Doctor’s Rebirth - Chapter 162

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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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Chapter 162
“The first time I consumed poison was when Mother was still alive.”
“….”
I simply listened to his voice.
“I intended to eat the peaches in her stead. I thought if we consumed them all, Mother would have nothing left to eat, and perhaps that would ease her burden. But there was poison hidden within them. Ever since that day, my brother and I have felt the same agony whenever we swallow food. Mother blamed herself for the rest of her life. She believed that her greed for a station above her means had caused you children to suffer so.”
He laughed softly.
“She blamed only herself throughout her life. She lacked even the cruelty to blame others. It was a miracle that we three siblings were born beneath such a mother.”
He wiped his mask.
“My sister crushed the skull of the servant who fed her the peaches. But she ultimately could not kill him. Mother wept more sorrowfully than the beating itself could inflict. She could not bear that her daughter would become a murderer because of her.”
“….”
“My brother and I tried to eat the peaches instead, and my sister sought to destroy the culprit. In the end, though our hearts wished to protect the same person, our natures differed, and so our methods diverged.”
Snow continued to fall upon the Juwang House.
In a place where snow already fell abundantly, a cold silence accumulated ever deeper.
“I was stabbed by a servant’s blade at twelve years old. Bitten by a snake released by someone at thirteen. The following year, I suffered curses that brought nightmares and robbed me of sleep. Already struggling to eat, I grew gaunt and withered.”
Each time, Ju Wang sought out those responsible and stained her hands with blood.
She could never tolerate anyone laying a hand upon her people, then or now.
Only in those days was she more clumsy and far more cruel.
“That winter, the stirrup of my horse broke, and I fell and shattered my bones. Even now, I limp slightly on that leg. I often wish a doctor like you had been at my side then. But such regrets are meaningless now.”
I listened quietly to his composed voice.
He seemed quite pleased by this.
“I expected flattery, yet you surprise me.”
In martial arts novels, emperors typically despise those who flatter them.
This man shared similar inclinations with Ju Wang—if I were to rattle on obsequiously here, he would gaze with sorrowful eyes and lament, “So, you too kneel before my power.”
To win the hearts of such men, even if one offered promotions or gold and jewels, one must hold one’s head high and firm.
Only then would they think, “So there exists one in this world whom money and power cannot sway,” and finally deign to remember the protagonist’s name.
I understood this well. Yet if one became too arrogant, one’s neck might be severed for that very arrogance, so I had to maintain a modestly virtuous demeanor.
“Yet it seemed Your Majesty would not be particularly pleased regardless.”
“Hehehehe. An eccentric indeed.”
He seemed delighted.
“I have only fought for peace all these days. Everything in this world sought to kill us, and we did what we did merely to survive. Yet at the pinnacle we reached, there is no peace. Do you know why?”
I bowed my head and answered quietly.
“Perhaps because the place we reached, believing it to be paradise, is not paradise at all.”
Long ago.
I grew up in an orphanage.
I did not know my parents’ names, nor could I see their faces.
When commercials aired on television showing families going to the supermarket together, I felt such envy and heartache.
Yet I continued to watch.
The children were occasionally adopted by someone.
Some returned after being taken away, but others left and never came back.
It was a good thing.
Yet young Jin Cheon-hee still envied them, hugging his knees and pondering for long stretches.
I craved affection. I wished someone would need me.
I had questioned countless times why my parents abandoned me, but I knew those were futile questions.
Yet I continued to ask them anyway.
‘Why did I come to this place?’
And.
‘Does truly no one need me?’
Young Jin Cheon-hee sometimes indulged in such fantasies.
Now as an adult, merely recalling those days made my earlobes burn with shame—such embarrassing fantasies they were.
One day, a door would open and someone would come and tell me this.
That they needed me. That we should go home together.
It didn’t matter if they were biological parents, adoptive parents, or just one parent. So I would take that person’s hand and go to the supermarket like the ones on television.
Since I was a good child, I would never ask them to buy me anything. Instead, I would gather the necessary things—detergent, salt, and such.
Even knowing it was foolish thinking, I couldn’t understand why it felt so sweet when I was young, why I couldn’t stop.
The orphanage was a decent place. But step even slightly beyond its boundaries and you’d find plenty of people ready to crush you.
‘Your mother abandoned you, didn’t she?’
‘I heard orphanage kids learn to steal too. Is that true?’
‘They say the class trip fee went missing. Sorry, but would you mind opening your bag first?’
‘Why would it be missing? Would you take off your shoes too?’
‘Would you remove your socks as well?’
‘Could you write down where you went today? And who you met, please.’
No matter how well I studied, discrimination crept in unexpectedly.
My grades only became effective around the time I was conscious of the college entrance exam; when I was younger, my small frame meant I was frequently beaten by other children.
Young Jin Cheon-hee was desperate not to become the lowest-ranked member of the group.
Children were all the more cruel.
Back then, elementary school classrooms had fifty to sixty students each.
Teachers had no capacity to pay attention to each individual, and the word “bullying” didn’t even exist yet.
I lived striving hard not to appear easy prey.
And after becoming a high school student, that habit only became more ingrained.
What awaits at the end of all that running?
