The heater in the back of the taxi buzzed loudly as we zipped through the chilly morning streets toward Sangam-dong. I sat huddled in my dark winter coat, shivering despite the warmth, while Ha-neul tapped away on her phone beside me.
"When we get to the clinic," Ha-neul warned, not taking her eyes off her screen, "the staff are going to say a bunch of ridiculous nonsense about our family. Just ignore everything they say. It's all exaggerated, embarrassing crap."
I let out a raspy, muffled cough into my sleeve.
"I don't have the energy to process rumors anyway..."
Ten minutes later, the taxi pulled up to the sleek, glass-fronted buildings housing Dr. Lee's private medical group.
We stepped through the sliding glass doors into the warm, pristine lobby smelling faintly of antiseptic and fresh lavender. As soon as we approached the reception desk, the head nurse's eyes lit up in instant recognition.
"Oh, Ha-neul-ah!" the receptionist gasped, folding her hands together with a fond, grandmotherly smile. "My goodness, look at you! It feels like just yesterday you came in here holding your father's hand, munching on a raw carrot like a real little rabbit!"
Ha-neul instantly stiffened, leaning toward my shoulder to deliver a fierce, quiet whisper.
"Remember what I said. Total nonsense."
I wanted to chuckle, but my raw throat turned the sound into a pathetic, rusty wheeze.
The receptionist then turned her gaze toward my broad frame, her eyes widening in realization.
"Oh! And you must be the exchange student—the son Dr. Lee has been talking about! He's told us so much about you, San-ssi—"
"Unnie," Ha-neul interrupted smoothly, stepping forward to block further historical revelations. "Is Dad available? San isn't feeling well at all today."
"Oh, right! Goodness, look at how flushed he is," the receptionist snapped into professional mode, checking her computer monitor. "Dr. Lee is currently finishing his morning ward check-ups, but he'll be down shortly. You can take a seat right over there in the VIP lounge!"
Ha-neul and I sank into the plush leather armchairs in the corner of the waiting room.
Feeling a dull ache in my skull, I pulled out my phone to browse KakaoTalk and distract myself from the feverish throbbing behind my eyes.
I opened the H-Wnot group chat first.
Myung-dae: Won't be at rehearsal on Monday. Family business.
I pressed down on the message and dropped a simple heart reaction. Classic Myung-dae—short, cryptic, and straight to the point.
Next, I scrolled down to the crowded Class 2-B group chat. Normally, on a Sunday morning, the chat was flooded with frantic messages asking what chapters were covered on tomorrow's history retake or begging for math solutions. But today, the entire feed was blowing up with excitement about something else entirely: the upcoming post-finals winter retreat.
I turned my head toward Ha-neul, who was quietly reviewing her math notes on her tablet.
"Hey," I murmured, my voice low and gravelly. "Are we... going on a school trip after finals?"
Ha-neul looked up from her screen.
"Of course we are, Mountain. It's an annual Kirin tradition! It happens right after this week's finals."
"When exactly?" I asked.
"Well, our official closing ceremony and the last day of school for the calendar year is next Monday," Ha-neul explained, adjusting her glasses. "So the trip will be somewhere around the 20ths of December."
I leaned back against the leather cushion. My impression of school trips back home in Ukraine was mostly long, noisy bus rides to historical monuments or camping in the woods.
"What do Korean students usually do on these school trips?" I asked curious.
Ha-neul let out a small, amused scoff.
"All the dramatic stuff you see in TV shows—talent exhibitions, awkward late-night campfire confessions, and terrible catering. Class 2-B and 2-A usually rent out a cluster of detached wooden pensions at a resort complex out in nature. And usually, a few extra students from other classes come along too."
My eyes flickered. "Oh... so I can invite someone too?"
Ha-neul raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing my face suspiciously.
"Yeah, sure. Why? Who do you want to invite? Don't tell me it's Sora... I heard you guys broke up."
I pondered for a brief second, the image of a certain silver-haired drummer popping into my head.
"Can the person... be from a different school?"
Ha-neul blinked, caught off guard, before giving a simple shrug. "Sure. Why not?"
Before I could ask any further questions, the frosted glass door at the end of the hallway swung open.
Dr. Lee walked out, looking exceptionally sharp in his crisp white doctor's coat, a tablet tucked under his arm. The moment he spotted us, a warm, genuine smile broke across his tired face.
"Appa!" Ha-neul stood up, stepping forward to give him a quick, affectionate hug.
Dr. Lee patted her hair, then turned his gaze toward me. He stepped up and pulled me into a warm, welcoming embrace as well.
Back in Smila, the most physical affection I ever exchanged with my own father was a firm, quiet handshake. But after months of living under the Lee family roof, I had actually gotten completely used to these sudden, warm paternal hugs.
It felt surprisingly good.
Dr. Lee pulled back, pressing his warm palm against my forehead.
"Yeah, indeed..." he murmured, his doctor's instinct instantly registering the heat. "You're running quite a fever, San-gun. Come on back to my office."
We followed him down the quiet, sterile clinic corridor straight to the elevators.
"You know," Dr. Lee chucked, looking back over his shoulder, "when you asked Eun-sook for that JBC tour over breakfast, I was actually thinking about organizing a VIP tour around our hospital for you too... though I certainly didn't expect you to show up as a patient so soon!"
"Sorry for bothering you on a Sunday, Abuji," I mumbled, rubbing the back of my neck.
Ha-neul paused near a hallway junction, pointing toward the waiting room.
"Dad, can I go wait out front?"
Dr. Lee stopped dead in his tracks. He slowly turned around, a remarkably dark, cheerful, and utterly sinister smile spreading across his face.
"Ha-neul-ah..." Dr. Lee said softly. "When was the last time we ran a full-body examination on you?"
Ha-neul went completely rigid.
"Our annual family check-up is still a few months away," Dr. Lee continued smoothly, his eyes sparkling with terrifying medical authority. "So I believe there won't be a better opportunity than right now. Surely you wouldn't leave your sick brother to face all these diagnostic tests alone, would you?"
Ha-neul's jaw dropped in absolute horror.
'Wait... a full-body check-up?' I thought internally, my dizzy brain trying to process the sudden escalation. 'Aren't we just here for a routine cold appointment and some cough syrup?!'