When Spring Almost Came
There had been a time when spring nearly arrived even in Dajeong’s monochrome world.
Her classmate, Jeon Minwoo. The guy who had tossed out confessions as naturally as breathing all through their grueling pre-med and medical school years.
She’d believed he meant it. He kept saying she was so pretty. That he liked her to death.
Before she knew it, her heart had begun to flutter and race a little for Jeon Minwoo. She wanted to try that sweet, cozy romance everyone else seemed to have.
So she had cracked open her tightly sealed heart, just a little.
For about two months, while they stuck together under that ticklish label of “lovers,” Jeon Minwoo had been a decent enough boyfriend.
The problem was… he hadn’t been a decent boyfriend only to Dajeong.
The bastard who’d ranted that he would rip out his own heart to show her how sincere he was turned out to have two of them.
The day she caught him coming out of another female classmate’s studio apartment, the guy had the nerve to act shameless instead.
“Yu Dajeong. You’re an orphan, so there’s nothing you can do for my medical career! Being with you makes even my future feel bleak and gloomy.”
“While I’m at it, your face is pretty, but you’re too stiff. No soft, yielding quality to you. Anyway, I’m sorry it turned out this way.”
It was a horrific memory that surfaced every now and then just when she thought she had forgotten it.
The more she chewed it over, the more ridiculous it became.
Had they even kissed? Slept together? What deep relationship was this that she’d been drawing up futures all by herself?
Still, she ought to bow in thanks for teaching her reality.
That was as far as people saw Yu Dajeong, apparently.
The tough one who’d clawed her way from the orphanage all the way to medical school.
A woman with a breathtakingly pretty face but zero charm, stiff as a board.
Having learned her place well, Dajeong had thrown herself silently into studying and training—to the point where the thought of keeping anyone by her side never even crossed her mind.
So her curiosity toward Jang Taekyung would fade soon enough too.
Just… curiosity about the perfect human type who had everything. That was all.
“Enough. That’s enough.”
Crushing the empty water bottle in her hand, Dajeong opened her laptop and sat at her desk. She revised the paper she had poured her heart into, polishing every sentence.
She had no time to waste energy on the inefficient act of her heart racing at the thought of someone.
This paper, due for submission to the journal next month, was the most important thing in Dajeong’s life right now.
Yet the very next day, that all-important paper faced the crisis of never seeing the light of day.
“Did you see the notice?”
Lee Suhui burst through the residents’ lounge door and shouted out of the blue.
“What the— Where’s Yu Dajeong? That handsome Gaejakdu just dropped a nuclear bomb!”
“She saw the notice and ran out right away.”
Shin Yumi answered worriedly.
“Huh? Where’d she run off to?”
“I don’t know either…”
At that moment, Dajeong was pacing in front of a massive, heavy door.
CEO’s Office. She raised her hand to knock several times while staring at the nameplate, only to lower it again.
Her advisor and department head, Im Gyeong-a, had been referred to the disciplinary committee under the foundation CEO’s authority.
Rebates, embezzlement, even job solicitation. Enormous offenses had been exposed in the Hanju Group task force’s internal audit.
Immediately, all of Im Gyeong-a’s official activities—her professorship, her medical practice, everything—were suspended.
When they said her professorship might even be permanently revoked, Dajeong’s mind went completely blank.
Of all times, for this to happen when it’s so critical…
The dirty private life of the advisor she had respected and followed was a shock, but there was a bigger problem.
Im Gyeong-a was one of the few pediatric thoracic surgery specialists in Korea. That gave her considerable influence in academic circles.
Next month, the paper Dajeong was to present had Im Gyeong-a as co-author.
But permanent revocation of her professorship!
After all the effort I put into this…
If this paper went well, there would be a chance to train at a famous children’s hospital in Canada—a rare opportunity that even included living-expense support.
The anxiety that all of it might vanish like foam along with Im Gyeong-a’s professorship spurred her impulse.
She had dashed all the way to the CEO’s office in a frenzy, only for reason to slam on the brakes belatedly.
What was she going to say if she barged in on Jang Taekyung?
Beg him to at least allow Professor Im’s paper presentation?
But what was a mere resident’s paper that he would postpone discipline for it? The answer was already clear.
