Boss, It's My First Time Being Your Resident - Chapter 40

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 40. Terminal Lucidity (2)

“You promised me. You said once you went south, you’d open a factory selling this mandarin soda. And you’d feed me and all my comrades for free for the rest of our lives.”

Ha Tae-heon, who had seemed utterly devoid of blood or tears.
Yet here he was, willingly stepping into a certain winter of the 1950s where his grandfather dwelt.

Was it because Tae-heon had pieced together the fragments of youth his grandfather had forgotten?
The old man’s eyes glistened with profound longing.

With trembling hands, the grandfather gripped the sleeve of Tae-heon’s white coat tightly.

“I’m sorry for being so late.”

A single tear fell from the old man’s cheek onto Tae-heon’s white coat.

“But you kept your promise. You came and found me, bringing such a refreshing soda.”

Tae-heon smiled softly as he patted the old man’s weathered, wrinkled hands that crumpled his garment.

Ju A-gang stared at Tae-heon intently.
The surgeon’s glacial and razor-sharp demeanor had vanished without a trace.

Under normal circumstances, he would never have tolerated a single second of idle chatter.
Having only ever witnessed that perpetually cold, sharp face, she found it utterly unimaginable that he could banter and trade jokes with a patient, smiling all the while.

Yet now Ha Tae-heon was precisely Ri Han-yeong—his grandfather’s old comrade, his old friend.

“You don’t need to open that factory anymore. I’ve already had plenty for free.”

Tae-heon smiled gently at the old man.

“It must have been hard on you all this time, little brother.”
“Ah, what can I say? This is what life is.”

The old man nodded with satisfaction at Tae-heon’s matter-of-fact reply.

The old man’s gaze stretched beyond Tae-heon, toward the distant north—his hometown beyond the night sky.

“I’ve seen Han-yeong’s face now, so that’s enough. I’ve had my fill of soda, so I can go home. Will you take me to where my comrades are? I want to see them. I’m sleepy.”

“You can go in peace now. When you meet the comrades, tell them this: you lived a truly magnificent youth. Tell them you didn’t forget the mandarin soda—you even brought some back.”

Clarity and serenity settled into the old man’s bright eyes.

Though she could not fathom what guilt and longing lived within him, his entire life seemed at last to find rest in Tae-heon’s false words.

After a brief call with security, Tae-heon carefully wrapped his arms around his grandfather’s back, steadying him.

His touch was exquisitely tender, as though fearing the old man’s serenity might shatter.

Ju A-gang received the plastic bag brimming with Fanta from the grandfather’s hands.
Its substantial weight transferred through her palm.

The old man, tension finally releasing, surrendered his weight to Tae-heon’s embrace and exhaled a long, lingering sigh of relief.

***

The moment the Hospice Ward elevator doors slid open, an ominous atmosphere rushed in.

The corridor was absolute chaos.

The nurses who had been busily searching for the missing old man spotted Tae-heon and the grandfather approaching in the distance and hurried toward them.

“Grandfather! You pulled out your IV drip and went somewhere!”

The attending nurse’s voice erupted with agitation. Her face had gone deathly pale.

She quickly checked the old man’s condition, her eyes darting toward the plastic bag in Ju A-gang’s hands.

The nurse stared blankly into the bag, her lips trembling.

“Grandfather! We told you at the hospital that you can’t drink Fanta! It’s contraband!”
“I’m sorry. That’s why I went to the rooftop.”

The nurse, who had been glaring at him with reproach, suddenly contorted her face and burst into tears.

“Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

The nurse turned away, wiping her glistening eyes. Then, still sniffling, she continued toward Tae-heon and A-gang.

“Thank you for bringing him back, Doctors. Seeing him clearheaded like this… I think Grandfather doesn’t have much time left.”

The nurse appended a bitter afterword in a quavering voice.

“We told him at the hospital that if he drinks Fanta, other patients will come swarming, so we can’t allow it. But he insisted so stubbornly that his friend had to have it that he went out this early morning while I was away for just a moment. He was so determined.”

Having dried her tears on her sleeve, the nurse gazed at the old man with pity.

