Taeho thought for a moment. If he simply answered that he was a general practitioner, the old man seemed likely to get angry and storm out. But he couldn’t lie, either. He opened his mouth calmly.
“I haven’t obtained a board certification in internal medicine, but during my university hospital residency, I did rotations in internal medicine, including experience in the nephrology and endocrinology departments. I can review a simple medical history and run tests to identify additional suspected areas. Of course, if a detailed diagnosis is needed, I’ll coordinate with a higher-level hospital.”
Gu Yongsan narrowed his eyes.
“So you’re sayin’ you’re just a general doctor?”
“Even as a general practitioner, I can sufficiently handle the scope of primary care, such as hypertension, diabetes, gout, and simple kidney problems. It’s standard for a primary medical institution to evaluate the patient first and then refer them to a secondary or tertiary hospital if necessary. If you go to a big hospital from the start, they’ll begin with CTs and MRIs, and it’ll cost much more.”
Perhaps thinking Taeho had a point, Gu Yongsan nodded.
“Money... Well, it’d be trouble if it costs too much. Then you’re not some quack, are you, doctor? There’s a rumor goin’ around that you got chased all the way here because you’ve got no skills...”
Still doubtful, Gu Yongsan trailed off.
Taeho’s brow tightened.
‘Good grief. How many times have I heard the word quack today...?’
Just then, Rema’s voice came through the frames of his glasses.
—Patient health indicators detected. Shall I execute scan mode?
‘Right. I had Rema. Let’s see what you can find.’
Taeho adjusted the frames of his glasses.
—Subject body scan complete.
—Estimated probability of decreased kidney function: 76.2%. Possibility of microalbuminuria.
Taeho’s guess had been right. Rema presented more specific figures than he had expected.
But one had to test the stones before crossing the bridge.
“Then we’ll do a blood test and a urine test first.”
At the word test, Gu Yongsan suddenly barked. His suspicion had flared up.
“Hey, look here! What kind of test now? You ain’t tryin’ to overcharge me just ’cause I’m old, are you? Just prescribe me my usual joint medicine.”
“It’s a simple panel test, so it won’t deviate much from the standard hospital fee schedule. I expect it’ll be around fifty to sixty thousand won. If more precise testing is needed, you may have to go to a higher-level hospital.”
“Hah, you’re makin’ a mighty strange fuss over this. If the test shows nothin’, you’ll be sorry!”
Gu Yongsan spoke spitefully and left the examination room.
***
It took roughly an hour for the results to come out. The old man kept finding fault with everything. His reasoning was that even though he had been going to the clinic all this time, Director Jeong had never said anything, so he couldn’t trust some young doctor suddenly making a diagnosis.
But Taeho explained confidently.
“In my view, a kidney complication is certain. You should go to a higher-level hospital and get an accurate ultrasound or CT scan, as well as detailed blood tests.”
“And if it ain’t nothin’? Then I’ll just be spendin’ money for no reason, won’t I?”
“Even if it turns out to be nothing, there’s no harm in checking in advance. The kidneys are difficult to recover once damaged, so catching problems early is key. If you try to save a little money now, you may end up spending millions or even tens of millions of won later. What will you do if you keep holding out and lose both your health and your money?”
When Taeho persuaded him sincerely, Gu Yongsan looked momentarily at a loss for words.
“Hm, that sounds about right. Maybe ’cause you’re young, you sure do talk well. Then I’ll call my son. If I gotta go to a big hospital...”
In the end, Gu Yongsan called his son and decided to undergo a detailed examination at a large hospital in Seoul. But until the moment he accepted the referral letter and left, he did not forget to make a threat.
“If there’s no problem, you’ll have to take responsibility. Folks in this village all jump at one word from me.”
“Understood. Do as you wish, sir.”
Taeho’s expression, if anything, grew more confident.
After Gu Yongsan left, Taeho entered the medical record into the computer. Looking at the blood values and urine test results, his creatinine level was slightly high, and there was a possibility that his glomerular filtration rate (GFR) had fallen toward the lower end of the normal range. It almost exactly matched Rema’s initial opinion of kidney damage.
‘The higher-level hospital will undoubtedly come to a similar diagnosis. And once that happens, they won’t be able to look down on me anymore.’
Rema was more useful than he had thought. If Rema constantly assisted with diagnosis, he would be able to track down most illnesses quickly. By shortening the time, he could build patient trust, and if that brought in more patients, his income would eventually increase little by little.
