Chapter 91: Huh?[1] "Right now?"
Kanghyeok was so startled that he actually dared to question the prince.
But he did not even bother correcting himself, because he did not think this much counted as disrespect.
Instead, he only looked outside.
It's getting light?
The sun had already set long ago.
So if it was getting bright now, it was hard to think of anything other than the sun that had gone down rising again.
I stayed up all night.
It was absurd.
Of course, back when he was a resident, he had taken ER call, OR call, and ward call, so staying up all night was as familiar as sleeping at night.
Fuck, splitting call into three shifts…
Back then, he had cursed the hospital, the academic society, and the professors who had divided it up that way to death.
Looking back on it now, though, he could see there had not really been any other choice.
He was a surgeon, after all.
If he was covering the ER and got dragged straight into emergency surgery, then who would stay in the ER?
And who would look after the inpatients in the ward?
There had been no choice but to rotate through all three call duties, and thanks to that, he had been on call almost every other day.
That had been when he was in his mid-to-late twenties.
After that, he had not lived quite so brutally.
Once you got your specialist qualification, hospitals treated you at least somewhat better.
It's been a really long time since I pulled an all-nighter, but surprisingly, I'm fine.
With a look of surprise, Kanghyeok lightly patted his face.
At this hour, his skin normally would have been dry and rough, but it was only moist.
The thought that this really was a younger body left him thoroughly satisfied.
Still smiling, he turned back to Gwanghae-gun.
Gwanghae-gun was still in his teens. Maybe because he was in his prime, he looked even more fine than Kanghyeok.
"Mm. If Your Highness is feeling well, we can go now. I was worried fatigue might interfere with the treatment, but fortunately, I'm all right."
"Excellent. Then let us go at once."
"Yes. Ah, let me take my bag… Kids, let's go."
"Ah. So these are the people you've been using."
Only then did Gwanghae-gun nod with a look of understanding.
No matter how one looked at them, Dolseok and Park Bong-i did not seem like people who worked in the palace.
It was not because their clothing was shabby.
If anything, their fabric was even finer than Heo Jun's.
But the air underlying their faces was no different from that of coarse commoners from the marketplace.
The only somewhat different one was Yeoju, but when he saw the book and brush she was carrying, he nodded again.
"So all these excellent drawings came from the hand of someone from the marketplace."
"Ah, yes. Her drawing skill is not bad at all."
"Not just not bad… hm."
Gwanghae-gun stopped walking and became captivated by the book Yeoju was carrying.
Even if he only doodled as a hobby, he was someone with quite a deep appreciation for painting.
Yeoju's drawings truly were extraordinary.
In particular, drawings like the detailed anatomical sketch depicting an anus were unlike anything he had ever seen anywhere.
He stared for quite a while at the preoperative anus of Ryu Seong-ryong, then clapped his hands.
"Amazing. To think such a technique exists. If only I had the time, I would want to keep this person by my side and learn painting."
At that, both Kanghyeok and Yeoju flinched at the same time.
Kanghyeok, because he was afraid of losing a talented painter, and Yeoju, because she feared her identity might be exposed because of her uncle's affairs.
But Gwanghae-gun was not that inconsiderate.
Nor was he someone with that much free time.
"When you treat me, could you leave some drawings behind? Things like this… not the ones showing diseased areas."
"Ah, yes. I will do that."
Afraid he might say something else, Yeoju answered at once.
Her male voice still sounded awkward compared to her disguise, but fortunately Gwanghae-gun did not find it particularly strange.
He merely smiled in satisfaction.
"Good, good. I get treatment, and I get paintings too. Excellent."
"Mm…"
Kanghyeok almost said that drawing should also be restrained from now on, but stopped himself.
Seeing him look so happy like a child—though he really was a child—left him unable to speak.
"Come, then. Let us go."
With a eunuch leading the way, Gwanghae-gun began striding forward.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Kanghyeok, his group, and Heo Jun followed behind him.
There were two main reasons Heo Jun was following.
One was because he was worried Kanghyeok might cause some kind of trouble, and the other was, of course, because he wanted to learn Kanghyeok's mysterious techniques.
