Chapter 140
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 140
Chapter Title: The Interpreter's Persistent Diarrhea
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The interpreter showed up the very next day.
Her name was Min Jeong-eun.
Unlike yesterday when she was working, today I got to hear all about her in detail.
She had fallen in love with an Italian man she met on her first trip to Europe and gone abroad for marriage.
Now, she was back in Korea for her father's sixtieth birthday celebration.
"Somehow I ended up staying quite a while, so I was doing some interpreting gigs. Then this huge job came out of nowhere—I was shocked. I must've seemed pretty nervous yesterday, right?"
"Not at all. Thanks to you, I was able to communicate perfectly with Chairman Ricci. You were incredibly capable."
"Ahaha, most people hear my story and call it a romantic love tale~"
"That too. But going to Italy to keep working as a nurse, then doing interpreting in Korea... that doesn't sound like something just anyone could pull off."
"At first, the language barrier was tough, but the power of love helped me overcome reality and language alike."
Min Jeong-eun grinned.
She was impressive. Choosing to move to a foreign land and quickly pulling her weight there.
I, on the other hand, had been dragged there against my will and only learned the language to survive.
"But there's one thing I just can't overcome."
Min Jeong-eun blushed slightly and clutched her stomach.
She'd made a similar gesture yesterday.
"Stomach pain? When does it happen?"
Period cramps? Indigestion?
"...Whenever I go to Italy, I keep getting diarrhea. I don't know if it's the water, the flour, or my weak digestion, so I wanted to consult you about it."
"Ah, that must've been rough."
Diarrhea, then. The food differences were probably causing issues that sheer effort couldn't fix.
"How long have you been living there?"
"You mean residency, not permanent residence? A little over three years. I thought I'd adjust at first, but it keeps happening."
Three years? My skills were honed over thirteen years in Italy.
"How frequent is the diarrhea?"
"Maybe five or six times a month. Once it starts, it lasts two or three days."
"That's half the month with diarrhea?"
"...Yeah."
"What treatments have you tried?"
"I got antidiarrheal meds prescribed at the hospital where I work. But like all those drugs, it only helps temporarily, and taking them all the time didn't seem healthy, so I gave up."
Her face looked especially pale as she said that.
How had she been living like this?
"Hmm, diarrhea can have many causes. Is there a reason you suspect water or flour? Did you have no major digestion or bowel issues in Korea?"
"I've always gotten diarrhea from a bit of stress or bad food. I figured it was irritable bowel syndrome. So at first, I blamed stress."
"No major stress factors now?"
"It'd be a lie to say none at all... but now my language skills are good enough for interpreting. And above all, eating my mom's home cooking since coming to Korea has made it magically better. I have to think something in Italy is the culprit."
I agreed—it didn't seem like stress-triggered irritable bowel syndrome.
If it were, she'd have reacted yesterday under all that tension.
"Makes sense. Food seems the prime suspect. You've tried boiling the water, right?"
"Yes, because of the high lime content."
Min Jeong-eun nodded.
Then she asked with utmost seriousness.
"Is my constitution the lesser yin type? Flour doesn't sit well with me... Can medicine change my constitution? I have to keep living in Italy."
Change my constitution, please.
Not an easy request.
"It depends on how you define constitution, but categories like lesser yin or lesser yang aren't something you can change. Some organs are innately weaker."
"Ah..."
"But we have to improve diarrhea this frequent."
She'd probably researched Sasang constitutional medicine on her own.
I hadn't done a full questionnaire, but she did seem lesser yin type.
Still, a lesser yin diarrhea formula like Kwakhyang Jeonggi Powder wouldn't fix her constitution or cure it.
"This isn't something medicine alone can fix. Diarrhea this often means something close to an allergy to specific foods. You have to identify and avoid them."
"An allergy?"
"Yes."
Italian food? Pizza and pasta, probably.
"You mentioned suspecting flour first—have you tried cutting it out?"
"...I try to eat less, but honestly, I can't eat anything without flour. It's like telling a Korean to quit rice."
Min Jeong-eun shook her head with a dizzy look.
"But if flour really is the cause and triggers massive diarrhea every time, you'll have to cut it completely. If it's just mildly sensitive, we could boost digestion instead."
"Ah..."
"It might not even be flour. Korea has plenty of wheat foods—if it caused diarrhea every time, you'd have known before Italy."
She rolled her eyes, reminiscing.
"It's not so sensitive that it hits right after eating, maybe combined with weakened digestion? Come to think of it, bread and rice cakes have been fine here in Korea!"
Min Jeong-eun offered a hopeful angle.
But I saw it differently.
"The problem food might not be flour."
"Then what...?"
"Common culprits in these cases: first flour, second dairy products."
"Ah?"
I listed a few other potential problem foods besides flour.
"Third, greasy foods. They use a lot of oil, and meat intake is way higher than Korean food."
"True."
"Chili powder's possible too. Korean food's spicy, but if you're eating more spicy stuff there due to your husband's habits..."
"Hmm... not especially, but the chilies are different..."
Her face brightened a bit, figuring other foods were easier to cut.
"How long will you be in Korea?"
"About two more months."
I stated firmly.
"For ongoing diarrhea, we do two-week total eliminations to pinpoint the food. But since you're fine now, cut suspects for a few days each. No other way but elimination."
"...Okay."
"You're young, so it's okay now, but chronic diarrhea drains your energy and leads to hemorrhoid surgery."
"..."
