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Chapter 102
The Terminally Ill Baby’s Physician Didn’t Hide That She Was a Genius
Bi-rang held the child in his arms, his face clouded with a mix of complexity and pain as memories of the past surfaced.
It had happened a long time ago.
At first, Heuk Bi-rang’s narcolepsy and sleepwalking weren’t severe enough to interfere with daily life.
Even he didn’t take it seriously at the time.
But as the condition worsened…
“By the order of the head of the family, Heuk Bi-rang will be taken to the Eastern Wing.”
Heuk Bi-rang, having been treated as useless by the family and adding the accident he had caused, was confined to the east. At that time, he was only confined—there was no tracking talisman.
Secretly, he left the house and went somewhere.
About a week later, he arrived at a quiet village.
“Welcome, Bi-rang.”
At the destination, a beautiful woman with a worn expression welcomed him.
Her lavender hair and green eyes marked her as a rare beauty. She was his second older brother’s wife—his sister-in-law—and an exceptional physician, Baek Ah-rin.
Cough, cough!
Baek Ah-rin, Heuk Bi-hu, and Heuk Bi-rang had known each other since childhood.
To him, Baek Ah-rin had always been the local physician who hid her extraordinary talent, someone who had now become his sister-in-law. She had helped both him and his wife countless times.
“Ah, should I call you master?”
“…No. Don’t be formal. Just talk normally, please.”
“Hehe.”
Ah-rin covered her mouth with her sleeve. Bi-rang, noticing the blood on it, was startled, about to comment, but stopped.
Ah-rin shook her head slightly with a soft smile, as if signaling him not to mention it.
“…The child? I heard the baby was born.”
“Bi-hu took him out for a while. Pushed him out for a walk.”
Bi-rang glanced around the house.
It was the home of his second brother, Heuk Bi-hu, and Baek Ah-rin, who had eloped for love.
It was a cozy house, warm with a lived-in feel. Baby items were scattered here and there, but it wasn’t unpleasant to see.
“He doesn’t know you came today, Bi-rang.”
Heuk Bi-rang slowly turned his gaze. He wasn’t surprised that she had hidden his visit. There was a reason he risked coming here.
Thanks to a childhood bond, he and Baek Ah-rin had exchanged letters.
[This will probably be the last letter I send you. I hope you can come. Sorry.]
There was no way he could not come.
“So what’s with this letter? And… what’s with your face? Didn’t your brother feed you?”
Her slightly exposed wrist was extremely thin. But Ah-rin just smiled and covered it with her sleeve.
“After some time, Bi-hu may not even remember me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s losing his memory, Bi-rang.”
Heuk Bi-rang hesitated. The calmness in her voice made it difficult to immediately comprehend.
Baek Ah-rin slowly revealed the truth: she was dying from an illness, and Bi-hu had also fallen ill. An incurable—or possibly incurable—disease that could not be immediately treated.
“Even when Bi-yu was just born, there were signs.”
“…”
“Sometimes he forgets important things. Mostly related to me and Bi-yu.”
Ah-rin smiled faintly, admitting that coming out to meet Bi-rang might be a little dangerous.
“…Can’t you treat him?”
“I’ll die soon, Bi-rang.”
“…”
“That’s why I left.”
Bi-rang thought he would never forget this moment: seeing Baek Ah-rin murmuring as she gazed into the distance.
“A cold? Pfft, I’ll fix it, you’ll be fine for tomorrow’s outing!”
“Cough, listen, Bi-rang? Your brother, Bi-hu, asked me to go out with him! Two years younger than me! Cough, cough!”
She had always been confident and daring. Whispering secrets about coming from the Eastern Continent, she would appear mystical, then act like a friendly local sister. But her talent had always been extraordinary, never just “friendly.”
Now, she seemed to have lost that vitality, gazing weakly into the distance.
“Some days, I might not even know who I’m holding. Who is this child? Why am I holding him?”
“…Then we shouldn’t leave him alone, right?”
“Not yet. Not yet.”
“…And… I hope it stays that way for now.”
Heuk Bi-rang saw the faint smile of the once lively and strong Ah-rin.
He parted his lips, wondering if there was anything he could do. Why did she call him here?
“Bi-rang, I needed someone to talk to about this too.”
“…”
“I can’t even call a friend, since I’ve fled. I can’t say it in a letter.”
Ah-rin laughed spiritedly but tears fell.
“I still can’t believe it. That person… will forget everything they love. The worst part is, even if they love someone else again, they’ll forget.”
