After the workday ended, in the first-floor waiting room of Geumsan Clinic, after all the patients had left.
Taeho, who had been about to leave work, noticed the staff gathered in front of the waiting room TV.
Park Geumja and the nursing assistants were there, of course, and Seong Gihwan had even brought Hayul and sat her down beside him. Though Hayul was more focused on the snack in her hand than on the TV.
Taeho stopped and asked,
“Is nobody going home?”
Nursing assistant Park Yeonji got up and tugged Taeho by the arm.
“Director, Mei is going to be on TV today! We saved the seat in the middle for you. Sit down!”
“Hurry and sit, Director.”
“Let’s watch it together!”
“······Shall I?”
Still a bit bewildered, Taeho sat down in the empty chair in the middle.
“It’s starting!”
At Park Geumja’s words, everyone’s eyes turned to the TV.
Along with the intro music, large subtitles appeared at the bottom of the screen.
[Seasons: The Story of Their Growth]
On a dazzling stage, the silhouettes of the members of Seasons danced with passion.
“That’s Mei in the center!”
“Oh my, it really is!”
The staff shouted, brimming with anticipation.
Individual interviews with the members began.
Each member spoke boldly about her dreams and hopes.
“Wow! It’s finally Mei!”
“Be quiet, will you?”
‘I absolutely wanted to stand on stage.’
Following Mei’s comment came the story of her battle with illness.
Everyone held their breath as they followed Mei’s story on the screen.
From the first audition she took at the age of twelve, to her family circumstances with visually impaired parents, the difficult treatment she underwent, and scenes of her crying in pain.
‘Because of malignant hidradenitis, I was in so much pain that I couldn’t even practice.’
At that moment, Mei’s parents appeared on the screen.
Her mother and father, their cloudy eyes unable to focus, looked toward the camera.
‘Mei is such a precious and dear child to us. If only she had met better parents, she wouldn’t have had to suffer so much······.’
The staff watching from the waiting room of Geumsan Clinic each bit their lips, their eyes reddening.
‘Mei is the youngest member of our team. We couldn’t even imagine debuting without her.’
‘Whenever Mei was in pain, we cried with her.’
With sorrowful music playing, the members of Seasons appeared, hugging one another tightly and shedding tears.
A solemn atmosphere settled over the room.
In the quiet, nursing assistant Park Yeonji’s voice was heard.
“Those girls are good at acting. They would’ve succeeded even if they’d debuted as actresses.”
At that, a few people burst into small laughs.
The final climax was the debut stage.
Amid explosive cheers, the audience went wild, and flames burst brilliantly over the stage. The members of Seasons delivered a powerful and flawless synchronized performance.
Then came the lingering bonus footage.
After Mei successfully finished her first stage and came down, a reporter asked her,
‘Who comes to mind the most right now?’
‘The reason I was able to come this far is because of the people who believed in me to the end and didn’t give up on me. In particular, I sincerely thank the director and staff of Geumsan Clinic.’
The staff in the waiting room widened their eyes in surprise and emotion, looking at one another.
“Oh my!”
“Wow! She’s talking about us?”
Oblivious to the fact that her makeup had been rubbed away by the sweat streaming down her face, Mei continued speaking.
‘Director Kang Taeho, thank you so much for allowing me to dance again. Even when you were busy, you gave me customized treatment and encouraged me not to give up. I remember those words. I trusted you, Director, and endured until the end.’
Mei paused for a moment, swallowing the tears that welled up, then took a deep breath.
‘From now on, I’m going to become even healthier. I’m going to achieve my dream on wonderful stages. I will never forget this grace. Director Kang Taeho, I truly thank and respect you.’
At that moment, the staff of Geumsan Clinic watching the waiting room monitor also burst into moved applause.
“Wow! Mei is amazing!”
“She’s loyal, all right. Loyal.”
“That was so touching. Look, I’m tearing up.”
“Director, how do you feel?”
When nursing assistant Park Yeonji asked, everyone’s eyes turned to Taeho.
Taeho merely smiled awkwardly.
“Oh, come on. She didn’t have to go that far······.”
“No, if Mei hadn’t met you, Director, would she be standing on that stage right now?”
“That’s right, Director. I also think our director’s skills are the best. You cured something even the biggest hospital in Seoul couldn’t.”
The nursing assistants spoke over one another like sparrows.
