Acknowledging the Student Who Surpassed the Master
A month ago, Professor In Gyeonghak was doing his rounds.
That day, while performing a procedure on an inpatient, he felt a strange sensation—his field of vision had narrowed, just a fraction.
After finishing his rounds, he checked his own pulse.
'There’s a faint, slippery pulse in the Bladder and Triple Burner meridians.'
This could vary depending on one's physical condition. He had been suffering from more frequent headaches lately, but that was something he had experienced off and on for years. Under normal circumstances, he would have dismissed it as stress, but the uneasy feeling in his gut prompted him to undergo a thorough examination.
The result was:
Non-functioning Pituitary Adenoma
It was a brain tumor.
—It’s 1.5cm. Since it doesn’t secrete hormones, you wouldn’t have had endocrine symptoms, but you were lucky to find it this early. It’s not the type that deteriorates rapidly. The problem is the location...
They said it was adjacent to the optic chiasm. If the area were touched during surgery, it could lead to visual field defects.
—Even if an adenoma doesn’t grow aggressively, it could attach further to the optic nerve as it expands, so surgery is necessary soon.
Even as an Oriental medical doctor, one doesn’t insist on an Oriental medicine-only approach for everything. When there is a clear organic abnormality rather than a functional one, surgery is naturally required—especially for neoplasms like tumors.
However, In Gyeonghak had postponed the surgery. There were patients to care for, and... various complicated circumstances.
He hadn't told anyone about his condition and had continued his practice as usual.
'But how did that brat...'
No, no. It might just be a lucky guess.
"What are you talking about?"
"Is it a brain issue? Is it an aneurysm... or a tumor?"
It wasn't a guess. He had hit the location and the problem with near-perfect accuracy.
In Gyeonghak scrutinized the stern expression of his former student.
'He was certainly confident when he said his skills had improved. But to know something even I didn't...'
"You figured that out just by taking my pulse?"
"Is that what's important right now? What is the diagnosis?"
"...Pituitary adenoma."
"Have you scheduled the surgery?"
"Not yet."
Kyungwoo shouted, his voice booming.
"You’re the one who always scolds patients for becoming seriously ill because they put off treatment! Why aren't you getting treated?"
"I will. I will, but there are circumstances you don't know about."
"Let me guess—you have a critical patient who only trusts you, right? Is there no one else at Gyeong-hyun University to see patients? Schedule the surgery now!"
'The nerve of this guy...'
He was shouting at a mentor who was like the sky to him, whom he hadn't seen in two years. In Gyeonghak stared at him in disbelief, then decided not to argue, remembering that even as a first-year resident, this guy would talk back if he disagreed.
"Schedule the surgery."
"I'll handle it."
"You're saying that because you *can't* handle it!"
"Then you should have stayed at the hospital! If you were here, I wouldn't have to worry and could have—"
Zap—
At that moment, a sharp headache struck Professor In.
"Are you okay?"
Kyungwoo, startled, supported him.
"Who raises a patient's blood pressure in front of a brain tumor patient?"
Even while clutching his temples, his tongue remained sharp.
Kyungwoo didn't answer, quickly laying him down on the sofa. He loosened the tight necktie and unbuttoned the top button.
"Am I an old man? Why are you waiting on me?"
"You're a patient. I'm going to place a needle."
Kyungwoo pulled a needle pouch and an alcohol swab from his pocket.
"I see you still carry needles everywhere. That's a good habit."
Kyungwoo, who had looked down at his mentor—who was still teaching even while bedridden—took out a needle.
'The first goal for a brain tumor patient's headache is to lower intracranial pressure. The acupuncture point needed for that is...'
Fengchi (GB20)
The hollow spot below the base of the skull, between the sternocleidomastoid and trapezius muscles.
Back in school, Professor In Gyeonghak's teachings came to mind.
—The Fengchi point acts like opening a dam's sluice gate to regulate water pressure; it appropriately disperses the excessive pressure of blood flow heading to the brain.
When Kyungwoo shifted his body to position himself behind the professor, In Gyeonghak understood his intent. After a breeze-like insertion so light he barely felt it, a cool, mountain-breeze-like energy flowed into the back of his neck.
'...!'
"Breathe slowly."
