Chapter 11
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: The Perfect Opportunity
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"For now, So-yun, shall we go see your dad?"
"Huh? Ah..."
Kim Department Head took the hand of the hesitant So-yun and led her out the door. The waiting nurses took her away. Once she saw her father and came back, she'd probably start chattering away happily again in no time.
One thing he'd realized working as a pediatrician: children's greatest strength and weakness was how quickly they moved on from everything. They might be a little down right now, but they bounced back fast and shook it off.
Honest with their emotions, they'd cry and then laugh, laugh and then cry. His own kids had been the same when they were little. How fast those tiny ones had grown.
But this patient wasn't a child. Her body might be childlike, and there were no issues with her memories either. Tough case. Really tough.
Korea University Hospital Pediatrics Department Head. He'd cared for children for over twenty years. Plenty had been discharged healthy, and plenty more he'd had no choice but to send off.
So-yun clearly fell into the latter category, and this patient... he wasn't even sure. Chair Professor Hwang said a heart transplant would save her life.
But would surviving like that really be living? This patient had lost all twenty-five years of her previous life. Hard to believe, but an undeniable reality. It all started because even her own mother couldn't accept it.
"Seol A-yeon patient?"
"..."
No response, as expected. He'd had no hopes anyway.
"Have you eaten?"
"...Please leave."
"I'm truly sorry, but could I check your condition for a moment?"
"Why? So you can use any changes as data for a paper?"
He flinched at the weak voice coming from under the blanket, but he still had a job to do.
"...Excuse me for a moment."
He grasped the blanket over her head and lifted it slightly. There was faint resistance, but he could see her face without issue. His eyes instinctively went to the bandage around her neck.
Tragic. Who was it that said life is a tragedy up close and a comedy from afar? This patient's life had clearly ended in tragedy, but could her new one become a comedy?
Doctors shouldn't have personal feelings for patients. They were just technicians fixing bodies. The more emotions you let in, the harder it got. All sorts of sayings came to mind, but if he'd cared about that, he never would've gone into pediatrics. He'd catch hell later, but what could he do?
"...The weather's warming up a bit now. How about getting some fresh air?"
"..."
The patient, who had been ignoring his gaze, turned her head. Eyes clearer than any he'd seen in his life stared back at him. Her face was utterly expressionless, but he could read a faint spark of expectation.
"...Outside the building?"
"There's a terrace on the hospital rooftop."
"...Okay."
Was it his imagination? Her weak voice seemed to have gained a little strength. Kim Department Head extended his hand.
"...My hand might make your body change somehow. Is that okay?"
-Grip.
Without a word, Kim Department Head reached out and enveloped the patient's hand. It was slightly cool, small and delicate.
"Let's go."
"..."
-Ding.
The elevator arrived at the hospital rooftop. Winter was ending, spring arriving. The indoor cafe and outdoor terrace were both crowded.
Patients in gowns, doctors in white coats, nurses in blue uniforms, visitors in everyday clothes.
"Hm, anything you want from the cafe? No caffeine drinks, though."
"..."
Her digestive system was fine, so they'd switched her to regular meals a while back. She was malnourished, so they needed to pump her full of high-calorie foods. The problem was she wouldn't touch food unless So-yun was there.
"No, nothing."
"Let me know if you get hungry."
"Yes."
The conversation lapsed, and they passed the indoor cafe into the outdoor terrace. Kim Department Head opened the parasol he'd brought. Classic albinism except for her irises—sunlight was especially dangerous.
He felt eyes on them. They were an odd pair to begin with, and her hair drew attention. Maybe he shouldn't have brought her out. But after seeing her so unstable earlier, he couldn't just leave her alone.
"Shall we sit here?"
"...I want to sit over there."
"Sure."
Her fingertip pointed to the most secluded corner. Considering the stares, a sensible choice. He crouched down, blocking the sun with the parasol.
"I'll hold it."
"Won't it be uncomfortable?"
"It's fine."
