A Promise of Trees

Lee Jun stood before the operating table, ready to suture Beongae's thigh.

In his right hand, a needle holder gripped a threaded needle; in his left, a pair of tissue forceps.

Tissue forceps look similar to tweezers, but their tips are sharp. That sharpness lets them take hold of tissue that would otherwise slip from ordinary tweezers.

Of course, grip too hard and you damage the tissue. Not that such a caution applied to Lee Jun, a man who could handle the organs of a squirrel weighing barely a hundred grams without incident.

Lee Jun opened his mouth.

"Then let's begin."

There wasn't a trace of tension on his face as he quietly announced the start. He moved his hands as if this were just another ordinary day's work.

Flick, flick, flick.

The needle holder and tissue forceps danced across the wound. Under Lee Jun's touch, the shredded, gaping muscle knit itself back together with startling speed. The wound smoothed over as if it had never been torn open at all.

Nam Hoseong's eyes flew wide, and so did those of every veterinarian in the room.

"Th-this is—!"

"Whoa..."

Even as gasps of awe filled the operating room, leaking through their masks, Lee Jun's elegant hands never paused.

Tap, tap, tap.

While the veterinarians marveled at the precision of his suturing, the open wound kept drawing closed. Every gaze in the room was locked on Lee Jun's hands, tracking the needle holder as it flew. His hands moved so fast that the veterinarians could do nothing but hold their breath and watch.

They had no other choice. What was unfolding before their eyes surpassed even their idea of an ideal suture.

And what, to them, was an ideal suture?

Stitches packed tight and firm enough that no amount of movement would tear them open. A finish like an intradermal suture, so that from the outside you couldn't even tell anything had been sewn. And beyond that, so little foreign-body sensation that the animal wouldn't lick at the site.

In short, they wanted a suture that closed the skin without looking like a suture at all. That way, the animals would feel nothing foreign and wouldn't chew the stitches out.

You might think, how hard could that be? But try it yourself. Or ask anyone who's ever gone to a hospital to have a cut stitched up. They'll tell you how brutally difficult it is to sew something so it vanishes.

And yet, in this moment, their ideal was being realized right in front of them — here, at the site of Beongae the leopard's thigh reoperation.

While everyone in the operating room held their breath and watched the wound, the muscle — which had needed a considerable amount cut away because of all the necrotic tissue — was sutured into neat alignment. The subcutaneous tissue closed over it. Then the gaping skin itself was restored.

Snip.

The instant the last suture was cut with scissors, a collective sigh burst through the operating room.

"Hoooo..."

"Ugh..."

"Woooow...!"

Sighs and exclamations spilled from the veterinarians who had been watching in silence. Nam Hoseong was the last to let his out.

"Hooo, is this even real?"

He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breathed the words in awe, still unable to tear his eyes from the wound, then turned to Lee Jun.

"Director Lee, how are you this fast? No, wait — speed isn't even the issue. Wait, actually, speed is an issue? Anyway, what on earth kind of suturing technique is this? How can it look this invisible?"

"R-right. If it weren't for the Penrose drain, you wouldn't even know it'd been sutured."

The others nodded at that.

"Truly incredible."

"I know. I knew Director Lee had a reputation for endoscopic procedures, but..."

"No, the time, too. Honestly, in this amount of time I wouldn't even have finished the muscle sutures."

Lee Jun answered the latest round of praise.

"Come on, you're giving me far too much credit. Anyway, I'm just glad we finished before the anesthesia wore off."

"No, I mean it. This is really something. Honestly, I have hope now. Hope that maybe Beongae won't lick it."

"That might just be possible."

As those hopeful words were spoken, Lee Jun thought the same thing. Beongae, don't lick it. If you just don't lick it, you'll be able to climb trees again.

After surgery, Beongae was quickly moved back to his den.

The place they brought him was the inner chamber of the leopard house. Lee Jun faced Beongae through the bars, just as he had once faced Seorak in an inner chamber.

Still a little groggy, not fully out of the anesthesia, Beongae rose on wobbly legs that hadn't yet found their strength. His head lolled from side to side. His neck still hadn't quite come back online.

