DP Side Story Episode 7
by BrieDeep Pivot Side Story, Episode 7
“Aigoo… Yeon-woo, come here. You’ve gotten even more handsome since I last saw you.”
As they stepped into the lab, Doctor Kang Hee-min greeted Yeon-woo like a doting grandfather, pulling him into a warm embrace.
Yeon-woo, still awkwardly holding a heavy box, leaned forward with a shy smile and returned the hug.
“Doctor Kang, I heard you went on a blind date.”
Seo-joon said, setting the box down on a table Song-hee had pointed out. He grinned and offered his hand for a shake.
While Yeon-woo helped Song-hee with a broken copier, Hee-min quietly pulled Seo-joon aside.
“It’s about Cha Jeong-woo’s last check-up.”
His serious tone set off a ripple of unease. Seo-joon’s chest tightened.
“There’s been no sign of improvement. Seems like the new drug isn’t working. Some of his levels actually got worse—we’ll probably have to stop the treatment.”
Seo-joon forced himself to stay calm.
“Then… is there anything else we can try?”
“We’ve been looking into other options.”
Hee-min said with a glance toward Yeon-woo through the open lab door. He then took Seo-joon further down the hall, lowering his voice.
“Doctor Yoon found something while reviewing international case studies.”
“…”
“There’s a possibility… Jeong-woo’s illness might have been misdiagnosed from the start.”
Seo-joon’s face went pale.
“Mistakes can happen at a local hospital, sure. But even after he was transferred here, he was retested. You mean even Doctor Yoon got it wrong?”
“It’s not that simple. The symptoms of both conditions are nearly identical—it’s not uncommon with rare diseases. The previous doctors probably did their best with what they had.”
“…”
“Yoon only started suspecting it very recently.”
For a moment, Seo-joon was speechless. That light, floating hope they’d been clinging to these past weeks suddenly dropped like a stone.
All the years Jeong-woo spent fighting an invisible enemy—his frail, undergrown frame, the oxygen tubes always attached to his face—wasted. Unfair.
Had money not been an issue, perhaps the family could’ve tried other treatments sooner. Maybe even found an answer. But for the Yeon-woo before, such things weren’t even on the table.
“So what now? Is there a real way forward?”
“We’re still in talks with a hospital overseas,” Hee-min said. “If Doctor Yoon’s theory is correct, a transplant surgery might cure him completely.”
The words drained all the blood from Seo-joon’s head—then brought it rushing back. His heart raced up and down with every phrase like he was strapped to a rollercoaster.
Before he knew it, he’d grabbed Hee-min’s arm, breath caught somewhere between relief and disbelief.
Hee-min gave a faint smile—worried, cautious.
“If we’re right, then it’s not a terminal illness. No more endless, fruitless treatments. If the transplant goes well, Jeong-woo could recover within a year. He could even start school.”
Assuming, of course, it really was a misdiagnosis.
“Don’t say anything to Yeon-woo just yet,” Hee-min warned.
“Keep this to yourself.”
Seo-joon nodded. He knew exactly why this had been shared with him alone.
The crash that comes from false hope is one of the hardest things for a family to endure. Most families of chronic patients go through this emotional whiplash again and again. It was cruel.
And now, Seo-joon realized, that cruelty was happening to him.
Hee-min watched his face, the flickering of emotions he hadn’t expected from someone as level-headed as Seo-joon. He’d assumed Seo-joon wouldn’t let himself hope too easily.
“There’s still a long wait, even if we get him on the transplant list,” Hee-min added.
“You know how many people are waiting for brain-dead donors? Jeong-woo’s case is complicated—hard to find a match. And he’s not high on the urgency list, so he won’t be prioritized.”
Grounding him with a dose of realism, Hee-min gave Seo-joon a pat on the shoulder.
“We’ll talk again once we have something concrete.”
From the lab, Yeon-woo and Song-hee were walking over, chatting. Seo-joon quietly nodded.
Until now, Yeon-woo had carried this burden alone.
But Seo-joon was here now—ready to shoulder it with him. The hope, the waiting, even the pain of disappointment—he would take it all. For Yeon-woo. Without hesitation.
