Chapter 2
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Changes
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"Cough! Hack!"
"Patient! Cough it up! Cough! Good! One more time!"
Everything was hazy. My head was spinning. My jaw hurt like hell. Ugh...
I could finally breathe properly? Thank goodness. I really thought I was a goner.
"Cough!"
"Seol. Ha. Jin."
"...Sis?"
"You're banned from watching baseball live from now on! You know you collapsed watching a game and just woke up after three days?"
"...What?"
"Alright, alright, guardian. Can you give us a moment first?"
"Oh, yes. Sorry. Seeing him up and fine just got me so mad... Anyway, please explain."
"Sure."
I gave a wry smile at the doctor's explanation. Why did I collapse?
The Busan Whales, who had over a 95% chance of making the playoffs mid-season, went on a 12-game losing streak, managed a 1-0 tie, then another four-game skid, and I watched it all live as they missed the postseason entirely.
"So, your heart couldn't handle the sudden stress, and its function dropped."
"Heh."
I'd only been out for three days, but it was so absurd I had to laugh. Busan Whales, you crazy bastards. You really pushed me right to the brink of death.
But don't worry. I'll curse you until you win the integrated championship.
This lifetime? Yeah, I know... I get it.
"Anyway, thank you. Doctor—no, Professor."
"Just doing my job. We'll monitor you for another two weeks or so. But heads up: no baseball on this ward."
"Ah... Got it."
"And no watching on your phone either. You're young, so you'll recover fast, but no stress for now. It was a pretty severe case of stress cardiomyopathy."
"...I'll keep that in mind."
The doctor left, and I endured my sister's tirade. I had nothing to say, even if I had ten mouths. But still!
"If the Busan Whales had just made the playoffs, I wouldn't have collapsed. Isn't it their fault?"
"Shut it."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Sigh... I sent Mom home. She's got farm work piling up, and because of you... Ugh. Call her on video and say hi. Minimum two weeks in here, so call friends if you want. Play games at home instead. No live baseball."
"My friends? Uh, don't really have any close enough to call? They're all over the place. One comes to mind, but he enlisted late."
"Didn't you enlist late too? Anyway, sis is heading out. Take care of yourself."
"Don't worry. Who am I? Seol Ha-jin."
"Ha... You're something else. No live baseball, got it?"
"..."
"..."
The staring contest with sis began.
"...For real?"
"You wanna spend break just doing farm work? Should I tell Mom? She'd love it."
"No thanks."
"Then what're you gonna do?"
"Just lie here and watch anime or webtoons~"
"Good. Sis is going now~"
"Bye~"
With sis gone, I grabbed my phone. After a video call with my parents, I moved from the ICU to a regular room.
Might as well rest up fully for these two weeks. Check out NewTube? First thing that popped up: sports news.
['Ah, the playoffs we had in our grasp...' Busan Whales rely on rookies. Team on 3-game skid.]
"You bastards... Fine, do better next season. You'll make playoffs next year, right?"
"Heh heh, don't get your hopes up for a team like that."
"Pardon?"
I glanced over reflexively. A gaunt elderly man holding prayer beads in one hand was looking at me.
-Clack.
His fingers slid over the beads so naturally. A monk?
"From what I recall, they've only made it once in the last ten years? Heh heh."
"...You a Busan Whales fan?"
"Fan? Sure, if that's what you call it."
The conversation flowed naturally. How much did we trash that team? When would they disband? Time flew in our heated debate. This old guy's a diehard.
"So, Monk, what brought you here?"
"Nothing much. Just cancer."
"...Cancer?"
"No need to look so grave. We all die someday, right?"
"...Still."
"Death has no schedule. Live faithfully in the present."
-Clack.
The talk trailed off. Piecing it together from careful questions: inoperable terminal cancer. Pancreatic cancer metastasized everywhere.
In short, he could go anytime, he said with a smile. Who chats about that smiling?
"...Hmm."
-Clack.