“With terminal pancreatic cancer, it’s already metastasized to his bones. Without painkillers, he can’t last a moment. Even during the day, his delirium is so severe he doesn’t recognize people, just rages at empty air.”

Ju A-gang bit her lip.

The grandfather who had been laughing heartily just moments ago while talking with Tae-heon—to think he was a hospice patient at the threshold of death.

“His family is still all in the North, apparently. He said it’s been the deepest regret of his life, being separated from his comrades when they fled south. He hasn’t seen them since the war. He cried every night like a child, saying he absolutely had to buy a box of mandarin soda and go home before he died.”

The nurse’s eyes lingered on the orange can in Tae-heon’s hand.

“I think he was gathering his strength one last time before he goes. It’s what they call Terminal Lucidity. In any case, thank you, Doctor.”

The nurse composed her emotions by wiping her flushed face with the back of her hand, then helped the old man toward the Hospital Room.

Terminal Lucidity—a moment of clarity before death.

It refers to a phenomenon in which patients facing the end suddenly grow lucid, appearing as though their health has recovered.

Family members of such patients may cling to hope, believing improvement has set in, but medical staff cannot simply rejoice at such a sight.

They know it is a final, fleeting window for goodbyes.

In other words, a gift from heaven—a last allowance of time to bid farewell to loved ones before life’s candle gutters out.

For a first-year resident like herself, this situation was the first miracle-like tragedy she had witnessed. But it seemed Ha Tae-heon had understood it from the start.

It was his grandfather’s final gift of time.

“Grandfather, you have to give us Fanta first! Hmph, I’m mad at you.”
“Hehe. Ri Han-yeong is my comrade! My friend.”
“Aren’t we your friends too?”
“Then, will you drink the soda I buy for you?”
“Of course! Absolutely! How much I love this mandarin soda!”
“I’ll bring plenty before I go!”
“Grandfather! Where are you talking about going? You have to live much, much longer! You have to keep tormenting us, buying us Fanta every day!”

Ju A-gang gazed long upon the backs of the two as they proceeded toward the room, murmuring softly to each other.

The scene was touching, bittersweet.
So many emotions tangled together that she found it impossible to express in a single word.

It was just as Ju A-gang turned away with a faint smile.

A very faint, warm smile flickered across Tae-heon’s face—barely perceptible.

It was only a moment, but it had been a smile. It caught her off guard.

Ju A-gang stared at him, absorbed.

Tae-heon, who had been watching for a long time as the two disappeared down the corridor, suddenly lowered his gaze and met A-gang’s eyes.

“What? Senior smiled! Didn’t you!”

At A-gang’s words, Tae-heon’s expression hardened at lightning speed.

“I did no such thing.”
“Just now! You smiled. I caught you red-handed!”

Ah?
So this was Ha Tae-heon’s weakness?

Ju A-gang sidled up close to him with swagger, her eyes sparkling.

“See, I saw the whole thing? So Senior really does know how to smile?”
“Ju A-gang, you seem to see a lot of things that aren’t there. Ghosts, and now this.”
“Ghosts are one thing, but this is another! My vision is 1.5, you know?”
“Is that so?”

He replied coolly and took the lead, though his silhouette as he walked down the quiet corridor seemed noticeably more at ease than usual.

“Senior.”
“Speak.”

Tae-heon’s voice remained low and detached as ever.

“Honestly, isn’t Fanta like the number one contraband? You wouldn’t even let me eat rice cakes, but…”

Ju A-gang trailed off, gauging his reaction.

Fanta was the hospital’s number-one contraband—because it meant “patients become sick” in wordplay.
It was the jinx among jinxes, famous enough that every medical professional knew it.

At the sight of Tae-heon’s small, artificial cough, A-gang felt an impulse to tease him further.

“The other doctors never drink Fanta? Especially when they’re on night shift!”

Tae-heon’s pace halted.

“Ju A-gang?”
“Yes?”
“A taboo, by nature, does allow for exceptions.”

Tae-heon tilted his head slightly, looking down at A-gang.

His drowsy gaze poured slowly across her face.

“On a day like this, there are things more important than taboo.”
“What is it?”

Ju A-gang opened her eyes wide in question.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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