“What do I do…”
Should she give up the paper? The overseas training? What the hell was this absurd butterfly effect?
Unlike her other colleagues, she had no good connections, no sturdy family to support her. For Dajeong, it was an opportunity that might never come again. It felt like even the one possibility she had believed in had been kicked away—completely different from the anxiety of possibly being sent off to the refugee support center.
Dajeong barely swallowed the surging emotion.
“I can at least try saying something, can’t I?”
She had come this far. If she backed down now, she would only regret it.
As she paced in front of the door, repeating the same hamster-wheel worries—
Bang. The heavy door swung open and the people inside poured out.
Dajeong instinctively stepped back.
“CEO! Please, reconsider. Please?”
“Oh, CEO. Professor Im must be reflecting deeply as well.”
The director and deputy director trailed after the large man, pleading. The other professors behind them looked miserable.
“We’re asking because you, as CEO, have the full ability to withdraw something like a disciplinary committee.”
“Professor Im Gyeong-a’s uncle even served as prime minister, and her maternal family is connected to politics. For the sake of the damage to Seohan Hospital—”
“Damage? Damage, you say.”
Taekyung stopped short and let out a sneer. Clear contempt.
“Are you saying that the reason you’ve left someone who neglected department management to pocket bribes all this time alone is because you were watching the political circles?”
“No, not exactly that… Good grief.”
“CEO Jang, if this matter leaks outside, it won’t be good for the hospital’s prestige—”
“Looks like you’re still living well enough. Fishing for scraps of prestige on a sinking ship.”
After freely pouring out venomous words, the man suddenly turned, and his gaze pinned on Dajeong.
“And who might you be. Doctor Yu Dajeong.”
At that, everyone’s eyes turned to Dajeong.
Why is a resident here? The professors’ expressions asking with their eyes hit her as pure pressure.
“Ah… I…”
Having to bring up something that seemed so personal and trivial as a paper in front of so many people. Her lips wouldn’t move.
“Ah, right, of course. A petition for clemency! You’ve already gathered support to ask for leniency for Professor Im!”
“See, CEO? Even the residents seem to be of one mind. Haha.”
The other professors interpreted it however they liked.
Taekyung, who had been rubbing his eyes as if tired, walked past the frozen Dajeong.
“Come with me. Only Doctor Yu Dajeong.”
At the same time, the cold order dropped.
While the professors who had been chasing him stammered, the secretary naturally positioned himself behind Dajeong, separating her from them.
In front of the elevator.
Taekyung, who had entered first, jerked his chin to indicate the spot beside him.
“…”
Under that hard-to-defy gaze, Dajeong extended her legs without thinking.
The doors closed, and a refreshing yet not light residual scent spread through the narrow space.
…Was it because it was the same space, the same scent as back then? The forgotten flutter tried to surface abruptly. Dajeong only clenched her useless fingertips.
“You have until we get off. If you have something to say, say it.”
Taekyung’s gaze was fixed on his phone.
Even in this disadvantageous situation, the man’s arrogant attitude made her feel contrary. Sorrow surged up from inside.
“I’m sorry to bother you when you’re busy. I wanted to ask what would happen to Professor Im Gyeong-a… whether she could keep her professorship, but I was shortsighted.”
“Did you participate in the corruption with her or something?”
What does he take me for.
Dajeong swallowed her flare of anger.
“No. Actually, we wrote a paper together.”
She didn’t want to leave it as a regret without even trying to speak. After a beat, Dajeong continued calmly.
“Professor Im is my advisor.”
“And so.”
“Whether it’s academic performance or overseas training, a recommendation letter from the advisor is important, and also…”
His gaze, which had been on the phone, finally moved to Dajeong.
“…If an advisor suddenly disappears like this, the impact is huge not just for me but for the other residents as well.”
Of course, this wasn’t a request to withdraw the discipline. Just… it would be nice if he gave them time to clean things up.
He wasn’t the kind of purely bad person who acted willfully and recklessly like people said.
He had brought in facilities patients would like, and hadn’t even ignored the café the hospital had kicked out.
He had taken interest from the hospital’s small things, and even packed a lunch for a resident.
Cold and arrogant, but definitely not a bad person—that was what she believed.
“Does Doctor Yu Dajeong think I’m an easy mark?”
Until she heard his next words.