Chapter 233
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 233
Chapter Title: Over Anchovy Noodles
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Choi Eunhui seemed a bit flustered.
But I absolutely had to eat anchovy noodles today.
When I insisted it had to be this specific restaurant I'd chosen, she had no choice but to follow me along.
"Two bowls of anchovy noodles. Oh, Director, you're having noodles too, right?"
"I'll have the spicy ones."
"..."
I'd been lost in nostalgic memories, planning to savor a hearty bowl of noodles, but somehow I'd ended up sharing the table with Choi Eunhui.
Still, a meal was a meal, so I ordered the spicy version and took my seat.
"Do you have something to talk about?"
"I hear Seongsu Clinic is doing incredibly well. The news keeps coming in."
Choi Eunhui and I spoke at the same time.
I wanted to cut straight to the chase, but it seemed she was laying the groundwork first.
"Hoo."
Choi Eunhui let out a deep sigh.
"Right. Sitting down to eat with me probably isn't all that welcome."
What did "welcome" even mean—being perfectly satisfied without any complaints or reservations? Honestly, yeah, I did have some reservations.
From our first encounter in Daegu, we'd never exactly started off on good terms.
But I was curious about her reason, so I'd gladly accepted the meal invitation.
Was she angling to get in on my Saudi expansion? As far as I knew, Haneul Clinic had focused solely on domestic networks and never ventured overseas.
"I wanted to see you because I'm worried. Yeowon, you seem to get too attached to your patients."
Ah, completely off the mark.
It had nothing to do with business. Apparently, Lee Gwanhaeng had gotten under her skin earlier.
"Do you remember what I said last time?"
"Last time? On the phone?"
We'd only exchanged atmosphere in Daegu, so it had to be the phone call.
She'd said something like I'd end up just like her eventually. Eating Western diet pills would only make things worse anyway, so it was better to sell them—something along those lines came back to me vaguely.
She'd turned my stomach with that unpleasant talk.
Ah! I'd come all this way for anchovy noodles, and now what was she going to say?
"Yes, on the phone."
"Heeju's doing great. Her anorexia is basically cured, no aversion to food left. She's obviously off the diet and maintaining a normal weight."
"...I see. Impressive."
"I know you're not here to talk about Heeju."
I'd just wanted to share that.
Choi Eunhui probably didn't even remember Shin Heeju's name.
"The more you invest your heart in every single patient like that, the more it'll hurt you in the end, Yeowon."
Finally, she got to the point.
Haa, so that's what this was about.
"That could happen."
I just smiled.
I couldn't cure every patient 100% either.
Failures happen, and resentment might come my way.
"Your anchovy noodles are here."
"Ah, the spicy ones over here!"
I took a spoonful of the anchovy broth.
Wow, so refreshing. How had I lived this long without eating this?
"Even today's patient—you must've treated her with the best intentions, right?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Those are the most dangerous kind. They ignore every word the doctor says, slap on more pain-relief patches at home. They hate spending a dime but milk every freebie for all it's worth, throwing tantrums for extras. If they at least follow instructions and go to the health center, you'd call that a win."
"Yeeeah..."
"Then later, when things go south, calls come from kids they never bothered with their whole lives. 'Why'd you make them like this? Send them to a hospital!'"
It was oddly specific, even though it hadn't happened to me.
She must've been through something similar.
"You've never been sued by a patient, have you, Yeowon?"
"No."
"It'll happen soon enough."
Choi Eunhui stated it flatly.
"They might be con artists from the start, but it's the ones you pour your heart into—who follow along at first and then flip—that hit hardest."
Both were common in private practice.
Moxibustion wasn't done much in clinics not just because of burn risks, but because it drew extortionists.
They target fresh-faced new directors, claim burns, and demand cash to drop the lawsuit threat.
Of course, it wasn't limited to moxa—plenty of cases at clinics, dentists, even popular restaurants that weren't hospitals.
And the latter... well, I'd seen it plenty.
When things were good, they gushed about fate bringing them to the Divine Physician, trusting only me. But if symptoms worsened midway, I became the villain they wanted to kill.
So I tuned out the hype when patients improved, always bracing for attitude shifts.
'Man, this dried seaweed's really tasty. I used to pick it off before. How's the noodle texture this good?'
"I see."
Calling me "Yeowon" like I was her son's friend or something?
It was sincere enough to not feel like sarcasm, but too much for mere junior advice.
"No matter how you dress up medicine as some noble art, it's just a service industry. Best to keep it clean: do the job, take the money. If issues arise, handle per protocol without fuss."
"Like you, Director."
