Chapter 94: Unsecured network (8)

Part 15

“You thought nun or wizard outfits would be fun to wear, but you went and changed anyway,” Dr. Kang said.

I’d just finished another routine checkup, wondering if these visits even mattered anymore, and was heading to the consultation room. The moment I opened the door, Dr. Kang glanced up from his chart and tossed out that comment. Caught off guard, I froze mid-step, unable to think of a reply.

“What are you doing? Come in,” he said.

“…Were you watching my stream?” I asked.

“When a patient complaining about mental issues insists on showing their private life, I don’t see why I wouldn’t watch, as someone getting paid,” he replied.

So that’s how a doctor views a patient’s stream? It made sense, in a way—no reason not to watch. I felt an odd mix of acceptance and unease, not entirely convinced but unable to argue. The awkward understanding left me standing stiffly, hesitating to sit.

“Not sitting?” he asked.

“…I will. Just had something to think about,” I said.

He’s changed a lot. The thought struck me. He’d seemed so formal at first, but when did we start trading jokes like this? Slowly, imperceptibly, everyone’s changing—bit by bit.

“You don’t seem as resistant anymore,” he observed.

“I decided to live as I feel like,” I said.

“Still, you might be unconsciously pulled by the need to meet others’ expectations,” he cautioned.

“That’s a scary thought,” I replied.

“Thinking of the worst is a doctor’s job,” he said.

A slightly relaxed relationship, yet unchanged roles. A shift in how we treat each other, but the same familiar setting.

Coming here no longer scared me. I didn’t need a taxi anymore—a bus was fine. My tied-up hair and wide-brimmed hat were just to avoid attention, a small citizen’s wish to blend in. Not a disguise to hide, but a practical choice for convenience.

The faint coffee scent—lingering from Dr. Kang’s lunchtime drink—was familiar, though I couldn’t tell if it was americano or latte. Our bond, close yet not quite intimate, had built into this calm peace.

“Doctor,” I said.

“Yes?” he replied.

“How long do I need to keep coming for checkups?” I asked.

The clatter of his files on the desk felt routine now. I’d fully settled into this life, I realized. Staring at the file as it landed with a metallic click, I asked the trivial question with a neutral tone.

“No major issues, but it’s an extremely rare case, so I’d like to monitor you for at least a year,” he said.

“Worried about me?” I asked.

“Just doing my job. Getting tired of coming here?” he said.

“A bit,” I admitted.

“I’ll bring some magazines next time,” he said.

No coffee cup took up space today, leaving the desk unusually empty. His arms rested casually on it. My gaze drifted from the file to his arms, then to his face, meeting his steady eyes.

“Got a worry?” he asked.

“It’s minor,” I said.

“Spill it. I’m paid to listen,” he said.

“You might get mad,” I warned.

“Doctors don’t get mad at patients often,” he assured.

“When I think about watching adult stuff, should I go for guy-oriented or girl-oriented?” I asked.

His impassive gaze met mine, daring me to continue. I stared back, as if saying, That’s it. Our absurd staring contest dissolved into soft sighs, breaking the silence.

“So, what’s the real question?” he asked.

“It’s something I’ve been mulling over on my way here,” I said.

“Let’s hear why you’re thinking about this later,” he said. “But about Sihyun—will there come a day when he accepts, embraces, and lives unbothered like you?”

Youngjin’s subtle behavior at the bakery hadn’t escaped me. I wasn’t that oblivious. Sihyun—a broken person, lacking so much that counting what remained was easier. A precarious soul, madness redirected through a workaround. I’d done my best, but he still seemed too fragile to dismiss.

“…Hard to say,” Dr. Kang replied.

His low, emotionless voice was typical, but I’d hoped for confidence on this. Disappointment? Regret? My eyes drooped slightly. Sihyun would probably tell me to drop this petty sympathy.

“…I’m sorry. You asked for help, took on a tough burden, and all I can say is ‘hard to say,’” he said.

“I think I was the only one who could help. His issues and mine are different, but sharing this condition gave me a hook to spark his curiosity. Without that, he wouldn’t have opened up to anyone,” I said.

It was probably the right call, I thought, though I didn’t say it—judging was his job. His bitter smile faded as he pursed his lips, falling silent. My words implied he’d pushed a risky patient onto another risky one for a vague “intriguing factor.”

For a duty-bound doctor, that might hit harder than an insult.

The silence stretched, longer than usual consultations, until a nurse knocked, asking if the next patient could come in.

Part 16

There was nothing more I could do. For Sihyun, all I could offer was showing him a life where I was undeniably happy.

In irreversible hardship, all I could do was accept what was lost, embrace what remained, and live contentedly with what came. That was all I could show him.

That I could still be happy. That it was enough.

Dr. Kang likely knew this. Yet he didn’t say it—didn’t urge me to “keep living happily” in his usual gruff tone. That restraint was likely his last shred of pride.

I could tell. And he likely knew I’d noticed.

We didn’t voice it, perhaps because we both sensed that digging deeper would force us to assign blame, and the faint bond we’d formed would make that unbearable.

Part 17

• Is that for real?!

“Yes,” I replied.

• Yay! Oh, wait, is it bad to be happy when you got a pay cut…?

“It wasn’t about money. I was just helping out acquaintances. I’m glad things worked out for them,” I said.

• So I can be happy?!

“Three days from now… Tuesday, right?” I asked.

• Hehehe…

“No spicy outfits,” I warned.

• Ugh! It’s a waste to cover up a great figure!

On my way home, I called Hyunji. She’d been texting, begging for another photoshoot, but I’d put her off, citing no time. With my schedule suddenly open, I thought, Why not? Though I wasn’t thrilled about muscle aches.

• Anyway, I’ll tell them you’re coming!

“Sure. Something simpler than last time, please,” I said.

• If you come in the morning, we can take it slow.

“I’ve got a prior commitment,” I explained.

Until yesterday, my only free days were Tuesday and Thursday, so I’d scheduled a meeting with my professor for next Tuesday. I considered rescheduling but didn’t want to inconvenience them, so I worked it out with Flying Rabbit.

• By the way, did you see Bonfire’s stream?

“No… come to think of it, it’s been a while since we talked,” I said.

• They finished the drawings they promised you. Pop into their stream tonight and ask for them!

“Haha, no need to rush them,” I said.

• It’s not rushing, but creators worry if no one shows interest in their work.

Hyunji’s chatter continued uninterrupted during the short walk home from the bus stop. My occasional hums were enough for the easy, comfortable call that lasted a few minutes until I reached my door.

One by one, things were wrapping up. Misaligned pieces were falling into place. No grand worries or excessive luck—just a gentle satisfaction, needing nothing more. I smiled quietly, unseen.

Anxieties lingered, but I’d done my best. I’d endured hardships. What remained, what stayed by my side, became my own quiet happiness precisely because I’d let go of what was gone.

• Yoonseo-ssi, you’re laughing?

“Just got home. Thinking about resting this weekend already has me smiling,” I said.

• Wait, is that your vibe now?

Contentment without desire. Happiness in needing nothing more.