DP Side Story 2, Episode 9

Deep Pivot Side Story 2, Episode 9

Seo-joon, who had already braced himself after hearing about it from Hee-min beforehand, gently placed a hand on Yeon-woo’s back. Cha Yeon-woo wasn’t the type to show emotional ups and downs on the surface. But Seo-joon knew better than anyone how violently those emotions could rage beneath the calm exterior.

“…Yeon-woo, breathe.”

Only then did the motionless rise of his back begin to expand slowly. As Hee-min looked at Yeon-woo’s composed face, he continued.

“Genetic alpha-phenylketonuria causes various complications, but cases like Jeong-woo’s, where the lungs are directly affected, are extremely rare. The pulmonary edema he experienced a few years ago was actually caused by improper treatment from the hospital at the time. It wasn’t a complication.”

“Th-then… are you saying Jeong-woo got sicker because of me?”

Watching the tears quickly well up in Yeon-woo’s eyes, Hee-min hurriedly shook his head.

“No, it’s not your fault. Thanks to you continuing whatever treatment was available, Cha Jeong-woo is still alive today.”

Yeon-woo trembled. Seo-joon wrapped a firm arm around his shoulder to steady him. Dr. Yoon leaned forward and spoke.

“Cha Jeong-woo’s condition can be cured with a lung transplant. However, survival rates for lung transplants are lower than those for other organs. One-year survival is above 85%, but ten-year survival drops to the 30% range.”

Dr. Yoon chose simpler words over medical jargon to ensure Yeon-woo could follow along.

In short: lung transplants come with lower survival rates and require a long wait for brain-dead organ donors. But recently, a new treatment method has emerged overseas—a modular device synchronized with the heart can be implanted into the lung’s bronchial branches to help restore function.

“This increases the ten-year survival rate to over 80%. With this, Cha Jeong-woo could live a normal, healthy life without needing a respiratory aid. He could even attend school and become a moody, rebellious teenager who drives you crazy, Yeon-woo. Well… he won’t become an athlete, of course.”

By the end, Dr. Yoon’s voice carried a hint of laughter. But he also explained that there was still a decision to be made: whether to go with the long-established transplant procedure or try the newer method, which has fewer clinical cases and requires regular device replacements.

“Is the surgery very risky?”

“Both are high-difficulty procedures. And the modular implant surgery isn’t even available domestically—it has to be done abroad.”

It just so happened that the medical facility offering this treatment was located in Jacksonville, Florida. Since the team would already be in the U.S. for the NASA mission, it would be a good opportunity to bring Jeong-woo along for pre-surgical testing.

Yeon-woo let out a shaky breath.

“I… I don’t know. That was a lot… I’m not sure I understood everything…”

All three reached out at once to comfort him. Seo-joon could clearly feel Yeon-woo’s pounding heart beneath his palm. He gently rubbed his back, trying to ease the chaos and shock overwhelming him.

“Take your time. We’ll go to the facility and talk to them in person.”

To a 21-year-old thrown into this whirlwind of unexpected news and complex emotions, it was all too much. What Yeon-woo seemed to feel wasn’t hope—it was fear.

Seo-joon found himself thinking that maybe this was why fate had given him another chance—to be at Yeon-woo’s side in this very moment. That he hadn’t vanished into the gate, hadn’t left Yeon-woo behind… It truly was a blessing.

Still dazed like someone lost in a dream, Yeon-woo accepted the documents Dr. Yoon handed him. They were research papers on lung transplants and the modular device procedure. Hee-min had highlighted key sections and written helpful notes in the margins.

That night, Yeon-woo couldn’t sleep. He stayed up reading through the papers, and Seo-joon stayed up with him. They searched online for unfamiliar terms until they felt like medical students.

There’s a saying that families of rare disease patients all become specialists—not actual doctors, but experts in the one illness their loved one suffers from. They’re constantly forced to stand at difficult crossroads and make impossible decisions.

“Jeong-woo has bad reactions to immunosuppressants. He says they make his head hurt and his stomach sick. And the steroids stunted his growth…”

“The modular implant doesn’t require immunosuppressants. That’s its biggest advantage.”