He is a strange man.
When Kanghyeok had dared ask a prince in Confucian Joseon whether he ought not to devote himself to something other than book learning, Heo Jun had truly thought the man must have ten necks to spare.
And yet, strangely enough, the people listening never seem all that offended.
He was an outrageously rude man, but everyone seemed to let it pass with a chuckle.
On closer thought, perhaps it was because he never crossed certain lines.
After all, he did still use honorific speech.
And when he did bow, he bowed properly enough.
While Heo Jun sank into thought by himself, the group reached Gwanghae-gun's residence.
By then, the sun that had been faintly rising had climbed high into the sky.
Kanghyeok pointed at a rock sparkling in the sunlight.
"So this is the rock Your Highness paints on."
It had been rubbed so much that it was almost glossy.
It even gave off the feel of artificial marble.
"That is right. I paint on it almost every day."
"Hah. Just from the surface of the rock alone, I can tell how much care Your Highness has poured into it."
Kanghyeok looked at the rock with genuine admiration on his face,
while forcing back the hand that had unconsciously tried to reach out and touch it.
He said he even wipes it clean himself.
Perhaps the rock itself had meaning to him.
If so, it was better to be careful, was it not?
A prince was a prince, after all.
And he was also a king whose title ended in -gun.
Only now did Kanghyeok think of how criticisms of the Injo Restoration had become common in later times, but back when he had been in school, Gwanghae-gun had not been taught in such a favorable light.
Some people had even confused him with Yeonsan-gun.
"Ahem. It has already been several years since I had this fellow brought here."
Gwanghae-gun kept stroking the rock as if merely looking at it pleased him.
He seemed quite taken with Kanghyeok's cautious attitude.
He even took Kanghyeok's hand and placed it on the rock himself.
"Touch it. See how it feels."
"It's slippery. Oh wow. I can practically see my face reflected in it."
"Exactly. The effort I have poured into this is no small thing."
That really did seem to be the case.
To polish a rock until it turned out like this, just by wiping it over and over with hanji…
No wonder his wrist gave out.
Kanghyeok could not see it as something purely admirable.
Gwanghae-gun, on the other hand, looked delighted.
"Ha ha. Come inside now. It will soon be time for me to go pay my respects."
"Ah, yes, Your Highness."
Glancing at the rising sun, Gwanghae-gun suddenly quickened his pace.
Kanghyeok hurried after him.
It was not hard to guess who Gwanghae-gun had to go pay his respects to.
You can't exactly delay on your way to Seonjo.
Kanghyeok remembered that Seungmun had also regarded paying respects as important.
He had been a rather relaxed Joseon-era father who did not interfere much in other matters, but that was one thing he had apparently found hard to give up.
Old man… he's doing fine, right?
If something had happened, surely word would have reached him.
Since the letter he had received a few days ago had contained nothing unusual, it was certain that he was doing well.
"Come, come. Sit here. So then, what is it I must do?"
Seated on the cushion, Gwanghae-gun held out his wrist.
Kanghyeok quietly sat before him and opened his house-call bag.
The clicking sound filled the rather small room.
Gwanghae-gun showed interest in the unusual bag.
"So this is your 'bag.'"
"Yes, that's right."
"It is unlike anything I have seen on the Korean Peninsula. Very unusual. Where did you obtain it? Ming? Japan?"
"Mm."
Kanghyeok could not answer easily.
There was no way such a thing existed in Ming or Japan.
"It is something I acquired personally."
"I see. Hoh… The items inside are no less extraordinary."
Gwanghae-gun admired the syringe, the stethoscope, and the rest.
If this continued, it looked as though he would do nothing but stare forever.
Fortunately, the eunuch standing at his side stepped in.
"Your Highness, it will soon be time…"
"Ah. Right. Yes. Then let us begin with the treatment."
Only then did Gwanghae-gun regain his focus and hold out his wrist again.
In the meantime, Kanghyeok had already filled the syringe with the white steroid injection.
There's nothing better for reducing swelling.
If apothecaries had the saying, "When in doubt, use licorice," then hospitals had, "When in doubt, use steroids."
