A Craftsman's Due
"Ha. A student made this? That's quite the joke."
Professor Park's face made it abundantly clear he didn't believe a word of it. Jae-hyuk, looking almost aggrieved, tried again.
"It's the truth, Professor. I can hardly believe it myself, but this student even repaired my glasses. It was over in no time, and the work was flawless. His hands aren't ordinary."
Professor Park said nothing.
It was a hard thing to swallow. But after a testimony like that, he could hardly keep refusing to believe it.
A college student made something of this caliber…?
He picked up the medical instruments again, turning them over in his hands. They settled into his grip as if they had been there for decades — tools worn smooth by a lifetime of use.
How did he even achieve a feeling like this…?
"Mind if I run a few tests?"
Jae-hyuk nodded.
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Park crossed to the surgical practice dummy standing in his office and set to work. Before he started, he glanced over at Jae-hyuk.
"Time me, would you?"
"Ah — yes, of course, Professor."
The way they sit in the hand matters, but what matters more is how they perform.
No matter how exquisite a tool felt in the grip, if it underperformed in actual use, it was all show and no substance.
And then—
Oh…
These were the real thing. The cutting edge was razor-sharp, yet impossibly clean. And the balance — the balance was perfect. Ordinarily, even a slight shift in a tool's center of gravity would throw a surgeon off mid-procedure. These instruments gave him none of that. Not even a hint.
What is this…
The combination of factors seemed to sharpen his focus even further. It was only a mock surgery on a practice dummy, and yet his hands were moving at a speed that defied all reason.
He finished the procedure he performed so often in real life, then looked up at Jae-hyuk.
"How long?"
Jae-hyuk blinked, his voice unsteady.
"Twenty-four minutes, Professor…"
"What…!? Twenty-four minutes? Did you miscount? You're telling me that's all it took?"
"I timed it properly, Professor. If anything, I started a little late — maybe a minute behind."
Professor Park was silent.
By his usual standard, this was a surgery that took fifty minutes at an absolute minimum, even on a good day. Twenty-four minutes. He had cut the operating time in half.
Every surgery was the same in this regard: given identical results, a shorter procedure was always better for the patient. Less time on the table meant less blood loss, less anesthesia, and far less strain on the body. And for someone like Professor Park, who spent so much of his time performing emergency surgeries on overseas medical volunteer missions — where every second counted — shaving time off a procedure was more valuable than anything else in the world.
"I feel like I've been bewitched."
Jae-hyuk stared at him, still dazed.
"Professor… that was incredible. How did you even finish that surgery in twenty-four minutes…?"
Professor Park looked down at the hemostatic forceps scissors in his hand.
"I'm not the one who's incredible. These tools are. And do you know what's even more remarkable about them?"
"Sir?"
"Even the finest medical instruments show some degree of wear after a single surgery."
Jae-hyuk nodded.
"That's true. You end up using them dozens — even hundreds — of times in a single procedure."
"Then take a look at this. I just put them through a fairly aggressive workout, and they still feel as if they've never been used."
Even a single use typically left its mark on surgical instruments. These, after the intensity of what he'd just put them through, looked as if they'd been lifted from a brand-new box.
Jae-hyuk's face filled with awe.
"That's extraordinary… The durability alone is on another level. How did a student even make something like this…"
Maybe I should commission something of my own — and soon…
The thought crossed Jae-hyuk's mind that he ought to put in a request before Cheolwoo's skill became more widely known. This wasn't the work of a talented amateur. This was the work of a master.
"I'd like to meet the student who made these, if that's possible. I can't very well leave without paying for them."
"Ah — yes, Professor. I'll contact him right away."
He hadn't commissioned the work himself, but there was no walking away from instruments of this quality empty-handed.
If I want to commission anything in the future, I need to pay properly now.
Where is he?
A single phone call the night before.
"Cheolwoo, Professor Park wants to see you in person and thank you. Would you have time tomorrow?"
And so the appointment had been made, and here he was at the café.
He'd arrived right on time. Professor Park was nowhere to be seen. He ordered a coffee and sat down to wait.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Still no Professor Park.
