“Dad!”
Jin Yoon-ho sprinted all the way home.
He couldn't wait to tell his parents what had happened at the clinic today.
The grandmother in the next treatment bed had straightened her bent back! If his father got acupuncture from that doctor, maybe his stiff shoulder could be cured too.
“What have you been doing all day? You couldn't even start the laundry?”
The moment he stepped inside, Yoon-ho's excitement crashed.
His mother's sharp voice rang through the house, making him shrink instinctively.
“If I'd known you were coming home early, I would've done it. Last time I started it ahead of time, you complained that you had to rinse everything again.”
“Then at least clean the house or cook something! Look at this place!”
“...I was about to clean. If I could cook, do you think I'd be stuck sitting around at home like this?!”
Neither parent even noticed that Yoon-ho had come home.
They were too busy fighting.
“Where's Yoon-ho? If you're not doing anything, at least make him study!”
“Mom, I just got back.”
“Go to your room and study!”
...Yeah.
This wasn't the right time.
Whenever his parents fought, getting involved only meant the flames would spread to him too.
Yoon-ho nodded quietly and retreated to his room.
“...Hic.”
Closing the door, he sank onto the floor.
Just moments ago, he'd felt as if he'd stepped into the world of martial arts novels.
But hearing his parents argue again made his chest feel unbearably heavy.
There had never been shouting in this house before.
Their family had always been happier than anyone else's.
He used to think it would stay that way forever.
Back then, he couldn't even understand how the phrase "marital fight" could exist.
That was only two years ago.
Now, all he felt was sadness.
“Everything will be okay once Dad's shoulder gets better.”
Leaning against the door, he stared blankly into space and whispered the words to himself.
Seeing his father reduced to this state made his heart ache.
Once upon a time, his father had been cooler than anyone in the world—even cooler than the heroes in the books he read.
“Dad's jajangmyeon is the most delicious thing in the world!”
“Hahaha! You think so? With skills like mine, even if I fell into the Murim world someday, I'd still be able to feed my son.”
“Yeah! Even the Alliance Leader would want to hire you as his personal chef if he tasted your food!”
“Hahahahaha!”
His father had been the greatest chef.
Among every meal Yoon-ho had ever eaten in his life, the best dishes had come from his father's hands.
The regular customers all said the same thing.
His father's restaurant was always packed.
His parents worked tirelessly every single day.
“Son, want to go cut bamboo with Dad this weekend?”
“Really?!”
“Isn't he too young to be handling a real sword?”
“What's the problem if I'm with him? I'll make sure he's careful.”
His father had also been his best friend.
Every weekend he took Yoon-ho somewhere fun—amusement parks, water parks, historical sites.
The happiest moments of Yoon-ho's life were lying on the bed beside his father after work, reading comic books together.
“What do you mean you got sixty points on your English exam?”
“Haha, it happens.”
“Waaah! Dad! Mom's bullying me!”
“You always say everything's fine! What is he supposed to do when he grows up and has to get a job?”
“Sixty is a perfectly respectable score. I only got two hundred on the academic aptitude exam, and look at me—I ended up with a beautiful wife and a cute son.”
“You...!”
“Dad will earn enough money to leave behind for you, so you've got nothing to worry about!”
“Good grief. Fine. Just stay healthy. Mom and Dad will work hard.”
His father had been his hero.
As long as Dad was around, nothing in the world seemed scary.
Not fights with friends.
Not Mom's nagging.
Not even strange old men shouting on the street.
Standing beside his father felt like having an army at his back.
But that father no longer existed.
“Damn it. We're in the red again this month. When is someone finally going to take over that restaurant lease?”
“I'm already frustrated enough, so stop yelling at me.”
“Did you put it up with multiple real estate agencies? Post it online too!”
“I already listed it with three agencies. And I posted it on the self-employed business forums.”
The only thing left was a powerless man with slumped shoulders and a shadow permanently hanging over his face.
And it had all started the day his father's arm stopped lifting properly.
Frozen shoulder.
Was that what they called it?
He should have realized something was wrong when his father tossed and turned in pain at night, or when he constantly used massage sticks to pound at his shoulder.
At first, nobody thought much of it.
People said everyone in their fifties got it eventually.
