Autumn is a second spring

92. Attack

Ohm strolled leisurely down the hospital corridor alongside Linlalin. It had become part of his routine to walk with her during her rounds whenever he had the chance.

 As a doctor at the hospital and his former high school classmate, Linlalin seemed to take some comfort in his company. For Ohm, these moments offered a welcome reprieve from the monotony of his recovery.

They were mid-conversation when a sudden commotion disrupted the usual hum of the hospital. 

Shouts echoed from the general ward, escalating in urgency. 

Linlalin exchanged a glance with Ohm before quickening her pace toward the noise, her white coat billowing behind her.

When they arrived, a chaotic scene unfolded before them. 

A middle-aged man, his face contorted in rage, was at the center of a crowd. In his trembling hand was a knife, its blade catching the harsh fluorescent light. 

The ward, which had been temporarily assigned to the emergency department, was shared by several patients, many of whom were now clutching their bedsheets in fear.

"What is going on here?" Linlalin demanded, addressing a nearby nurse who stood frozen, her face pale.

"He is the father of the child admitted last night, Khun Mo" the nurse stammered. "The boy needs emergency surgery, but the hospital policy requires payment before we can proceed. The father refused to pay, and now he is—" her voice broke as the man swung the knife in the air, his grip tightening dangerously.

The father's booming voice cut through the murmurs. "You think you can exploit me just because I am poor? My son is dying, and all you care about is money!" His free hand gestured wildly at the hospital staff, who had backed into corners, too scared to intervene.

Ohm's brows knitted together. "Where is security?" he whispered to Linlalin.

"I don't know," she replied tersely, scanning the room. 

The only staff present were interns, nurses, and a few residents, all visibly shaken. 

Linlalin knew it was her responsibility to step in as the senior-most staff member. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she stepped forward.

"Khun Por Khrab," she called out firmly, her voice measured but loud enough to be heard. "Please, let's talk about this. You don't want to hurt anyone, Khrab."

The man turned to her, his eyes wild with desperation. "Stay back!" he barked, swinging the knife in her direction. 

Linlalin flinched but held her ground.

"I understand you are scared for your child," she continued, her tone soothing yet authoritative. "We all want to help, but this isn't the way to do it. The knife—it is dangerous, and someone could get hurt."

The man's grip on the weapon tightened. "Help? You call this help?" he sneered. "You people just want my money. You don't care about my boy!"

Linlalin took a cautious step closer. "Khun Por Khrab, I know the situation seems unfair. But surgeries require medicines, equipment, and specialized care, which are expensive—"

"Stop trying to fool me!" the man roared, cutting her off. With a swift, erratic motion, he lunged toward her.

Linlalin instinctively dodged the attack, her heart pounding in her chest. The knife narrowly missed her, but its trajectory shifted toward Ohm, who stood a few steps behind her. 

Ohm saw it coming and could have easily moved out of the way. But just as he prepared to step aside, he noticed a small figure huddled behind him—a young boy, no older than five, his tear-streaked face peeking out from behind Ohm's legs.

Ohm froze. If he moved, the child would be exposed. The knife came closer, and time seemed to slow. He braced himself for the inevitable.

But the impact never came.

A blur of motion caught Ohm's eye as a hand intercepted the blade. The knife halted mid-swing, held firmly in the grip of a stranger. 

Blood began to drip from the person's palm, staining the floor below. Gasps rippled through the crowd.

With a swift, calculated move, the stranger twisted the knife from the man's grasp, the blade cutting deeper into their own hand in the process. Then, with surprising force, they kicked the man squarely in the chest. 

The attacker stumbled backward, crashing to the ground with a grunt.

The room erupted into chaos as security personnel finally arrived, rushing in to subdue the man. He struggled briefly before being hauled to his feet and escorted out of the ward, his shouts of indignation echoing down the hallway.

Linlalin hurried to check on the frightened patients, her voice calming as she assured them the danger had passed. Meanwhile, Ohm's eyes were fixed on the person who had saved him.

The stranger stood there, cradling their injured hand. Blood dripped steadily from the deep gashes across their palm, but they showed no sign of pain, only a quiet resolve. 

"Please calm all the patients and families here. All of the are visibly shaken." The stranger said to the nurse. "Also call the janitorial department and ask them to come clean this." He looked at the blood dripping down his hand.

"Khrab. We will do it right away." The nurse nods respectfully, looking much calmer than she had been a few minutes ago.

Ohm recognized the figure almost immediately—it was the same man he had bumped into in the hallway a few days earlier.

That day he had thought that the stranger was a fan, seeing the recognizing look on his eyes after seeing his face and had ran off.

He never imagined the next time he would meet would be in a situation like this.

"Oh my god," Ohm breathed, taking a step toward him. "You—"

Before he could finish, the stranger turned and began walking away, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.

"Wait!" Ohm called after him, but the man didn't stop. His broad shoulders disappeared through the doorway, and he was gone before Ohm could say another word.

Linlalin returned to Ohm's side, her face pale but composed. "Are you okay?" she asked, scanning him for injuries.

Ohm nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the image of the stranger's bleeding hand or the calm determination in his eyes. "Who was that?" he murmured, almost to himself.

Linlalin frowned. "I don't know. But whoever he was, he just saved your life."

She was in panic mode and hadn't seen the face of the person who caught the knife that was about to pierce Ohm.

Ohm stared at the doorway where the man had vanished, his chest tight with an unfamiliar mix of gratitude and curiosity. He wanted to thank him, to understand why he had stepped in so selflessly. But for now, all he could do was hope he could get the chance to meet him again.