After seeing off my father, I immediately headed to the young lady’s room, just as planned in the treatment schedule.
“Are you really sure about this…?”
“Yes, it’s okay. Please open the door.”
At my request, the maid hesitated before finally opening the young lady’s door.
Well, I did say I’d go in without wearing a mask, so I guess she was surprised.
I stood straight and walked in, then bowed slightly toward the chair where I expected Lily to be sitting.
“Hello, my lady. Starting today, I’ll be staying with you and helping with your treatment as your temporary doctor and maid. My name is Adelia Limone.”
As expected, there was no reply.
But I didn’t let it bother me. I turned around calmly and gave instructions to the masked maids.
“Alright, everyone, please leave now.”
“…!”
Lily suddenly stood up from her chair, sensing something strange.
“What’s going on? What are you all doing?”
I stepped in front of her, who looked ready to throw a tantrum, and repeated my order.
“Now, please!”
“Y-yes, understood!”
The maids and servants, startled by Lily’s reaction, quickly dropped off my luggage and left the room.
Bang.
The heavy door closed behind them, and silence filled the room.
I turned back to Lily.
She was breathing heavily, clearly upset.
Her gaze, which had been fixed on the door, slowly turned toward me.
I gave her a gentle smile, walked to the desk I would now be using, and placed my chart and books down with a thud.
It was time to begin treatment.
***
My therapy required a good relationship between therapist and patient, meaning Lily’s active cooperation was necessary.
But just as I expected, Lily wasn’t cooperating at all.
“Hey, water.”
“My lady, I have a name. It’s Adelia.”
“Nope, you’re the devil who chased away all my maids and servants. I’m just going to call you ‘hey’.”
I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she was even more difficult than I thought.
My hand trembled slightly as I held the glass of water. For a second, I imagined dumping it on her head, but I took a deep breath to calm myself.
‘She really knows how to get under someone’s skin.’
After watching her for a full day, I concluded she was beyond difficult.
Honestly, she was the rudest, most selfish person I had ever met in this world.
She called me “hey” constantly, and as revenge for kicking out the maids, she made me go through ridiculous, dog-like obedience routines.
And when she got bored of that, she’d suddenly throw everything aside, collapse onto her bed—
“Sob… sob…”
—and cry softly while staring blankly into space.
After that, she’d become totally unresponsible.
This cycle repeated several times a day.
I had seen worse patients while working at a hospital, so it wasn’t completely shocking…
But the real problem was something else.
“I’m done eating.”
“A-already?”
“Yep. So clean this up.”
“I-I haven’t finished eating yet…”
“So, even though I, the young lady, have put down my spoon, you plan to keep eating? Lady Adelia?”
This little tyrant would use polite speech only when it came to stopping me from eating.
Lily always finished her meals in just 3–5 minutes.
Even though I was used to eating quickly from working at a busy hospital, this was insane.
‘I’m going to choke at this rate…’
And the food designed to suit Lily’s tastes was way too sweet.
“Please adjust the young lady’s meals like this: light meat broth or porridge with more protein, and don’t serve sweet treats with every meal. If possible, add a bit of spicy sweetness using grains like wheat or rice.”
Looking back, I wanted to smack my past self for suggesting that.
I was the one who set that menu to increase Lily’s serotonin levels…
(Serotonin: a neurotransmitter in the brain that affects mood—more of it usually means feeling happier.)
‘I can’t even eat different food, or it’ll interfere with her treatment…’
At this point, I was even missing the tasteless, low-sodium hospital food with its four changing side dishes.
Clink.
Sighing, I put the dishes outside the door and checked the time. 12:30 p.m. Another meal finished in 4 minutes.
I held my empty stomach and carefully lay down on the bed.
Lily watched me and giggled.
‘Ugh… this little demon…!’
But I couldn’t fight with a patient—especially not a 10-year-old child.
‘Starting tonight, I’ll treat this like a mukbang. I’ll finish eating in five minutes, no matter what.’
Holding my hungry stomach, I stared blankly at my desk.
Monitoring Lily 24/7 meant my observation notes were piling up on one side of the desk.
‘Come to think of it, she cried a little less last night…’
My mind was full of Lily-related thoughts, I blinked slowly—and eventually drifted off to sleep.
***
“Mom! Mom! Where are you going?!”
Even as I screamed, Mom only smiled and faded away like a wisp of smoke.
I chased after her in tears, reaching out my hand, but she slipped right through my fingers.
Eventually, I came to a stop.
That’s when I caught the dry scent of winter branches in the air.
The bitter wind and that empty winter smell—those memories never left me.
How could I forget the day I lost my mother?
“Mom! Wake up! What are you doing here?!”
Seeing my mother in the ICU for the first time, all I could do—just a mere student intern—was ask that stupid question.
But deep down, I already knew.
Mom was lying there with her eyes closed, connected to countless tubes.
The monitor’s steady beeping and the lines on the screen said it all.
A senior doctor explained calmly that my mother had been in a car accident, had fallen into a coma, and there was no way of knowing when—or if—she’d wake up.
I sat there in shock, listening. My mind wandered to random news I’d read: there are hundreds of traffic accidents each year.
But never did I imagine we would be the ones caught in one.
I couldn’t believe it. No—I didn’t want to believe it.
My mother, who had raised me alone after my father died young, worked so hard all her life.
I had promised myself I’d become a doctor as soon as I graduated so I could finally let her rest.
“My daughter’s going to be a doctor here when she graduates.”
She used to say that proudly to everyone whenever she visited me at the hospital.
But now, with just a year left until graduation, she lay unconscious, not even knowing I was there.
‘Are her eyelids just heavy?’
That was the thought that ran through my head the most as I watched her sleep endlessly.
‘Mom, the senior doctor said you’ll get better soon. The surgery went well, and you’ll wake up soon.’
I didn’t fully understand what was going on, but I repeat what others told me like a parrot, trying to comfort her.
I told her she had to wake up to see me in a doctor’s coat—the thing she had always dreamed of.
Holding her limp hand, I prayed every day.
But a week later, she passed away suddenly from shock.
After the funeral, which passed in a blur, I chose her burial clothes.
I didn’t hesitate—I picked the finest dress for her closet.
‘She always wore cheap clothes when she was alive…’
Mom used to laugh and say she’d rather spend money on a good meal than on expensive clothes.
That memory hit me hard, and tears stung my eyes.
She should’ve worn nice clothes while she was alive.
I hated that it took her death to finally wear something beautiful.
And then—
“Urgh… ugh…”
A sickening nausea rose from the back of my throat.
I couldn’t watch the cremation.
I ran out of the crematorium.
