“Dr. So, is Director Lee coming back today from the medical support dispatch?”
Gi-hyeon paused in the middle of setting up the equipment for a lower-body strength test and glanced over his shoulder. Kim Seung-hee from the general ward stood nearby, looking hesitant.
“I’m not sure,” he answered after a moment. “When does the tournament end?”
“Wasn’t it today?”
“Then she’ll probably go straight home.”
“Ah…” Seung-hee hesitated. “The youth baseball team is coming in for checkups tomorrow. I feel bad asking the Director to cover it again.”
Her expression darkened with obvious guilt. Nobody liked calling someone back from an external medical dispatch just to dump clinic work on them.
So Gi-hyeon worked as both a physical therapist and an athletic trainer for the sports rehabilitation clinic. Despite his age, though, he was still relatively new to the field.
Before this, he had been a soldier.
A career officer, discharged as a Second Lieutenant just before his promotion to First Lieutenant. There had been reasons for that.
After leaving the military, he had followed Jo Yeon-oh’s advice and transferred into a physical therapy program. He’d passed the national board exam only two years ago, which meant that despite being older than Kim Seung-hee, he was still technically her junior.
Seung-hee normally worked in the general ward, not sports rehabilitation, so hearing her mention baseball player checkups made Gi-hyeon frown slightly.
Reading the confusion on his face, she hurried to explain.
“I honestly don’t know anything about it. Team Leader Lim asked me to cover for him, but I’m already drowning in work…”
“If you leave the files with me, I’ll handle it.”
“Really? I feel kind of bad, though.”
“It’s sports clinic work anyway. Don’t worry about it.”
Relief immediately spread across her face.
“Thank you, Dr. So.”
After sending her off with a small nod, Gi-hyeon turned back around—only to find the athlete waiting for his strength test grinning at him.
“Doc,” the young man said mischievously, “is there something going on between you and Ms. Kim?”
“What could possibly be going on?”
“Come on, there’s definitely something. My radar’s never wrong.”
Gi-hyeon didn’t bother denying it.
Honestly, it was amusing watching the kid brag about a completely defective radar.
Still, he understood where it came from. Injured athletes trapped inside rehab facilities grew bored out of their minds. If teasing their therapist relieved some of that frustration, Gi-hyeon didn’t particularly mind.
Rumors about therapists dating each other floated through the ward all the time anyway. They never lasted long.
The athletes here were too focused on returning to competition to stay invested in gossip for very long.
“Alright,” Gi-hyeon said calmly, tightening the restraint around the athlete’s thigh. “Let’s see how accurate that radar of yours is. What kind of numbers do you think you’ll hit today?”
“No clue!”
Gi-hyeon gave a quiet laugh and adjusted the machine.
“Ready.”
The athlete kicked against the resistance with a strained yell.
Gi-hyeon watched the monitor closely.
“Are you even trying?”
“I’m giving it everything I’ve got!”
“Really? For a second there, I thought your head coach came in and kicked it for you.”
“What?! Coach is basically a grandpa!”
“Exactly. You’re kicking with grandpa strength.”
The athlete howled in outrage, accusing his therapist of psychological abuse.
Ignoring the complaints, Gi-hyeon unfastened the restraint and lightly smacked the back of the boy’s head.
“Next.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in much the same way.
Circuit training came next.
After reorganizing the groups according to injury severity, Gi-hyeon glanced once toward Team Leader Lim—currently sitting at his desk with deadly concentration while playing Minesweeper—and blew sharply into his whistle.
Athletes from every discipline scattered through the rehab room, rotating through personalized routines designed around both their injuries and their sports.
Because most of the senior trainers were out on medical dispatches or handling deep-tissue therapy for severely injured athletes, Gi-hyeon had somehow inherited circuit duty for the third week straight.
He never complained.
He’d simply modified the routines enough to keep the athletes from dying of boredom.
“Doc, this is insane!” one of them shouted halfway through.
“That’s weird,” Gi-hyeon replied evenly. “You still seem energetic enough to complain.”
“Seriously, you’re a psychopath!”