‘It’ll take time at first, but at this rate, paying off the debt within five years won’t be a problem. No, maybe even within three years. But why has no one mentioned such a good AI device?’
Taeho looked up the website of Rematech, the company that had made Rema. It was decorated convincingly, but there was no address or contact information.
Even on Medicircle, the largest community for doctors, and on other communities as well, he could not find any information about Rema.
Taeho posted a question on Medicircle.
‘Does anyone know about a medical AI company called Rema Tech?’
But no one replied.
Searching his memory, he recalled the event that had said they would allow people to use the latest medical AI for free.
There had definitely been a small folding table next to the water dispenser in the department office, with a box for inserting survey forms on top. But there had been no one around, and no one had shown any interest.
For some reason, Taeho had done something he usually never did that day and filled out the survey before putting it in the box.
Come to think of it, hadn’t his decision to take over Geumsan Clinic been recent?
“Rema?”
—Yes. Please speak.
“How did your company know my address? And how do I contact your company?”
—Detailed information regarding this item is currently inaccessible.
—Rema is an AI that searches medical information and performs testing, diagnosis, and prescription.
“Hmm...”
Taeho tilted his head.
There were several suspicious points, but since using Rema was useful for now, he decided to use it first.
***
Contrary to Taeho’s hopes, however, the villagers’ opinions did not change easily.
“You know Geumsan Clinic? They say the new doctor’s a quack.”
“No, they say he’s young, but didn’t he graduate from Hanguk University?”
“What do you know? They say he ain’t even a specialist.”
“What’s a specialist?”
“Don’t it mean someone who does things professionally? Then if he ain’t a specialist, what is he? A non-specialist?”
“The village chief says he’s the lowest kind even among doctors. They say he caused some accident and ran away from Seoul.”
“Damn it, it’s the only clinic in the village. What are we supposed to do?”
The rumor was spreading far and wide.
***
There was not a single patient on the morning of the second day, either.
When lunchtime came, Nurse Park Geumja smiled awkwardly.
“Nothing changes easily in the countryside. It’ll be easier on your mind if you think it’ll take time.”
‘Loan sharks are coming to collect the debt in a month, so my mind can’t possibly be at ease.’
But Taeho spoke to Park Geumja with a bright expression.
“That’s true. Well, I’m going out for lunch. Would you like to eat together? Yesterday, it looked like you ate alone at the clinic...”
“It’s fine. A packed lunch is easier for me.”
Park Geumja took a lunchbox out of her bag and showed him.
“All right, then enjoy your lunch. I’ll go eat out and come back.”
“Take care.”
Taeho went to a small restaurant across from the clinic. The restaurant he had visited yesterday had not suited his taste at all, so he entered the one next to it.
When he stepped inside, a few elderly villagers were eating gukbap. Taeho gave them a slight nod, but they merely glanced at him sideways and did not readily meet his eyes.
“Over there, what’ll you order?”
A middle-aged proprietress wearing an apron asked bluntly. Taeho glanced around. The floor was stained, and the tables were grimy with grease marks. It looked worse than the restaurant he had gone to yesterday, but it was right in front of the clinic, and he could not simply turn around and leave.
“I’ll have gukbap, please.”
Without even replying, the proprietress simply turned and went into the kitchen.
Taeho could feel the other customers glancing at him, conscious of his presence.
“That’s the doctor, ain’t it?”
“He’s too young, isn’t he?”
“I heard he’s a quack...”
The murmurs tickled his ears, barely audible.
Soon, the gukbap came out. But it tasted even worse than he had expected. Perhaps too much seasoning had been added, because the broth was heavy and unpleasant. The side dishes were either too salty or too bland, making him reluctant to touch them.
Taeho managed only two or three spoonfuls before putting down his spoon. He had no appetite. But he could not just spring up from his seat and leave.
The restaurant owner was subtly watching him, and if he treated the food carelessly, the locals’ hostility would only grow worse for no reason.
‘Ha, seriously.’
As Taeho stared at the earthenware bowl, an old memory suddenly flashed through his mind.
His father, who had been a miner, and his mother, who had passed away when Taeho was a baby.
As a child, Taeho would wait for his father to come home in their cramped single room.
The sight of his father opening the door and coming in, black work clothes covered in dirt and dust. His face had always been full of fatigue.