"Right. Hire more staff, systematize like me, track initial visits, return rates, revenue—pure numbers. That's ideal."
Hmm. Playing it that safe, too scared of maggots to even make soy sauce? Not my style.
"Thanks for the concern, but I handle issues pretty well as they come. Explain things straight, and patients get it."
Words weren't getting through, so Choi Eunhui sighed deeply again.
"Good intentions don't always come back as good."
She dropped that loaded line.
Of course, she was right.
How often does "always" hold true in a positive statement?
"Always exceptions exist," something like that.
"But sometimes they do come back as good."
I'd planned to just listen, but I couldn't let that slide.
"Does one person paying back malice mean there are no patients who genuinely recover, feel joy, and gratitude?"
Best to practice medicine without expectations... but I did have them for my patients.
I hoped with all my heart they'd heal.
Hoped recovered patients would rejoice, live slightly better lives.
If they thanked me too? Pure bliss.
Even medical dramas showed it didn't always pan out.
Sometimes hopes were met, sometimes exceeded, sometimes dashed.
Human nature being what it is, one betrayer outweighed a hundred grateful joys.
"I'm not giving up treating patients like people just to hurt a little less."
I wouldn't file them in "difficult patient" folders like Shin Heeju, make them sign waivers, chase revenue.
They do heal sometimes.
Good comes back sometimes.
Those hundreds don't vanish.
Her approach might miss a thousand—or ten—patients.
I didn't want to miss even one.
"Ha, I figured talking wouldn't get through."
Ttak.
Choi Eunhui set down her chopsticks.
She'd barely touched half.
She didn't even like anchovy noodles but had forced herself to tag along.
"Yeah. People's lives don't always go as planned. Some things don't work out, but you do them anyway knowing that. Just like you had to tell me this today, I'll keep getting attached to tough patients."
"..."
"Director Choi."
Choi Eunhui gulped down some cold water.
"It doesn't feel like you're overflowing with affection for me, advising me not to get hurt. More like words for your past self?"
She said it was worry, but who was it really for?
I didn't like her much, and she probably felt the same.
"...Maybe."
Projecting her old self, probably.
Thinking—no, hoping—I'd end up like her.
"I'm not you, Director. And getting betrayed or hurt by patients? Every doctor goes through it a few times. Probably anyone in teaching or any people-facing job. Not everyone turns out like you."
"I..."
"I don't need advice, so maybe reflect on yourself. You keep showing up for volunteer work here—what's the attachment you're holding onto?"
I'd listened enough; time for some guidance back.
Choi Eunhui didn't snap.
She just smirked.
"No grand reason for coming here. Satisfied with my systematized clinic, and volunteering's just what I've always done."
Of course, I knew it wouldn't land.
If a few words from a green junior changed her, she wouldn't have let Haneul Clinic get this far unchecked.
"Sure. If you're satisfied and patients are too, the system stays solid."
Still, I sincerely hoped she'd rethink it.
Problems were brewing at the Busan branch where Chu Miyeong quit, and the Daegu one with all the conflict.
She might be content, but branch directors and deputies were grinding gears.
Patients sense how they're treated eventually.
Without turning back, it'd crumble.
"Thanks for worrying. But what you fear probably won't happen."
I leaned in like sharing a secret, whispering in Choi Eunhui's ear.
"This is confidential, but I've got a ton of experience. No confidence I'd lose a fight with a patient."
She flinched at the sudden whisper, pulling back.
I met her startled eyes with a bright smile.
"Mmm, delicious. Thanks. Seems like we're done talking."
Choi Eunhui stood up.
I didn't hold her back, just waved.
'As if I haven't been betrayed before.'
No lawsuits in modern times, but countless tried settling with force instead of law.
Guys pulling knives right after treatment, holding me hostage. Parents digging into my past if their kid didn't heal, vowing revenge. Every crazy scenario.
Of course, I didn't embrace those types. I wasn't a true saint.
'Gained some convictions along the way. Tougher than you, Director Choi?'
I scraped up the remaining noodles, slurped the broth clean.
Wow, refreshing. Good call coming here.
"The person you came with already paid. Left most of it behind..."
As I rose, the restaurant grandma cleared plates with regret.
True to her word, Choi Eunhui had left more than half.
"She was full, probably. Forced herself to come talk to me. Sorry for the leftovers."
Chatting to cheer her up, the grandma beamed.
"Thanks, missy. You polished it off clean. Take some candy."
"Thank you~."
She handed over a handful.
She used to scold me for taking just one back in the day. Generous now.
I bowed thanks and turned to leave.
"By the way... didn't you live around here as a kid?"
The grandma called me back.
Huh, didn't expect her to remember my face.