Dr. Taesoo Choi

“Did you perhaps hear something unpleasant?”
“Why is it that you ask a question first instead of answering mine?”
“I wasn’t sure what you might have heard.”

At Tae-soo’s response, Chief Park Sung-min flinched. However, he quickly regained his composure and sharply retorted.

“Before that, you tell me what you’ve done.”
“From where should I start?”
“From the beginning to the end, from before entering the operating room to when you came out. Everything, every last detail, completely!”
“Yes, so…,” Tae-soo began to confess everything truthfully.

As he explained, Chief Park Sung-min’s expression subtly shifted.

“Hm. So that’s what happened? Not a shred of embellishment or omission?”
“Absolutely.”
“Is that why he said so?”

When Chief Park Sung-min made an odd expression, Tae-soo couldn’t help but ask.

“Did you get scolded?”
“No. He actually said that if Professor Choi has time, he wouldn’t mind you observing his surgeries.”
“Really?”

Tae-soo’s face lit up instantly.

“Do you think I’m joking around because I’ve got nothing better to do?”
“No, sir! You’d never do that!”

“You punk. By the way, you’re quite something, aren’t you? If that stern associate professor said such things about you, it must mean something.”
“Not at all, sir.”

As Tae-soo tried to remain humble, Chief Park Sung-min suddenly hardened his expression and delivered a stern warning.

“Complacency is death. Your death? It’s worth nothing. But if a patient dies because of your mistake, you get what I mean?”
“Yes, sir!”

“Make sure you’re never a nuisance in the operating room. If even the smallest complaint about you reaches my ears…you’re done for!”

With a clenched fist, Chief Park Sung-min’s threat was clear. But Tae-soo’s expression remained bright.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t get cocky just because you’ve been in the operating room. When there’s no surgery, you run. If I ever catch you walking, consider your life over. Say it back to me.”
“I understand!”

“Good. Dismissed!”

As Chief Park Sung-min decisively ended the conversation, Tae-soo bowed deeply.

“Thank you for your time.”

After saying his goodbye, Tae-soo turned toward the on-call room.

Just as he grabbed the door handle, Chief Park Sung-min’s voice came from behind.

“Hey, kid. Good job.”
“Pardon?”

Tae-soo turned around, but before he could fully process the compliment, Chief Park Sung-min’s rapid-fire nagging resumed.

“What are you looking at? Me? Do I look like your girlfriend? Get moving!”
“Yes, sir!”

Tae-soo quickly opened the door and dashed out of the on-call room.

A refreshing smile spread across his face, sweeping away any lingering anxiety.

The memory of Caprene?
“Who cares?”

The joy of being acknowledged outweighed everything else.

From that day on, Tae-soo’s daily routine saw significant changes.

After finishing morning rounds, he would grab a quick meal and immediately prepare for surgery.

Associate Professor Baek Sung-hyun was a renowned surgeon even within the thoracic surgery department, performing surgeries daily.

Some days, there were at least two surgeries, while on busier days, there could be more than three.

However, that didn’t mean Tae-soo could attend every surgery.

Due to the residents’ schedule, he could only observe morning surgeries. In the afternoons, he handled other tasks and checked on patients after consultations were over.

Even then, there was no rest. Tae-soo would head to the library to solidify his understanding of the knowledge swirling in his mind.

The hospital library was a haven for residents and surgeons, equipped with an array of academic resources.

It housed everything from various research papers to vintage medical textbooks.

Given the hospital’s size, the library was equally vast. Tae-soo headed straight to the thoracic surgery section.

Bookshelves reaching up to the ceiling were packed with countless books. Tae-soo began by looking for works authored by Caprene.

“Caprene, Caprene,” he murmured softly to himself as he searched for the author.

It seemed Caprene was indeed a renowned surgeon.

Before long, Tae-soo’s arms were heavy with Caprene’s books. There were even more papers than books, and he couldn’t retrieve them all in one go.

Deciding not to overdo it, Tae-soo took only what he could carry and headed to a reading desk.

Thunk.

The sound of books hitting the desk echoed faintly through the library.

He had tried to set them down gently, but the sheer volume made it hard to control the weight.

However, perhaps used to this, no one chastised Tae-soo for the disturbance.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, he glanced around before sitting down and opening the topmost book.

Swish.

As Tae-soo turned the first page of the medical book, a photograph of Caprene caught his eye.

Though their encounter had been brief, the unique circumstances of that meeting left a vivid impression in his mind. Tae-soo stared at the photograph for a moment, feeling a swirl of complicated thoughts creeping into his mind.

He shook his head.
There’s no need to think about this now. I can reflect on it later.

What mattered now was diving deeper into things he didn’t yet fully understand. Setting aside the photo of Caprene, Tae-soo flipped to the next page.

The medical book, filled with English text, posed no difficulty for him to read. From the very first sentence, the words left a strong impression on Tae-soo.

“Be a true doctor.”

The following passages warned against being consumed by wealth and fame. It emphasized that if one truly cared for their patients, wealth and honor would naturally follow.

In Korea, thoracic surgery was an unpopular field. However, overseas, thoracic surgeons were highly revered.

Dealing with the heart, lungs, liver, and other vital organs, thoracic surgeons held human lives in their hands. This elevated their status in many foreign countries, where major hospitals placed significant importance on thoracic surgery. With ample resources and staffing, the specialty was given substantial support.

But that was a story of other countries.

In Korea, the field was underfunded and avoided.

And yet, to put aside wealth and fame to become a true doctor?

It was advice that didn’t align with the reality of Korea. Tae-soo let out a bitter smile.

While others might dismiss the words, Tae-soo couldn’t. As an intern, he was still in the learning phase. However, learning skills without proper purpose held no meaning. This should be a period for him to sharpen not only his techniques but also his resolve as a doctor.