Groans and protests erupted from every direction.
Gi-hyeon ignored most of it while keeping the circuits moving until the afternoon schedule finally ended.
Even if it was only rehab training, demonstrating exercises all day left him soaked in sweat. By the time he finished reorganizing the treatment room, his scrubs were sticking unpleasantly to his skin.
He headed toward the office just in time for the evening wrap-up meeting.
Team Leader Lim, who had contributed absolutely nothing all afternoon besides Minesweeper, was leisurely sipping an iced mocha someone had bought for him.
Nearby sat a melted iced latte.
Apparently Gi-hyeon’s.
The ice had long since dissolved, leaving behind a watery beige mess.
Gi-hyeon stared at it blankly.
Catching the look, Lim smirked.
“Mr. So, you looked so busy I didn’t want to interrupt you. That swimmer kid bought it for you. What was his name again? The one with the rotator cuff injury.”
“Park Cheol-jin, sir.”
“Right, him. Kid absolutely worships you.”
Lim clicked his tongue dramatically.
“Said he specifically wanted to give it to you, but like I said—you looked way too busy.”
Across the room, Seung-hee awkwardly avoided eye contact.
Pretending not to remember the name of South Korea’s top four-hundred-meter freestyle swimmer was exactly the kind of petty behavior Team Leader Lim specialized in.
Cheol-jin had completed rehab for a minor rotator cuff tear and already returned to competition. He’d apparently stopped by to say hello before leaving.
Too bad they’d missed each other.
Without reacting, Gi-hyeon picked up the ruined latte and carried it back to his desk.
It no longer resembled coffee in any meaningful way.
He quietly set it aside and tuned back into the meeting.
The discussion eventually shifted toward staffing next week’s medical dispatches.
That was when Team Leader Lim threw another sideways glance at Gi-hyeon and sneered,
“I don’t know whether I’m managing an employee or serving royalty. Can’t even send one of my own people out on dispatch without worrying about connections. Must be nice having powerful friends.”
The jab was clearly aimed at Gi-hyeon.
Still, because Lim never addressed him directly, Gi-hyeon ignored it.
Once the meeting ended, he headed straight toward the showers.
After spending half the day physically demonstrating circuit exercises, he was drenched. Going home like this sounded miserable.
He had just turned the corner toward the locker rooms when someone called out to him.
“Mr. So.”
“Director.”
Director Lee Beom-hee stepped out of the elevator carrying a portable shockwave therapy machine one-handed like it weighed nothing.
“You seriously have a talent for making people uncomfortable,” she grumbled immediately. “Who’s watching right now? Stop calling me ‘Director.’ It makes my skin crawl.”
Lee Beom-hee had been his friend since high school.
Like Jo Yeon-oh, she was a Dominant Alpha—a rarity even among Alphas. People were always shocked to learn Gi-hyeon somehow knew two of them personally.
Still, considering Team Leader Lim had just mocked him over that exact friendship, Gi-hyeon wasn’t eager to get careless inside the hospital.
Ignoring her complaint, he stepped forward to take the machine from her.
That was when he noticed the man standing behind her.
Jo Yeon-oh.
The elevator suddenly looked far too small for him. His shoulders alone made the spacious carriage feel cramped.
As expected, he had to duck slightly to clear the doorway.
Gi-hyeon glanced at him briefly before looking back at Beom-hee.
“I didn’t know you were coming back today. I thought the tournament was still going.”
“I ran into Chairman Jo there,” she replied. “His foundation sponsored the event.”
Then she turned around and pointed accusingly at Yeon-oh.
“Mr. So, do you know what this insane bastard did today? He picked a fight with our Pro.”
Gi-hyeon shifted his gaze toward Yeon-oh.
“Did you hit someone again?”
“The fuck do you mean again?”
Yeon-oh scowled instantly.
Beom-hee snorted.
“You know which Pro I mean.”
Gi-hyeon understood immediately.
That particular “Pro” was infamous for having a trash personality.
Has he been limping on that leg since birth?
That’s bad luck.
Tell them to send someone else next time.
What kind of hospital hires a cripple?