Savant Syndrome
“Just one more question.”
She flipped open the book to its middle section and read carefully for a moment.
“In the chapter on market volatility and investment strategy, what concept did the author emphasize?”
Her question was clever. It came from a relatively unimportant chapter, one where the author’s personal opinion had slipped in—subjective material you simply could not answer without having read the book.
Yet my mind was already racing through the pages, snatching up the passage that had only brushed past me earlier.
“Market volatility can act as both an investment opportunity and a risk, and the book discussed ‘how to utilize volatility from a long-term investor’s perspective.’ The core idea was ‘building a stable portfolio of operating assets rather than trying to time the market.’ Is that right?”
“Ah—yes, yes, that’s right.”
She answered in a daze and looked back down at the book. Then she stared at me with an expression of pure wonder.
“How is this even possible? Was it just luck?”
She stepped closer as she asked.
“It’s not lu—”
“Or is it a book you’ve read before? Or maybe—you know—that complete memory ability where you remember everything after seeing it just once? Do you have something like that?”
She fired the words off like a machine gun, pressing closer and closer.
Why is she acting like this?
This was a far cry from her first impression.
“So people with that kind of ability actually exist. Complete memory ability… This is the first I’ve heard of—”
“Huk! Could it be savant syndrome?!”
She covered her mouth and recoiled as if startled.
“Excuse me? Savant syndrome?”
“Yes! Among people with brain disabilities or damage, a tiny fraction display memory abilities in specific fields that far surpass ordinary people!!”
What is with this woman?
“Brain disability? Don’t tell me I—”
“Have you seen Rain Man? The 1989 film with Dustin Hoffman and Tom Cruise—Dustin Hoffman plays an autistic man with savant syndrome, gets rave reviews, and even wins an Oscar!”
She practically shouted with excitement.
Sudden acceleration?
“Ah… yes. I see.”
I nodded awkwardly, forcing a smile.
“Ah!”
She suddenly clapped both hands over her mouth.
“Oh my! I did it again, didn’t I? I’m really sorry.”
She bowed her head with a genuinely apologetic look.
Is she just crazy? Did she come to the wrong hospital?
“Miss. It’s time to go in.”
At that moment a woman in a black suit and two men who looked like bodyguards stepped into the library.
“I’ve been terribly rude.”
She glanced back and forth between me and the woman, left a quick apology, and fled as if escaping. The three figures in black suits hurried after her in a line.
I stared blankly at the library entrance for a moment after they disappeared.
“What just happened.”
Having run into something this absurd for the first time in a long while, I actually felt a little refreshed. I had never met a character like her before.
But a secretary and bodyguards? She clearly wasn’t ordinary.
Who on earth was she? What was she doing in the hospital? Mental issues? If I came back to the library, would I run into her again?
I was turning those thoughts over on my way back to the ward when several nurses blocked my path. The one in the middle held something out to me. Looking closer, I recognized her—the nurse I had helped the day before.
“Yesterday I was so flustered… I never even got to thank you. Thank you so much. Please take this…”
What she offered was a heart-shaped gift wrapped in paper.
“What is this?”
“It’s nothing much… just a small token of gratitude. Well then, I’ll be going.”
She blushed the moment she handed it over and spun around at once. The nurses on either side kept glancing at me and giggling as if something were endlessly amusing.
Back in the room I unwrapped it and found chocolate nestled in a rather luxurious box.
“I can eat one whenever my blood sugar drops.”
I set it on the side table without much thought. Ever since a girlfriend had thoroughly burned me a few years back, women had barely registered on my radar.
“Alright. Let’s get started.”
I began exercising again. Lately I worked out every morning and evening; skip even one session and my body itched so badly I could hardly stand it. What was this, anyway? It wasn’t as if I were going through a growth spurt.
Maybe I should get my brain checked again.
I thought while doing push-ups. Was there some way to have the tests done in secret? The idea of hospital records leaking somewhere left me uneasy. I was getting ahead of myself, but caution never hurt.
Savant syndrome, huh…
Who could say? Maybe, like in the movie, what was happening inside my head wasn’t a tumor at all—but a brain awakening. No one knew.
That evening, after finishing my workout, washing up, and lying down on the bed, I turned on the large TV opposite me, connected to the streaming service, and typed “Rain Man” into the search bar.
A man like rain? I had no idea what that meant.
“Oh! There it is.”
The poster alone made it clear the film was ancient. I hit play and settled in to watch.
VIP rooms really were nice—watching a movie alone on a big screen right in your own room.
A few days later, at three in the afternoon, I checked the stock I had invested in, as I did once every day.
Exco.
The shares I had bought at 41,000 won closed today at 49,000. Roughly a twenty-percent rise in about a week. Until the day before yesterday the price had been stuck in a box range; yesterday it broke out and kept climbing on that momentum through today.
I had put in twenty million won for 480 shares, so on paper I was up 3,840,000 won. But with stocks you haven’t made anything until you sell. Of course I had no intention of selling now—this wasn’t a short-term play.
