The afternoon sun filtered through the windows of the bus as it rumbled through the streets of Western Seoul's Gangseo-gu District. The vehicle swayed gently with each turn, carrying passengers who chatted in hushed tones or hummed along to music playing through their earphones. The scene was ordinary—mundane even—except for one passenger who sat rigid in his seat, eyes fixed on something no one else could see.
Yoon Mu-shin, twenty-five years old with sharp features that betrayed a disciplined mind, stared at the empty space before him. To anyone watching, he might have appeared lost in thought, but Mu-shin was transfixed by a translucent blue screen hovering in mid-air directly in front of him. The interface glowed with an otherworldly light, text scrolling across its surface.
[Congratulations for the Host for finally awakening Doctor System]
Mu-shin's fingers twitched, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the screen. He'd read about such things in webnovels—systems that granted protagonists special abilities—but never had he imagined experiencing one himself. The corners of his mouth tightened as he suppressed a grimace. Was this real, or had the stress of his upcoming internship finally broken something in his mind?
Twenty-five years. That's how long he'd lived in this world—a place eerily similar to Earth but undeniably different. Twenty-five years since his death and subsequent rebirth.
In his previous life, he had been Surya, an Indian citizen with dreams of joining the Indian Army. His father, however, had other plans, pushing him toward service in the British forces instead. For ten years, he'd served in a UK Army special unit, honing his body and mind into weapons of precision and discipline. Then came the rescue mission in Pakistan—the one that ended his first life.
The memory still burned bright: the successful evacuation, the moment of triumph, then the realization that a child remained behind. He'd gone back, emotions overwhelming his tactical training. He'd saved the child but lost himself in the process. His last memory was of searing pain, then darkness.
And then, rebirth. A new world. A new name. A new life.
The bus hit a pothole, jolting Mu-shin from his memories. His eyes refocused on the system notification still hovering before him.
"This can't be happening," he muttered under his breath, earning a curious glance from an elderly woman seated across the aisle.
In this life, his parents had steered him toward medicine rather than military service. He'd complied, throwing himself into his studies with the same discipline that had once made him an exceptional soldier. Graduating from Sanggyeong Medical University with perfect marks had been challenging but not impossible for someone who had once memorized field manuals under gunfire.
And now, on the day he was to begin his internship at Seoul Baek-eun Hospital, this... system... had appeared.
Sometimes, in quiet moments, Mu-shin wondered if he could travel to India in this world, search for traces of his former family. But this wasn't Earth. The geography was similar, the countries had the same names, but subtle differences in history and culture confirmed he was somewhere else entirely. Here, he was Yoon Mu-shin, eldest son and brother to two younger sisters, not Surya the soldier.
A deep sigh escaped him as he stared at the floating screen. If this was a dream—some elaborate coma fantasy his dying brain had constructed—it was remarkably persistent. But the weight of his medical textbooks in his bag, the smell of the bus's upholstery, the sound of rain beginning to patter against the windows... everything felt too real.
The system interface pulsed once, drawing his attention back to it as new text appeared.
[Congratulations for the Host for you have been gifted 10 Intern Skills at Specialist Level;
1. Basic Patient History Taking
– How to interview patients properly to get accurate medical histories, symptoms, and relevant details.
2. Physical Examination Techniques
– How to examine the body: listen to the lungs, check reflexes, palpate the abdomen, assess vital signs correctly.
3. Intravenous (IV) Insertion
– Skill in inserting IV lines to deliver fluids or medications into the vein.
4. Blood Drawing (Venipuncture)
– Confident, clean technique for drawing blood samples for lab tests.
5. Basic Wound Suturing
– Stitching small wounds or surgical incisions under supervision.
6. Catheterization
– Inserting urinary catheters safely and hygienically.
7. Basic ECG Reading
– Ability to read electrocardiograms and recognize simple, urgent patterns (like arrhythmia or heart attack signs).
8. CPR (Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation)
– Life-saving skill to revive patients in cardiac or respiratory arrest.
9. Medical Documentation & Charting
– Properly recording patient notes, writing clear orders, and updating charts.
