Chapter 103
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: Recovery and Gratitude
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“Lower... what did you say?”
“The lower esophageal sphincter—the muscle between your esophagus and stomach. GERD happens when this muscle weakens or starts malfunctioning abnormally.”
I pulled up a diagram of the human body on the computer and began explaining, starting with the causes of GERD.
“Ah, that sounds familiar.”
“There’s no direct way to treat this muscle itself with Western medicine, so the standard approach is to suppress stomach acid production to minimize reflux. With acupuncture, we can’t needle the sphincter directly either... but by adjusting the flow of energy, we can help it recover indirectly.”
I covered the treatment methods too.
Song Wonjong nodded as if he understood.
“So, it’ll be different from the acupuncture sessions so far?”
“You’ll need to come in much more frequently. Up until now, the goal was just to keep things from getting worse, but now let’s do back-to-back treatments to wrap it up cleanly.”
In truth, it didn’t matter if he didn’t fully grasp it.
The acupuncture itself wouldn’t change much from before.
It’d just involve a bit more directing the energy flow in the standard digestive treatment.
But I needed to steel his resolve and ramp up the frequency.
He’d basically given up on his symptoms until now.
Despite the agony that felt like death, he had work to do, so he’d only come sporadically to ease it even a little.
I couldn’t guarantee a full fix either.
I’d hinted that I’d bid, but that alone wasn’t reassuring.
“Yes! I’ll make time to come every day. Please take good care of me until it’s cured.”
“I’ll make sure you can eat without a worry in no time. Let’s head to the treatment room.”
“Sure!”
But now, he had the certainty that his assets were safe.
I hoped this would spark the will to heal his body and dive back into life with vigor. With that, I began the acupuncture.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Needles pierced along the central meridian line of his chest and abdomen.
Song Wonjong breathed steadily as the clinic director had taught him at first, lying still for the treatment.
Was acupuncture always this refreshing? He must have had at least ten sessions here, but today each needle felt like it was extinguishing the fire in his chest.
Whoosh.
As the tension melted away, Song Wonjong closed his eyes.
“I’m finally opening my own restaurant!”
When he first spotted this place listed for sale, he’d thought it was fate.
A commercial space perfectly matching his budget. Incredibly low rent.
It had been a restaurant before, so no need to spend on interiors, and the previous owner had to leave for overseas in a hurry—no key money either.
His parents had urged him to pay key money for a prime spot instead, but had they ever chipped in even a million won, let alone cooking school fees?
What mattered in a restaurant was the food.
Even if the location wasn’t perfect, he could conquer the neighborhood with his skills.
“Business is slower than I thought...”
Of course, it wasn’t easy.
The rent was ridiculously cheap, and by working 12 hours himself, he minimized labor costs—no losses, but not the crowds he’d hoped for.
He didn’t think location was the issue, as his parents claimed.
The bakery on the first floor sold out its main items every morning, and evenings saw the street packed with parents picking up kids from the third-floor academy.
And the fourth-floor clinic... he’d even seen lines down to the first floor because the waiting room was full.
“Location’s just an excuse! Time to hone my skills!”
Staring at the empty restaurant often deflated him, but he tried to push on.
He scouted nearby eateries for tips, tried SNS marketing.
He’d rejoice at a slight uptick in customers, mope on slow days.
That was his ordinary self-employed life.
“The building you’re renting in is up for auction?”
The despair when he first heard the news.
“See? I told you something was off! The rent was too good to be true!”
It was torment. Agony.
He couldn’t hear his family’s worries.
Fifty million won. Do you know what that money meant?
It was what he’d scraped together working at others’ restaurants for years.
Song Wonjong’s long-cherished dream.
“Urk!”
Thinking of the money made him nauseous.
The time invested, the days lived for that dream—all going up in smoke. Food wouldn’t go down.
What’s the point of eating?
For the first time, Song Wonjong thought that.
Eating had been his joy, cooking his way to bring happiness to others—his life’s calling.
Before long, even the smell of food made him want to vomit.
Why had he loved cooking so much? Why insist on a restaurant? How did it lead to this nightmare?
[Teacher, you’re returning the deposit, right?]
[Landlord? Please get in touch. Anytime works.]
[What is this? An auction?]
Early thirties, a peer as the building owner.
He’d said he hoped the business succeeded, wanted them there for 10 or 20 years.
At signing, Song Wonjong had envied him a bit. So cool, saying that boldly.
If he succeeded, maybe in 20 years he could buy a building too. He’d dreamed.
The guy vanished completely.
Despair was all left for Song Wonjong.
“Urp, blegh!”
The one who reached out to him then.