Left hand on the IV stand, right on the parasol, the patient trudged to the corner and sat in the chair.
"How are you feeling? Better?"
"Yes, a bit. Spring's already here."
Kim Department Head smiled faintly back at her faint smile. It was nice to see. She'd always been so expressionless she seemed like a doll rather than a person, but now she looked human. Her gaze drifted to the indoor cafe.
"Ah, Department Head. Do they sell bread at the cafe?"
"Yes, the rooftop cafe has good reviews. The cream puffs are especially tasty."
"Could I have one?"
"Of course. Just wait a moment."
Kim Department Head decided to add a sugar-loaded shake too. For malnutrition, calories first. Sugar would lift her mood too. Hopefully it'd give her some energy.
"Hello, two cream puffs, a strawberry shake, and a hot Americano, please."
"Yes, just insert your card here. Please wait a moment."
Taking the pager, Kim Department Head felt an odd sense of déjà vu. Come to think of it, what had Psychiatry Professor Lee said at the last meeting? He'd been so shocked by the other stuff that this detail stuck out. He'd really emphasized it to him, the attending physician.
- Assign at least one dedicated monitor for the patient, no exceptions.
- Pardon? A dedicated monitor? From PICU? You know we don't have the staff. How do we monitor 24/7?
- But this patient—with that other personality the guardian mentioned—she's ultra-high risk.
- Ah, got it. Just monitoring, right? She doesn't like being around anyone but So-yun anyway, so I can't watch her myself.
- Yes, set it so her face is always visible in case she bites her tongue. Keep the vital monitors on. She could do anything under the blanket. And never, ever leave her alone if she leaves the room.
The thought hit him, and Kim Department Head bolted from his seat.
/
-Thud.
I neatly folded the parasol onto the table and unhooked the IV line. The railing looked impossibly high for my changed size. I quietly dragged a chair over without making a sound.
Perfect weather. Warm sunlight, a gentle breeze tickling my nose. Really, truly. The perfect day to die. Springtime, so the Whales must be doing well.
I scanned the surroundings. Nothing had changed. Of course not. People were too busy with their own lives.
"Mom! I want that! That one!"
"Shall we?"
A woman in a patient gown with a leg cast lifted the boy up. The man beside her immediately scolded him.
"Hey, kid. Your mom's not well—time to act your age. You still in kindergarten?"
"Mom! Dad keeps nagging!"
"Let it slide~ My leg's busted, not my arms."
"Alright, alright, son. You really want that one?"
"Yeah!!"
A happy family. Or at least, they seemed happy.
-Have you made your decision?
-If not now, the chance won't come again. The perfect chance to die completely.
Yeah. You stay inside. For my death, I want to die as me. Or... are you me too?
The sky was blue. Fresh from recent rain, a deep blue filled my view.
The world wouldn't change if I died. It wouldn't if I lived either.
For a last sight before death, wasn't it beautiful? A blue sky, no less.
Even breathing, blinking—everything felt tedious.
-Rustle.
A white petal fell onto the chair. I hate white.
-Whoosh.
A stronger gust than before blew through. Petals scattered. The one on the chair vanished too.
This moment was slipping away too. Please forget me quickly. I was just someone who was supposed to be dead anyway.
Seol A-yeon never existed. Not even a farewell. Be happy like that family without me. Think of me sometimes—not as Seol A-yeon, but as Seol Ha-jin.
-Thud.
I moved the chair to the farthest corner. It was heavy, but I could manage.
"Good."
No matter how cornered, no matter how small I was, climbing onto the chair would draw eyes. Voices murmured.
Refreshing. Who knew the air felt this crisp just a little higher up.
The sky opened wide. I spread my arms. Eyes closed against the wind. One step forward. Over this railing, and it all ends. Vision blurs, time scatters. I roughly tore off the stifling bandage from my neck.
Am I crying right now? I don't know.
"No!!"
A voice I'd heard somewhere before rang out, and I felt euphoria from the liberation I'd never known.