I whirled around so fast my dizzy head gave a sharp, unpleasant throb.
Standing behind me in the dimly lit corridor was an elderly man wearing a long, slightly crumpled doctor's coat. His hair was thin and grey, and behind thick, round spectacles, his dark eyes scanned my face with a sharp, unnerving scrutiny.
"Ah..." I stammered, raising my hands slightly in a peaceful gesture while adjusting my coat. "I'm so sorry, sir! I was just... taking a walk while my sister finished her check-up, and I think I took a wrong turn at the service elevator. I got completely lost."
I forced a sheepish, innocent smile, glancing back down the shadowy hall.
"I was actually just about to leave this wing! It's... remarkably creepy down here."
The doctor slowly lowered his gaze to the VIP staff badge clipped to my lapel, his expression remaining completely unreadable.
"Is that so?" he rasped quietly, his voice dry like rustling paper. He gave a single, slow nod. "Then you should return to the main part, young man. Visitors are not permitted in the long-term recovery quarters."
"Right! Of course, sir. Have a good day!"
I bowed quickly and turned on my heel, heading straight for the illuminated emergency door at the end of the hall that led to the stairwell. As I pushed the heavy bar and stepped onto the concrete steps, I could feel his cold, suspicious gaze tracing the back of my neck until the door clicked shut behind me.
I took the stairs upward, pushing through the heavy exit door at the top landing, and stepped out into the crisp, biting air of the fifth-floor roof garden.
The immediate shift in atmosphere was a massive relief.
The open sky above was a pale, clear winter blue, and the rooftop was surprisingly alive with activity. A few patients wrapped in heavy coats over their striped hospital pajamas were strolling along the paved pathways. Off to the far corner near a ventilation unit, a female doctor in a white coat was leaning against the railing, quietly enjoying a stealthy cigarette break.
I walked over to a wooden bench positioned beside a small, potted evergreen pine tree.
"To actually plant trees and put park benches on a hospital roof..." I muttered to myself, shaking my head with a faint smile. "It really feels like stepping straight into a late-night K-drama set."
I sank onto the bench, resting my elbows on my knees as I looked out over the sprawling panorama of Sangam-dong. Down below on the grand boulevard, thousands of tiny cars zipped through the lanes like ants, and pedestrians wrapped in dark winter coats rushed toward the transit stations—talking frantically into their phones, hailing taxis, or arguing with colleagues over morning coffee.
I let out a long, foggy breath that dissolved into the sky. It was still such an alien, high-velocity world compared to the quiet, slow-paced streets of my small Ukrainian hometown back in Cherkasy. Sometimes, the sheer speed of Seoul felt overwhelming, but looking down from the fifth floor, a quiet sense of perspective settled over my chest.
After five minutes, the cold winter air began to cut through my dark jacket, making my throat prickle again. I noticed the female doctor stubbing out her cigarette into a portable pocket ashtray and heading back toward the glass rooftop entrance.
I stood up and trotted over.
"Excuse me, doctor," I asked politely in Korean. "Where is the main elevator link to the primary clinic wing?"
She pointed toward a set of double glass doors on the south side of the garden.
"Right through there, take elevator B down to the third floor."
"Thank you!"
I navigated my way back to the bustling, bright atmosphere of the third-floor reception lobby.
It didn't take long to spot a familiar, sharp figure sitting on the plush leather sofa near the main counter.
Ha-neul was leaning back, her legs crossed, intensely scrolling through something on her tablet screen.
"Oh, you're back already?" Ha-neul remarked, glancing up as my broad shadow fell over her.
She picked up a small, clear plastic pharmacy bag resting beside her and held it out to me.
"Dad finished writing your scripts and gave me these from the clinic's internal dispensary."
I took the bag, peeking inside. There were three distinct packages of color-coded pills for fever, throat inflammation, and body aches, alongside an antiseptic throat spray bottle.
"The rest of the standard fever medicines we already have at home," Ha-neul said, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "So let's get out of here quickly. And don't forget—we're going to that new brunch cafe near the station first! I am literally starving."
My physical weakness receded enough for my sarcastic nature to react. I offered her a wide, mischievous grin as we walked toward the exit turnstiles.
"Don't worry, Ha-neul-ah," I joked warmly, nudging her shoulder. "As a reward for surviving the diagnostic ordeal, I promise I'll buy you a nice, crunchy raw carrot!"
Ha-neul froze mid-stride, turning her head to shoot me the most deadpan, unamused, and fake smile humanly possible behind her frames.
Without uttering a single word of response, she turned and strode out through the automatic glass doors at double-time speed.
"Hey, wait!" I called out, trotting after her with my long, clumsy strides as the cold winter wind hit us. "Slow down! I'm officially a registered patient, don't forget!"