Una Mattina - You or Nothing

Chapter 1: Anniversary

Ji Hoo woke up with a feeling of emptiness again, as he had every single day for the past year. As soon as he opened his eyes, he sat up on the bed and stretched, routinely checking the digital clock and calendar on his nightstand.

February 16.

Immediately, there was a twinge of pain within his chest. He stood and walked towards the console at the other side of the room, picking up one of the picture frames.

He brushed his thumb over his face. "It's been a year, Grandfather."

Grandfather looked up at him from the frame, a gentle, familiar smile forever etched on his face. A smile Ji Hoo would never get to see again outside pictures and memorabilia.

As he set the picture back, his eyes wandered to the rest of the frames on the console. His lips curved up slightly at the sight of him and Seo Hyun as children––there was no more pain, only happy memories when it came to her. He continued to look at the framed photos…

Until it landed on a familiar sketch. His smile disappeared as he reached out to pick it up. It was a sketch of himself, eyes closed, as if he was taking a nap. His hair was a little longer then. Ji Hoo suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia and sadness as he recalled the details of how this sketch came to be, and who the artist had been.

He never talked about her anymore, not after she finished medical school and moved to the US with her new husband. Especially not after she never bothered to come back and visit, not even when Grandfather…

I'm sorry, Ji Hoo, the succinct email she sent had read. Please do not be alone at this time.

He set the sketch back down a little too roughly. Without looking back, he went out of the room and into the bathroom to get ready.

It was time for work.

He barely stepped into the hospital when he felt it. Eyes, adoring or gawking, from both the hospital staff and visitors. He kept his hands in his coat pockets as he made a beeline for his office at the surgery department. As hard as he tried to tune them out, he couldn't help but make out the whispers.

"––there he is, the Prince of Surgery––"

"––God, he looks immaculate as usual––"

"––single––"

"––won't give any girl a chance––"

"––distracted when I'm in the OR with him––"

He almost made it and was already touching the doorknob to his private office when a short, petite nurse blocked his way.

"Dr. Yoon," the girl bowed, looking apologetic. "You're needed in OR 3 right away."

He tilted his head, asking a silent question.

"A woman, mid-twenties, with a gunshot wound to the chest. She just came in the ER a few minutes ago," she continued smoothly. "We believe it missed all major arteries, but she's losing a lot of blood."

"Okay," he answered flatly. "Let me scrub in."

The patient was already prepped for surgery when he stepped into the room. Even with the oxygen tube covering most of her mouth and the net completely obscuring her hair, Ji Hoo had a feeling he had seen this girl before. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

The nurse handed him a chart and briefed him quickly, which was how he found out the patient's name was Park Ha Neul, which was unfamiliar to him. Perhaps he was wrong.

"Let's begin," he announced.

He stepped out of the OR and into the waiting room while heaving a sigh of relief. While the surgery was grueling due to several complications that made the procedure last six hours, Park Ha Neul was officially stable, and would be fine after a few weeks of rest.

As he removed his mask and robes, Ji Hoo looked around the room as he called out: "Family of Park Ha Neul?"

There were only a handful of people in the waiting room, and none of them looked up at the name. Strange, he thought. He called out again: "Anyone here for Ms. Park Ha Neul? Family? Friends?"

"Dr. Yoon," a voice called out behind him. It was the nurse who had called him earlier. "There's no one here for Ms. Park."

"None at all? Have you tried––"

"We don't have a record of her in this hospital, but we did manage to get two emergency contacts from her belongings," the nurse continued. "A Park Dae Jung and Cho Eun Kyung. Both numbers seem to be either turned off or no longer registered."

Ji Hoo scratched the side of his neck, thinking deeply. This woman was missing for more than eight hours already. No one's looking for her? "Do you have details as to how she was picked up from the scene? We may have to get the police involved."

"I'll ask the first responders right away," she replied, bowing as she left.

Ji Hoo stood there a while longer, before he turned around to clean up and head to his office.