“But what if the device suddenly fails? You can’t even get emergency care for it here.”

“I looked that up, actually…”

The two of them debated back and forth all night, voices growing hoarse. The next morning, Cheong-oh and Yeong-gyo showed up with coffee after hearing the news from Hee-min. Yeon-woo and Seo-joon had to explain everything they had learned during their overnight study session.

Cheong-oh looked uncomfortable at the idea of inserting a device inside the lungs, clearly skeptical of the new treatment. Yeong-gyo laughed, saying even Iron Man’s fine, so what’s a pinky-sized device?

Yeon-woo no longer had to carry the weight of everything alone. Now there were people around him—people who shared in his worries as if they were their own.

And so, in the midst of those hectic days, the NASA trip finally approached.

2. Wedding baby

December 24, 2000, New York.

Beneath the feet of the bustling crowds crossing the Brooklyn Bridge—where the Salvation Army bells and holiday laughter rang through the air—something viscous and gelatinous squirmed.

At first, it was just slime. But slowly, it began to take shape, clinging to the underside of the railing. No one noticed—not the toddler toddling along, hand in hand with their parents, not the couples, not the elderly pair taking photos, nor the noisy group of young people out for holiday cheer. No one paid the slightest attention to the small glob of mucous.

Over time, it grew. Bulging pustules began to rise as if something inside were pumping them up, and their color turned red. A man pushing a heavy cart brushed hard against someone coming from the opposite direction.

The cart tipped, spilling a load of newspapers everywhere. He was likely on his way to stock the nearby newsstands with the day’s issues. Large A1-sized papers scattered messily across the bridge.

One of the wind-blown sheets fluttered down onto the red slime. The man, with help from passersby, hastily reloaded the papers onto the cart and disappeared into the crowd.

The sun set. Night fell. Thud. Flutter. The New York Times banner on the newspaper shifted faintly. A gust of sharp winter wind lifted the sheet into the air, finally revealing what lay beneath.

“Gasp—wait, isn’t that a person?!”

Someone crossing the bridge cried out. Heads turned toward a spot beneath the railing.

“Oh my god, it’s a baby!”

A young couple, arms linked, cautiously approached the small, shivering figure. A boy, who looked no more than five or six, had been abandoned among the holiday crowds—in the dead of winter, and stark naked.

Cries rang out demanding to know who had abandoned a child. A woman from the crowd quickly took off her coat and wrapped it around the boy’s small body.

“Oh, poor thing… Who would leave you in a place like this?”

Buried inside the oversized coat, only the child’s face peeked out. He didn’t cry. He just blinked up blankly with clear gray eyes. Deep shadows formed on his lids. Thousands of sunsets passed. Night fell again and again. The baby-soft, chubby cheeks thinned out, strong bone structure emerging beneath, shaping the face of a man.

Eric Donovan. The American No-Named.

Found on the Brooklyn Bridge, transferred to a shelter, and eventually adopted by the Donovan family—old-money banking royalty of the Upper East Side.

“You really are lucky.”

A voice came from the passenger seat. Eric laughed, pushing the pedal down as the open road stretched ahead. People called him lucky. The year he applied to the fiercely competitive Yale, the school had abruptly increased its admissions quota. When he was late for his interview, a sudden power outage delayed the entire schedule.

The kind of man who won the lottery once every five tries. The kind of man who always found last-minute canceled tickets—even on fully booked flights.

Born into a family with political and financial power stretching back generations, raised with unconditional love from warm, generous parents and siblings, Eric’s life had always been a golden road.

Even when he was categorized as an “unrankable Esper” and needed to find a match, he had easily met his now-wife, Rachel. His life was like a romantic comedy where everything came wrapped in laughter and love.

“I thought we’d be late. I hope they haven’t arrived before us. We should be the first to welcome them.”

“Don’t worry.”

Holding Rachel’s hand, Eric accelerated. Today, they were meeting South Korea’s No-Named, Joon, his Guide Aggie, and the members of SAU.