Tae-soo took this matter seriously.

He had chosen this path to earn a living. His parents, farmers by trade, still referred to him not as “son” but as “doctor” whenever he called them. To his parents, Tae-soo was their entire world.

The same went for his older sister, who always checked to make sure he was doing okay. Afraid he might be busy, she rarely called and usually communicated through texts instead.

Their careful consideration and expectations weighed on his shoulders. But Tae-soo didn’t find it burdensome. He was only counting down the days until he could give back in a meaningful way.

But what did it mean to give back?

Was it earning lots of money so his family could live in luxury?
Or did becoming the world’s best doctor count as repayment?

“Be a true doctor.”

That simple sentence brought Tae-soo to a standstill, preventing him from continuing further. He kept questioning himself, searching for answers.

But no matter how much he thought, he couldn’t arrive at a clear definition.

Even if the memories of Caprene had entered his mind, it seemed they hadn’t entirely changed his way of thinking. For now, Tae-soo decided to hold onto those words in his heart. This wasn’t the time to dwell too deeply on the matter.

Clearing his mind, Tae-soo began reading Caprene’s books one by one.

As soon as he opened the books, faint memories of their contents surfaced.

He had never read these medical books before.

“Let’s test this,” he thought.

Tae-soo tried to recall the contents of the next page as he read.

Then, when he turned the page, he froze. A shiver ran down his spine.

“What in the world…”

The contents of the book were exactly as he had predicted.

“No way.”

Tae-soo shook his head.

It had to be a coincidence.

Resolving himself, he started again.

An hour later,
Tae-soo lay staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Is this really true?”
He couldn’t comprehend it.
“How could something like this happen?”
Yet it was reality.
Coincidence could only go so far.
There was no such thing as a coincidence repeating itself dozens of times.
“Should I accept it?” Tae-soo muttered quietly.

And then, he buried himself in another book.
The conclusion was clear.
He had no choice but to accept it now. He couldn’t deny that Caprene’s memories had been transferred to him.

Still, Tae-soo kept reading.
Human memory was finite.
One day, he might forget everything. Losing knowledge he already had would be a sorrowful thing, especially when it pertained to his future livelihood.

Until now, Tae-soo’s perspective was simply about surviving—trying to make a living.
He didn’t blame himself for that.
You had to fill your stomach before you could think about anything else.

Even with his busy days, Tae-soo made sure to carve out some free time every two or three days.
During that time, he would head to the SICU to visit patient Lim Taek-jin.

A few days later, finding himself free once again, Tae-soo opened the door to the SICU without fail.
The resident doctors had disappeared into the on-call room, and the SICU’s dedicated nurses greeted him first.

“Doctor, you’re here?”
“Hello there!”
“Life as an intern seems to be treating you well these days?”

There was a teasing tone to their lighthearted remarks. Tae-soo smoothly responded with equal playfulness.
“I’m only here to catch a glimpse of our beautiful nurses.”
“Oh, please, you came to see your girlfriend, didn’t you?”
“What girlfriend?”

Tae-soo chuckled and approached them with a smile, but the nurses quickly waved him off.
“Never mind us. You should go on. You probably don’t have much time.”
“Well then, I’ll see you next time.”

Leaving the understanding nurses behind, Tae-soo naturally made his way to Lim Taek-jin’s bedside.
The patient looked better than when Tae-soo had last left the SICU—his face had filled out, giving him a healthier appearance.

“You’re here again?” Lim Taek-jin greeted him with a bright smile.
Tae-soo replied with a mock expression of disappointment.
“Are you saying you’re not happy to see me anymore?”
“That’s not it. You’re busy, after all.”
“Not really. Life as a cardiothoracic surgery intern is getting manageable these days.”

Hearing this, Lim Taek-jin smirked.
“Then why does someone with a ‘manageable’ life look so haggard?”
“Haha, let me check on you for a moment.”

Feeling a bit awkward, Tae-soo checked the patient’s vitals. As usual, there were no abnormalities.
Even though everything had always been fine, Tae-soo meticulously examined him. He even lifted the gauze slightly to inspect the surgical site.
The scar was gradually healing, with new, healthy skin forming over it.

Perhaps feeling a bit self-conscious about the attention, Lim Taek-jin muttered softly,
“You really don’t have to go that far.”
“It makes me anxious if I don’t. By the way, I heard you’ve been eating more porridge lately.”
“It seems my appetite is increasing as I move around more.”

Hearing this, Tae-soo nodded immediately.
“That’s a very good sign. You might be moving to a general ward soon.”
“Sometimes when I hear you talk, it doesn’t feel like you’re just an intern.”
“Probably because I’m being cheeky.”

Although caught off guard, Tae-soo tried to laugh it off, but Lim Taek-jin shook his head.
“You don’t know, do you? Patients are the best judges of a doctor’s skill.”
“Is that so?”
“Patients are incredibly sensitive to every touch and word from their doctors. Especially when other interns handle me, I feel uneasy.”

Tae-soo nodded silently, prompting Lim Taek-jin to continue.
“But when you check on me and explain things, I feel reassured.”
“It’s probably because I’ve been looking after you since you woke up.”
“That’s not it. I can’t quite explain it, but there’s something special about your touch.”
“Look at this, I came to visit, and now I’m the one being comforted.”

Tae-soo joked lightly, expressing his gratitude, and Lim Taek-jin smiled faintly in response.
“It’s not bad for a patient to comfort their doctor, is it?”
“Well then, since I’ve received comfort, it’s only fair I share some cheerful news, right?”
“That sounds even better.”
“Shall we start, then?”

At Tae-soo’s question, Lim Taek-jin immediately nodded.