Taeho smiled and looked around at the staff.
“I didn’t do it alone. Gihwan, Nurse Park, Yeonji, Gyeongmi—you all did it together. Everyone worked hard.”
“Everyone did a good job. Applause!”
Everyone clapped, comforting one another.
It was a moment that made them feel rewarded, despite all the hardship and exhaustion.
“Hehehe!”
When the excited Hayul even stomped her feet as she clapped along, the sight was so adorable that everyone burst into laughter together.
***
The Geumsan Elementary School branch campus, closed down five years ago.
The sky was especially full of clouds today, making the empty school look even more desolate.
Taeho and Gihwan stepped on rustling fallen leaves as they approached the old building.
Taeho pushed open the front door leading inside. The damp smell of mold stung his nose.
Gihwan said,
“Director. Are you really going to set up the R&D center here?”
“The facilities look a bit poor, but the area is more than enough. Compared to other places, the cost burden is lower too. I heard we can also receive subsidies if we use a closed school.”
Because of the gloomy weather, the interior was even darker.
Gihwan shone a portable lantern down the dark hallway.
“To create a research facility, we’ll need at least a BSL-2 level sterile room. The cell culture lab will need at minimum a negative pressure system and an air purification system. We’ll also have to install protein synthesis equipment.”
Gihwan chattered excitedly.
In the past, he would have run away the moment anyone mentioned even the “re” in “research institute,” but now he was different.
He had changed after treating Mei.
Gihwan had seen Mei, who had been suffering in pain, recover right before his eyes. His research had helped in that process.
How noble and beautiful a thing that was.
Gihwan was once again burning with passion for new drug research and development.
Taeho said,
“It’ll cost quite a bit to make this place usable, but I’m sure it can be renovated enough.”
Just as the two reached the end of the hallway, they suddenly heard signs of movement inside a classroom.
Startled, the two exchanged glances.
Gihwan’s eyes went wide like a frightened rabbit’s.
“Could it be a rat? Or did a wild animal get in?”
Taeho opened the classroom door.
In one corner, someone could be seen crouching with a blanket wrapped around himself.
It was a man with dirty, overgrown white hair and a filthy appearance. As they approached, a strong stench of urine hit them.
The man looked at Taeho and Gihwan’s feet with a frightened, terrified expression.
Taeho spoke to him calmly.
“Have you been staying here, by any chance?”
“I-I’m sorry. I had nowhere to go······.”
The man’s complexion was pale, and his cheeks were terribly hollow. And the way he could not meet another person’s eyes seemed strangely familiar.
Just then, Rema’s voice was heard.
—Body temperature, 38.4 degrees. Abnormal noise in respiratory sounds.
—Probability of pneumonia, 70%.
—Extremely severe pain response in skeletal and joint movement.
‘At this level, it isn’t just simple malnutrition.’
It seemed more serious than the illnesses one might commonly expect from a homeless person. Above all, the skeletal and joint pain appeared severe.
When Taeho tapped Rema, Rema provided an additional analysis.
—Estimating blood circulation status and indicators of skeletal issues.
—Probability of heavy metal accumulation: over 50%.
—Blood cadmium concentration test recommended for accurate examination.
—The patient’s immunity is extremely low, and the risk of infection is very high.
Heavy metal poisoning this severe?
In any case, he couldn’t simply leave behind a patient in such serious condition.
Taeho brought the patient back to the clinic.
***
The next morning, Park Geumja and the nursing assistants arrived for work and recognized the patient who had been newly admitted the previous night.
“Huh? Isn’t that Mr. Box?”
“You’re right. It’s Mr. Box. He’s so clean now that I didn’t recognize him.”
Taeho asked back with a puzzled expression.
“Mr. Box?”
“Yes, the Mr. Box who used to go around Maenggok-ri pulling a handcart and collecting wastepaper.”
“Everyone in town knows him because he pulls that wastepaper cart around every single day, 365 days a year, whether it’s hot, cold, raining, or snowing. We haven’t seen him since last week.”
“He must not have been able to come out because he was really unwell somewhere.”
Taeho nodded. With his body in this state, even someone who worked diligently wouldn’t have been able to pull a handcart around.
Park Geumja asked,
“Director. What’s wrong with Mr. Box?”
“We’ll only know the details after running tests. Would you happen to know this man’s name and his family’s contact information?”
