January 10, 4:38 P.M.

He walks down the corridors with steady steps, the white coat on his shoulders moving in rhythm, with coffee-brown eyes focused on the screen in his long, slender hands. He's clad in a sky blue Gucci shirt paired with black slacks and low-cut Dr. Martens. An odd aspect is his electric blue hair, but somehow his honey skin complements the color. If he wasn't a doctor-in-training, he'd most definitely be a part of the fashion industry.

The smell of antiseptics and blinding fluorescent lights of the hospital do not irritate Kim Haneul anymore, being desensitized to the environment over the past months. Stopping in his tracks, he knocks on the wooden door at the end of the hallway.

"Come in," a voice calls out from inside. The young man takes in a deep breath when opening the door, ready for what is to come.

"Kim Haneul! How many times have I stressed on not allowing anyone in the patient's room?" exclaims a man with salt and pepper hair, golden rimmed spectacles perched on his nose, wrinkles forming on his forehead and lips curving into a scowl.

"But Dr. Min, the boy was weeping. He wanted to meet his father," Kim Haneul replies, adjusting his black tie and pocketing his mobile phone. He stops the urge to dig his hands into his pockets to show respect to the elder man.

"If the child catches his father's virus, will you take responsibility?"

The blue-haired trainee remains silent, pressing his lips into a straight line and shaking his head slowly. His superior may be strict and inflexible but he's right. Haneul couldn't put the child's health at risk even if he desperately wanted to see his father.

"Thought so," the older man continues, "I'm the chief here, next time you undermine my orders, I'll kick you out."

"But—"

The door bursts open revealing a panting nurse. "Doctor Min, we need you now. Ms. Song's vitals are dropping!" The said man sprints up from behind the desk he's seated at and runs out without another word.

Haneul wonders how a man of his age is this active. He started working at the hospital a few months ago, assigned under Dr. Min Yongsun, who's married to his job and determined to tie Haneul in the same manner. His work is not dull, learning and experiencing varied events every day. The difference between practical life and textual knowledge is apparent, giving Haneul a sort of excitement to hone his skills further and strive to be better at what he's supposed to do.

"Kim Haneul!"

The blue-head reels back from his thoughts and follows his superior. Yet another eventful but usual day at the hospital.

The beeping sound of the ECG echos in Haneul's ears, the doctor faltering for a second at the sight in front of him. A pale, young woman lies on the bed, tubes connected to her body drawing from different machines, an oxygen mask over her face, dark bags under her eyes, and an IV drip needled to her hand. Four medical staff crowd around her, Dr. Min giving orders to the people in white coats.

"150 Joules!" the older man says holding two defibrillator paddle plates, giving shock to the woman after exposing her chest. "Again!"

"200 Joules!"

Haneul increases the power on the machine immediately, praying the woman's declining heartbeat picks back up.

"Once more!"

The petite woman's body jerks up due to the shock, the doctors watching with bated breaths, eyes trained at the ECG monitor. A beat later, one sound monopolizes the room.

Beep...a flat line.

Haneul peels his eyes shut, head bowing in defeat.

"Song Seolhyun, time of death 4:51 P.M., due to cardiac arrest." Min Yongsun announces in a robotic tone. He proceeds to remove the patient's oxygen mask and pulls the white sheet over her face. Song Seolhyun isn't a person or a patient anymore, just a lifeless body, a piece that'll soon be disposed of no matter how much her loved ones would like to keep her. Funny how the moment one stops breathing, they become an object. They aren't called by their names but just labeled as 'the body'.

Haneul has accustomed to different aspects of the hectic life of a doctor, be it rude patients, mutilated parts of a body, the smell of vomit and medications, or sleepless nights running on caffeine. Conditioned to all but one. Death. Something that still sends chills up his spine. He's worked on many bodies during his study years but witnessing a living human taking their last breath is a whole different ordeal. An experience he thought he had prepared himself for.

The doctor rubs his face with his hands and leaves the room, tuning out the cries of Seolhyun's parents that just entered the ward. He exits the hospital and sits on the bench placed outside, fishing out his phone from his white coat. It has been a long and exhausting day. Haneul's eyes are tired, hair disheveled and he needs to rest. Hating being alone in times of uncertainty and distress, he messages the guy who has been his friend for years.

Haneul and Han Jisoo usually meet at Subway on weekdays to have a quick meal, the place not being crowded during evenings. The spot where they talk about absolutely anything and everything.

Han Jisoo unwraps his chicken avocado sandwich and takes a bite out of it. "You didn't insult my sandwich today, very odd indeed. What happened other than the Dr. Min reprimanding you?" he asks, licking the sauce on his thin lips and ruffling his chocolate brown hair.