Kid, you'd be better off just lying down.

But that was Lee Jun's wish, not Beongae's. The leopard stubbornly moved his uncooperative body, staggering around the inner chamber.

Pity was pity, but Lee Jun decided to do what he could right now. Whenever it looked like Beongae was about to walk into a wall, Lee Jun spoke up at once.

"Beongae, boom! Careful now."

It was the same thing Lee Jun said when walking blind dogs and cats. Every time he said it, they would change direction. It worked on Beongae too. Each time Lee Jun spoke, Beongae turned his staggering body another way.

Time passed, and when Beongae's eyes met Lee Jun's, Lee Jun asked,

"Beongae, does it hurt?"

A shake. That great head swayed from side to side. Not an unconscious wobble — a shake of will.

"Yeah? That's a relief."

Lee Jun exhaled. Beongae had no reason to say he wasn't in pain if he was, so the gesture had to be the truth.

Crows'-feet gathered at the corners of Lee Jun's eyes. A smile had bloomed on his face, and the wrinkles came with it naturally. He looked at Beongae with that smile in his eyes.

That was when it happened. Beongae, looking back at him, gave a soft, fuzzy tremble at the corners of his mouth. Still not fully out of the anesthesia, that little motion had to be him curling his lips into a smile.

The words came out slurred, the anesthesia still clinging to his tongue.

He likes it. He likes that I'm here with him. He likes that I warned him when he was about to hit the wall. And that last part — that he wasn't scared.

Whether he meant he wasn't scared because Lee Jun had been there when he woke from the anesthesia, or because someone who could understand him had been there explaining what was happening... Lee Jun couldn't be sure. But he could tell that Beongae's words carried a great deal of feeling.

Sadness. Loneliness. Fear. All of it was in those words.

I'm glad I stayed with him.

Lee Jun looked at Beongae with even warmer eyes.

"Of course. Of course I should be here. Right?"

Khuhuhuhuh!

Beongae let out a rumble of happy laughter. Then he tottered over to the bars and leaned his head against them, as if asking to be petted.

Lee Jun stroked the fur and flesh poking through the bars.

"You big guy!"

Lee Jun laughed, and Beongae laughed too.

A little later, Lee Jun and Beongae sat facing each other through the bars. Still stroking Beongae's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠flank where it pressed through the gaps, Lee Jun spoke.

"Beongae, that place that hurt? Yeah, that spot. If you just don't lick it, you'll be able to climb trees like you used to. I mean you'll be able to get up into the trees. So don't chew it, and don't lick it, okay?"

Lee Jun told the now-awake Beongae what he'd been thinking since the surgery ended.

Beongae's eyes went round and bright at the mention of climbing trees.

"Alright, then that's a promise?"

"Good. I'll be back in a few days, so you keep that promise!"

"Of course! I'll definitely come. So keep the promise until then."

After making his promise with Beongae, Lee Jun said his goodbyes to the zoo staff as well.

"I don't think Beongae will mess with the surgical site, but if anything comes up, please call me right away. And I think I'll have some time in about a week. I'll come back then."

"Aigoo, we're already so grateful you came all this way today we don't know what to do with ourselves, and now you're coming again? Thank you so, so much. We truly owe you a great deal today."

Nam Hoseong answered on everyone's behalf, packing the words with gratitude.

"Owe me? We're just helping each other out."

"Hearing you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠say that makes me even more grateful. That aside..."

Nam Hoseong trailed off, hesitating. The veterinarians standing behind him wore similar expressions. They had something they wanted to say, but couldn't quite get it out.

"Go ahead. Is there another animal here who needs my hands?"

He meant: was there a zoo animal that needed to be seen by Lee Jun.

"Ahaha. Well..."

Nam Hoseong gave an awkward smile and lowered his head. In his lowered gaze, he saw Lee Jun's hands. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠In that instant, Nam Hoseong swallowed.

He needed to voice the request his team had asked him to make, but the words simply wouldn't come. He said he was busy...

They were already enormously grateful that Lee Jun had come today. Asking something more of a person like that — his mouth wouldn't open.