He was lounging at his office desk, reviewing a surgery case file an hour after Ms. Park's surgery, when the nurse from earlier knocked and let herself in.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Yoon," she bowed again. "I was able to get details from the first responders."

Ji Hoo closed the folder in his hands and set it down, patiently waiting for her to continue.

"It was found that she called the emergency hotline herself," she continued. She seemed to hesitate before continuing. "She was barely conscious when the responders arrived in the alley, but…"

Ji Hoo tilted his head.

"She made a delirious request," the nurse hung her head. "'No police. No detectives. No charges.' She was very adamant about it, doc. Even…threatened a responder if we didn't follow her request."

"Hmm." Ji Hoo locked his fingers together on the desk.

"Do we do as she asks, doc?"

"Yes."

"Even though it's against protocol?"

Ji Hoo stood up slowly, stretching his arms as he did. "Yes. We always put the wishes and welfare of our patients first. What's your name again?"

She widened her eyes at his question. "O–Oh. Nurse Ga Dan Bi, doc."

"Nurse Dan Bi," he repeated, flashing her a small smile. "I'll fix a few things first, but I'll be taking the rest of the day off afterwards. Family matters. Can you let the others know?"

"Of course, Dr. Yoon," Dan Bi assured him.

She turned around to leave, and when she thought Dr. Yoon was out of earshot, she mumbled: "It's your hospital, after all."

Ji Hoo decided to make just one round to check on his patients in recovery. It was his least favorite part of the job; he still wasn't comfortable constantly interacting with strangers…usually. There were a few exceptions.

He spent the longest time checking up on a young boy who had his appendix removed. In the days leading up to the surgery, his parents strongly believed that the boy was just making up an excuse to skip school. The boy had gone through excruciating pain for days, and his appendix nearly ruptured when the parents finally agreed to the surgery.

"You look troubled, Dr. Yoon," the boy asked as Ji Hoo was about to leave.

"Don't worry yourself about that," he assured him, ruffling the boy's hair. "It's a taxing day, that's all. You should focus on getting better."

"I am better, thanks to you." The boy sighed. "Thank you for standing up for me to my parents. I know they can be…you know."

"No problem at all," Ji Hoo said. "It's my duty."

Ji Hoo bowed out of the room and was on the way to his office when he passed by Park Ha Neul's private room. He could see from the small door window that there was no one else in the room but her, lying unconscious on the hospital bed. Still no family? He thought to himself.

It made something in his heart twist again. Pity? Ji Hoo rarely felt pity for anyone, as he deemed it to be a useless emotion. But if it wasn't pity…

Ji Hoo didn't really think ahead when he opened the door and stepped inside. It was cold, and when he stepped closer to her, he immediately noticed her shivering slightly. Ji Hoo immediately reached for the thermostat and increased the temperature. He then pulled out a couple of sheets from the bathroom cabinet and covered them over Park Ha Neul's body.

What am I doing? He found himself thinking as he tucked her in snugly.

Ji Hoo was now close enough to study her face. There was no more tube covering her mouth, and the hairnet was gone too, revealing rich bronze-colored hair that reached her waist. Even with her eyes closed, Ji Hoo could tell this woman had wide eyes. Her nose was tiny, but her lips were thick and perpetually smiling. She looked at peace, even after what had just happened to her.

She was kind of pretty, he supposed. But that didn't matter to him. He was sure he'd seen her before. His memory was usually reliable, but this was stumping him. It was a bit frustrating.

Ji Hoo sighed quietly before taking a seat in the lounge next to the bed. "Alone too, huh?"

There was no other sound but the heartbeat monitor.

"I understand," he continued anyway. "It's all I've ever felt recently, anyway. I've come to terms with the fact that maybe, the universe is telling me a lonely man is who I'm meant to be."

Ji Hoo started to feel both agitated and excited, finally expressing his feelings out loud after the longest time. Jesus, is this what therapy's like? He had to take a few shaky breaths before continuing.