And yet, despite himself, hope swelled in his chest—so big it felt like it might burst.
Jeong-woo could get better.
He could go to school.
He could leave the hospital behind and finally come home—to their home.
“Lieutenant, what were you two talking about?” Yeon-woo asked with a tilt of his head.
“You look like you heard something good.”
Seo-joon couldn’t suppress the slight smile tugging at his lips. Instead, he laced their fingers together and replied casually:
“Doctor Kang’s blind date. You’re gonna laugh when you hear it.”
Outside the hallway window, the sky stretched out clear and cloudless.
And for the first time in a long while, Seo-joon felt like good days might really, truly be ahead.
The five of them sat down around a table in the center cafeteria with Jeong-woo and began a slightly late lunch. While Yeon-woo, seated right next to Jeong-woo, fussed over his picky eating and bickered with him, Hee-min was deeply engrossed in sharing his recent trip to NASA.
Seo-joon, who occasionally sided with either Yeon-woo or Jeong-woo to mediate, responded to Hee-min’s words.
“So when’s the next visit scheduled?”
“Not sure yet.”
Out of the twelve No-Named individuals in the world, four were confirmed dead, one returned alive.
Recently, two more deaths had been confirmed, bringing the officially remaining No-Named count down to five.
Except for the U.S., all nations possessing No-Nameds had gone silent. No one knew what choices they would make, and other countries had no right to interfere. All they could do was sit back and watch.
“Let us know when the date’s set. Yeon-woo and I need to prepare too.”
Hee-min nodded. NASA’s research base was eagerly awaiting a visit from Seo-joon and Yeon-woo.
To the many gate researchers—and even to the No-Nameds in other countries quietly watching the situation unfold—those two were nothing short of walking miracles.
Ji Seo-joon, the surviving No-Named, and Cha Yeon-woo, the Guide who pulled him back from the brink of death—both were invaluable assets for the research to come.
“Hey, since the lieutenant retired, what do we call him now?”
Unexpectedly, Jeong-woo answered Song-hee’s sudden question.
“Hyung. Seo-joon hyung.”
Song-hee let out a laugh. Thanks to Seo-joon’s persistent brainwashing over time, Jeong-woo had been the fastest to ditch the term “Lieutenant.” The word “hyung” came out naturally, as if he’d been calling him that all along.
“Just call him what you’ve always called him. No need to change. He’s still Seo-joon whether he retired or not.”
“Then Seo-joon-ssi.”
“Well, aren’t you getting chummy. Seo-joon your buddy now, Song-hee?”
Hee-min and Song-hee bickered among themselves over the pointless exchange.
“You could just call him ajusshi.”
At Seo-joon’s dry comment, Hee-min scrunched his face in protest.
“Hey, if you’re ajusshi, what does that make me, huh? You punk.”
“He is an ajusshi to Song-hee, though.”
Seo-joon, who didn’t particularly care what she called him, replied lazily to Hee-min’s grumbling while helping Yeon-woo manage Jeong-woo.
“Is Cha Jeong-woo still a baby?”
“I’m not a baby! I’m a ten-year-old adult!”
“Adults don’t hate vienna sausages.”
Yeon-woo placed a green pepper on Jeong-woo’s spoon.
“You need to eat everything evenly.”
Jeong-woo returned the pepper to its original spot with a pout.
“I’ll eat it later.”
“Later when? Aish, our Jeong-woo is still a baby… can’t eat peppers, only likes vienna sausages…”
Seo-joon almost said, You like vienna sausages too, Yeon-woo, but held back.
“If I like vienna sausages, I’m a baby?”
“Of course. Adults don’t discriminate between vienna sausages and green peppers.”
“I actually don’t like vienna sausages… I like peppers. I like them so much I’m saving them.”
Jeong-woo, lips puffed out, poked at the green pepper with his fork. Watching him, Yeon-woo puffed his lips out the exact same way. They looked so alike, they could’ve been twins.
In any case, the big baby and little baby debating over eating a green pepper was amusing to watch, even if it did nothing to fix either of their picky eating habits.