24ES | Chapter 9.3

Rubbing his forehead and pushing his hair back, Yesung eyed Jung Hageon cautiously.

“Did you… come to the general pediatric ward for something?”

“No. I just thought you’d be there.” The reply was disarmingly frank.

“Uh, well…”

Yesung felt his face heat up inexplicably and coughed awkwardly, while Jung Hageon let out a short sound of realization.

“Sunbae, you’re off from this evening, right?” How did he know that? Yesung narrowed his eyes. He internally sighed.

“It must be Kang Baek-o. He told you my schedule.” Jung Hageon neither confirmed nor denied but remained silent. However, that was answer enough.

“That guy…” My work schedule isn’t some school timetable to be shared freely. If the person responsible was here, he would’ve gotten a warning.

Out of the blue, Jung Hageon spoke up.

“I’m off tonight too.”

Taken aback, Yesung blinked widely.

Huh? Off? So, what’s he suggesting? Why is he telling me his schedule?

As Yesung blinked slowly, Jung Hageon clarified.

“Let’s have dinner together.”

“…What?”

“I’ll cook.”

Yesung’s blinking sped up. Have dinner together. Jung Hageon will cook. Then it struck Yesung—they were roommates sharing the same house.

This is all because I haven’t been home in ages due to the crazy schedule. I can’t even remember the last time I was home.

As he pieced together his scattered memories, Yesung looked up at Jung Hageon’s face. Their eyes met. If it had been a while for him, it must’ve been the same for Jung Hageon. Maybe this was an opportunity to clear up the nurses’ misunderstanding.

“You’ll cook dinner.”

“Yes.”

“Yourself?”

“Yes.”

The answers came without hesitation. Yesung stared into Jung Hageon’s eyes, contemplating.

Home-cooked food by Jung Hageon. His cooking skills weren’t bad. In fact, they were good.

With his mind made up, Yesung’s gaze shifted slightly.

“Well, if you really want to…”

Home-cooked meals. There was no stronger lure for the current Yesung. Especially food made by someone else. There was no reason to refuse.

Naturally, Yesung’s response was an acceptance. A smile spread across Jung Hageon’s lips as he anxiously awaited the answer.

Wow, really…

Facing that smile, Yesung thought bringing Jung Hageon out from the general pediatric ward had been the right move. That charming smile could indeed make many a woman cry.

He had saved the nurses upstairs. What if they had seen that smile? Jung Hageon didn’t seem inclined towards women anyway.

Yesung mentally reconciled with that thought.

***

Yesung, who had finished work earlier than Jung Hageon, headed straight for a shower as soon as he got home. Since Hageon promised to come over and make dinner, sleep could wait until after that. For now, he planned to prepare the paper he was set to present at the upcoming conference.

It felt like ages since he had taken a proper shower. Feeling refreshed and neat for once, Yesung put on his glasses and sat in front of his computer.

The topic of his presentation was necrotizing enterocolitis in newborns. After a good stretch that made his fingers crack, Yesung began typing on the keyboard.

A Study on Prognostic Factors for Necrotizing Enterocolitis in Newborns

Yesung Han, Pediatric Surgery, Hanguk University Hospital

Introduction
Necrotizing enterocolitis (NEC), primarily seen in newborns, tends to occur later in premature infants and affects the small and large intestines in 40-50% of cases.
This study includes 67 patients operated on at Hanguk University Hospital’s pediatric surgery department and other facilities.
…

About an hour later, needing additional reference materials, Yesung got up and stood before his bookshelf.

“Hmm… There should be a medical text on necrotizing enterocolitis somewhere here…”

His eyes scanned the shelves quickly until they settled on one spot.

“Found it. Here it is.”

He pulled out a medical textbook so thick it dwarfed any encyclopedia in comparison.

As he retrieved it, something slipped out from between the pages and landed at his feet with a soft thud.

“Huh? What’s this?”

Bending down, Yesung picked up the fallen item. It was a rectangular piece of paper that fit snugly in his palm.

“A photo?”

The backside was stark white, stiff, and smooth—clearly a photograph. Turning it over, Yesung saw the front, printed in vibrant colors.

“…Oh?”

His eyes widened in recognition. It was a picture of him with his college club members.

Unlike other departments, medical schools, with their inherently tight-knit structure, often form their own clubs. While these clubs facilitate active interaction between seniors and juniors, the connections forged there often extend well beyond graduation. Joining a club wasn’t a choice; it was a given.

“…It’s been a while.”

The medical school clubs covered various interests, and Yesung had joined one focused on photography. Of course, it wasn’t solely about taking pictures; the club also served as a hub for academic life, study groups, and information exchange.

Still, they hadn’t completely neglected photography. At least once a year, the club held exhibitions befitting its name.

