adults stop them?”

“Adults.”

“Yes.”

“Kim Moon-seok.”

“Pardon?”

“That was the name of my homeroom teacher when I was in fifth grade. I don't remember the names of my classmates, but I remember that teacher’s name and face clearly.”

“……”

“Commie bastard’s son. To that teacher, that's all I was. My father must have known I was being treated that way too. Every time he drank, he would apologize to me — 'I'm sorry, Min-chul, I'm really sorry'... He apologized when he had nothing to apologize for. But...”

Park Min-Cheol trailed off and let out a quiet sigh.

“I think it was in middle school. My father suddenly collapsed. He fainted. My mother was out working, and there was no adult to help, so I had no choice but to carry him on my back and run to the hospital.”

“……”

“I barely made it to the emergency room. I handed over the health insurance card to register, but the staff's reaction was cold. Then they said there were no beds available.”

“……”

“They told me to go somewhere else. What did a kid know? They said there were no beds, so I carried him to another hospital.”

“……”

“At the lobby, when I tried to register, the staff said, ‘Isn’t this a commie bastard?’”

“Does that kind of thing even show on a health insurance card?”

“Of course not. It was because the detectives in charge had tipped them off that he was a person of interest.”

“My god...”

“They told me to get lost. That they didn't accept communists. I ran desperately to another hospital. Fortunately, they accepted us there.”

“……”

“It took two hours after fainting for my father to finally receive treatment from a proper doctor. But then...”

“Did that doctor treat him poorly too?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“That doctor said, ‘Your father is an incredible man.’”

“Ah...”

“Luckily, it was just a simple fainting spell. When we went to the billing department, the doctor came by and paid the bill himself. He told me, ‘Grow up to be a great man like your father.’”

Park Min-Cheol blankly stared at his empty glass, then chuckled.

“After that, I wanted to become a doctor who wouldn't discriminate against patients, just like that doctor. That's why I became a doctor. What do you think? It's nothing special, right?”

“No. It sounds like a movie.”

“A movie, huh.”

“Do you think you've become a doctor like him?”

“What do you think, Mr. Kim?”

“I think you’ve become more than a good doctor.”

“Thank you for saying that... but I’m not a good doctor. I was just pretending to be one.”

“Pardon?”

Kim Woo-jin looked confused.

Park Min-Cheol asked an unexpected question.

“Mr. Kim. Do you believe in miracles?”

“We work at a hospital, don’t we? Miracles happen now and then, so it’s hard not to believe.”

“I see. But I never believed in them.”

“……”

“Miracles — it's a beautiful word, right? But for patients, it can be cruel hope torture. So I deliberately didn't believe in it. I thought believing only in my skills was the way to become the best surgeon. But... I was wrong.”

“You were wrong?”

“I trapped even the patients I could have saved inside a frame of ‘there are no miracles’ that I created myself. I could have tried harder. I could have sweated more. But I dismissed it as something that only happened in movies and gave up too soon.”

“But didn’t you always do your best?”

“That’s why I say I was only pretending to be a good doctor. Maybe you all saw me that way, but the patients who died on my operating table wouldn't agree.”

“That's not true. You always did your best. You never gave up early for any patient. At least, the Chief I've seen was like that.”

“I hope so.”

Park Min-Cheol smiled bitterly and continued.

“Mr. Kim.”

“Yes?”

“You will become a good doctor. So please, don’t become a surgeon like me.”

“There are so many people who respect you, Chief.”

“I’m not someone worthy of that respect. And now...”

Park Min-Cheol opened his mouth as if he had something to say, then swallowed his words with a deep sigh.

At that moment, a hot stone pot was suddenly placed in front of them. Steamed egg was bubbling inside.

“We didn’t order this...”

“It’s on the house.”

“...On the house?”

“Yes.”

“You’re very generous. I heard egg prices went up again recently, but you’re giving steamed eggs for free.”

“I have a friend who runs a poultry farm.”

“Ah, thank you. We’ll enjoy it.”

Park Min-Cheol scooped up a large spoonful and put it into his mouth.

“It’s delicious.”

“By the way, Chief, you seem pretty drunk.”

“Hmm?”

“Your hands are shaking.”

Park Min-cheol, who had been staring at the hand holding the spoon, flinched and then burst out laughing.

“Hahaha. You really can't hide your age. My heart feels young, but my body won't follow.”

“Then how about we just finish this and get up?”

“Let's do that.”

“Why the hell did this man drink so much?”

As Park Min-cheol came home reeking of alcohol, his wife pinched her nose and scolded him.

“Honey, can you get me some honey water?”

“And what makes you think you deserve honey water?”

“You're the best at making honey water, aren't you? If I drink a glass with floating ice cubes, I feel like I won't have a hangover tomorrow...”

At her husband's drunken attempt at being cute, which wasn’t even really cute, his wife chuckled helplessly and went to the kitchen to prepare it.

Park Min-cheol gulped down the honey water. His nauseous stomach seemed to settle down a little.

“Phew...”

“Did something happen at the hospital?”

His wife asked cautiously.

Other people might think it's great being married to a doctor, but that's only seeing half the picture.

