3.
“He deserves to die for the charges against him.”
“I don’t care whether he lives or dies.”
Mr. Im waved his hand dismissively and put down his coffee, leaning his heavy body forward. Then, lowering his gravelly voice, he discreetly asked Yongjae.
“Speaking of bad guys, how about Mr. Jo? Still no movement from him?”
“That’s right.”
“How can the person who abandoned his child leave him lying there for months and not show his face? Is he even human?”
Mr. Im furrowed his brow and spoke forcefully, even in a lowered tone to avoid being overheard.
“If you look at it closely, it’s because of Mr. Jo that things turned out this way! If he hadn’t discarded the boy like a used-up chewing gum, would Hye-an have even thought of jumping off the bridge?”
The formerly respectful title of Mr. Jo was swiftly downgraded to simply Jo. The more he spoke, the angrier Mr. Im became, snorting in disdain.
“Even if it was just a sponsor relationship, people get attached when they live together. I warned him not to associate with those rich folks, but he…”
Mr. Im trailed off, feeling the futility of it all. He threw away his straw, as if drinking acrid liquor, and gulped down the coffee.
As Yongjae observed cautiously, Mr. Im’s phone rang loudly from his jacket pocket. It was the hit song from ‘Titan,’ the now-disbanded group that Hye-an used to be part of.
“Who is it? Unknown number?”
Mr. Im connected the call, covering his left ear with his palm to block out the loud music.
“Yes, hello? Oh, it’s the hospital. I thought it was somewhere else.”
Yongjae, who had been trying to look up real estate near Hye-an’s officetel on his phone, glanced at Mr. Im at the mention of the hospital.
“Yes, it’s me. I am Im Sangjin, the guardian of patient Yoon Hye-an. But what is it about…? Yes, yes. Oh… what?”
Mr. Im’s expression grew serious and his head bowed. He suddenly lifted his head, and his bloodshot eyes glistened. Coffee overflowed from the cup placed atop a box, dirtying his suit sleeve and the back of his hand, but he didn’t care.
“How did that even happen? When? Ah, okay… I understand. I’m in Gangnam now, so it might take some time, but I’ll head over immediately. Yes.”
Mr. Im jumped up as if he’d been scalded with hot water. After hanging up the call, he seemed dazed, like he was possessed. Worried that something bad had happened to the hospital patient, Yongjae bent his large frame to study Mr. Im’s reaction.
“It’s the hospital?”
“Oh? Oh… yes, the hospital.”
“What did they say?”
Mr. Im’s body stiffened, and he turned his eyes toward Yongjae without moving his neck.
“Hye-an… he woke up.”
The first thing seen was light.
Not an object or a person, just light.
Bright light was pouring in through the large window beside the bed.
Pure white, transparent, and generously abundant.
For a moment, it felt as if he were in heaven, bringing a sense of tranquility.
Choi Hongseo soon realized he was smiling with his actual lips.
He rolled his eyes downwards. He noticed the thin bulk of his body lying under the blanket. He was conscious enough to deduce where he was. The blanket neatly covering him had blue lettering, indicating a well-known university hospital.
Was this a dream? Or just one of the rapidly changing scenes?
Or was the memory of jumping from the 32nd floor just a dream? No, that wasn’t it.
He vividly remembered the sensation of his organs being thrust upwards and his heart clenching tight. The experience of bursting and vanishing before he could even feel pain upon impact. No, can one even call that an experience?
Shuddering, Choi Hongseo’s body trembled under the blanket.
No miracle can save someone who jumps from the 32nd floor. That was no dream. There was no chance of survival. So, is this moment an extension of the dream? Am I still drifting somewhere between life and death? But now I have a physical body?
At that moment, the hospital room door opened.
“Knowing everyone skipped meals to work, how could you think to eat alone just because you had a break?”
A grumbling voice entered the room. It was a nurse visiting to monitor vital signs, a routine procedure done multiple times a day.
She walked up to the bed and grabbed Choi Hongseo’s wrist to compare the hospital bracelet with the name on her list. Then, she sanitized the ear probe for the tympanic thermometer and reached for the patient’s ear to take his temperature. Each movement was so smooth and mechanical as she went through the routine procedure performed countless times over several months.
“How can you eat under such circumstances? Oh, you would. If you couldn’t, you wouldn’t have… Ah! Aaaack!”
She had expected the patient to peacefully shut his eyes as he had for months, but their eyes met. The nurse yelped and stepped back, screaming.
She had seen him dead, witnessed his burial.
Instinctively clutching her chest, the nurse quickly regained her composure and cautiously leaned toward Choi Hongseo.
“Can you speak?”
Choi Hongseo nodded slightly. The realization of communicating with someone sent a shiver through him.
“Please don’t overdo it and just answer. When did you wake up?”
“About… five minutes ago.”
Though his voice was dry and cracked, speaking wasn’t painful.
Now completely free from her initial shock, the nurse swiftly and accurately checked the patient’s condition.
“Are you in discomfort?”
Choi Hongseo shook his head. With a bright smile, the nurse reassured him.
“Your vitals, pulse, respiration, blood pressure… all normal. You’ve done great. I’ll go get the doctor.”
As she quickly walked towards the door, she glanced back at him.
“Welcome back, Hye-an.”
That final word from the nurse opened a crack in Choi Hongseo’s heart, like a mismatch between door and frame, or an ill-fitting key in a lock. Something didn’t align.
After she left, Choi Hongseo felt trapped in that misaligned state.
And the crack widened as the doctor arrived.
Accompanied by a nurse for the patient’s comfort, he performed basic in-room examinations.
The doctor explained that patients awakened from comas exhibited varying levels of consciousness. Some could barely blink, while others resumed daily activities as though merely waking from a nap.
Choi Hongseo was in relatively good condition. While not completely normal, he didn’t need to gradually move each toe like Uma Thurman in “Kill Bill.” After some light stretching, he could stand and walk a lap around the room.
They were shocked, as if witnessing the return of a dead person.
“Very impressive. Hye-an, your breathing was steady, and your injuries from the accident have mostly healed. But for now, take it easy. Starting tomorrow, we’ll begin rehab gradually. Don’t overexert yourself, understand?”
Though they exuded calm, it was clear the doctor and nurse were suppressing their excitement. They were thrilled, witnessing a miracle.
Meanwhile, Choi Hongseo remained confused.
He fell from the 32nd floor.
It was unlikely he’d survive, much less be in such good condition now. Yet, here he was, undeniably present in this physical reality.
He complied with their instructions to sit, stand, and walk, still grappling with accepting this reality.
“Starting tomorrow, eat slowly, and for today, sip water on time. We contacted your guardian, so they’ll be here soon.”
“Doctor.”
“Yes.”
Overseeing Choi Hongseo in bed, the doctor had a gentle expression.
“My name…”
“…”
Hopeful expressions briefly clouded. The doctor, masking his disturbance, leaned closer.
“Do you not remember your name?”
