The room was still hushed after the granddaughter's sudden recognition of Joon-ho, her voice lingering like a bell in the air. Even the quiet hum of the machines seemed to retreat, as though giving space for what might come next.
Joon-ho remained where he was beside the bed, steady, his presence neither boastful nor meek. He waited until Mr. Choi's breathing evened again before speaking, his voice calm, pitched only for the old man to hear.
"If you permit it," he said, "I'd like to begin treatment today. Massage therapy now could ease the strain and improve your recovery."
Mr. Choi blinked behind his glasses. For a heartbeat he looked almost startled, then a low chuckle rolled from his chest, self-deprecating. "Troubling you for such a simple injury… I feel ashamed." He lifted a hand as if to wave the matter away. "I'm already old. Strain and soreness come with the territory. No need to make a fuss."
