I graduated from medical university at the age of 22.

Following my graduation, I went through my residency at Huimang Hospital and then joined the General Surgery Department without much thought.

Once my colleagues had found out about my family history, their eyes changed. Some looked at me with overbearing curiosity while others talked about me behind my back.

Even the professors turned cautious of me.

“How am I supposed to work with that girl?”

“Better not talk to her, if you say something wrong you might not wake up tomorrow.”

“There’s always a black sheep in the family….”

Since when was being a doctor a bad thing? 

For 2 years, I endured it. The off-handed jabs by patients for not ‘contributing’ to the country, the cold treatment from my coworkers and the buttering up from the directors.

‘I’m tired.’

Some people might think I was giving up too easily, or too entitled to endure the working world. I could give less shits about what they think. I’ve gone days skipping meals, pulling all-nighters almost three times a week and had gotten used to announcing the deaths of patients that I had gotten too attached to.

“Should I quit?” I shifted my gaze upwards to the serene older man sitting across from me.

The Professor.

An image brimming with wisdom betrayed by his youthful appearance. Long, smooth black hair tied up carelessly into a bun. 

Stray strands of hair framed his gentle face.

Acting as a canvas to eyes drowning in tranquillity that droop downwards at their corners, a thin but deep smile. He possessed a thin body that looked so weak that he might be blown away by the wind if not careful. Always wearing a plain white button up shirt and dark blue pants, the professor always gave off the image of a delicate and elegant gentleman.

“Do you have any plans for what to do afterwards?” as he set down the black tile on the Go board, his smooth and pleasant voice carried a weight of experience.

These secret sessions of Go between me and the professor in a small garden hidden in a funeral home have been regularly taking place since I was 15 years old. In order for Jaehyuk-Oppa to properly inherit all our parent’s property, he had decided to voluntarily officially declare our parents as deceased.

For 3 days, my siblings and I had mourned our loss without much thought. Neither Lee Hakun or Shim Suryeong had any living family on record nor did they have many friends.

They had run a business as a couple in Namwon before moving to Seoul, and had remained stay at home parents until the day of their disappearance so there weren’t any colleagues to come and pay respects.

As I stood at my brother's side with a white band on my left arm, the handful of people that I saw attempting to comfort my brother was made up of government officials or police officers who were involved in investigating the now cold case.

During the final day of the send off, I had wandered away from my family to go to the bathroom. In the corner of the room, on a table void of alcohol or food was a Go board. My natural curiosity led me to approach the unknown stranger playing against himself.

“What are you playing?” I had asked about the ethereal beauty.

Without any hesitation or confusion he replied “I’m playing Go, would you like to join me?”.

In retrospect, perhaps I shouldn’t have been speaking with a mysterious stranger in a funeral home.

“How do you play, is it like chess?” 

“Not exactly.”

“Is it fun?”

“I find it enjoyable.”

The memories of that day remain precious to me, a moment of melancholy only meant for me. I never asked for the man's name, only calling him ‘professor’.

“I was a friend of your father.” is the only clue to his identity I know and need. The look of peaceful nostalgia, as if looking back on a cherished memory was enough to convince me.

From that encounter onwards, every week or sometimes every month , I would visit the same funeral home in which I had bowed to portraits of my father and mother to play Go and have tea with the soothing presence that is the professor.

Around my birthday, he would welcome me with a slice of cake. Sometimes, we would play Chess, Old maid, Shogi , Mahjong or Cards instead of Go. Even when I had shown signs of irritation from a losing streak, his patience was boundless. 

When some girls started to pick on me for being a ‘weird orphan’ during High School, he had earnestly lent his ear without any criticism for my childishness or frustration. The following week, the same clique had all switched schools because another victim’s parent had submitted video evidence of their violent bullying to the principal and threatened to sue the school.

When a classmate in University had plagiarised my doctoral thesis and claimed it as his own, I was forced to make a rushed and flawed replacement that caused me to be unable to qualify to join the Pharmaceutical studies department. I had lamented about how the unrecyclable waste had gloated about how well received his thesis was and that I wasn’t exactly thrilled to become a normal physician while having tea with him during my residency.

Following that meeting, that same classmate had been showcased in the news for his ‘horrific acts’ of raping his ex-girlfriend, bullying his classmates brutally in Highschool causing physical and psychological scars and also his fraudulent thesis which earned him a spot at the top hospital in Korea.

I wasn't able to be compensated, but I felt an undeniable sense of satisfaction knowing that he was in jail.

To me, the professor is both my lucky charm and a precious aspect of my life that my family’s fame hasn’t intruded in.

“If you think resigning will make you happier, you should do it. There’s no joy in forcing yourself to carry on with something that leaves you empty.” 

Leaning back on his delicately handcrafted bamboo chair, he wholeheartedly expressed his wish that I would be happy.

“The most precious thing in life is life itself. Breathing the air for enjoyment rather than out of necessity , waking up in the morning from a pleasant dream with no feeling of dread , enjoying a meal for the effort put into it instead of the sustenance it provides or just taking a moment to stare at the sky simply because you desire to.”

“Sooyoung-ah. You’re still young, unlike an old man like me, you still have a chance to discover what your purpose is.”

“When you’re older, I hope you can look back on your youth and smile. Your father would want that as well.” Getting up from his seat, the tall but gentle man rested his hand on my head.

He rarely ever mentioned my father.

“No matter what you decide, this professor of yours will always be on your side.” There was deep sorrow hidden in his eyes.As I stared into my reflection in his clear eyes…..

I couldn’t shake off the feeling that the one he was looking at wasn’t me.

The next day, I handed in my resignation.