Seeing those faces again brought back memories. After starting his hospital duties, Yesung occasionally received invitations from juniors to visit the school when he had time, but he had never been able to go. Those years had coincided with his grueling internship and residency, leaving him no spare time.

He couldn’t say why this photo had been carelessly tucked between the pages of a book.

Smiling faintly, Yesung moved to put the photo in an album when—

“…Huh?”

One face in the photo suddenly stood out. Bringing the picture closer to his eyes, Yesung even rubbed them for better focus.

“What in the world…”

There was no mistaking it. That face was undeniably there. Though half-concealed by a cap, the features were unmistakable.

He wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the more he looked, the more certain he became.

Murmuring blankly, Yesung said, “This can’t be… Jung Hageon?”

Reality left no room for denial. There he was, in the photo, standing alongside Yesung.

Beneath the black cap, his sharp features and pale complexion stood out. Confirming the outfit he had worn that day, Yesung felt as if a fog in his mind had suddenly lifted.

Buried memories from his past, long overshadowed by the hectic pace of hospital life, began to resurface.

Yesung recalled the day he first met Jung Hageon.

It had been during a particularly hectic time when Yesung was deeply engrossed in preparing for the national medical licensing exam. Then, out of the blue, he received a call from a junior.

“Sunbae! I’m really, really, really sorry, but we’re prepping for an exhibition, and I don’t know if we’re doing it right. Could you stop by just once? We promise not to take much of your time—just a quick check… Please?”

The desperate plea made it impossible for Yesung to refuse. Taking a brief break, he stopped by the clubroom—and that’s where he first encountered him. Even with his cap pulled low, there was no hiding Jung Hageon’s striking looks.

Yesung was reviewing the exhibition prep when the clubroom door opened. A junior, unfamiliar to him, stepped in and greeted him.

“Uh… Hello, sunbae.”

“Hello,” Yesung replied warmly, guessing the newcomer was probably a second-year pre-med student.

But then, a tall figure appeared behind the junior. The man’s head, adorned with black hair and a cap, nearly grazed the doorframe.

…He’s gotta be careful going through doors with that height.

Estimating the man’s height at about 190 cm, Yesung was taken aback twice—first by his towering stature, then by his features that even the cap couldn’t hide.

Thick, straight brows, enigmatic black pupils, a sharply defined nose, and lips that were perfectly proportioned.

His upper and lower lips were nearly identical in thickness. The man was stunningly handsome—so much so it was almost disorienting.

Yet, it wasn’t just his looks that stood out. The air around him felt cold, almost unapproachable.

Maybe he’s the type who builds walls around himself to avoid interacting with people.

As Yesung observed him, the junior, seemingly his friend, introduced him.

“Oh, this is Jung Hageon. He’s originally a second-year pre-med student but is currently serving in the military. He’s not in our club, but he tagged along on his day off. Is that okay?”

The word “military” left everyone in the room, including Yesung, surprised.

“Of course, it’s fine! But why did you enlist so early, in pre-med? Most of us wait until after residency to serve as public health doctors or military physicians…”

“Did no one tell you it’s better to wait? Going early can be a waste of time, especially when you’re still in pre-med. It’s a much lighter workload compared to med school.”

“Right. The only exception would’ve been someone like Yesung Sunbae, who entered at 18 and never lost his spot as top of the class…”

The juniors’ remarks, referencing Yesung, may have been their way of expressing relief that he hadn’t taken time off. Competing with him would have been grueling.

Amid the seniors’ well-meaning but overwhelming concerns, Hageon’s friend continued.

“…That’s just how he is. I heard Yesung Sunbae was famous for entering at 18, but Hageon’s the same. He’s also never lost his spot at the top during his first year in pre-med.”

Jung Hageon followed the same path as me.

Yesung managed to enter university at the age of 18 because he had given up on going to high school early on, back when he was still in middle school. The reason was simple: the time it took to become a doctor who cared for patients. Two years of pre-med, four years of medical school, one year of internship, and four years of residency. Then, there was the fellowship. If you were lucky, you might skip the fellowship stage and get hired as a full-time professor immediately after becoming a specialist, but that was as rare as plucking a star from the sky.

It took a total of 11 years. Add to that the mandatory military service for South Korean men, and the minimum became 14 years if you included the fellowship. Starting that lengthy journey at 20 years old felt too late to Yesung. If it was possible, he wanted to save even one year.

That’s why he made the bold decision to forego high school entirely and opted to take the GED instead. He resolved to use early university admission as the turning point to fuel his determination to live a life where he would have to act like a good person outwardly, even if he wasn’t entirely so inside.

And so, at the age of 18, Yesung succeeded in becoming a medical student at Hanguk University. He was the first and youngest in history. To his knowledge, that record had never been broken.