Forgetting love itself, forgetting as soon as love exists.
“How can I even explain this?”
Tears ran down her pale cheeks. Her smile was sorrowful.
“If he knew the name of his disease… his heart would break.”
Hearing that she called him because she had no one else, Bi-rang clenched his lips.
“If only I had more time.”
Ah-rin wiped her tears and smiled with resolve.
“Promise me. Don’t tell anyone. Not a soul, master.”
Though playful in words, her eyes were serious. Bi-rang understood: there was no answer he could give except a vow.
“…Alright.”
Even after receiving so much help from her, he felt powerless.
“Promise me. Someone will be able to cure him. I believe it.”
As a physician, Ah-rin spoke firmly, covered her mouth, and coughed again. This time black blood spattered, but she was unfazed, speaking as if reassuring herself.
“Yes, I’ll believe that. I’ve already taken measures.”
Her tear-filled eyes shone with determination.
“If there’s another genius physician like me in the world, they’ll surely be able to treat him.”
“…There’s no one else like you in the world.”
The girl who came alone from the Eastern Continent, hiding her identity since childhood while healing others, was the extraordinary physician herself.
Ah-rin paused. She knew her own genius. That’s why the Heuk family almost tried to kill her and why she had to flee with Heuk Bi-hu while ill.
“…Sorry, Bi-rang. I wish you could treat him too.”
“…”
“As your physician, I pray you meet a good doctor.”
Bi-rang thought: good people leave too soon. Otherwise, this shouldn’t happen—her dying from illness was unjust.
“Thank you for risking everything to meet me.”
Even while splitting her roles—physician, sister-in-law, childhood friend—she was deeply caring. She had been a benefactor to him and his wife.
“…Can I ask you to take care of Bi-yu?”
“…What can a useless man like me do?”
“You’re not useless. You’re the head of the household now.”
Ah-rin looked at him.
“I told my husband too, but… someday, it might be you who helps.”
She coughed blood again, but spoke lightly, tapping her mouth as if it were trivial. Smiling widely:
“Please.”
Bi-rang knew he would never forget that final smile.
“I have a good feeling.”
Her smile now was neither the confident grin of a young girl nor the joyful smile of secretly marrying and feeling as if she had the whole world.
Back to the present:
Heuk Bi-rang thought that the “someday when it would help” that Ah-rin spoke of must be now.
He didn’t mention it because his second brother was already showing a path. He had thought hearing about his father’s illness would upset him, but he had been wrong.
Heuk Bi-yu had performed his role so well as a physician, yet he treated him like a child. And by not informing him in time, the child had been hurt.
If only he had given a warning…
“He was getting better…”
He had thought everything would turn out fine. It was a relief that Ah-rin’s vow—putting her remaining time on the line—was not broken.
He believed that thanks to Bi-yu’s treatment, his second brother would no longer forget the ones he loved.
“He actually remembered me and my brother…”
He thought everyone could be happy. But it had been a mistake. Seeing the child’s empty eyes, he realized the grave error and too-late regret.
“…They say if you love someone, you get a disease that makes you forget.”
“…What?”
“Your father forgot you because he loved you sincerely.”
Damn. Was it right to tell this truth to a three-year-old? He still didn’t know.
“If he knew the name of his disease… his heart would break.”
…Sister-in-law, that was actually your story. If adult Baek Ah-rin’s heart had broken, could this child bear it?
But how could he not tell a child crying like this?
Heuk Bi-rang bit his lips hard, then hugged Bi-yu tightly.
“I’m sorry. It’s my fault. Really sorry.”
He couldn’t do it otherwise.
“Forget your father.”
For the first time, the child stopped crying. Her shoulders, trembling before, now lifted slowly.
“…Sook-bbu.”
“I’ll take care of you.”
“Sook-bbu, why am I like this?”
The child, filled with tears, asked:
“Why can’t I be happy?”
“…Hey.”
“Sook-bbu, you’re Aah-yan’s dad.”
“….”
“…Aah-yan won’t love me more than you…”
The child covered her face with small hands, not wanting to face her world.
“It’s really unfair.”
“…”
“I wanted a dad too.”
Heuk Bi-rang silently held the child as she cried. He stayed with her through the night, until she fell asleep from exhaustion.
That night, when an unexpected visitor arrived, Heuk Bi-rang was not surprised.
“Why are you here?”
The shadow in the darkness flinched. Surprisingly, it was Heuk Bi-hu who had come.