Sweat beading on his forehead, yet he sat eyes closed, fingering the beads. Terminal cancer. Must hurt like hell. But a faint smile on his lips. Something... sacred. Indescribable.
If it were me, could I face death that calmly?
"...Any kids?"
"Had some. Not anymore. Wife too. Gone now."
"Ah... Sorry."
"Plenty to be sorry for. Don't fret. Say, how old are you?"
"Uh... 24."
"Prime of life. Got a girlfriend?"
"Just discharged not long ago."
"Find one quick. Pairs are meant to be. World's tough alone. Even for two."
-Clack.
The soft clack ended our chat.
It was a six-bed room, so besides the monk next door, other middle-aged guys too. Field vets, easy talkers.
Compared to their foul-mouthed banter, this was nothing.
Naturally, they asked how a young, healthy guy like me ended up here.
"Eh, kinda embarrassing. You guys go first, then I'll spill."
"How long you been here and you're already playing hard to get?"
"Heh heh, boss. We all know the drill~ Among friends, right? Manners matter."
Matching their thick Busan dialect, they roared with laughter. One continued.
"I see a cast, I get it. Leg busted somehow. We chatted with the monk earlier. This guy's, what was it?"
"Myocardial infarction, I told you a million times, bro."
"Ah right! Yeah! Anyway, two beds empty. Your turn, boss."
"Uh... I passed out watching a Busan Whales game."
"...?"
"...?"
Blank stares turned to hysterical laughter. Embarrassing, but true. Even the monk, eyes closed beading away, couldn't hide his smile.
Time flew. Lying around all day itched, so I took light walks, snuck squats—no issues.
But the monk next door? Worsening daily, even to my untrained eyes.
Wiki and forums just drove home reality: terminal pancreatic cancer. Full metastasis. Survival odds? Under 1%. No, 0.1%.
-Clack.
-Clack.
Whether I watched movies or ate, he sat statue-still, eyes shut, chanting sutras.
We'd chat when he seemed up for it, but if even talking tired him, eyes closed, beads gripped.
Other monks visited a few times; I gave space.
Discharge day, after two weeks, the even gaunter monk called me over.
"Today... discharge...?"
"Yes..."
His usual calm voice trembled today. Instinct hit: he might not make tonight.
"Take... this...?"
"...Monk."
"...Odd for a young man...?"
"...You read me well. But if you give it, I'll treasure it. Love freebies."
-Clack.
His quivering hand passed the beads; his lips twitched—smile? Tears?
"Say, Monk. Which temple? I'll visit."
"..."
"...Monk?"
-Beep!
Eerie machine beep. Unfocused eyes. Fading form.
The monk left me his beads and departed on a long journey.
"Whew, rest well. Good he had company at the end."
"...Hope so."
"Grown man crying? Dang, tears everywhere. Just two weeks. Live ones gotta live. Why mope?"
"..."
I couldn't hold back tears; a Busan guy slapped my back.
"Quit it! Get discharged. Man up, no blubbering. I'd whoop my son for that!"
"Yes. Take care."
"And root for baseball right away. Got it?"
"...Yes."
After washing up and leaving, sis waited.
"Sighhhh... Finally out? How was hospital life? Food okay?"
"Kinda worth experiencing once. Food was bland. Snoring uncles aside, rested well."
"You snore like a beast too, so even. No live baseball. Let's eat. Wish we had a car."
"Sis, hold on."
"What?"
"Nothing big. Wait a sec. Forgot something in my room."
"Okay, hurry."
I slipped quietly to a deserted spot behind the hospital.
-Click.
Beads on my wrist. Hands clasped, head bowed.
"...Rest easy now. Attain Buddhahood, Monk."
-Thump.
Chest ached. Should've talked more when he was better?
Could I face death like him?
Thoughts spiraled. Messy feelings wouldn't settle.
Ha, what to do? Live ones live, like the Busan guy said. Everyone dies someday.
And that discharge day, I rode an ambulance right back into the same hospital.