10. Basic Aseptic & Sterile Technique
– How to maintain sterility during procedures, surgeries, and when handling wounds to prevent infection.
These are all at Specialist Level, if you want to advance them to Senior Surgeon Level, please continue to work hard 😁]
Mu-shin's brow furrowed as he read through the list. He'd studied these techniques, of course—spent countless hours practicing them under supervision during his clinical rotations. But as the notification faded, something strange happened. Knowledge flooded his mind, not as abstract concepts from textbooks but as muscle memory and practical experience.
Suddenly, he could recall the exact pressure needed to insert an IV needle into different types of veins. He could feel the resistance of skin and tissue against suturing thread, knew precisely how to tie surgical knots without looking. His fingers tingled with the phantom sensation of palpating abdomens, identifying subtle differences between normal and abnormal findings.
It wasn't just information—it was experience, as if he'd performed these procedures hundreds of times rather than the handful of supervised attempts he'd made as a medical student.
The bus announcement system chimed, announcing the next stop. Mu-shin barely registered it, still processing the influx of knowledge, when another notification appeared.
[Host can earn Doctor Points by treating Patients and exchange them for Items from the [Shop] in the system]
[Host can also complete Mission and Daily Tasks generated by the system for basic rewards]
[Host can also earn Knowledge Points through Learning, Teaching, Mentorship and things related to Knowledge. Knowledge Points can be used to advance your Skills and Knowledge]
The bus slowed to a stop, and Mu-shin realized it was his destination. Rising from his seat with mechanical precision, he slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped off the bus. The cool March air hit his face, carrying the scent of rain and urban life. He stood for a moment, orienting himself, then began walking toward Seoul Baek-eun Hospital.
The hospital complex loomed ahead, its modern architecture standing in stark contrast to the older buildings surrounding it. People streamed in and out of the main entrance—visitors with worried expressions, staff in various uniforms hurrying to their shifts, patients moving slowly with assistance. Mu-shin observed them all with the detached analysis of someone who had seen both battlefields and hospital wards.
As he approached the main building, he noted the tension in the air. The emergency department entrance was particularly busy, with ambulances arriving at regular intervals. Medical staff rushed between departments, their faces set in expressions of focused determination. This wasn't just a normal day—something was happening.
Pushing through the main doors, Mu-shin entered the hospital's central lobby. The controlled chaos was even more apparent inside. Nurses and orderlies moved patients on gurneys from one area to another. Family members huddled in waiting areas, some crying, others staring blankly at walls or phones. The distinct smell of antiseptic couldn't quite mask the underlying scents of illness and anxiety.
Mu-shin approached the reception desk, where a young nurse was fielding calls and directing visitors with practiced efficiency. Her name tag identified her as Go Chan-woo. When there was a brief lull in her work, he stepped forward.
"Excuse me, Nurse Go," he said, his voice calm and measured. "I'm Yoon Mu-shin, the new intern assigned to begin today."
Chan-woo looked up, surprise briefly crossing her features before being replaced by a professional smile. Her eyes, however, betrayed exhaustion beneath the pleasant expression.
"Dr. Yoon, welcome to Seoul Baek-eun," she said, reaching for the phone. "I wasn't expecting new interns today of all days. Let me call the Chief Resident."
While she made the call, Mu-shin surveyed the lobby more carefully. The pattern of injuries he observed among waiting patients suggested some kind of mass casualty event—perhaps a traffic accident or building collapse. His newly enhanced knowledge helped him categorize what he saw: possible concussions, suspected fractures, lacerations requiring sutures.
"Dr. Yoon?" A male voice interrupted his assessment.
Mu-shin turned to find himself facing a tall, well-groomed man in a white coat with the Chief Resident badge. Despite the chaos around them, the man's appearance was immaculate, his features so perfectly proportioned that he could have stepped off a television drama set.
"I'm Nam Kyung-soo, Chief Resident," he said, extending a hand. His voice was gentle, almost melodic, contrasting with the tension evident in his posture. "Welcome to Baek-eun. Your timing is... interesting."