“Are you okay? Come to the clinic for some acupuncture, even briefly. How can you work if you keep vomiting like that?”
The fourth-floor clinic director.
“Ah... Thank you.”
Losing fifty million—would acupuncture change anything?
Even thinking that, he couldn’t refuse the kindness.
“Hic. Urk.”
And contrary to expectations.
Something changed.
The constant vomiting stopped.
“Huh?”
He felt alive, truly.
After treatments, food smells didn’t repulse him anymore.
“Cough, cough!”
Paradoxically, that’s why he visited less.
Because if he felt better, the money worries hit?
Because he deserved punishment for his foolish mistake?
He knew neither made sense.
Yet he chose the self-torment.
Sleepless days and nights for weeks.
Uncomfortable no matter how he lay.
Vomiting after any food.
“Passed...”
Each failed auction left him dazed.
“Ha, ha. Is the Nakdong River water warm?”
By the third, he didn’t even check.
“Mr. Song Wonjong! Our director won the bid on the building! No more worries!”
Then the miracle.
The fourth-floor director actually bought it?
“If you’re moving out, I’ll cover any shortfall on your deposit!”
Settling the money he thought lost.
“I’ll cure you completely with acupuncture~ Let’s finish it off cleanly!”
Even soothing the blaze in his chest.
“Thank you... Thank you so much.”
The young man who’d nearly let it all go saw hope.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The raging fire in his chest slowly died down.
A cool energy enveloped Song Wonjong’s body, circulating from head to toe.
The body that hurt in any position was gone.
He fell into the most peaceful sleep ever.
“Time to remove the needles~.”
Upon waking from treatment, the pain surging from his solar plexus vanished like it was washed away.
The endless ordeal was over.
“Thank you, Director. I don’t know how to repay this kindness.”
“Oh, you’re too kind. I’m just doing what I should—as a doctor and the new owner.”
As urged, Song Wonjong came daily for acupuncture.
GERD was notoriously stubborn.
Was it the director’s skill, or his renewed mindset? In fewer than ten sessions, he got the all-clear.
“You’re really okay to pull them now?”
They agreed to vacate upon final payment and full deposit refund.
The director seemed a tad apologetic about sending him off, but Song Wonjong felt refreshed.
Thanks to her, his body was healed. His heart too, essentially.
Now, just build his skills.
“Of course. Working through this, I felt my shortcomings constantly.”
The bakery, academy, clinic—all thrived, yet only he trembled in anxiety.
The deposit was his everything, and he lacked confidence in his skills?
“That’s not it.”
“Pardon?”
“You weren’t lacking anything, Mr. Song Wonjong. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Ah...”
“Just bad luck.”
“...”
The Seongsu Clinic director washed away his last self-blame.
“Rest well, prepare thoroughly, and start anew. It’ll work out next time. Your dakgalbi is delicious, Wonjong.”
“Uh, heh...”
“Sad I won’t eat it as often. Tell me when you reopen?”
“Yes! If I get hurt again, I’ll come straight here.”
“Haha, hospitals are best avoided.”
Soon after, Song Wonjong vacated.
The new owner wired the remaining deposit without delay.
She was cool.
The crisis that dragged him to hell was no threat to her.
She turned it into a hundreds-of-millions investment opportunity.
‘Can I become like that someday?’
Gazing at his intact bank account.
Eating without discomfort.
Falling asleep easily in any position.
Song Wonjong thought of the new role model in his heart.
“Ah, it’s bittersweet now that Mr. Song Wonjong’s actually leaving.”
The staff voiced regrets over the familiar face departing after months.
“Let’s go for a company dinner when he reopens.”
Song Wonjong cleared out on the agreed date.
Of course, I sent the shortfall right after he got his share from the final payment.
The first-floor bakery was thrilled when I said I’d renew, and the academy agreed to move after finding a spot slowly. I didn’t need the third floor urgently, so timing was flexible.
“Yeowon, so the second floor’s for the decoction room now?”
I nodded.
The second floor’s purpose was set from the start.
I’d handled all decoctions in-house so far; the directors at branches two and three used external services.
Now, with a dedicated ‘Seongsu Clinic Affiliated External Decoction Room’ on the second floor, I’d manage prescriptions from all branches.
“Yeah. Move the decoction setup downstairs and add treatment beds there.”
“Oh, I thought you were adding a new consultation room? You wanted to hire one more.”
“That’ll wait ’til the academy leaves and we renovate the third.”
“Consultation rooms on the third? Why not make it inpatient rooms since you’re taking the whole floor?”
What remained was how to use the space left after the decoction room and the third floor, etc.
Of course, I’d planned roughly before bidding.
And it wasn’t inpatient rooms.