"ARGH!"
"Are you sure you don't want anesthetic?"
"Yeah, Doc. Go on."
I continued stitching about two-inch wound on this Rose faction member's abdomen. He got it when the Quartz, their rival gang, infiltrated their general assembly and started rampaging. The Quartz caused an explosion that blocked their exit, so they failed to get out immediately.
I already heard this story actually. The Quartz had dropped by here around 3 am for their member who injured himself while throwing the explosives.
It's already 9 am and it's beyond my clinic hours.
"AHH SHOOT!" I want to give him a shot of anesthetic so my eardrums can stop bleeding.
"Papa, you can do it!"
"Yes..sweetie.."
My number one rule here is confidentiality. Gangs, criminals, and even mafia visit here rather than the hospital. Same rate, except zero percent of getting caught by the cops. Their plans and identities are unheard here.
That being said, my number two rule here is indifference. I will never speak my opinion. I'm neutral, you do you.
So I tugged all the emotions I have just to not break the number two rule.
Who in the right mind would bring children to their dirty work? Look at this little girl in pig tails, around eight years old, cheering for her father who injured himself in a gang war.
Normally, a child would be petrified after seeing bloodshed. This kid arrived here bouncing. Is it normal for a kid to witness these?
I shook my head. I should stop thinking about it.
"Done."
"Whew. Thanks, doc."
He turned to his daughter. "Papa endured the needles!"
"Papa strong! Doc Joshua cool!"
"You're so sweet, here." I gave her a chocolate bar.
"Thank you!" She tapped her feet. "Papa, let's go here every night!"
"Do you want papa hurt every night?"
"Don't worry, just visit me when you want some chocolate." I like to suggest to rather leave the child here when this gangster goes to "work".
"Yey! Papa I have chocolate every night!"
"Oh, that's good. Thanks, doc." He patted her head.
I closed the door as I watch the kid wave good bye to me. Thanks to these two factions I worked overtime.
I sat in front of my desk to rest before I go home, which gave me time to overthink about my childhood.
As much as I try to dig into my brain, I can't remember my mom's face, her voice, even her name. I don't know if she ever held me in her arms. I also don't know if she's still alive. My dad never told me.
I grew up with my dad, technically. He goes home rarely. We never had a time to talk, so he never told me what's keeping him busy. I had to ask the maids for this. That's when I learned that he is an engineer who owns an engineering firm.
I'm not that alone, though. The maids and butlers took care of me. I made friends from joining clubs and competitions.
My friends were all kind to me. However, I can't help but doubt them. They always invite themselves in our house, or want to try my new gadget, or play in our pool, or eat dinner. I feel like they're using me.
I never confronted them, though. I just went with the flow. I lived the same old cycle until my graduation in med school.
Dad never attended any of my graduation. I only receive gifts from him with a letter that says 'Congratulations, Jisoo; Love, dad.'
All these years, nothing makes me happy. I constantly do things to try to satisfy whatever I'm thirsting for.
Still nothing.
After med school, I asked my father to build me a clinic so he offered the one in Seoul, which I refused. It's comfortable. So I asked if he can arrange an underground clinic for me.
Usually it takes at most 24 hours before he grant my request. I assumed he had a second thought with this. But after 36 hours, he arranged the clinic and provided me the money.
That's how I ended up here in Gangnam.
I stopped daydreaming and collected my things to close the clinic.
I was locking the rails when a bunch of guys in black suit cornered me. It's a common mafia fashion.
"I'm sorry but the clinic is closed."
One of them grabbed my shoulder and pushed me against the rails.
"Hello, Doctor Joshua."