In the end, Jin Cheon-hee obtained an occupation that could be called an elite profession, though physically and mentally demanding.
Money came readily enough.
Yet there was no family, no leisure time.
All that remained was a degenerating spine and glasses that constantly slipped down.
When I realized that emptiness, I requested a sabbatical and died.
So it was ironic, but I could understand the feelings of the two twins. I even seemed to know the despair and futility waiting at that end.
“….”
He gazed at Jin Cheon-hee.
“It’s strange. Somehow you understand my feelings.”
Had I used an ability?
It seemed that “memory” here included thoughts and emotional recollections within the mind.
“Hehe, how fascinating. Your memories are blocked like a wall, making them difficult to understand, but I can grasp the fragments of emotion that leak through here and there.”
It appeared that memories from the modern era could not be read.
I was curious how he would interpret my modern memories, whether he would consider me mad or believe the truth, but it seemed that was beyond his reach.
He gazed at me for a long while, as if finding me curious. I spoke.
“Even if paradise doesn’t exist, if one’s family is safe and there’s a place to return to, isn’t that enough?”
“Family, you say.”
He fell into thought, then chuckled softly.
“Yes. Your words are right. Had my sister not existed, we would have become dust or killed far too many of the imperial family.”
He spoke of such chilling matters as if they were nothing.
“You are a curious child. Your emotional direction differs, and your thoughts diverge as well. Your memories become blocked from a certain point onward, making them difficult to read, but… yes, I think I understand now why my sister and Euni have taken a liking to you.”
At that moment, there came a clicking sound.
“Raise your head.”
At the Emperor’s words, one who appeared to be a guard stepped forward to dissuade him.
“Your Majesty.”
“This child deserves to see my face. Besides, you’ve already seen the same face, have you not?”
I slowly raised my head.
There stood an identical face.
A handsome man with refined features wearing a bitter expression.
He was so nearly identical to the man I had treated that one could mistake them for the same person.
“It seems my younger brother has wished for this many times already, so I shall ask no further. Yet it is curious—you desire money, yet you are a good person.”
He chuckled softly and spoke thus.
“From now on, Eun will receive treatment twice a year. Therefore, it would be wise to establish a connection.”
He removed an ornament from his arm and handed it to me.
“The dragon protects the imperial house, and one who wears this shall easily borrow a military horse at any post station.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Mm. Here, call me the Golden King. And this is not such a difficult object. For treating a single king, it may seem excessive, but if one has received the Emperor’s favor, it is not an unreasonable gift. I shall arrange the formalities appropriately, so take it with you.”
A summons token.
I bowed my head as instructed and accepted the bracelet.
“Wear it always.”
As I left, the Emperor added one more word.
There was something frightening about the way he smiled.
* * *
Outside, Ju Wang was waiting.
“Is it finished?”
“Ah…”
“Don’t ask how I knew. There are those who know everything.”
‘It seems this man has eyes and ears even in the walls.’
Even so, he hadn’t hidden his presence well enough for me not to notice. How he found out remains a mystery.
I fingered the bracelet I held in my hand.
Since the Emperor gave it to me, I can’t sell it off anywhere. If he said to carry it, then carrying it is the right thing to do.
But being able to borrow horses from any post station whenever I want?
It’s certainly a remarkable function, but whether it’s remarkable enough to warrant the Emperor’s symbol appearing on a bracelet is another matter entirely.
“Why do you have the Censor’s insignia?”
“Pardon?”
“I asked why you have the Censor’s insignia.”
What even is a Censor?
Jin Cheon-hee took three seconds to search through his mind.
I couldn’t say how it was used in the Hua Empire, but typically wasn’t it the role of exposing corruption among officials?
“He… gave it to me?”
“…He gave you that? The one he made for his own secret inspections?”
“Yes.”
“…”
Ju Wang stared at me in disbelief for a long while before speaking.
“What did you do? Dance impressively in front of him?”
“No. I simply listened to what he had to say.”
“He gave you that just for listening? The insignia of a direct Censor?”
“…Well, I did save his younger brother’s life too. I suppose it was his way of expressing gratitude.”
Certainly, it was too generous a reward just for saving Wang-ya, but if one considered it a token of the Emperor’s favor, it was somewhat acceptable.
The gaps in the alibi would fill themselves, as he had said they would.
Ju Wang suddenly crouched down and pressed her temples firmly.
“Both of you are the same. Why does everyone try to take away whoever I’ve marked?”
“Ah, I must emphasize again—I belong to Baekrin Uigak and have absolutely no intention of becoming a royal physician…”
“No, I know that…”
Ju Wang sighed.
“There’s no helping it. The siblings have the same eye for people, so they reach the same conclusions.”
She placed her arm around Jin Cheon-hee’s shoulder and asked like a street ruffian.
“Still, I’m the best one, aren’t I? Not much pressure, and I’m a regular customer.”
True to her reputation as someone who had enjoyed life in her youth, she carried herself with impressive presence.
“Ju Wang, you are the person I have the longest relationship with and am most grateful to.”
“You won’t say I’m the best, will you?”
‘I have to survive too, after all.’
Of course, I never spoke those words aloud. I simply conveyed them through my eyes.

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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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