That was when one of the veterinarians behind Nam Hoseong spoke up.

"Um, so, Director Lee... how can we suture the way you do?"

"Director Lee, please teach us your suturing technique."

Another veterinarian chimed in. Now that it was out in the open, Nam Hoseong addressed Lee Jun.

"Honestly, watching you suture, I couldn't close my mouth. Director Lee... I'd like to learn your suturing. Would you be willing to teach us?"

"Ah, suturing? It's really no different from what any of you do... Ah, if there's a difference, it's just that I've done a few more surgeries on smaller animals than you all have. That's all."

It wasn't. Lee Jun's suturing was on an entirely different level. And the team had seen that skill with their own eyes.

"I know it's rude to ask this of you. I know how busy you are. But if we could just learn the technique you showed us today, I think our kids would be so much more comfortable."

By "kids," Nam Hoseong meant the animals living at the zoo, and Lee Jun knew it too. Nam Hoseong went on.

"Honestly, treating wildlife is almost always done under anesthesia. Especially with the big predators."

That stood to reason. Lee Jun nodded, and so did the rest of the veterinary team.

"So when you do it, you have to get it right the first time. If we just had that suturing ability, I think the recurrence rate would drop dramatically."

"Even just with the monkeys, they get torn up and chewed on quite a lot. And those guys are so good with their hands they usually just rip the sutures right out."

Lee Jun had experienced that himself. He nodded and said,

"Well, I'm not at a level where I should be teaching any of you, but I'll tell you the method I use."

Ohhh! He was going to share his secret technique. Every gaze turned to Lee Jun.

"I practice on pork belly."

Everyone stared at him with the same expression — a look of bewilderment.

"P-pork belly?"

Nam Hoseong stammered the question, and Lee Jun nodded with a sunny face.

"Yes, pork belly. If I have intestines, I use those too, or other cuts of meat. I practice on skin as well. I go to the butcher and ask for anything they're throwing out and try it all. Fat chunks, blood cake... sometimes I even use tofu."

"T-tofu..."

"B-blood cake..."

They'd practiced suturing on pork belly and intestines before. But tofu? At Lee Jun's words, Nam Hoseong and every member of the team wore looks of astonishment.

"I've tried cushions..."

"I did cushions and intestines..."

"Yes, I started with cushions too. You try all sorts of things. Especially with small animals, the internal organs are so fragile. You suture blood cake or tofu and you memorize the tension. Ah — if I use this much force, it just mashes. Like that."

"S-so do you still practice these days?"

"If nothing special comes up, I try to practice at least thirty minutes. If I'm really short on time, I cut it down to about ten."

Their jaws dropped.

Was he just that driven? That diligent? Or was it something else entirely?

While everyone searched for words, Lee Jun continued with a bright smile.

"There was a stretch of about a week when I couldn't practice, and my hands definitely felt off. Daily practice really does seem to be the best."

As if they didn't know that?

No — before that, practicing sutures on cushions and pork belly was something you did in vet school, or in your first years of clinical work. And he was still doing it, at his level of experience?

The veterinarians looked at the brightly smiling Lee Jun and thought that. But they also thought this: so that's how he got that good. Right. Skill like that doesn't appear overnight.

And another thought followed. Alright. Starting today, I'll do it too. I want to practice hard so our kids hurt less.

As the veterinarians made that resolution, Lee Jun was marveling in his own way. They're amazing. Working that hard just to help the animals hurt less.

They practiced in different places, but they were people striving toward the same goal, and Lee Jun liked that very much. So the words came out of him naturally.

"If you all would allow it, I'd like to come check on Beongae's recovery. Ah, I can't come often — maybe once a week or every two weeks, until Beongae can climb trees..."

Before Lee Jun could even finish, Nam Hoseong seized his hand.

"Do you mean it? Thank you so much."

"Thank you. Then when I come, I'll show you how I suture."

At the offer to teach them, a chorus of thanks rang through the zoo's animal hospital.

"Thank you, Director Lee."

"Thank you."

"We're so grateful."