"Excuse me?"
What did he mean, how?
I'd just inserted the needle normally... hadn't I?
Was it my tone? My posture while performing acupuncture? Or—impossible—had he somehow sensed the flow of qi and blood?
"Because you're not using a guide tube."
"Ah."
Oh.
That.
Only after Professor Lee Min-seok pointed it out did I realize every other student was using guide tubes.
A guide tube was exactly what its name implied—a small cylindrical tube used for acupuncture. Slightly shorter than the needle itself, it allowed practitioners to tap the needle quickly through the skin.
Since it pierced the skin much faster than manually pushing a needle in by hand, patients experienced less pain. In modern medicine, where minimizing discomfort was important, guide tubes had become the standard.
I really wasn't thinking.
After spending twenty years in a martial world where even acupuncture needles had to be sterilized personally, I still wasn't used to opening a plastic package and finding ten perfectly sterilized needles waiting inside.
Looking again, each individual needle came with its own guide tube.
Come to think of it, I probably could've had guide tubes made there if I'd wanted.
At first it would've been impossible.
But after becoming affiliated with the Tang Clan, I could've easily asked one of their craftsmen.
By then, however, I'd already become completely accustomed to performing acupuncture without them, so the possibility had never even crossed my mind.
"Yes. I'm just more comfortable this way."
"You look like someone who's been doing this for ten years. Are your parents doctors of Korean medicine? Did you practice at home?"
The professor eyed me suspiciously.
"No, sir. I just practiced on tissues by myself."
As I answered, I remembered Professor Kim Seong-cheol—currently on parental leave—telling us to practice piercing rolls of toilet paper.
"You're good."
Professor Lee stared at me for a moment before placing a hand on Jo Ha-neul's shoulder.
"Ha-neul, you should learn from her. Drink less."
"Ugh... yes, Professor..."
He always called the professor hyung like they were brothers.
At this point, I honestly couldn't tell whether they were genuinely close or if the professor simply enjoyed teasing him.
After checking every student's practical work, Professor Lee returned to the podium and demonstrated his own technique.
Essentially, it was the model answer.
And thus today's class concluded safely.
Yesterday, Jo Ha-neul had been sacrificed.
Today, it had been the class representative.
Professor Lee still had at least ten more sessions left this semester.
Was every student destined to get scolded at least once?
While I was pondering such nonsense, I heard Professor Lee speaking again.
"Our next class is Wednesday, right? Take pictures of the assignment before you leave and submit it by the day before class. Same format as last time—diagnosis, treatment plan, and any patient education."
Unlike the simple sample patient he'd briefly introduced last time, this case file contained extensive information.
Current illness.
Medical history.
Social history.
Review of systems.
Everything was documented in detail.
"The chief complaint is tinnitus, and symptoms have persisted for over ten years. If you need additional information for pattern differentiation, refer to the chart. Tinnitus is both difficult to treat and quite common in private practice."
Professor Lee explained.
Symptoms started eleven years ago?
Hypertension, hyperlipidemia, cervical disc disease too?
I slowly read through the chart displayed on the screen.
Below that were social history, test results, and detailed review-of-systems notes.
The social history caught my eye immediately.
"He drinks a bottle of soju every day? And works construction? Construction sites are insanely noisy."
Seo-young commented.
Compared to the previous sample patient, there was far more information available.
And countless potential causes for tinnitus.
"How are we supposed to differentiate this? Qi deficiency? Liver-kidney deficiency?"
She approached it like an exam question.
Pattern differentiation was a diagnostic method that examined not only the chief complaint but every bodily sign—appetite, digestion, bowel habits, sweating, and more—to determine deficiencies and excesses within the organs and the body's vital substances.
In Korean medicine, it was just as important as identifying a disease itself.
Real patients, however, were never as straightforward as textbook examples.
"Instead of copying directly from books, submit what you'd actually do if this patient came to your clinic."
Leaving the chart projected on the screen, Professor Lee accepted our farewell greetings and exited the classroom.
Unlike yesterday, when she had left immediately because of other obligations, Seo-young grabbed me before I could escape.
"What do you think? Is alcohol the main problem?"
"I don't think this is meant to be solved through pattern differentiation."
"Huh?"
"If that were the point, they'd have made the answer obvious like a licensing exam question."
I leaned back.
"Alcohol probably wasn't the original cause, but as long as he keeps drinking like that, he's unlikely to improve. I'd treat around the ear, cervical spine, and temporomandibular joint. The real purpose of the assignment is probably explaining how you'd convince him to quit drinking and take herbal medicine consistently."
"Ah!"
"That's just my guess. Could be wrong."
Seo-young nodded thoughtfully.
"I think you're right. There are too many factors involved. Cervical disc disease, hearing loss... He's already spent a year trying everything. He probably even got steroid treatment. If none of that worked, how are we supposed to fix it?"
"It's not impossible."
I shrugged.
"If you treat it long enough with medication, it can improve."
There had been plenty of tinnitus patients in the martial world.
Actually, there had been an absurd number of them.
The exact pathology of tinnitus remained unclear, but common causes included inner-ear disorders, noise exposure, trauma, inflammation, stress, and imbalances involving the cervical spine and jaw.
You'd think martial artists who'd reached legendary levels would be immune to everything except stress.
Reality disagreed.
More than a few famous masters who seemed invincible had shown up at my clinic suffering from severe PTSD.
Can every case be cured? No.
But giving up isn't right either.
Even a seventy-percent improvement could dramatically improve someone's quality of life.