Especially for illnesses caused by swelling, like this one, steroids were practically a direct hit.
"Your Highness, it will feel a little cold and painful."
"Cold and painful, you say. That is fine. An acupuncture needle is hardly…"
"This needle is medicinal acupuncture, so it hurts quite a bit more."
"That is fine."
"Yes."
After setting Gwanghae-gun's wrist in a comfortable position, Kanghyeok held out his palm.
At once, Dolseok, who had been waiting behind him, quickly placed an alcohol swab into his hand.
"Good. Now then, it will feel cold."
"Mm."
Kanghyeok wiped down Gwanghae-gun's wrist.
Just as Kanghyeok had repeatedly warned, it was apparently somewhat cold, and Gwanghae-gun winced.
"Now I'm going in."
"Mm."
With ghostlike dexterity, Kanghyeok inserted the syringe.
Stabbing straight down here would have been sheer lunacy.
If he did that, he might tear the tendons leading into the hand, and in the worst case, he could injure a nerve or artery.
No matter how skilled a person was, inserting it at an angle was safer.
Pop.
With a crisp sound, the skin gave way, and then the tendon sheathing the wrist was pierced.
All right, stop here.
If he went any farther, it would only hurt more and risk damaging other structures.
It was not as though only a single tendon was swollen, after all.
Since he had already gone in, it was better to maximize the effect.
"It feels a little tight."
"It doesn't hurt at all— mmph."
When Kanghyeok injected the steroid, even Gwanghae-gun let out a groan.
The way he bit down hard on his lower lip showed he was enduring the pain.
He looked exactly like a middle-school boy, and Kanghyeok nearly burst out laughing.
"All right, we're done now."
"Hoo. It does hurt."
"The symptoms should improve quickly… but you must not overexert yourself. If you do, it will recur."
"Hmm. It will improve?"
"Yes."
Turning his wrist this way and that, Gwanghae-gun asked the question.
It still felt stiff. It still tingled.
At least for the moment, it felt to him as though Kanghyeok had simply done something to him.
"Very well. First… I will go pay my respects to my father. When I return, have a cup of tea."
"Yes, Your Highness."
With a smiling face, Kanghyeok bowed.
What he really wanted to do was forget about tea and go get some sleep, but what could he do?
A prince of a nation was asking him to share tea.
"Then I shall see you later."
With that, Gwanghae-gun departed, and the rest of the group gathered around.
"Young master, it worked, right?"
Dolseok asked with a slightly worried look.
"It worked, punk. At least for today, he'll be fine."
"And tomorrow?"
"That I don't know."
"Then doesn't that mean it didn't work?"
"If it doesn't, then we'll just have to operate."
"Good grief, operating on a prince…"
Even imagining it made Dolseok look sick, and he shook his head.
Then he suddenly remembered that he was inside the palace and hurriedly lowered his head.
At home it was one thing, but if he got caught acting cheeky toward a nobleman in the palace, that would be a serious matter.
Yeoju, on the other hand, seemed far more interested in Gwanghae-gun's paintings.
She had thought he painted only on rocks, but there were quite a few scribbles here and there as well.
To Kanghyeok, they looked like real scribbles, but apparently Yeoju did not see them that way.
"There is strength in his brushwork, which makes it pleasing to look at. There is definitely a different flavor to paintings done by a man."
"Really? Hmm. It doesn't just look that way because Prince Gwanghae painted it?"
"No. It is extraordinary."
"Is it… I really know nothing at all about paintings…"
Kanghyeok had only one way of judging paintings.
Read the price written underneath.
If it was expensive, then it was a good painting. If not, then it was a bad one.
It was an extremely science-minded way of dividing things, and not very appealing to Yeoju.
"As expected, young master, you are a man with no romance."
"Romance? No, I don't have any."
"You seem even less romantic because you admit it so readily."
"Well, it's true. I don't have any."
"Anyway, the paintings are truly excellent."
"Ha ha. You praise them too highly."
While the two of them went back and forth about the paintings, Gwanghae-gun returned.
He looked to be in a very good mood.
"My wrist really does feel light. This fellow truly is a divine physician. A divine physician."
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