“No one knows that.”
“Pardon?”
“Even when we ask his name, he always says he can’t remember.”
Mr. Box had come to Maenggok-ri about five years ago. No one knew where or how he had lived before that.
He had slipped into an empty house on the outskirts of the village as if seeping in, and lived there while collecting wastepaper. At first, the villagers tried to chase him away, saying some homeless person had crawled in. But even when they cursed at him, spat at him, and even dragged him out by force, he always returned to that empty house.
Eventually, around the time the villagers gave up, he began pulling a handcart he had picked up from somewhere. He collected not only wastepaper and empty bottles, but every sort of thing that could be considered trash, indiscriminately.
In the countryside, unlike in the city, throwing away recyclables was not easy. There were no building managers like in city apartment complexes who would gather and organize everything neatly.
But after Mr. Box appeared, trash no longer roamed around Maenggok-ri. He even picked up, cleanly and thoroughly, the trash that couldn’t be resold.
Before they knew it, the people of Maenggok-ri had even come to wait for him to pass by. It was because when he passed in front of their homes, they could get rid of the trash they had roughly gathered all at once.
As he pulled his handcart diligently, the villagers gradually began sharing food with him and taking an interest in him. But whether they asked his name or asked where he was from, he never once answered properly.
“But this is the first time I’ve seen Mr. Box this clean. Did you wash him, Director?”
Nursing assistant Park Yeonji asked.
Taeho shook his head and looked at Gihwan.
Last night, Gihwan had brought Mr. Box to Geumsan Clinic together with Taeho.
Having been homeless in the mountains for several months himself, Gihwan seemed unable to regard Mr. Box’s situation as someone else’s problem. He coaxed Mr. Box while washing him clean and dressing him in patient clothes.
Mr. Box had been coughing, but he was not in immediate need of a respirator, so Taeho had only replenished his fluids and checked his vital signs.
“Director, what are you going to do with Mr. Box now?”
“For now, his condition looks poor, so let’s run a few tests. Register him under a temporary patient number. And contact the police station to request an identity check.”
“Yes. Understood.”
Under the Emergency Medical Service Act, even an unidentified patient could receive emergency treatment and care.
Until the police found his identity through fingerprint checks, they had no choice but to register him as an unidentified patient.
***
“Mister, please stand here like this.”
Park Geumja positioned Mr. Box in front of the X-ray.
Mr. Box looked around nervously, anxious in the unfamiliar environment, but for the most part, he followed instructions well.
Taeho ordered blood tests, a urine test, and a bone density test. This was possible because, not long ago, they had replaced several pieces of equipment and brought in a bone density testing device as well.
Thanks to Gihwan speeding things along, the test results came out quickly.
But the moment Taeho received the test sheet, his eyes wavered.
When he had first seen the patient, pneumonia had seemed like the biggest issue, but now he saw that pneumonia was not the only problem.
“Bone density T-score is below -3.5. That’s severe osteoporosis, and his kidney function GFR is below 30, so he’s also showing symptoms of chronic renal failure.”
A groan slipped automatically from Taeho’s mouth.
On top of that, though not all the results were in yet, according to Rema’s diagnosis, there was cadmium poisoning as well.
“With skeletal damage and kidney impairment this severe, along with cadmium poisoning, it would be reasonable to suspect Itai-itai disease······.”
Itai-itai disease was a pollution-related disease that began occurring in the Jinzū River basin of Toyama Prefecture, Japan, in the 1910s.
It was named so because patients complained of extreme bone pain and cried out, “Itai, itai”—“itai” meaning “it hurts.”
In Korea, after a cluster of patients occurred in Goseong, Gyeongnam in 2004, there had been no discovered cases of the disease.
Seong Gihwan sighed beside him.
“It seems like the effect of drinking contaminated water over a long period near an illegal mining site or an abandoned mine. With malnutrition on top of that, it must have developed into an even more serious condition.”
Taeho nodded heavily and said to Mr. Box,
“Patient, if we leave you as you are, your bones will continue to weaken, and your kidneys may become difficult to recover. We need to begin heavy metal detoxification treatment right away, along with nutritional supplementation and immune system management.”
Mr. Box hesitated, then met Taeho’s eyes for the first time. Then, in a voice as faint as a whisper, he lowered his head.
“I······.”