Min Jeong-eun's face twisted.
"Have you already had it?"
"Yes. That's part of why I came to Korea. Really... never mind."
Recalling her hemorrhoid surgery, she squeezed her eyes shut.
Seemed like a bad memory, so I didn't pry.
"Now that you've come to our clinic, let's get to the bottom of it. Here's a week's worth of antidiarrheal prescription. Use it if diarrhea hits during elimination."
"...Yes."
"You can do this, right?"
I rallied her resolve together.
"Of course! Who do you think I am? I'll cut flour, no problem!"
"Fighting. Let me know what you find, come back for more prescriptions if needed."
"Yes, thank you, Director! ...Your firm words steeled my heart. I'll cut it cold turkey and live happily ever after with my husband in Italy!"
Min Jeong-eun bowed deeply as she left the exam room.
She looked glum about ditching favorites, but I was confident she'd manage.
Meanwhile, in Rome, Italy.
Paolo Ricci was taking a mysterious Eastern herb every day, said to boost fire energy.
"Ooh, Cyperus rotundus! This unblocks stagnant qi, right?"
Dad had printed the dosage instructions from the clinic and stuck them in his study.
"Phew..."
Unfortunately, no tiger-like vigor surged immediately as Dad hoped.
Sleep was a bit more comfortable, maybe.
Getting diagnosed with tic disorder had been terrifying.
To avoid tarnishing his famous business parents' reputation, he'd always strived for poise.
Twitching his nose or nodding in important settings would make him look like a problem child—what a disaster.
He could hold back if he tried, but the constant urge to nod was agony.
Why this headache of an illness?
Actually, if Chairman Ricci or his friends heard Paolo's thoughts, they'd shake their heads no way.
His dad, gushing over new Eastern paintings and Chinese liquor, had zero dignity.
'At least I don't have to swim anymore.'
Everything was better than before the Korea trip.
Right after the diagnosis, Dad begged everyone at school—teachers and students—not to stress him, handing out gifts.
That was the real stress.
Second stressor: swimming.
Dad hired an Olympic national team swimmer as coach, but Paolo couldn't keep up.
Then suddenly school closed and they went traveling—what unknown world awaited? Scary.
But Korea was fun.
Toured palaces in Seoul, admired exotic night views from skyscrapers.
Visited Gyeongju's Buddhist temples, Busan's sea—different from the Mediterranean.
Shopped tons, of course.
And went to a Korean medicine clinic.
...Scared at first about needles.
Ended up embarrassed Dad might push to sell paintings.
But all good.
Explanation via yin-yang five elements made sense for tics.
Learned what to do. No pain from needles, herb not too bitter.
Even got gallery tips, visited before leaving.
"Ahh, I never thought swimming stressed you more!"
Back in Italy, swimming quit immediately.
Park walks instead—blissfully easy.
He distributed souvenirs himself, befriended classmates.
Parents left for UK business right after return—no more tic talk.
'...!'
In class or walking, urges still hit sometimes.
This was the premonitory urge.
Before, he'd fight tears to hold back, nodding only when unbearable.
Nod.
Now he just did it.
Forcing restraint caused excess tension—bad idea.
Even twitched nose, blinked to relieve.
Can't ignore an itch.
Instead of obsessing over suppression, do it quick and shift to fun stuff.
Read books, meditated.
Imagined growing fire energy, working cool like Dad.
Three weeks later.
Parents back from UK.
"Oh, Paolo...!"
"Shh!"
Mom and Dad looked thrilled.
Emotions plain on faces—no surprise parties ever worked.
Paolo pretended after growing up.
But no birthday or anniversary near.
Big UK success? Good collectible?
"Dad, find a nice Eastern painting or porcelain?"
"Oh, not yet! The one ordered separately in Korea hasn't arrived!"
Then what?
Nothing else to get this excited about.
Paolo tilted his head.
"More than that..."
Dad couldn't hold back, lips twitching.
"Honey, just tell him!"
"What's going on?"
Prodded by mom and him, Dad relented.
"Paolo, while we were away, your tics seem completely gone!"
"Huh?"
Then it hit him.
Just do the urge and think elsewhere.
...When was the last one? A week ago?
"Worried it'd stress you, we held back, but since coming home yesterday, not a single nod!"
Hearing that triggered an urge.
Nod.
Did it as usual, but...
...No refreshing relief like before.
"Really? All gone...?"
"Paolo, how much you've suffered!"
"Hearing it was worse because of me made me reflect deeply...!"
Mom and Dad hugged him tight.
"Oh, even if not fully gone, it's fine! Treatment takes time—keep heart at ease."
"Mom and Dad always love you!"
They fussed, but Paolo just smiled calmly.
Seemed almost fully cured.
No more involuntary actions burdening or worrying parents.
"Thanks for the great medicine, Dad."
"Ah, no need!"
"Want to thank the doctor too. And I'll boost my fire energy to be as cool as you, Dad."
Dad deeply moved.
Mom said she'd join next video call.
"Shouldn't we send a gift?"
"Yes, tell the secretary. Easterners send gifts every holiday—don't forget yearly!"
"Holidays aside, send desserts now!"
"Right, and if they visit Europe next, free stay at our hotel!"
Paolo's parents joyfully planned gifts for the doctor.
"Um, one personal request... Could you arrange a meeting with the interpreter first?"
Paolo made a request to Dad.
His allowance wouldn't buy a good gift, but he had words to say himself.