Living Forwards

The patient is a 33-year-old male with acid burns to the arms and torso. An industrial accident, apparently. He’s drifting in and out of consciousness when Mooyul arrives. And maybe that’s just as well, because for a moment Mooyul can’t hide the shock from his face.

It’s not that the injuries are so severe. It’s just the shock of seeing Choi Chihoon again.

Mooyul does his best to hide it; Chihoon might not care, but the other hospital staff surely will. Like maybe Mooyul shouldn’t be working on this patient. And maybe he shouldn’t, but he focuses on treatment and misses the moment when Chihoon comes to. He only realises it when Chihoon speaks.

‘So you did work here after all,’ Chihoon says, as if he’s continuing a conversation.

Mooyul doesn’t flinch. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he says. He means about talking, or about whether or not Mooyul will take good care of him. Mooyul always does his best for all his patients.

Except for the times when he doesn’t.

---

It’s Chihoon’s sister who comes to collect him on discharge. No wife, then. Mooyul is relieved that Chihoon hasn’t done any better than him in this regard.

The sister frowns when Mooyul introduces himself, like she’s trying to place him.

‘I went to school with your brother,’ he says, to save her the effort. It’s been a while since Mooyul got this particular reaction. There’s the moment of initial understanding, and then a judder when she realises he was one of those students.

She knows him from the news articles, Mooyul thinks. It’s not as if Chihoon would have cause to mention him otherwise. No matter how close Mooyul got in the rankings. No matter what happened that Christmas break.

‘Thank you for taking care of my brother,’ she says, and she bows.

‘It’s my job,’ Mooyul demurs. Chihoon catches his eye then, and he seems … amused? The thought makes Mooyul uneasy. He’s never been able to understand Chihoon’s reaction to things. He hasn’t wanted to.

He finishes going through the discharge process. And when Chihoon leaves, he doesn’t offer that they should catch up sometime, get a drink. For any other classmate he would, and maybe he’d even mean it. But Chihoon wouldn’t appreciate the nicety anyway.

Still. It wouldn’t be odd if Mooyul were to notice his contact details in the paperwork.

---

It’s a month later that Mooyul comes off shift and finds Choi Chihoon waiting for him. Standing near the exit with a woolen overcoat on, tall and good-looking. For a moment, Mooyul has double-vision, remembering Chihoon the way he was in their school days – the way he would hold his head when checking the latest test results; his straight back when talking to the teachers. The way he met Kim Yohan’s eyes without fear, even though he was lined up with the rest of them and he should have been afraid.

Mooyul considers taking another exit. But Chihoon has seen him now; Chihoon inclines his head ever so slightly, and Mooyul has to grit his teeth and press a smile on his face and speak to him.

‘You’re looking better than the last time I saw you,’ Mooyul says as he approaches. He doesn’t say that he preferred Chihoon then: vulnerable. ‘Everything healing well?’

‘It is,’ Chihoon says. They fall into step together, heading out into the crisp morning air and toward the street.

‘I’m guessing you didn’t stop by to say thank you,’ Mooyul says. He pulls his scarf higher around his face, feeling slightly catty.

‘I wanted to check something.’

Mooyul stops. ‘If it’s about your care –’

‘It’s about your care,’ Chihoon says. His eyes flick back toward the hospital. ‘You have a good record. Obviously, not every patient can survive their injuries, but I noticed something about the ones who don’t.’

Chihoon has been checking up on him.

A flare of anger goes through Mooyul. ‘Go on,’ he says. Maybe it’s stupid to be having this conversation here, but he doesn’t want to lead Chihoon to his home, and what else is he going to do? Suggesting they have this conversation somewhere else is admitting guilt.

‘At this hospital,’ Chihoon says, ‘some types of patients are less likely to survive than others. Isn’t that right?’

Mooyul’s cool fails him; he starts walking again. Away, but Chihoon keeps pace.

He’s been so careful. Plausible deniability at every point.

