Who is Entity (8)
Somehow, my ten o'clock procedure got cancelled too.
Thanks to that, Jihun and I ended up commandeering the procedure room and talking each other's ears off.
"You're asking the gallery about Entities?"
"Well, yeah... it's fast and convenient... I mean, I get that a bunch of random civilians wouldn't inspire much confidence in a professional like you, hyung, but when it comes to Entities, the gallery kids are the experts."
"No, no. That's not what I meant. I'm not saying they aren't experts."
I shook my head to dispel his misunderstanding.
I didn't think the gallery people were clueless about Entities. Quite the opposite, actually. I was merely a consultant, not a veteran of the game itself. I'm hardly in a position to hand out business cards to the true veterans — the ones who could make Entities weep tears of blood.
So I didn't doubt the gallery's expertise for a second. What worried me was whether their advice could be trusted.
"It's not their expertise I distrust. Are there no liars over there? No, you know, so-called 'expert-trolls'?"
"Uh... I don't think so? It's not like people's lives are on the line or anything."
"Jihun."
I paused for a moment. His innocent eyes looked back at me. I didn't want to cloud that look of pure trust he had in the gallery, but I had to give him a dose of reality.
"In our own industry, the place is crawling with quacks and clowns who gamble with human lives."
"Ah..."
I'd seen it with my own eyes on the very first day. Human garbage spreading misinformation to claw out an advantage in a world that was changing before everyone's eyes. Cult leaders spinning gaslighting to seize power amid the chaos. Even hyenas who predicted the apocalypse, deceived the public, and hoarded resources to claim them for themselves. Case after case of humanity draining out of people, right before my eyes.
In a society like that, would people really share accurate information out of pure goodwill alone?
"So someone running a gallery actually believes in people, huh."
"Haha..."
Jihun laughed awkwardly.
"Just ask me instead of the gallery next time. You know what zombie novels always say — in a world gone to hell like this, what you need most is someone you can trust."
"Shouldn't you be saying 'movies' instead of 'novels' at a time like this?"
"I haven't watched a movie in years."
Zombie movies, specifically, had to be at least fifteen years in the past for me.
"Speaking of zombie movies, hyung-nim, what do you think's going to happen to the world? Some people in the gallery are already building bunkers."
"What if society turns out perfectly fine? What if it doesn't collapse at all? Everyone else is living in their apartments and you're alone in an underground bunker living the Adolf experience?"
Frankly speaking, it all comes down to cost. If you pour your entire life savings into a bunker and the apocalypse does descend, those people become prophets. Add a stockpile of weapons like guns to the mix, and they'd wield absolute, untouchable power.
But what if society holds together? From that point on, they'd have to pay the price. The bunker builders get off relatively easy — they just burned money into the ground, and that's where it ends. But the ones who smuggled in guns? There's no walking that back. A prison cell would be waiting for them.
"It's all a choice. A choice. Sprint off at the starting gun and you might regret it later."
"So you think the world won't end, hyung?"
"Did you actually read the Bureau's broadcast message?"
"Uh... I don't really remember it."
"Read this one closely."
One week ago. I pointed at a single line from the emergency alert that had arrived on everyone's phones.
"We have failed, but there is no need to despair. The world does not end so easily."
"See this?"
"You trust the Bureau, hyung? It's because they failed that everything's in chaos right now?"
"Even so, when it comes to this stuff, those people are the experts. You have to trust them."
Granted, they botched it at the end, but an expert is still an expert. And honestly, I thought the Bureau was right. The Most Romantic Choice entity had such overwhelming impact that it skewed everyone's perception, but Entities simply weren't interested in destroying the world.
"You know how they say a plague that's too lethal actually fails to spread? Echoes are the same. An Entity that's both overwhelmingly powerful and causes massive damage burns out naturally — everyone who could remember its Narrative ends up dead."
Terrifying Entities come in exactly two flavors. Huge in scale but easy to counter, or hard to counter but small in scale. Entities capable of an unstoppable mass massacre could be counted on one hand — and even those had their own workarounds.
"So I'd say the odds of the world ending are low."
"Oooh. A true expert. So I guess you didn't stock up on food then."
"...I did, actually."
"Huh?"
"First day, I ordered a bunch of canned goods and ten sacks of rice online."
"..."
Couldn't be helped, could it? I was human too, and anxiety spares no one. Besides, food doesn't cost anywhere near what a bunker does — it was well within a professor's salary. If it bought me peace of mind, why wouldn't I?
"How many years' worth?"
"...Five. Eight if I ration it."
"Wow. You were fully prepared to survive alone even if the world ends, huh?"
"..."
"Could you recommend anything else I should buy?"
