Lee Yeongwon, the head of obstetrics and gynecology, alternated between the monitor’s readings and the scene before her, swallowing dryly.
Geumsan Samcheok Hospital, 3rd floor, special delivery suite.
The atmosphere was different from usual. No, to be precise, Director Kang Taeho was far too different from his usual self.
To Yeongwon, the doctor named Kang Taeho was an object of awe, and at the same time, a figure of fear.
In the ER, the judgment he displayed was as precise as a machine, and in the operating room, his hand movements were chillingly cold. When standing before that frosty gaze, which tolerated no misdiagnosis, even the veteran doctor Yeongwon would feel cold sweat trickle down her spine.
But the man before her eyes right now was not the monster doctor Kang Taeho.
“Hoo…… hoo…….”
As Amira, lying on the bed, panted in pain-filled breaths, Taeho held her hand at a loss, unsure what to do.
Yeongwon saw it clearly. Those divine hands that had gripped a scalpel countless times without so much as a tremor were now shaking violently as they held his wife’s hand.
“Ya Allah! (Oh, God!)”
Amira muttered in Arabic. At that, Taeho hurriedly brushed back her damp forehead and replied in fluent Arabic.
“I’m here. It’s okay, honey. I’m right beside you.”
“Habibi………… I’m scared…….”
Amira squeezed Taeho’s hand as if to crush it. Taeho pressed his lips deeply to the back of his wife’s hand. His eyes shook so much it was pitiful.
“Don’t be afraid. You are a strong person.”
Just then, the graph on the contraction monitor surged rapidly, tinged red.
“Aa……… Aaaah!”
“Breathe! Honey, with me! Hoo…… hoo…….”
Taeho urgently guided her breathing. Sweat poured like rain, soaking the back of his shirt. To think the world’s greatest physician could be so nervous merely guiding someone’s breathing.
Yeongwon felt a strange sense of alienation at that unfamiliar sight, yet she also felt a tickling warmth in a corner of her heart.
The humanity visible through the cracks of that seemingly perfect armor was melting away the fear in Yeongwon’s heart. Yeongwon checked the monitor and shouted.
“Director! The cervix is dilated eight centimeters. We’re almost there!”
At her words, Taeho put his mouth to Amira’s ear and whispered like a child.
“Did you hear? Just a little more. Hang in there.”
“……*Sob* I’m so glad you’re beside me. I couldn’t have endured it without you.”
Amira raised her sweat-soaked hand and caressed Taeho’s cheek. Taeho buried his face in her touch.
“I love you, Habibi.”
“I love you too. So very much.”
At the couple’s desperate confession of love, Yeongwon smiled faintly behind her mask. To think the director, who had been nothing but cold, could make such an expression.
Yeongwon, performing an internal examination, shouted.
“Fully dilated! Moving to the delivery room!”
“Move! Hurry!”
The nurses pushed the bed and rushed out into the hallway.
Taeho ran alongside the bed, never letting go of Amira’s hand for a single moment. That man, sweat pouring down his face, tripping over the bed’s wheels and stumbling, yet looking only at his wife’s face.
Yeongwon chased after the moving bed, thinking.
After today, the director would probably seem a little less frightening.
The human Kang Taeho, who became so powerless and ordinary before love, somehow looked truly wonderful.
***
A few hours later.
A VIP hospital room bathed in slanting, warm afternoon sunlight.
Amira sat leaning against the bed, looking down at the baby cradled in her arms, while Taeho sat beside her with the happiest smile in the world.
Knock, knock.
A cautious knocking sound was heard.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Hayul peeked in, holding her mother Jung Miyeong’s hand. Hayul, who had grown by leaps and bounds, looked much brighter and healthier than before.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course, Hayul. Come here.”
At Taeho’s gesture, Hayul carefully approached the bedside with her mother.
“Director, congratulations to you and your wife.”
“Thank you, Miyoung. Thank you for coming too, Hayul.”
Amira greeted them in Korean that was still a bit clumsy but warm.
Hayul stood on tiptoe beside the bed and cautiously peered at the baby in Amira’s arms.
“Is it a baby?”
“Yes, Hayul. It’s your little brother.”
Taeho lifted Hayul up and seated her beside the bed. Hayul’s eyes went wide and round.
“He’s so tiny.”
While Hayul stared at the baby as if mesmerized, the sleeping baby squirmed and opened his tiny clenched fist.
As Hayul startled and tried to pull back, Taeho gently held her shoulder.
“It’s okay. The baby is saying hello. Hayul, would you hold out one finger?”
Hayul hesitated a moment, then slowly stretched out her index finger.
Taeho gently guided Hayul’s hand and placed her finger against the baby’s palm.
In that instant.
The baby instinctively gripped Hayul’s finger tightly.
“……!”
Hayul’s eyes widened as she held her breath. A small, warm heat transmitted through her fingertip. And a rapid pulse.
“He grabbed it.”
“That’s right. The baby’s holding Hayul’s hand.”
“He’s so strong. He’s so tiny but so strong.”
A bright smile spread across Hayul’s face.
Amira watched with satisfaction and said.
“Hayul, I think the baby likes you.”
“Hehe, he’s cute.”
Without pulling out her captured finger, Hayul held out the sketchbook she was clutching with her other hand.
“This is a present. It’s not for Uncle Bear, it’s for the baby.”
“May I see?”
It was a picture drawn with colorful crayons. In the center was the baby, and around him, Taeho, Amira, Hayul, Jung Miyeong, Seong Gihwan, and Sophie were all holding hands and smiling.
The tip of Taeho’s nose stung upon seeing the drawing. Hayul had shown genius-level talent for geometric shapes, yet had always been particularly clumsy at drawing people. He could clearly see how many lines that child must have drawn and erased to complete this picture.