In sync with his exhalation, a tingling sensation tapped at the congested pathways. Stop on the inhale, stimulate on the exhale.
The intense energy that had been trapped and surging slowly drained away, guided by the needle, and In Gyeonghak felt his vision clear.
Then, Baihui, Taiyang, and Quchi.
The pain that had been pressing heavily on his temples faded as if a heavy burden had been lifted, and the heaviness in his chest also dissipated. The confidence Kyungwoo had shown—that his skills had improved—was without a shred of exaggeration.
'He was never one to talk nonsense.'
"Are you feeling a bit better?"
"...Yes. But if the goal was to lower intracranial pressure, I would have used Taichong first. Why Fengchi?"
Taichong is the source point of the Liver meridian, located on the top of the foot, essential for regulating liver qi and blood.
Kyungwoo chuckled and said,
"Would you take off your shoes and socks in the lab, Professor? I used an alternative point rather than raising your blood pressure further by arguing with you."
Was it the consideration of a student who knew him too well, or the best judgment of a doctor? Watching Kyungwoo, who had offered an unexpected reason, Professor In Gyeonghak said quietly,
"We don't look alike, but when you do things like this, you resemble Ji-woon. You're delicate."
His father's name flowed from his lips.
* * *
In Gyeonghak and Kyungwoo's father, Hyun Ji-woon, were classmates at Gyeong-hyun University. They weren't close. The hot-blooded In Gyeonghak and the quiet, introverted Hyun Ji-woon didn't mesh well in their early twenties.
But even with that personality, there wasn't a soul in the school who didn't know Hyun Ji-woon.
—They say his dad is the director of Somyeong Oriental Clinic.
Even then, Somyeong’s status in Jongno was immense. Rumors swirled that they dispensed 100 prescriptions a day and that people waited from dawn with numbered tickets. In other words, a "gold spoon." If someone around you was going to inherit such a place, you were bound to be interested.
'He’s not arrogant for a rich kid.'
That was the extent of In Gyeonghak's impression of Hyun Ji-woon. But he was shocked when he heard that the quiet cat had climbed the roof first—that Hyun Ji-woon had gotten someone pregnant. And when the director of Somyeong, Hyun Ji-woon's father, passed away during their third year, all the classmates went to the funeral together. That was his most vivid memory regarding Hyun Ji-woon.
Time passed, they graduated, and In Gyeonghak, who remained at the hospital, became a full professor at a young age after finishing his residency and fellowship. It was a steep promotion because he was so skilled that he already had the most patients in the hospital.
—You call this acupuncture!
True to his perfectionist nature, he was strict with his students, and there wasn't a resident who hadn't been kicked in the shin by him for a mistake...
Ten years ago, a new item arrived. He had been the top student throughout his undergraduate years and was so capable that every department competed to recruit him during his internship. That guy came to find him personally.
"I'm going to the Acupuncture and Moxibustion Department. Please accept me."
"Why do you want to come here?"
"Because to be the best, I have to work under the best."
He was a cheeky kid. Even as a first-year resident who knew nothing, he had openly rebelled against his prescriptions, and he had even fought with a patient who didn't follow the rules about staying overnight, leading to complaints. But... he was a student worth teaching, to the point where even those moments were secretly pleasing. When he scolded him, asking if he called that acupuncture, he would show up the next day looking like he hadn't slept, asking to be checked to see if he was doing it right. Even after being severely reprimanded, he would ask another question without flinching, and he wrote several SCI-level papers while juggling night shifts and inpatient care.
Before he knew it, Professor In Gyeonghak considered Kyungwoo his prize student. That was why, when Kyungwoo refused the fellowship, Professor In couldn't accept it.
"I have no intention of staying at the hospital."
"Why? If that was the case, why did you come under me talking about being the best?"
"I needed to hone my skills to the highest level to do something."
Seeing patients as a clinician, writing papers as a researcher, and raising students to contribute to society—was there anything more rewarding and meaningful than the position of a clinical professor, where all three conditions were met? Especially for a guy born with exactly those talents!
"What is it? If you can't convince me, I won't give up."
Stubbornness on par with his own. Seeing his mentor, who had no intention of backing down, Kyungwoo finally confessed.
"I'm going to take down Somyeong."