They said it would heal within a few months.
Instead, it only got worse.
His father's arm rose less and less with each passing day.
“Honey, maybe you should just get the surgery.”
“...What if I end up unable to use the arm at all? They say it naturally recovers within one to three years. Let's wait a little longer.”
“Medicine isn't the same as it was thirty years ago when your mother had surgery. What about the restaurant if you can't even raise your arm?”
“I'll hire a head chef. Maybe business will improve enough to expand. Just trust me.”
In the end, his father became completely unable to cook.
Yoon-ho didn't know all the details, but Yongho Chinese Restaurant had closed its doors last month.
That was when the debt started piling up.
The rent payments kept draining away money.
And from then on, his parents fought every single day.
Today was just another ordinary day.
Or rather, what had become ordinary.
"..."
Yoon-ho waited an entire hour for the argument to die down.
The conversations were always the same.
The same accusations.
The same answers.
The same wounds reopened over and over again.
Eventually his mother stormed out of the house.
His father retreated to the master bedroom.
“Dad.”
“...Yoon-ho.”
Yoon-ho approached quietly and began massaging his father's shoulder.
He knew it wouldn't actually help.
But maybe it would make him feel a little better.
“Dad, you know... on NewTube—”
“Tell me later.”
“Just listen for a second! I met this amazing doctor yesterday.”
“A doctor? Ah... an oriental medicine doctor.”
His father shook his head wearily.
But Yoon-ho stubbornly shoved his phone forward.
“I asked him to show me how he threw needles, and he actually taught me!”
“What? You went to a Korean medicine clinic?”
“Yeah! I got treatment for my stomach too. I even touched the needles. When I get completely better, let's ask him to teach you too! He said he could treat shoulders!”
“You got treatment? With what money?”
“Hehe. It wasn't expensive. Only one thousand won! Let's go together tomorrow.”
Was Dad worried about the cost?
It had barely cost anything.
Adults always talked about having no money, but surely they still had at least a million won somewhere.
With a million won, you could get treated a thousand times.
“If you go to a hospital and don't pay, what do you think happens?! Ugh... your mother's already driving me crazy, and now you too?”
Yoon-ho explained that he'd paid properly with his allowance.
But his father jumped to his feet, clutching his chest in frustration.
He grabbed his wallet and headed for the door before suddenly stopping.
“Ah. The clinic's probably closed by now. We'll go tomorrow.”
His father let out a long sigh.
Why was he acting like that when the bill had already been paid?
Still, at least he'd agreed to come.
Once they got there, the doctor would explain everything.
“I'm so sorry! My son told me he received treatment here without paying!”
The next day, after another long conversation about martial arts fandom with Yoon-ho, his father arrived at the clinic.
“It's fine. The child wasn't feeling well. I could've treated him for free.”
“I can't allow that. Please let me pay properly. How much is it?”
“Uh...”
Yesterday's confident Yoon-ho now clung anxiously to his father's hand, darting nervous glances around the room.
I kept insisting it was fine.
But his father stubbornly refused to leave without paying.
“Director, update the billing record. We need to process this properly, so please have him write down his name and resident registration number.”
And just like that, Seo In-ae accepted the card on her own initiative, bringing the pointless debate to an end.
“Y-Yes.”
“Will he be receiving treatment today as well?”
Seo In-ae asked whether Yoon-ho needed treatment again today.
After all, both she and I knew his stomachache had basically been an excuse.
Honestly, he was welcome to just hang around and chat.
“Dad, since we're here, you should get treated too. Please?”
Instead, Yoon-ho grabbed his father's arm and pleaded desperately.
Ah.
So the shoulder patient he'd mentioned yesterday was his father.
“It's fine. My shoulder won't get better no matter what. If your stomach still hurts, get another acupuncture treatment. I'll wait outside.”
His father closed his eyes and shook his head.
“This doctor is amazing! That grandma who got acupuncture yesterday said her back is completely fixed now!”
“Your stomachache and my shoulder aren't the same thing.”
“But still...”
“Sir, why don't you give it a try? My back used to be bent over like this, but now look at me—straight as a Bible miracle!”
Right on cue, Grandma Heo Soon-nam emerged from the treatment room and joined the conversation.