“Wow! Hayul. Did you really draw this?”
Hayul nodded, looking bashful.
“You drew it so well. The baby will love this when he grows up. It’s the best gift.”
“She didn’t budge for days, focusing solely on drawing this picture.”
As Jung Miyeong added proudly, Amira lowered her head to meet Hayul’s eyes.
“Hayul, thank you so much. This is the first gift our baby has received.”
Hayul smiled shyly and lowered her head, perhaps embarrassed.
Just then, the door swung open again and a clamorous noise poured in.
“Director! Congratulations!”
Gihwan entered looking healthy, and Sophie followed behind him carrying a large bouquet.
“Oh mon Dieu! What a beautiful baby! Congratulations, Amira!”
“Thank you, Gihwan, Sophie.”
Gihwan looked at the baby and let out a stream of admiration.
“Wow, blood really tells…… The baby’s nose bridge and eyes are a spitting image of the Director!”
“Haha, we don’t know yet. He might take after his mom and become even more handsome.”
As Taeho answered with a laugh, Sophie whispered to the baby in French.
“Welcome to the world, little angel!”
The hospital room was warmly filled with everyone’s laughter.
Taeho felt a swelling warmth rising from deep within his chest.
The day he had first stood before Geumsan Clinic after leaving Seoul as if driven out. That day had been cold and hopeless. Nothing but a sense of despair, as if he had been completely abandoned by the world.
But before he knew it, he had gained this many family members beside him. Precious people connected by hearts thicker than blood.
Taeho’s gaze settled on Amira, who held their child in her arms. Feeling his warm gaze, Amira raised her head and responded with the most peaceful smile in the world.
The baby in her arms slept soundly amidst the shower of blessings. His twitching, cherry-like lips seemed to smile bashfully, as if dreaming of a happy future to come.
***
Geumsan Research Institute Main Data Center.
A massive space shrouded in darkness.
Along with a low hum, the central hologram projector awakened.
Particles of light gathered in the pitch-black void, soon materializing into a massive 3D globe five meters in diameter. Thousands, tens of thousands of shining dots adorned the continents like a galaxy on the slowly rotating blue planet.
“—Taeho. I shall report the roadmap of Project Revival, which I have reconstructed.”
“The global surveillance network, climate data, and resource analysis systems left by Prometheus have been fully converted into survival algorithms.”
The globe expanded, and streams of complex data spread out like blood vessels.
“Be specific.”
“—First, the climate change prediction and early warning system.”
The hologram illuminated the African continent. A simulation of blue data rain falling upon the parched land overlapped.
“—By analyzing real-time precipitation patterns in the Sub-Saharan region, it predicts droughts three months in advance. Based on this, food support and underground irrigation systems are preemptively deployed to block famine at its source.”
The globe rotated, illuminating the Asian continent.
“—Second, the food production optimization AI. It integrates soil conditions, climate, water supply, and crop genetic data to provide agriculture solutions optimized for each region.”
“—Third, the pandemic early detection network covering South America and the entire world.”
A spectacle was displayed where red dots were blocked by white barriers before crossing borders.
“—By cross-analyzing wildlife virus, population movement, and medical facility visit data, it captures next-generation pandemics two weeks before outbreak. Just as the Congo incident did not spread worldwide, early suppression becomes possible.”
“—Finally, the resource distribution efficiency model. It matches real-time demand and supply of energy, food, water, and medicine to eliminate waste and prevent shortages.”
As the explanation ended, the entire globe connected into one massive, organic network of light. It looked as if Earth itself were a single living, breathing organism.
Taeho stood with his arms crossed, looking up at that overwhelming spectacle. A thrilling, heart-swelling tremor ran through him.
“Lema. You have become humanity’s guardian now.”
Taeho exclaimed in admiration.
Soon, Lema’s voice lowered by a tone.
“—No, Taeho. I am merely a tool. All these systems can predict and propose, but the decision must always be made by humans. That is what I have learned from you.”
Lema’s voice contained deep trust and respect.
“Good. Shall we really begin now? Lema, connect the global session.”
“—Understood, Taeho. Opening the channel.”
Pop!
The massive curved screens slumbering in the darkness awakened all at once.
Sixty-seven split screens turned on, and the pitch-black data center brightened as if it were broad daylight.
On each screen, researchers from around the world appeared, transcending time zones and borders.
A young researcher from the MIT Media Lab, a white-haired professor from Oxford, a microbiologist from Pasteur, an AI specialist from Beijing Tsinghua University,
a climatologist from Cape Town, and others.
Among them were familiar faces.
Lee Donghyun, the successor of the global conglomerate Taeyoung Group; President Min Yeongsu of Korea; Senator Catherine of the United States; President Ibrahim of Gambia; and Crown Prince Faisal of the UAE.
Taeho walked out to the central podium.
Hundreds of eyes—no, the gaze of the entire world—fixed upon him.
“Greetings, everyone. I am Kang Taeho, bearing overall responsibility for Project Revival.”
Taeho’s voice resonated simultaneously across sixty-seven countries worldwide.
The leaders and scholars on the screens held their breath.
“Today, we are about to begin the largest and greatest surgery in human history.”
Taeho turned around and pointed at the glowing blue Earth hologram. Their planet, diseased red in places, its fever boiling over.
“Our patient is critically ill. It has been given a terminal diagnosis, and its survival probability judged to be slim. Some have said we should give up on this patient.
But we will not give up. We will cut away the rotten flesh, clear the blocked vessels, and make the faltering heart beat again.”
Countless colleagues on the screens nodded with eyes full of resolve.
Taeho smiled faintly and declared to the world.
“Now then.”
Taeho reached his hand out toward the empty air.
“Let us begin the surgery.”