Room 513 breathed with the muted sounds of the hospital: the low hum of equipment, the occasional distant footstep echoing through the corridor, the faint rattle of the sea breeze slipping through the half-open window. It was neither sterile nor cozy, suspended somewhere between recovery and waiting.
Director Kim stood with two senior doctors near the wall, their arms folded, eyes watchful. A couple of nurses hovered discreetly by the door, their curiosity barely hidden. At the far back, half in shadow, Kang Min-seok leaned against the wall, shoulders stiff, his phone low in his hand as though he were simply checking messages. His gaze never left the bed.
At the center of it all lay Mr. Choi, propped up on pillows, his granddaughter seated faithfully at his side. He looked more amused than worried, his eyes following the young therapist who was carefully preparing at the foot of the bed.