If he were a dermatologist or plastic surgeon raking in money, that would be one thing, but her husband was far from the image people had of a doctor.

Though he earned a decent salary with years of service, no one knew how grueling his work was.

Overtime was the norm, and even after getting home, he often dashed back out without even washing his face if a call came in.

On top of that, he was such a pushover that he would even pay out of his own pocket to operate on patients who couldn't afford surgery.

Though she was always dissatisfied with her husband being like that, whenever he came home drunk, her worry came before her scolding.

Park Min-cheol normally never drank. When he did, it meant one of two things.

Either he had performed a major surgery, or a patient he operated on had died on the table.

“There’s always something going on.”

Park Min-cheol grinned awkwardly. After a brief pause, he spoke.

“Min-jung.”

“Why are you calling my name all creepily again.”

“Should I take off my gown?”

“...Something must have happened.”

“It's not that. I mean, there's no chance of becoming a department head now anyway. What's the point of sitting around aging in the position? I should pass it down to the younger ones.”

“Are you really sure nothing happened?”

“I'm sure.”

Oh Min-jung shrugged her shoulders.

“Then take it off.”

“Is it that easy?”

“Then don't take it off.”

“...”

“It means I'll respect your decision. If you want to continue, then continue. If not, then quit. Just don't worry about me.”

“Alright, I'll think about it. Thanks.”

“If you know that, you should behave better normally.”

(Bows deeply)

“Yes, yes, I’ll do better from now on!”

“Have you been taking the prescribed primidone (anticonvulsant) regularly?”

Park Min-cheol, who always seemed to be sitting at the clinic desk examining patients, was now sitting on the other side for once.

“I’ve been taking it steadily.”

“What about your wife?”

“...”

“Still haven’t told her? You really are something. It’s a miracle you haven’t been caught yet.”

“My wife’s sharp about most things, but a bit dull about stuff like this.”

“All the more reason to tell her quickly. You can't keep it a secret forever, can you?”

“That’s true...”

“How’s your condition?”

Asked the fellow doctor, his voice filled with concern. Park Min-cheol smiled mischievously and replied.

“Did you prescribe the right medicine? It feels like it’s not working at all.”

“Huh. You’re still joking? If your symptoms flare up during surgery, you could kill someone.”

“...I know. That’s why I’m thinking of quitting.”

At the unexpected words, his colleague’s face stiffened.

“What would happen if someone died on the table because I couldn't control it? I should quit before that happens. Actually, a slight symptom showed up the other day. It settled down quickly though...”

“The gunshot wound patient from the other day?”

“You knew?”

“How could I not, with all the rumors flying around in the doctors’ lounge?”

“Rumors?”

“Word is that you grabbed a patient by the scruff of the neck and dragged him back from the brink of death.”

Park Min-cheol let out a small chuckle.

“The patient had a strong will. I didn’t do anything special.”

“...”

“If it were simply my lack of skill and a patient died, I could kneel and apologize to the family. I could let them slap me if they wanted. But...”

“...”

“If the surgeon’s essential tremor caused an accident that killed the patient, what could I possibly say to the family then?”

“Min-cheol, you know this. Essential tremor, if you just keep taking the medication properly… or even surgery can help reduce the symptoms.”

“Reduce, not cure. I wouldn’t be able to operate like before.”

“...”

That was the truth. Even if patients with essential tremor underwent surgery, it was difficult to fully cure them.

They might recover about 50 percent.

Of course, that 50 percent was a huge improvement for patients struggling with daily life, but for a surgeon like Park Min-cheol, it was practically a death sentence.

“Well, I’ll be going now.”

“Already? Since you’re here, how about staying for a cup of coffee?”

“I have rounds soon.”

Waving his hand, Park Min-cheol left the clinic.

“Sir, how are you feeling?”

“Thanks to you, doctor, I'm doing well.”

“Are you experiencing any discomfort?”

“Other than the hospital food being tasteless, there’s nothing uncomfortable.”

“Hahaha. The cafeteria food is actually pretty good. When you’re discharged, come by and try it.”

The patient smiled brightly, and Park Min-cheol turned around and asked.

“How was the patient’s blood pressure this morning?”

“It was 140 over 90.”

Park Min-cheol nodded. It was slightly high compared to the normal range, but considering the patient's age and condition, it wasn’t bad.

“Then I’ll see you later, sir.”

“Yes.”

After leaving the hospital room, Park Min-cheol looked at the resident examining a chart.

“Dr. Cho. Where to next?”

“Patient Go Kyung-soo, whom you operated on two days ago.”

Park Min-cheol headed to Go Kyung-soo’s room.

Room 301.

Standing in front of the room, he hesitated, unable to bring himself to open the door.

It would be his first face-to-face with Go Kyung-soo since the surgery. For some reason, he was nervous.

Maybe it was the excessive tension that caused it.

The symptoms returned again.

Min-cheol quickly stuffed his trembling hand into his pocket before anyone noticed.

“Doctor?”

“Ah, Dr. Cho, you open it. I’m feeling nervous about meeting the patient I dragged back from the brink of death.”