I'd tried everything imaginable while treating those patients.
In the modern world, people simply switched hospitals when treatment failed.
In the martial world, however, patients often had no choice but to wait.
Months.
Years.
Staring only at me.
Trusting only me.
"You talk like you've actually treated tinnitus patients before."
Jo Ha-neul smirked.
"Of course."
I smiled sweetly.
"I'm just talking out of books. Since your parents have actual clinics, why don't you go ask them?"
Class had ended.
Yet instead of leaving, Jo Ha-neul lingered to pick a fight while Hwang Sang-hoon casually peeked at my laptop screen.
As if I could explain years of clinical experience from another world.
I waved them away.
"You're staying to work on the assignment again?"
"Yep."
Seo-young headed home first.
She'd been horrified at first, but by now she'd accepted that I genuinely spent my free time studying.
"Hmm-hmm~"
Today even Hwang Sang-hoon went home without causing trouble.
Soon I was the only person left in the classroom.
At this rate, I don't even need the library.
My fingers flew across the keyboard almost as quickly as my thoughts.
I didn't need textbooks to construct a treatment plan.
As I'd told Seo-young, I could target acupuncture points around the ear.
Or strengthen whichever organ system appeared deficient.
Tinnitus was common enough that nearly every practitioner had developed some version of a dedicated treatment protocol.
There wasn't a single correct answer.
And nobody had specified a limit on the number of needles.
So what did it matter?
"Done!"
Just like yesterday, I declared victory aloud.
Only silence answered.
I briefly considered staying until campus security kicked me out.
Or going to the library.
Ultimately I chose the latter.
I hated breaking my concentration.
"Huh?"
As I stood to leave, something caught my attention.
The PowerPoint presentation was still displayed on the projector screen.
"Did he forget his USB drive?"
No.
Wait.
Maybe he'd copied the file onto the classroom computer?
Curious, I walked to the podium and checked.
What Professor Lee had forgotten wasn't a USB drive.
It was his entire laptop.
He'd connected his personal computer directly to the projector.
"Oh, come on..."
Even absent-minded professors should've noticed something like this.
The class representative and student officers had probably missed it while discussing the assignment.
Nobody would blame me for leaving it there.
But...
What if it disappears and somehow becomes my problem?
After spending twenty years in a world filled with assassinations, conspiracies, and endless scheming, I simply couldn't leave an unattended laptop in an unlocked classroom.
"I'll return it."
I messaged the class representative to ask where Professor Lee's office was.
[Oh my gosh, I should've checked! Should I come get it?]
[No, it's okay. I was planning to bring it myself.]
[He'll be at the hospital, not on campus. Third floor, Clinical Research Office! Thanks! I'll text him to let him know you're coming!]
I had assumed his office would be somewhere in the department building.
Instead I had to walk all the way to the university hospital.
With her sounding so grateful, refusing now would've made me look like a jerk.
"About fifteen minutes on foot, I guess."
Fortunately, the affiliated hospital wasn't far away.
Which was probably why Professor Lee had headed there immediately after class.
I enjoyed the breeze as I crossed campus.
The hospital stood just beyond the main road.
HONK—!
Suddenly a horn blared through the intersection.
Looking up from my phone, I froze.
"Huh?"
At the edge of the crosswalk, a middle-aged man—perhaps in his fifties—was crouching down.
A blue Porsche was driving straight toward him.
HONK! HONK!
The man didn't move.
It was as if he couldn't hear the horn at all.
Something was lodged in one ear.
Wireless earbuds, maybe.
Then the car should've braked.
Instead, it maintained speed.
The attitude was clear:
"I have the green light. Move yourself."
The Porsche was less than fifty meters away.
"Is that driver insane?"
WHOOSH!
The instant the words left my mouth, I launched myself forward.
Using lightness skills, I sprinted across the pavement.
Then I seized the man with a grappling technique and yanked him clear.
"The light's red! Why are you standing in a crosswalk wearing earbuds?!"
"GAAAH!"
I shouted.
There wasn't another pedestrian in sight.
Had I been even a moment slower, he would've been hit.
"H-Huff... Huff... Are... are you human?"
The man flailed wildly as though he'd seen the Grim Reaper.
Considering he'd narrowly escaped death—and considering the way I'd moved—his reaction wasn't unreasonable.
"Of course I'm human!"
I answered casually.
But someone suddenly dragged across a crosswalk by an inhuman blur wasn't likely to calm down immediately.
"Watch where you're going!"
Only then did the Porsche slow down.
The passenger window rolled down.
And that was the driver's response.
Not a word of concern for the man he'd nearly run over.
If someone had suddenly jumped into traffic, that would be one thing.
But he'd seen him from far away.
He'd honked repeatedly.
And still accelerated toward him.
What kind of lunatic behaved like that?
"Wow. Completely insane."
I muttered.
Then I helped the man to his feet.
A moment earlier I'd been angry at him too.
But after seeing the driver's arrogance, my irritation had faded.
"Please be careful. If some maniac runs you over, you're the one who suffers."
"Ah... young man. Thank you."
The man bowed repeatedly.
"I dropped my hearing aid..."
The remaining anger instantly transformed into guilt.
He touched his left ear awkwardly.
The thing I'd mistaken for an earbud was actually a hearing aid in his right ear.
He had dropped the left one onto the road and stepped into the crosswalk trying to retrieve it.
"Oh."
My stomach sank.
"Goodness... I'm sorry. You must've been terrified."