"Everyone leaves, Ha Neul," Ji Hoo said. "They come to you, they take a bit of your soul, and then they leave. And, like building a house of cards, it takes so much time and effort to put yourself back again, but not nearly as much to break you."

His patient remained motionless, not even twitching.

"Seo Hyun, Jan Di, Grandfather," he listed in a whisper, his head sinking low in his chest. "Each time, I would trust and believe again. But it all ends the same way, every time. Am I doing something wrong?"

Ji Hoo looked up at her, as if he expected this stranger to respond to his monologue. He couldn't help but laugh and chuckle at himself.

"I don't think I can do it again," Ji Hoo sighed. "At least in this state, I'm focused on helping people. I can do good. This is who I am, and who I'll always be."

He stood up and smiled down at Ha Neul's supine position. He adjusted the sheets, so they were flat and tucked tightly at her sides. As he did so, he murmured, "I apologize, Ms. Park, I shouldn't be bothering you with my problems. I'll be going now."

When he turned around to open the door, he heard it. A soft, dreaming murmur.

"Neighbor."

Ji Hoo froze for a moment before facing the patient again. Her eyes were still closed, but they were rapidly moving under her pale lids. Dreaming.

"Neighbor?" he repeated, tilting his head. His eyes wandered down to her bandaged chest. "Do you mean…a neighbor did this to you?"

"Neighbor," she mumbled again, twitching slightly.

Ji Hoo waited around ten minutes, hovering over his patient's bed. In the end, however, Ms. Park seemed to have succumbed into a deep sleep and no longer spoke again.

"Rest well," he murmured, finally taking his leave.

It was twilight when Ji Hoo reached the cemetery.

Grandfather's grave was at a secluded, closed-off area at the edge of the church grounds. He hadn't visited since the funeral, but the black headstone was pristine.

Doctor, leader, and dutiful public servant, was what it read. When the pastor had asked him if he wanted to add something related to the family, Ji Hoo had refused.

He looked down and noticed that there was already a wreath of yellow and white flowers by the headstone. Ji Hoo leaned down and picked it up to take a whiff. Fresh.

He set his own bouquet of white flowers next to the wreath.

"It's been one year without you, Grandfather," he said. "I don't think I'm getting better."

"Better at what, Ji Hoo?"

Ji Hoo's knees nearly buckled, and his palms began to sweat. He could recognize that voice from anywhere. Despite not hearing it for several years, he remembered it, and it still had the same effect on him as it once did.

Whenever she called, he would always answer.

Ji Hoo almost didn't want to turn around, but he had no choice. Once he did, he struggled to breathe evenly. Geum Jan Di looked almost the same––lovelier, maybe, and more mature. Her dark hair was now in wavy locks that reached her chest. Her makeup was different; it accentuated her cheekbones and doe eyes. She also seemed to have had her nose done, which mildly surprised him.

Her long black dress and thin blazer didn't seem to be suitable for this freezing weather, and Ji Hoo had to stop himself from instinctively offering him his coat. Old habits die hard.

"Ji Hoo," she spoke, a sad smile on her round face. "It's me."

"You shouldn't have come," he said, cold and stoic. Immediately, he noticed her expression fall. As if she didn't expect it.

How could she expect anything, after what she had done?

Ji Hoo began to walk, looking straight ahead as he walked past her. He didn't make it past five steps when she called for him again––this time, he couldn't help but stop in his tracks, but didn't look back at her.

"Ji Hoo," she pleaded. "I'm sorry. Let's talk."

He remembered how, just over a year ago, this was all he wanted and wished for. For his Jan Di to come back and speak to him, one last time, and embrace him. To make him feel like he wasn't alone.

Ji Hoo supposed that he had changed, somehow.

"We have nothing to talk about," he replied smoothly, before starting to walk away again.

A/N: This completed 30-chapter story has been rotting in my laptop for years. Originally posted this first chapter on AO3 but I'm never really active on there. Will be making edits to my original draft as I go and update regularly, most likely every other day. Thank you for reading!