"...Start with rice and pasta. Most people only buy canned goods in situations like this, but grains are what'll get precious later. Humans can survive without protein, but without carbs you won't last long."
"Oooh. A true med-school professor."
"Zombie movies are all Western, right? That's why rice never shows up in them. But it's an absolute beast in storage life. Oh, and never buy mixed grains — they've got fat in them, so they go rancid fast..."
By the time I came to my senses, the conversation had wandered off into the weeds. Then again, that's how male conversations always go. When had the topic swerved this way? The food talk was honestly pointless, but I didn't bother steering it back.
We were in limbo anyway, and the past week had left me without a single chance to genuinely relax. Who knew when the next emergency would erupt? Resting with everything you had while you could was the only way to avoid collapsing later.
And so, like a pair of old lounge buddies, Jihun and I were trading banter and idly shooting the breeze.
♩♪
My phone rang.
The air in the procedure room froze in an instant. I checked the number — one I knew well.
"Ah... it's the ER..."
Jihun, who had been chattering away just seconds ago, promptly shut his mouth. His expression hardened too.
I answered.
"Yes, this is Lee Jeong-uk, Cardiology."
[Professor, you need to come down to the ER right away. The patient's guardian is asking for you — and only you.]
"Me?"
[Yes. They're saying the patient resonated with an Entity, so only you'll be able to treat them...]
"Understood. I'm on my way down now."
I bolted straight out of the procedure room. Jihun followed on his own without being told.
"An emergency!?"
"Yeah. Perfect timing, actually — come with me."
"Wasn't planning on anything else."
A seasoned nurse is often better than a resident. Having worked in sync with Jihun in the procedure room for years, his mere presence was reassuring.
"When we get there, you're taking the A-line (arterial access)."
"My hands have been shaking lately, I'm so tired."
"Then who's supposed to do it? You do have non-shaking days, don't you?"
Before we'd even finished trading these pointless jabs, we reached the ER. The cardiac cath lab sat directly above it, after all. We'd run down so fast that we arrived before the patient did.
"Where's the patient?"
"Still on the phone — they say they're coming. Currently in Sadang-dong... huh? Hello?"
"?"
"Now they're in Bangbae-dong... no wait, they say they're almost here?"
"Just how hard is that person flooring it?"
I was half-worried we'd be adding one more major trauma patient when a sound tore through the air outside the hospital — an exhaust note loud enough to split eardrums.
VROOOOM—!
I knew instinctively: that engine belonged to the patient and her guardian.
"They're here!"
"Jihun, let's go. Residents, follow me outside."
We went out to meet the patient immediately. With an Entity of unknown nature involved, letting her into the ER unchecked could itself be dangerous.
Screech!
The moment we reached the entrance, a motorcycle slammed to a halt, leaving a black skid mark across the pavement. The stench of burning rubber stung my nose.
Two women were on the bike. One wore a helmet, her face hidden — but the other I recognized.
"Gu Jihye?"
The face was a mass of wrinkles and I hesitated for a second, but I was certain. It was the streamer Guji — the very person Jihun and I had been discussing moments ago. Strapped against the driver's back, she had transformed into the spitting image of the witch photos that had been circulating online.
Then the woman holding the handlebars rose from her seat.
"Are you... the professor?"
Thud.
She simply let a bike worth tens of millions of won topple to the ground like it was nothing, and stood up. Without so much as a glance at the fallen machine, she carried Gu Jihye on her back and walked toward me.
As she approached, she pulled off her helmet and spoke again.
"I suppose the helmet made it hard to hear. You are Professor Lee Jeong-uk, correct?"
"Yes, that's me."
Inside the helmet was a woman with flowing black hair and eyes red as blood. Her face, framed between those swaying strands, was sharp yet cheerful, and her sturdy frame in a leather jacket radiated the unmistakable toughness of someone rigorously trained. She carried Gu Jihye as if the woman weighed no more than a light bag.
"Then here's the Entity report! A001.3! Resonance victim of the Echo known as Digital Portrait. Resonance Stage 4 — she collapsed just short of full resonance and was found in her home bathroom!"
A report as crisp and precise as a soldier's. Considering she wasn't a medical professional, there was nothing to fault — a flawlessly accurate Entity report.
"Anything else you'd like to ask, Professor?"
"...Let's get her onto a bed for examination first."
"Understood. Heave-ho—"
The red-eyed woman lifted the full-grown woman onto the bed by herself, effortlessly. Normally it takes two grown men just to handle a petite patient. Not a single drop of sweat beaded on the woman's forehead. She wasn't even breathing hard.
I had mountains of questions. But treating the patient came first, so I shelved the matter of her identity for later.
While the residents and nurses hooked the patient up to monitoring equipment, I continued the interview with her companion.