Hmm…
A flicker of irritation stirred in him. They were the ones who'd asked for the meeting, and now they weren't even showing up on time.
I'll wait until the thirty-minute mark. If he's not here by then, I'm leaving.
He was just about to stand when someone came running from the far end of the street.
Professor Park Sang-jin. He'd clearly sprinted the whole way — his hair was a mess, and he was gasping for breath.
"You're Kang Cheolwoo, yes? Hah… hah… I'm sorry. I'm late. There was a major traffic accident — I had to perform emergency surgery, and that's why I was delayed. I'm truly sorry."
Emergency surgery…
He felt a little ashamed of the irritation he'd been nursing just moments ago.
A hundred years of life, and you still haven't learned how to be human, Kang Cheolwoo.
The man had been saving a life. What was thirty minutes of waiting, really?
"It's all right. If it was an emergency surgery, of course I understand. Please, sit."
Professor Park sat down, wiping the cold sweat from his brow, and introduced himself.
"We crossed paths briefly last time, but this is the first time we've properly greeted each other. Park Sang-jin."
"Kang Cheolwoo."
Then Professor Park stared at his face for a long moment, and his expression shifted to one of genuine surprise.
"You really are a student…"
"Yes. Third year, Department of Advanced Materials Engineering."
"I hope this isn't a rude question, but — the medical instruments you made. Did you make them with someone else?"
He shook his head firmly.
"No. I made them myself."
"Hahaha… A college student, working alone, producing something like that…"
Looks like he liked them.
"I take it the pieces I made were to your liking."
"To my liking? They're the finest I've ever used. Frankly, I have to wonder whether anyone besides you could produce work of this caliber."
The coffee he'd ordered arrived. Professor Park took a sip, then launched into another round of praise.
"That emergency surgery just now — with the instruments you made, I finished in thirty-five minutes what would normally have taken over an hour."
"I'm glad my tools were able to help save a life."
So the days of work were worth it.
Professor Park took another sip of coffee, then carefully drew an envelope from the pocket of the white coat he'd arrived in.
"What's this, Professor?"
"Payment. Cheolwoo — or rather, Master Kang."
The envelope had a certain thickness to it. His first instinct was to take it. Then he hesitated.
Should I really be accepting this…?
They hadn't commissioned the work in the first place. And taking money from a doctor who traveled the world on medical volunteer missions, saving lives — it didn't sit right.
After a moment's thought, he made up his mind to refuse, and held the envelope back out.
"Professor. I offered to make these for you myself, so…"
But Professor Park pressed the envelope back into his hands, his manner leaving no room for argument.
He had no answer for that. The man was right.
A hundred years, and you're still this naive.
If he accepted the money, Professor Park would be able to commission future work without any lingering discomfort. He nodded and tucked the envelope away.
"I understand. Then I'll put this to good use, with my thanks."
"Not at all. If anything, I worry the amount is insufficient compared to what you created."
Professor Park went on to describe a few other instruments. He didn't need them immediately, but he wanted to know whether Cheolwoo could make them if he put in a commission later.
"That shouldn't be a problem. Though if you want me to work at a comfortable pace, I'd appreciate about a month's notice."
"Ah — of course."
The deference in Professor Park's manner was unmistakable. This was not how a professor treated a student. This was how a man treated a master craftsman he had come to respect.
It was a little uncomfortable, though.
A middle-aged doctor acting like this toward a college student would look pretty strange to anyone watching…
Before any odd rumors could start, he stood.
"I'm sorry, Professor, but I have a class next. I should get going."
"Ah, of course. I've taken up far too much of your time. When I get back from overseas, I'll come see you again."
He agreed, and left in a hurry.
From the café, he headed straight for the restroom. He locked himself in a stall, then pulled out the envelope Professor Park had given him.
It had looked reasonably thick earlier.
If they're fifty-thousand-won notes, that's probably around a million won.
A decent little side income.
Then he opened the envelope, and froze.
They weren't fifty-thousand-won notes. What Professor Park had given him were checks — each one made out for one million won.
He swallowed hard and started counting.
One. Two. Three. … Twenty.