Her timing was absurdly perfect.
Again.
“...”
“Dad!”
“Even if you don't want treatment, would you at least like a consultation?”
Once I joined the pressure campaign, he finally nodded in reluctant surrender.
I wondered what the issue was.
Rotator cuff damage?
A cervical disc problem?
Whatever it was, he wouldn't regret stepping through the door of my clinic.
I could treat him faster and more accurately than anywhere else.
Smiling, I opened the consultation room door wide.
“Please come in. I'll take a good look at it.”
Forty-two-year-old Jin Yong-ho, father of a nine-year-old son, sat down and immediately grasped his right shoulder.
He demonstrated his range of motion, moving his arm in every direction while explaining his symptoms.
Like a man who had visited many hospitals before.
“Frozen shoulder. I got it about ten years earlier than most people. I've been receiving acupuncture for two years with almost no improvement. I've tried injections and physical therapy too. Nothing worked. They just kept telling me to stretch. I worked hard at it for the first year, but honestly... I've given up now.”
Whether lifting forward or sideways, his arm couldn't even reach ninety degrees.
Even when I stood up and moved it myself, the result was the same.
The shoulder had become so stiff that it wouldn't budge.
“I see. Didn't anyone recommend surgery?”
There was no doubt about the diagnosis.
“Out of the five doctors I saw, three recommended surgery. The other two suggested the treatments and stretching I just mentioned.”
“I understand.”
“My mother suffered pain until the day she died after shoulder surgery... so I'd rather avoid it if possible. The arm doesn't lift, but the pain is better than before. I can manage daily life well enough.”
A very cautious man.
“That's a lie! I've seen you chopping vegetables with your left hand at night!”
“...I was just experimenting to see if it was possible.”
Yong-ho insisted he was fine.
His son clearly thought otherwise.
As we spoke, I palpated the joint.
This wasn't something that would improve with ordinary stretching or conventional treatment.
The joint capsule had become inflamed and contracted.
The tendons were so thickened that I could feel it through my fingers.
“Are you a chef?”
“Yes. I was a Chinese cuisine chef.”
Ah.
A professional chef.
That was serious.
His livelihood depended on that shoulder.
No wonder he was so terrified of surgery.
Though hearing he cooked Chinese food reminded me of a demonic martial artist from the unorthodox faction who once disguised himself as a dumpling shop owner.
I used to eat there all the time before discovering his true identity.
...Master had eliminated him afterward, and I'd never tasted those dumplings again.
Since this man liked martial arts novels too, perhaps he knew authentic Chinese cooking?
“You've definitely overused the shoulder. Adhesive capsulitis—frozen shoulder—doesn't have a single clear cause, but it's much more common among people who place excessive strain on the joint.”
“Yes... I've heard that many times. The restaurant is closed now, and I'm resting.”
“That's why you fight with Mom all the time, and you don't even swordfight with me anymore—mmph!”
“Yoon-ho. The doctor and I are talking.”
Yong-ho covered his son's mouth.
Usually when parents and children came in together, only the adults spoke.
But just like yesterday, this kid was remarkably energetic.
Still, thanks to both of them, I had a clear understanding of the situation.
Returning to my desk, I pulled up a 3D model of the shoulder joint on the computer screen.
“This area, this area, and here are severely adhered together. You've seen the scans on ultrasound and MRI, right?”
“Yes.”
“When a shoulder becomes this stiff, ordinary acupuncture can do very little. At best, it controls pain, improves circulation slightly, and waits for the adhesions to release naturally.”
“Does that mean even you can't fix it?”
Yoon-ho's face instantly crumpled.
Even Yong-ho looked disappointed, though he tried to hide it.
“I expected as much. There's really no solution, is there?”
No.
I never said I couldn't fix it.
People should listen to the end before jumping to conclusions.
“Not at all. I only said that ordinary acupuncture wouldn't be enough.”
“Then...?”
I picked up an instrument from my desk and held it out for them to see.
It was much thicker than a standard acupuncture needle.
At its tip was a flattened blade-like edge.
“If we use a blade needle... that's a different story.”
I twirled the instrument lightly between my fingers.
My trump card, you might say.