"Are you the patient's guardian?"
"No. Just someone who found her."
"A friend of hers, perhaps?"
"No?"
"...Didn't you say you found her collapsed at home?"
"Uh... hmm... where do I even start..."
I could practically hear the gears spinning behind the woman's eyes. Clearly some complicated circumstances were at play — but before I had a chance to hear any of it, Jihun called out to me urgently.
"Professor! ST elevation from V3 through V4! It's an RV infarction — right ventricular!"
At Jihun's report, cutting in ahead of the residents, I turned from the woman. I checked the film he held out: a textbook right ventricular infarction. Part of the patient's heart wall had gone on strike completely.
"Song-woo, call anesthesia and get central line access prepped. Jihun, move her to the resus room and take the line from the left side. I'll go in through the right radial and do the PCI."
""Yes, sir!""
The medical team snapped into action, moving the patient to the resuscitation room and prepping for emergency intervention. But before we even reached it, someone was blocking our path at the ER entrance.
"Hold it right there. That woman's an Entity, isn't she? And you're bringing her into the hospital? Are you insane!?"
A dark-skinned middle-aged man, his right arm buried under tattoos. A longtime villain of our ER — the drunk who always camped out in the corner complaining of heartburn after a night of heavy drinking.
Of all times...!
The troublemaker who'd forced his way into the packed ER despite the bed shortage during the recent emergencies was standing guard at the entrance, an antacid drip running into his left arm.
"No! This is exactly what doctors aren't supposed to do!"
I cursed myself for giving up the on-call room last night when he'd kicked up a fuss at the entrance while patients were trying to sleep. A decision made for a moment's peace had come back around with lethal interest.
"I heard she's turning into a monster! Why would you bring that thing in here? Shouldn't you be calling the police? That monster's going to be lying right next to me!"
Apparently he'd overheard the phone call amid all the ER commotion. Our expressions froze as we stared at the man barring the entrance with his arms spread wide.
No time. Rational arguments flickered through my head — this Entity wasn't contagious; she wasn't at full resonance yet, so treatment was entirely possible; treated now, no one else would be harmed. Logical, reasonable points, rapidly organized in my mind.
But I didn't have time to talk this man around. The patient was dying this very second. And so, instead of persuasion, I chose something else.
"If this patient dies because of you, that's obstruction of medical care resulting in bodily harm. Keep it up and I'll see you in court."
"Court? Fine, now you're talking! Let's settle it in court then! A quack who sides with a monster deserves to have his license revoked!"
Behind the man, the security guards stood with their hands behind their backs, silent. Nowhere in this world did a manual exist for handling the admission of a 'monster' (Entity) into a hospital. The fear carved in by the Most Romantic Choice ran so deep that even the security guards were privately leaning toward the man. Even beyond the ER entrance, the patients and guardians in the wards wore looks that were quietly rooting for him.
I bit down hard on my lower lip. Was there really no way to sway this many people? A few options came to mind, but none I had time for. Perhaps sensing the mood himself, the man put on the triumphant expression of some self-appointed hero, raised his phone, and began dialing.
"Nobody lets her in until the police arrive. I'm reporting this right n—"
That was the moment.
"Ugh, for crying out loud."
With a string of coarse profanity, the woman from the motorcycle strode straight toward the man. Killing intent rolled off her every step. And then—
"You bureaucratic一块 of—"
WHAM!
She decked him squarely in the jaw.
The man went sprawling across the floor along with his IV stand. The drip line stretched taut as the needle tore free of his arm. But the man paid none of it any mind — like some pitiful heroine clutching her slapped cheek, he cradled his jaw and glared up at her, his eyes a churning mix of shock and fury.
"Y-you crazy bitch! You hit a person!?"
"Something that's barely a person was blocking the road, so I hit it! Got a problem!?"
"What— why you— eep!"
"Sit down, you weasel."
She scooped up the IV stand the man had dropped and brandished it. Faced with that murderous glare, the man obligingly scuttled into a corner. She leaned the stand against the wall and turned back toward the entrance. Then, loud enough for everyone who'd been secretly rooting for the man to hear, she shouted:
"Seo Siho! Team 3, Bureau Suppression Department, Director of the Final Checkpoint! Effective immediately, I declare forcible enforcement procedures for the rescue of a resonance victim! Any bastard with a problem with saving a human life can crawl over here and say it to my face!"
Seo Siho.
At her declaration, the ER fell dead silent. Nodding as if that silence suited her just fine, Siho let her red eyes sweep slowly across the hushed emergency room. Only after confirming that no one dared challenge her authority did she turn back toward me and flash a wide grin.
"We've wasted too much time. Professor, let's go save that patient."