The next morning, Hana walked into the hospital with the hesitant energy of someone tiptoeing into enemy territory.
She hadn't slept.
She hadn't eaten.
She had Googled "how to transfer hospitals without losing your license" at 3:17 a.m.
And now, here she was. In the same building as Dr. Kang Joonhyuk—the man she had accidentally called Satan in a lab coat.
Her sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as she entered the resident locker room. She caught her reflection in the mirror: slightly hollow eyes, a spot forming near her chin, and a very suspicious stain on her sleeve from what she hoped was coffee and not… anything worse.
Just as she was mentally rehearsing how to fake her own death and reappear as a nurse in Busan, the door opened.
"Morning," came a calm voice behind her.
Hana spun around and almost dropped her stethoscope.
Dr. Kang Joonhyuk.
Today, he wore navy blue scrubs. The sleeves were rolled just enough to reveal lean forearms and a silver watch that probably cost more than her student loans.
He walked past her without a glance, opened his locker, and pulled out a tablet.
Not a word about the voice note. Not a flicker of recognition.
Hana blinked. Maybe he didn't hear it. Maybe he ignored it. Maybe—just maybe—he forgot.
Then he spoke.
"Kim Hana."
"Yes, sir?"
"Present your notes on Room 302 again. At the next meeting."
"But…" Her voice wobbled. "I already presented that case yesterday."
"You can do better."
There it was. A calm, clear icepack thrown directly at her ego.
He didn't need to raise his voice. Just a slight pause between syllables and the entire hallway felt colder.
She nodded quickly. "Of course."
As he walked away, she swore she heard the faintest exhale. Not quite a sigh. Not quite a chuckle.
What was that supposed to mean?
The morning passed in a blur of vitals, notes, and internal screaming. Every time Hana looked up, she caught Joonhyuk glancing in her direction—never long enough to be obvious, but never quite absent either.
During rounds, he asked her three questions. She got one right, guessed one, and completely blanked on the third.
"Try again," he said evenly.
She muttered something about calcium channels and mentally buried herself alive.
By lunchtime, Hana was considering whether a career in accounting might have been more emotionally sustainable.
She collapsed into her usual seat at the rooftop cafeteria where Park Minji was already halfway through her kimchi stew.
"How's the Satan situation?" Minji asked with her signature deadpan delivery.
"He's not yelling," Hana mumbled. "Which is worse. It's like being murdered with politeness."
Minji tilted her head. "I mean, he looked at you during rounds."
"He looked at me the way one looks at mold in a fridge."
"You're being dramatic."
Hana gave her a flat look. "I literally am dramatic. It's part of my charm."
Just then, another tray dropped onto the table beside them.
"Mind if I join?"
Both women turned.
Dr. Yoo Seojin. Warm smile. Hair slightly tousled. Scrubs casually perfect.
Hana tried not to choke on her rice.
Minji, who normally had a razor tongue, simply nodded and busied herself with her spoon—maybe a bit too intensely.
"Word is," Seojin said, eyes twinkling, "you saved a patient yesterday. Impressive for a first-year."
"Oh—um—he didn't crash or anything, I just… noticed the allergy on his chart," Hana said, rubbing her neck. "Honestly, it was probably a fluke."
"You call that a fluke?" Seojin grinned. "Then I'd like more flukes like you on my team."
Minji snorted into her soup.
Hana blinked. Was she blushing?
Down the hall, in the internal medicine wing, Joonhyuk stood in front of the nurses' station, reviewing labs.
He wasn't eavesdropping.
Of course not.
He just happened to be reviewing a file near the glass wall that overlooked the cafeteria.
And just happened to glance up.
And just happened to see Kim Hana laughing.
With Yoo Seojin.
Her entire posture was different—relaxed, unguarded, glowing. Her smile stretched wide, and her eyes crinkled in the corners in that particular way that made her look like a cartoon character.
Joonhyuk frowned.
It shouldn't matter. Residents can eat with anyone they want.
He wasn't her friend.
Or anything else.
And yet, for reasons he couldn't define, he found himself flipping the page in the chart just a little too aggressively.
Later that day, Hana found herself walking down the hallway toward the stairwell, balancing a stack of updated charts and mentally reciting case numbers.
When she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with Joonhyuk.
She gasped, stepping back.
"Sorry—sir—wasn't looking—"
"You're always rushing," he said quietly.
She blinked at him. "I—well—I was trying to make up for yesterday's disaster."
There was a pause.
Then—softly, almost imperceptibly—he said, "Your instincts were correct."
Hana stared. "What?"
"Room 312," he clarified. "You made the right call. Earlier than the rest."
She opened her mouth. Closed it. "You're… praising me?"
"No." His eyes glinted with that same unreadable expression. "Just noting the facts."
And with that, he walked away, leaving Hana standing in the corridor, mouth slightly ajar, heart beating far too fast.
That night, as she crawled into bed, Hana pulled her blanket to her chin and stared at the ceiling.
He almost complimented her.
He definitely watched her during lunch.
And he probably hated seeing her laugh with Dr. Yoo Seojin.
She rolled over, face burning.
Was she... imagining things?
Or was something shifting between them?
End of Episode 2