Chapter 18
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Alexithymia (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
With my hands tied, there was nothing I could do. Not that I wanted to do anything in the first place. I just closed my eyes. Even that tiresome voice had fallen silent. What was this feeling?
Time was still ticking away. Not much life left ahead. A terminal existence. They said a heart transplant could save me? Sure, maybe with a kidney—you lose one and manage fine with the other. But the heart? One of the human body's absolute vital organs, right up there with the brain and lungs.
Heart donors die, plain and simple. In a way, the recipient inherits the donor's life.
Inherit the life of some ten-year-old kid I've never even seen? Absurd. A guy who's already died once, taking over a living person's life?
'Enough already.'
It had gnawed at me, not getting to say a proper goodbye to my parents before nearly dying. But that was over now. I'd just said my final farewell.
'I don't want anyone seeing me like this.'
Objectively speaking, this body looked like a perfect doll. So what? It wasn't me. Ah, wasn't there a term for it? The red pill?
'Could I die by biting my tongue?'
Probably not. They'd be watching me closely. From the hospital's perspective, I was a precious guinea pig, after all.
'Doesn't matter anyway.'
Everyone dies eventually. Every living thing does, someday. My family would too. Farewells are inevitable. It just came a little early for me. All I had to do was go first and wait for them.
Life was just a journey. Journeys end eventually. What mattered was how much you enjoyed it, right? My professor had said you should do everything you want before dying. Well, I didn't get to do it all, but it was a pretty fun trip, wasn't it?
Born in Busan, playing catch with Dad from a young age, going fishing together. Studying, gaming... Discovered talent in baseball as a hobby, trained professionally from high school.
Felt my limits against real prodigies who crushed fakers like me with a smile. Took comfort seeing that even my talented seniors, juniors, and peers—only a tiny fraction made it pro. That's why half-baked talent is the scariest.
The rest? Trainers leveraging their athletic experience, physical therapists, or just drifting into some random college. All over the map.
Despite everyone dreaming pro, in my three high school years, only ten made it. Just one even reached the first team.
Honestly, I never went all-out, life-or-death on baseball. Wasn't that dedicated. Even if I had, doubt I'd have made the first team. Or...?
'Think I could pitch better than the Whales guys?'
Ah, should have grinded like a dog back then, joined the Whales, and won a championship. Missed it this life. See one next? A team whose last title was in the twentieth century? No way, that's bullshit. Founding members still around? Come on, stop lying.
'Those fucking great bastards... How do you watch baseball since elementary school and never win once? Oh yeah, it's spring now. They doing better? By the time I die, probably bombing out of playoffs again, groveling with dogeza apologies.'
What did it matter anyway? I'd already died once. About to again soon.
'Better sleep.'
Hands bound, I stretched out flat like a starfish. Tension eased from my muscles, drowsiness washing over. A yawn slipped out.
'Haven't eaten, but not hungry? Guess they hooked me up to TPN or something.'
With that pointless thought, consciousness faded. Tomorrow's me would wake up alive. But if there was even a sliver of chance... I hoped not to. Hoped this was all just a dream.
My wish didn't come true. The next day, the visitor to my room was none other than my sister. Mom and Dad had to head down today for some errands, she'd said. Sis took up her familiar nursing duties.
"Come on, little sib. Time for a shower. Couldn't do one in the ICU, right?"
"Nurses wiped me down with towels. I can handle the shower myself."
"I brought shower stuff. With your albinism, you need moisturizer now—no trying it before, huh?"
"Moisturizing's just lotion, isn't it?"
"Nope. Listen up. This is hyaluronic acid moisturizer cream. And this is a scrub peeling gel..."
What? Himalayan? Scream? Wasn't that the slasher from the horror flick? Or from that hide-and-seek game?
"Got it?"
"No."
"Hey, aren't you being too blunt?"
"Blunt? How?"
"Well... no, forget it."
Why was I like this? Couldn't grasp what Sis was getting at. Context just wouldn't click. Felt totally off.
"Alright, let me explain again!"
"Okay."
After the rundown, my hands were finally free. Small, pale, cold hands. Were these really mine?
Time slipped by somehow, and a familiar face showed up in my room. So-yun, looking even thinner than a few days ago. Her dad and Kim Department Head were with her too.
Made sense leaving ICU—better with a doc nearby. But seriously, what was So-yun's illness? It was... something. Why couldn't I remember?
"Little bro! I'm here! This place rocks! Can I stay too?"
"Yeah."
"What's wrong?"
"What?"
"Didn't miss me? I was so worried!"
Why? Why say that to me? What should I say? Miss you or whatever?
"Ugh, whatever! Anyway, scoot over, little bro!"
I shifted, and she hopped right into the bed beside me. Reached out and stroked my head. Had she done that before? Couldn't recall.
"Ice bro's even icier now! ...Were you in that much pain?"
"Huh? Pain?"
"Whatever, come here!"
"Whoa."
So-yun suddenly pulled me into a hug. My smaller body fit right into her arms. How to react? Blush? Push away? What... what do I do?
"Heehee, you never let anyone touch you usually. Why so defenseless today? But wow, Ice Bro's super cool to the touch! True to name!"
"..."
Her embrace was warm. My ear pressed to her chest.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
A rapid heartbeat echoed. Unlike my sluggish one. Kids have fast heart rates, right?
"Too cute! My little bro!"
"Cute?"
"Why'd you turn dumb all of a sudden? Duh, you're cute! Extra cute today! Heehee."
The steady, quick rhythm brought calm to my heart.
Lee Professor, watching from outside, began reporting to the director.
"DID showed up atypically, but alexithymia seems textbook. Patient's face stays blank. Post-body change, expressions were already muted, but now? Zero change. Big difference from Kim Head's report of a faint smile on the rooftop."
"I see. Where you thinking of publishing?"
"...Somewhere big."
"Good. How's alexithymia usually treated?"
"Antidepressants are already in the IV, so meds are maxed. I'll add psychotherapy. CBT, emotion-focused therapy, maybe art therapy as an option. But that case report showed no progress."
"Because of the DID?"
"Yeah. Other personalities intercepting emotions midway? Not sure on wording, but that's the gist."
"Hm... Say, Professor Lee. Do we even need to treat it?"
"...Pardon?"
"From what I just saw, patient seems pretty stable. Right?"
"W-well, yes, but... Stability's debatable. Wasting away as we speak..."
"Hm. But do we really need to poke the alexithymia now? Especially if treatment won't work anyway. Overwhelming emotions trigger personality shifts, yeah? In that state, hard for others to emerge."
The director said it casually, but Lee Professor was inwardly shocked as he replied.
"B-but, Director. We can't just leave it. The longer it goes, the duller emotions get—could lose them entirely. Ruinous. Even post-integration, might not recognize them properly. Need constant exposure, expression training."
"Hm... Alright?"
"My take. Quality of life post-discharge too. Cheap therapies anyway. Let's try with So-yun first. Seems more comfy with her than even Sis."
"Fine. Psych follows your plan. Met with Chair Professor Hwang? How long now? Heart worse?"
"No major change. Still six months."
"Keeps dodging me. Man, villainy's tough work. I just want to save whoever has a shot. We're doctors, right? Save the savable patients."
"...Yes."
Lee Professor swallowed his words. Stay quiet, and he'd be next department head. Ethically dicey, sure, but Director wasn't wrong. If the new chemo flopped too, barely one drug left. If that failed?
So-yun's brain tumor would keep growing, steal consciousness, stop breathing. Death. Ventilator could drag it out—brain-dead limbo. Alive, but not living.
"Alright. Carry on. Got a meeting. Call if issues."
"Take care, Director."