The older of the two swirls his drink absentmindedly and takes a minute before replying. "There was a death today. Another life lost."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Nothing we can do about it."

They eat in silence, only sounds of sipping soda and munching sandwiches audible. Jisoo glances at Haneul with hesitant eyes before he utters his question, "Are you going to-"

"Yeah, I will."

"But hyung, it-"

"Jisoo, death is not easy to deal with, not even for doctors. We need to relieve the stress and impending feelings of helplessness that come along with it, especially when informing the families. Yes, in the long run, we'll be used to death but it hasn't been long since I've started experiencing these events."

Jisoo lets out a tired breath, shaking his head. "Exactly, you've just started your career, it may lead to legal medical complications later."

"Yeah I know, bu-" Haneul's phone rings, interrupting him mid-sentence. He answers the call immediately, a grin replacing his somber expression. "Xue Yang! Just the man I wanted to see. Do you have anyone for me today?" He asks, eyes lighting up. The talk goes on for about two minutes. After hanging up, he picks up his car keys and wallet on the table and avoids the eyes of the man sitting in front of him, knowing a disappointing expression would be etched on Jisoo's face.

"I'm sorry, I need to go. See you later." Haneul bids farewell, grabs the cola and leaves the place. He jumps in his black Porsche Boxter parked outside Subway and drives off to the location Xue Yang has sent him. For now, he puts Jisoo's words at the back of his mind, focusing on completing the new job he's been given.

Haneul takes out the first aid kit tucked in the backseat and puts on his black mask and cap before entering the warehouse. The space is dusty, wooden crates stacked all over the area. The doctor searches the place, looking for Xue Yang, and finds the Chinese man crouching beside someone. He takes long strides towards the two, ignoring the odd stares other men in the warehouse throw at him. "Okay, what do we have here?"

"Stabbed in street fighting," Yang replies, pressing a cloth against the abdomen of the man lying on the ground.

Haneul opens his first aid kit and puts on his surgical gloves, removes the bloody cloth, and scans the wound. "How long has it been?"

"Nearly an hour."

"There's no darkening around the wound, meaning the knife did not cut any of his major arteries or veins. That's good. Let me just clean it and stitch him up." Haneul checks the man's breathing and finds no irregular pattern.

"Keep him distracted by talking to him or something," he instructs Yang as the process would sting a bit.

Haneul takes out a saline bottle and pours it on the wound to clean it. The man hisses in pain, his hand coming to stop him but Xue Yang holds him down. The doctor cleans the outer skin with a cotton pad. After applying anesthesia, he examines the incision, then starts the procedure of suturing, momentarily glancing at the wounded man till the process ends. Lastly, Haneul dresses the wound with some gauze. "I'll write him some antibiotics and pain relievers. We can remove the stitches next week."

"Thank you for coming."

The doctor gives a small smile in return. "No worries, that's my job."

Xue Yang wipes the blood off his hands with some tissues and turns to Haneul. "An underground fight club is looking for a doctor to hire. Do you want the job?"

"What? No. No way, I can't." He possibly couldn't be involved more than he already is.

"Suit yourself."

Packing his medical kit, Haneul walks to the exit, his thoughts recalling the day he met Xue Yang. It happened a few months ago, three months after he started working at Saenghwal hospital. Their meeting wasn't pleasant.

Xue Yang was a Chinese immigrant involved in street fights, gambling and other illegal activities. He was searching for a doctor to help his friend who was stabbed by loan sharks. The same day, Haneul had experienced the death of a patient for the first time. He felt heavy-hearted and lost. The lifeless body of the patient didn't leave his mind. Although he knew deaths were a part of his profession, the doctor questioned his medical abilities. Walking on the street and being pulled into a car forcibly, didn't help make his situation better. Yang threatened to hurt him if Haneul didn't help or told anyone about anything that happened on the day. If he helped the man, Yang would let him go and also offered him some cash. Eventually, the resident gave in. Not like he had a choice anyway.

Haneul did not expect to feel better emotionally after he helped the guy recover from his wounds. In fact, he felt fruitful doing the deed. The only problem was what he did would not be appreciated by the society and wasn't legal. Did that stop him? At first, yes it did. However, the satisfaction he received from helping someone, even if illegally, was greater than the fear of what people would say. When Haneul had to choose between doing what felt right but was wrong in the eyes of others or stand with the law, he chose the former. Soon what started as a one-time help, turned into a repetitive coping mechanism.