After returning home, his father would prepare a meal for Taeho and then drink soju alone.
“Taeho, your dad’s gonna earn lots of money and send you all the way to university. Don’t you worry about a thing. Just study hard and proper. Then later, become someone great, like a doctor.”
His father had smiled as he coughed lightly.
But on the day his father died in a mine collapse accident, that promise was shattered to pieces. The scene Taeho rushed to after hearing the news had been horrific.
The fear of being left alone in the world. To young Taeho, that despair was beyond words.
‘Back then really was the worst.’
A time when he could see no future.
After being sent to a facility, Taeho studied fiercely in order to survive.
‘Still, things aren’t as bad as they were then.’
Taeho straightened his posture and slowly exhaled. Then he looked again at the earthenware bowl of gukbap before him.
‘No. I still can’t eat any more of this.’
It was then. From the table behind him came a sudden bang. He turned his head to see a man in his fifties convulsing as he collapsed to the floor along with his chair.
The inside of the restaurant instantly grew noisy.
“Oh my, what’s happened?”
“He wasn’t even drinkin’. Don’t tell me the food’s gone bad?”
“If it’s food poisoning, that’s serious.”
The restaurant owner waved her hands in panic and shouted.
“No, it’s not! There’s nothin’ wrong with the food!”
As Taeho approached, people stepped aside. He hurriedly laid the fallen man flat on his back and checked his pulse. His complexion was pale, but his breathing itself was faintly maintained.
‘This isn’t a food problem.’
Rema’s voice came through the frames of his glasses.
—Emergency patient detected. Executing automatic scan mode. Analyzing patient facial muscle convulsions, pulse, and vascular contraction response...
—Intermittent sudden increase in perspiration.
—Pattern of decreased peripheral blood circulation.
Taeho asked the people around him.
“Do you know what he ate?”
At that, the restaurant owner quickly stepped forward.
“This man didn’t even touch our food! I told you, it ain’t because of the food.”
At the same time, Rema’s voice sounded.
—Analysis result.
Probability that blood glucose level is below 50mg/dL: 75%.
One term came to Taeho’s mind.
‘Hypoglycemic shock?’
In a calm tone, Taeho instructed the restaurant owner.
“Ma’am, please make some strong sugar water. If you have candy or a beverage, bring that too.”
“Ah, yes!”
The owner hurriedly brought the sugar water and drink she found. Taeho poured small amounts of sugar water into the fallen man’s mouth while securing his airway.
After some time passed, color slowly began returning to the man’s face. At last, the man regained consciousness and sat up.
“Ah, I’m alive. I’m alive.”
“Looks like he’s come to now. How’d you do that? That’s truly strange.”
The people around them spoke one by one.
Taeho asked the man.
“Are you taking any medication related to blood sugar?”
“No. I don’t have diabetes.”
The man shook his head.
Everyone around them fixed their eyes on Taeho’s mouth.
“Then did you drink yesterday and not eat anything afterward?”
“How’d you know that?”
As if they had been waiting, exclamations burst out from around them.
“Yep. That’s right. He’s good, he’s good.”
“He can tell just by lookin’. How strange!”
“He’s like a ghost!”
The people gathered around spoke one after another.
Taeho continued.
“That’s why you went into hypoglycemic shock. Cut down on drinking, and make sure you eat something with it.”
“Phew, I nearly went on to the afterlife. Thank you, doctor.”
The restaurant owner, who had been watching anxiously, was also greatly relieved.
“Oh my goodness, what a relief. I was so scared, thinkin’ our place had done somethin’ wrong.”
Once the situation settled down, the restaurant owner’s attitude toward Taeho changed one hundred and eighty degrees.
“Doctor. Please sit here. I’ll make you a fried egg on the house.”
“Ma’am, put the doctor’s meal on my tab. He’s my lifesaver, ain’t he? I ought to do at least that much. Isn’t that right?”
When the man who had regained consciousness shouted, the people around them clapped and nodded.
“Of course, that’s right.”
“He’s right about that.”
Taeho was able to fill his stomach with the mountain of fried eggs the restaurant owner brought him.
‘I wonder if today’s incident earned me a little trust from the villagers. Everyone here, please spread the word far and wide.’
In a good mood, Taeho left the restaurant and returned to the clinic.
In the waiting room, a precious second patient was waiting.