"Somyeong? You mean Somyeong Oriental Hospital?"
"Yes. I can't stand the sight of Somyeong using that name."
"Why? Do you have some grudge against Somyeong?"
At the word "grudge," Kyungwoo bit his lip without realizing it. He spoke in a sharp, regret-filled voice.
"Somyeong... was my grandfather's clinic."
* * *
Kyungwoo was raised almost entirely by his grandparents until he was five. His parents weren't irresponsible, but they were both too young and still university students. But the child was happy. He received all of his grandfather's love and expectations.
—A two-year-old using scissors like this? Looking at your dexterity, you're a natural-born Oriental doctor.
—Shall I show you Grandpa's clinic? Yes, that's a needle. You have to be careful not to get pricked.
He played with needle cases and cupping cups, and while sitting next to his grandfather as he wrote prescriptions, he learned to read by flipping through medical texts.
—Kyungwoo. You're smart and have a natural talent for your hands, but that's not the most important thing for an Oriental doctor.
—Then what is it?
—What is the name of Grandpa's clinic?
The 30-month-old, already having opened his eyes to the alphabet, read the clinic's name clearly.
—So! Myeong! Clinic!
—Yes. 'Somyeong' (Calling) is a very special responsibility. The only profession in the world where it is legal to use a blade on another person is a doctor. Because a patient trusts me and entrusts their precious body to me, caring for that body as if it were my own is the 'calling' of an Oriental doctor. Seeing patients with that heart is the most important thing.
Director Hyun In-hoo's character was famous. He treated patients in difficult circumstances and pediatric patients for free, and he would even prescribe medicine for free to patients who couldn't afford it but desperately needed it.
—People around me worry that I shouldn't operate like that, but... Kyungwoo.
—Yes, Grandpa!
—No matter how little you earn, a doctor who sees patients won't go hungry. Love provides all your meals.
He didn't understand everything because he was young, but hearing it repeatedly, the words were deeply engraved in young Kyungwoo's mind. However, the child who had talked about being an Oriental doctor as if it were natural since he was two faced the death of the grandfather who loved him infinitely at the age of five.
—Grandpa. Give me a piggyback ride.
—I wish I could. I should give our Kyungwoo a piggyback ride...
—But... Grandpa, are you dying?
He must have heard the whispering around him. Hyun In-hoo didn't soothe the child with easy lies. An exceptionally bright child. He explained to the best of his ability so the child could slowly accept the situation that would inevitably come.
—Yes. Grandpa has an illness that is hard to cure.
—But Grandpa is an Oriental doctor who cures illnesses? You can just cure it.
—A person's fate given by heaven is not something that can be cured. Kyungwoo, do you really want to grow up to be an Oriental doctor?
—Yes! I want to be like Grandpa!
—Yes. Your father will inherit this clinic, and someday you will inherit it. When that time comes, please keep this in mind.
Director Hyun In-hoo said, cupping his beloved grandson's soft cheeks.
—Somyeong. Just see patients in a way that you aren't ashamed of that name. Then, when we meet again in heaven later, I'll give our baby a piggyback ride every single day.
—Every single day? Promise!
Past events flashed by like a revolving lantern, and Kyungwoo, choked with emotion, spat out,
"It’s not about saying it was a clinic I was supposed to inherit. I just can't stand the sight of it being operated like that under the name of Somyeong. I will definitely make them take down that sign."
At the grudge embedded in those words, In Gyeonghak had no choice but to let Kyungwoo go.
* * *
As he threw the used needle into the medical waste container, Kyungwoo said bitterly,
"Why do you bring up someone who passed away for no reason? Just hurry up and schedule your surgery."
"Your skills, as you said, have improved."
Professor In offered a compliment he rarely gave.
"Wow, the residents would flip out if they heard this. That you even know how to compliment someone."
"I have to acknowledge the parts where you're better than me."
Kyungwoo flinched at his mentor's overly humble words.
"The accuracy of your acupuncture, and especially reading my condition through pulse diagnosis like that—that's something even I couldn't do. What on earth did you do in that countryside? Did you find another mentor besides me?"
At In Gyeonghak's interrogation, which somehow contained a hint of hurt, Kyungwoo broke into a cold sweat.
'Professor... are you sulking?'