The steep upward curve made me a little uneasy, yet I decided to trust the thesis and hold. Part of me also thought, I should have bought more. That, however, is one of the most dangerous thoughts you can have. Opportunities come around again. Even if I had missed this one, there was no need to rush.
In any case, it was a pleasant start.
Today was also the day I completed discharge procedures and walked out of the hospital. Many nurses came by to say thank you for everything; other patients expressed genuine regret that I was leaving so soon. The attending physician was openly astonished, claiming he had never seen anyone recover this fast in his entire career. He urged me to get a full work-up; I refused flatly on security grounds.
I never saw the woman from the Healing Library again. She must have transferred to another hospital. Why, I had no way of knowing.
My body was in peak condition. Days of nonstop exercise and reading had put muscle where none had been and left me firmer all over. There had been one bout of headache, but inside my head everything felt excellent—thoughts spun cleanly, the whole skull felt light. The medicine had been thrown out long ago.
I left the hospital and headed straight home. I had planned to go to the office, but Deputy General Manager Jeon Yonggi had issued something that was not quite an order yet left no room for argument: go home and rest.
I chose the subway over a taxi. Maybe I had simply missed the press of people. The luggage bag was heavy, yet it felt almost light; it didn’t hinder me at all.
Thinking of one thing and another, I suddenly realized it was time to get off. As I stepped out with the bag, I noticed a crowd gathered farther down the platform, murmuring.
Something wrong?
The exit lay in that direction, so I walked toward them naturally.
“Hurry, call 119!”
“Is there a doctor or nurse anywhere?”
“Someone please help!”
The closer I got, the more urgent the atmosphere became.
Don’t tell me someone collapsed?
At the center of the circle a woman lay on the ground.
“Is it epilepsy?”
“Did you call 119?”
“Is it okay to just leave her like this?”
People muttered and dialed phones, yet no one stepped forward. In a world this vicious, intervening and then having something go wrong could land the entire mess on your own head.
“Please! Someone help her!”
A schoolgirl who looked like her daughter kept shouting for help, but everyone was busy looking anywhere else. Chaos steadily took over the space.
I pushed through the crowd. A woman who appeared to be in her fifties lay with her eyes rolled back, foam at her lips, body convulsing.
In that instant the medical texts and first-aid manuals I had read in the Healing Library rose in my mind. Hospitals stocked plenty of books on medicine.
I know I read this…
Pages flipped open and shut at high speed inside my head, then locked on one passage.
Ah—this is it!
I read the remembered text at once.
Generalized tonic-clonic seizure—epileptic seizure. Never restrain the person by force during convulsions. Remove any foreign object from the mouth; put nothing in. Loosen clothing and clear the surroundings of anything hazardous.
I moved without hesitation.
“Please make way!”
I shoved people aside and stepped in. Strength unexpectedly filled my voice, as if I were someone who had done this a hundred times.
“Clear away anything that looks dangerous!”
I reached the convulsing woman, loosened her tight clothing, and turned her head to the side so saliva and foam could drain freely. My heart hammered wildly, yet my mind stayed perfectly calm.
“Does anyone have a bag or a towel? I need something soft under her head!”
A woman thrust a soft bag at me in a daze. I quickly cushioned the patient’s head and waited.
Most basic seizures stop within five minutes. After the convulsions end, check that the airway is clear and that she is breathing; if not, begin CPR.
Sure enough, the convulsions ceased before long. Relief was still premature. I pressed my cheek to her mouth and watched her chest. No breath. Cardiac arrest.
I laid her flat and started CPR at once.
Can I actually do this?
The last time I had taken a CPR course was ten years ago. Yet the memory remained razor-sharp in my head.
“Kehek! Cough—cough!”
After roughly two minutes of compressions the woman coughed and came around.
“Ohhh!”
“Wow—she’s breathing!”
“Clap clap clap clap!”
“Wow! Amazing!”
The crowd broke into low cheers and applause. I let out a short breath of relief, stayed beside her until her consciousness fully returned, then slipped away the moment I heard the 119 paramedics were arriving. Everyone’s eyes were locked on the running crew, so I was able to leave quietly. Lingering would only have invited trouble.
Had stepping in been the right call?
Twenty minutes later I was home, heart still pounding so hard I could only lie on the bed without moving. My mind, by contrast, was endlessly calm and orderly. The entire sequence—from stepping off the subway, to saving the woman, to walking through my front door—unspooled like a panorama. I examined every frame for anything that might become a problem or weigh on my conscience. Nothing serious turned up.
Still, the sight of people holding phones toward me niggled. If the footage went online I could attract unwanted attention. I tried searching my phone for any uploaded video, but there was no reliable way to find it. And no one could say whether it would appear tonight or tomorrow morning.
As the racing in my chest gradually settled, hunger rolled in hard.
“Let’s eat first.”
I pushed myself up and got ready to make a quick grocery run.
That night, a video was uploaded to YouTube.