Mu-shin shook the offered hand, noting the calluses that spoke of a surgeon's work beneath the manicured appearance. "Thank you, Dr. Nam. I'm ready to begin whenever needed. What's the situation here?"
Kyung-soo's eyebrows rose slightly, perhaps surprised by the direct question or Mu-shin's calm demeanor amid the chaos.
"Bus collision on the highway," he explained. "We've received twenty-three patients so far, with more incoming. Under normal circumstances, I'd suggest you start tomorrow, but if you're willing to jump in..." He left the sentence hanging, a question in his eyes.
"I'm ready now," Mu-shin replied without hesitation.
Kyung-soo nodded, then asked, "Have you arranged accommodation yet? Will you be commuting or staying in the hospital dormitory?"
The question seemed oddly mundane given the emergency unfolding around them, but Mu-shin understood the administrative necessity.
"I'd prefer the dormitory," he answered. "More practical for the hours we'll be working, and more economical."
What he didn't say was that every won saved on rent was money he could send home. His parents had sacrificed to put him through medical school, and his sisters—one in architecture university, the other still in high school—had needs and dreams of their own. In this life, unlike his previous one, he had family to support.
"Sensible choice," Kyung-soo said. "Let's get your paperwork and ID sorted quickly, then I'll show you to the dormitory so you can drop your things. After that, if you're certain you want to start today, we could use another pair of hands in the ER."
The next hour passed in a blur of administrative efficiency. Forms were signed, an ID badge was printed, and hospital scrubs were issued. Kyung-soo guided him through the labyrinthine corridors to the resident dormitory, a spartan but functional space where medical staff could rest between grueling shifts.
The room Kyung-soo showed him to contained four beds, three of which showed signs of occupation. Mu-shin claimed the empty one, quickly stowing his bag beneath it.
"Your roommates are all on shift now," Kyung-soo explained. "You'll meet them later. Take a moment to settle in, then meet me in the ER. Fifth floor, follow the signs."
With that, the Chief Resident was gone, hurrying back to the emergency he was managing. Alone in the quiet dormitory, Mu-shin sat on the edge of his assigned bed, the thin mattress creaking beneath his weight.
The contrast between the silent room and the chaos of the hospital beyond its walls was jarring. For a moment, he closed his eyes, centering himself as he had done before missions in his previous life. When he opened them again, the blue screen had reappeared.
[Congratulations Host for your registration and becoming an official Intern in the Seoul Baek-eun Hospital]
[To motivate the Host who would save the lives of countless people in the future as a Doctor, System gifts the Host an encouragement gift; Eye Of The Doctor (Bronze Rank)]
[Eye Of The Doctor (Bronze Rank); Eye of the Doctor grants the Host a heightened visual acuity tailored for medical observation. With this skill, the Host can effortlessly detect minor injuries such as small cuts, bruises, swelling, or subtle signs of infection—details often missed by ordinary eyes. It also enables a quick, non-invasive health assessment by observing skin color, pupil response, breathing patterns, and posture. This ability serves as an essential diagnostic tool for initial examinations, allowing the Host to prioritize care and spot early warning signs before deeper tests are needed]
[Special Skills such as Eye Of The Doctors are divided into Four Ranks, Bronze, Silver, Gold and Platinum. To advance from Bronze to Silver and Silver to Gold and Gold to Platinum, Host needs to use it till you exceed your limitations and become better than before]
As the notification faded, Mu-shin felt a subtle change in his vision. Colors seemed slightly more vivid, details sharper. He looked down at his hands and could see minute details he'd never noticed before—the pattern of his fingerprints, tiny scars from years of study and training, the subtle pulsation of blood vessels beneath his skin.
A light sigh escaped his lips as he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Whatever this system was, whatever it meant for his future as a doctor, he would face it with the same disciplined approach he'd applied to everything in both his lives.
For now, though, he would rest. Just for a moment. The chaos of the emergency room, the mysteries of the Doctor System, the challenges of his new life—all of it would be waiting for him when he rose.
Closing his eyes, Yoon Mu-shin allowed himself a brief respite before the storm that awaited.