‘It’s normal for different patients to have different chances of survival,’ Mooyul says at last. ‘If you’re poor, for instance, you’re probably in worse health to start with and you’re at higher risk of complications –’

‘Does that go for corrupt businessmen too?’ Chihoon asks. The smile that flickers on his face pisses Mooyul off, but he hides it.

‘Sure,’ Mooyul says. ‘Wealth brings vices. If you drink too much, or overwork yourself –’

‘Ah. And that varies by hospital, does it?’

‘Different hospitals have different intake catchments,’ Mooyul starts, but Chihoon is definitely smiling now. ‘What?’

‘The way you answer,’ Chihoon says. ‘You’ve thought it all through, haven’t you?’ His gaze is implacable.

Mooyul has to look away first. He feels tired now, instead of angry. If Choi Chihoon were a cop and not a chemical engineer, Mooyul would be screwed now anyway. He may as well let Chihoon have his say.

‘Have you had breakfast?’ Mooyul asks.

‘I ate.’

‘Well, I didn’t,’ Mooyul says. ‘Let’s go somewhere.’

Chihoon doesn’t argue, just follows Mooyul to a nearby cafe, and doesn’t ask any more questions. Mooyul orders breakfast, and Chihoon just gets a water, like they’re not really together.

‘You’re not going to be late for work?’ Mooyul asks as they sit down. Someone like Chihoon wouldn’t malinger over his injuries.

‘I have time.’

They’ve taken a booth at the back of the cafe. There aren’t many sit-down customers this time of day – mostly just people grabbing something on their way to work. No-one’s paying attention to them.

‘If I explain,’ Mooyul says, ‘what are you going to do?’

‘I won’t do anything,’ Chihoon says. It annoys Mooyul how calm he sounds, even now. After all this time. But Chihoon hasn’t finished. ‘Not unless you want me to.’

‘What?’

Chihoon flicks a glance over his shoulder, toward the other customers. ‘If I noticed,’ he says, the words chosen carefully, ‘other people might notice too.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Mooyul says. Chihoon has been paying special attention, he thinks. Like he’s always been waiting for this to happen.

‘They might,’ Chihoon says. Not tentative, but absolute. ‘You still haven’t admitted anything.’

‘Do I need to?’ Mooyul lets the irritation enter his voice. ‘You’ve obviously worked it all out.’ And he can’t say anything here, not outright. ‘Why do you want to know anyway, if you’re not going to do anything about it?’

‘You could have done it to me,’ Chihoon says.

Mooyul shuts his mouth. Yes, he could have. But what justification could there have been? Chihoon hasn’t done anything wrong – nothing that Mooyul hasn’t also done. The only thing Chihoon is guilty of is being better than Mooyul. That’s all. Or all Mooyul knows of.

‘I wouldn’t,’ Mooyul says.

‘No?’

‘No.’

Mooyul’s breakfast arrives. The waitress greets him cheerily, and for a moment Mooyul regrets bringing Chihoon somewhere he’s a regular; she has to be curious about him. But she only smiles brightly at both of them, and doesn’t make small talk.

Once she’s out of earshot, Chihoon says, ‘Then do you want my help?’

Mooyul is speechless a moment. Then he stumbles onto words. ‘Why would I need your help?’ he says. ‘You’re not in a better position to do this than I am –’

‘Your way relies on people needing emergency care first,’ Chihoon says. ‘That’s not exactly efficient.’

Mooyul could laugh. Of course Choi Chihoon is not concerned with the fact that Mooyul is murdering people; he’s concerned that he’s not murdering them efficiently enough.

Even so …

Mooyul feels lighter all of a sudden. He should be suspicious of Chihoon’s offer, maybe, but he can’t help but think that Chihoon is exactly as he seems. And if he’s always been better than Mooyul at whatever he does, that probably goes for murder as well.

‘You might have a point,’ he concedes.

‘There’s no might about it.’

Mooyul does laugh, then. ‘You have a point.’

He should refuse, just because of how annoying Chihoon is. But then … Chihoon noticed this. And after all this time, the idea that Choi Chihoon would pay him any attention still gets to Mooyul.

‘And so?’ Chihoon says. Waiting for an answer.

And so. ‘I think we can help one another.’