The Vicious Sniper (1)
The phone call had come out of nowhere.
“Is this… Mr. Woojin?”
“Ah, no, no—this isn’t a voice phishing scam, so please calm down first. I’m an internal medicine specialist at Neulbom University Hospital—”
“No, it’s not a scam. May I ask what your relationship is to Han Seol?”
“…First, please calm down. She is currently admitted to our hospital. You were the only contact saved by name in the patient’s smartphone, so we reached out.”
“The other numbers seem to be… ahem. They appear to be contacts related to her part-time jobs.”
“You’re coming right now? Because there’s no one else who could act as her guardian…? You’re not family?”
“Understood. I’ll text you the address from this number. I’ve already informed the reception desk, so when you arrive, just give them your name at the information counter and head straight to the internal medicine consultation room. Yes. No, she is not in critical condition. Yes. All right, we’ll expect you around seven o’clock.”
Call ended.
Park Woojin finally caught his breath. Sweat trickled down his cheek and cooled instantly in the air-conditioned breeze. Only then did his gaze manage to focus on the man sitting across the table. In hindsight, deciding to sprint instead of enduring the crawling taxi had been a bit much—especially since rush hour had overlapped with his departure.
“Should I lower the air conditioning?”
“…No, I’m fine.”
The man across from him blinked silently, then let out a soft sigh. His expression clearly conveyed the unspoken message: I know you’re in a hurry, but at least catch your breath first.
“Then, though it may seem belated, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Kim Doyun, a specialist in internal medicine at Neulbom University Hospital.”
“…Park Woojin.”
“I thought it was just a coincidence with the famous name, but I never dreamed the actual person I’ve only seen on TV would show up.”
Despite the light remark, Doyun’s face remained almost unnervingly calm. His eyes quietly scanned Woojin’s appearance. Perhaps because of the sweat, he almost looked like the berserker from the game—blue hair whipping wildly as he swung a massive greatsword. Still, he seemed far more delicate in person than the character on screen.
“Even doctors play games, huh.”
“It’s always been a good hobby to enjoy in spare time, whether in the past or now. A game like Arcadia Online has become so mainstream that calling it a ‘mega-hit’ almost feels understated. And incidentally, you’re currently the hottest name in the scene. Even our hospital director—who doesn’t play games—has probably heard your name at least once.”
“You flatter me.”
Woojin’s expression stayed businesslike, but he could tell the normally reserved doctor was deliberately keeping the conversation going out of consideration. He hoped the reason for that consideration wasn’t because the upcoming news would be shockingly bad. With some effort, he changed the subject.
“…What about Seol?”
“Since you’re not family, may I ask what your relationship is?”
“It’s a long story.”
And not a pleasant one. When Woojin trailed off with clear reluctance, Doyun slowly rose from his chair. There was no immediate need for surgery, and if this man was willing to step up as guardian, it probably wouldn’t cause any issues—even if he was a public figure.
“You can tell me on the way.”
Given the circumstances, Doyun figured it would be better to hear the full story before deciding how much to disclose. The patient’s condition wasn’t exactly something you casually shared with just anyone.
Woojin and Han Seol’s parents had apparently been close even before the two of them were born. Seol’s scholar parents had helped Woojin’s businessman parents in various ways. He had never asked for the exact details, but to Woojin, Seol’s family had always felt more like close relatives than mere neighbors.
It was only natural that the two eldest sons of both households—Woojin and Seol—had grown up close. Although Woojin was born a year earlier, their relationship had always been closer to that of same-age friends than older and younger brother. They had shared countless experiences since childhood, and family trips together were far from rare.
The year Woojin entered middle school, Seol was still in elementary school and would be attending a different school for a year. To comfort the disappointed pair, their families had planned a trip. It should have been nothing special.
It was supposed to be nothing special.
“It was drunk driving, apparently. On the highway.”
“…I see.”
While changing lanes to exit the highway, the car carrying Seol’s parents was struck by a vehicle that suddenly swerved in from the side. The mangled car had flipped through the air in a sight so horrifying that even imagining the condition of those inside made one shudder. Woojin still couldn’t say with certainty whether it had been true “luck” that Seol—throwing a tantrum because she wanted to ride with him—hadn’t been in that car. Especially not when he looked at how drastically she had changed after that day. He could never bring himself to say something like, “At least she survived.”
“Still, their family was financially comfortable. We never brought up words like… adoption. But we treated her like family. At least, I’ve always thought of her as a younger sibling I need to look after.”
“The room is right ahead. Her appearance may differ from what you remember, but please keep in mind that this is indeed Han Seol.”
Doyun fell briefly silent, as if unsure how to respond, then pointed toward a quiet corner of the hallway. The door read “Room 504.” Since it was a single-patient room, only Seol’s name was listed on the plate.
Woojin forced his hurried steps to slow. His hand gripped the door handle tightly. The door opened smoothly and silently, revealing a slender girl lying motionless on the bed, eyes closed as if she were dead.
“…That child is…?”
“Yes. That is Han Seol.”
Woojin’s gaze flicked back to Doyun, searching his face carefully. There was no trace of amusement, no sign that this was a prank or a hidden-camera show.
“It hasn’t been widely publicized, but this condition has been reported about six times worldwide, including Han Seol’s case. There have been domestic cases as well. There are no life-threatening health issues, however—”
Doyun’s continued explanation barely registered. Woojin approached the bed with slow, heavy steps. His gaze trembled so violently he could feel it himself.
Though the blanket covered her up to her shoulders, her frame was clearly petite and frail. If not for the faint sound of breathing from those small lips, he might have mistaken her for a doll. Her lovely face was so delicate it seemed almost unreal. Beneath the dim hospital lighting, her long eyelashes seemed to sparkle faintly—was that just his imagination?
His eyes kept drifting to her slightly furrowed brows, as if she were uncomfortable even in sleep. Despite the doctor’s assurance that there were no health problems, an overwhelming sense of pity washed over him. Woojin told himself it was because of those delicate features that kept drawing his gaze, more so than her slender build.
“…Mr. Woojin?”
“Ah. Y-yes?”
Doyun’s lips parted to release a quiet sigh, but he swallowed it. After hearing the full story, he could understand why the man looked so worried.
“As I’ve said multiple times, there are no particular health concerns. She should wake up without issue in one to two weeks. We placed her in a single room simply because any disturbance would cause chaos given her… unique situation. It’s not because her condition requires isolation.”
Doyun’s hand twitched, then gently patted Woojin’s shoulder a couple of times.
“So there’s no need to make such a grim face. Everything will be fine. Please try to relax your expression a little.”
For a moment Woojin had wondered if this was all an elaborate scam to get something from him. Or if Seol had actually been kidnapped. The girl’s ethereal appearance had unconsciously led his mind down such unrealistic paths. Only now did his thoughts snap back to reality.
…The doctor seemed to have interpreted his reaction in a slightly different way, but Woojin wasn’t rude enough to point it out.
“This room… would it be possible to keep using it for the entire stay?”
“We were planning to move her to a general ward depending on the situation. Is there a problem?”
“I’ll cover all the costs. Please let her stay in this room until she wakes up. When visitors come, it’ll be better if we don’t have to worry about other people’s stares.”
His voice sounded drained. Woojin’s gaze returned to the girl on the bed.
…Just looking at her sleeping like this, he found it almost impossible to connect her with the Han Seol he remembered.