Poria .
A fungal growth that parasitizes pine trees. The portion closest to the roots is given the special name Bokshin .
In China, it was said that the overflowing spiritual energy of pine trees seeped beyond their roots, earning it the reputation of an elixir of immortality. Even in ancient Greece and Rome, it was known as the "Food of the Gods."
Its medicinal effects were equally legendary.
It calmed the mind and spirit, promoted urination while strengthening kidney function, acted as an antioxidant that slowed aging, aided in cancer prevention, and much more.
Back in the Murim, I often used it for patients suffering from insomnia or bladder infections.
And it wasn't cheap, either.
It was the sort of precious herb that required paying extra just to acquire.
Though these days, hardly anyone even knows what it is.
Expensive or not, it still wasn't as famous as deer antler or ginseng.
In the modern world, where cultivation had become possible, anyone could order ordinary poria online with a few mouse clicks.
Of course, that only applied to ordinary poria.
Damn. If I'd found this before my college entrance exams, I could've memorized an entire textbook every day.
The poria sold through herbal suppliers contained almost no detectable qi.
Like most medicinal herbs, it only produced effects after being digested and metabolized.
But this...
It's beyond the Divine Spirit Herb.
Forget restoring vitality—this could probably cure dementia.
Calling it "poria" almost felt insulting.
After all, a Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng could no longer be considered mere ginseng.
If I had to name this thing...
Hmm.
Thousand-Year Pine Poria.
I carefully selected every cluster that contained spiritual energy and stuffed them into my backpack.
And what exactly was I going to do with them?
"Looks like I'll have to eat it all myself."
Ordinary people couldn't digest medicinal herbs with such concentrated and unbalanced qi.
To me, it was a treasure.
To everyone else, it was poison.
If that scammer from earlier had gotten his hands on it?
The result would've been a disaster.
Apparently his grandfather had somehow lucked into obtaining a little internal energy.
But luck didn't strike twice.
After all, someone had to prevent innocent people from suffering qi deviation.
So naturally...
I had no choice but to confiscate everything.
"Whoo~ My backpack's about to burst."
Once I'd harvested all the poria, the eerie pine tree no longer looked creepy.
Now it looked beautiful.
If Master had seen this sight, he would've composed a poem on the spot.
Unfortunately, literary talent wasn't one of my strengths.
So instead, I pulled out my smartphone and took a selfie with the withered pine tree in the background.
"Hehehehe."
Compared to the angry climb up the mountain, my steps on the way down felt lighter than air.
The more I thought about the poria packed inside my bag, the happier I became.
I spent the entire ten-kilometer walk back to town grinning like an idiot.
Ah, being happy was one thing.
But I hadn't forgotten to stop by the police station and submit the evidence, either.
After finishing a short trip that yielded rewards completely different from what I'd expected, I returned to Busan.
"Another wonderful~ enjoyable~ day at work~"
"You seem unusually energetic for a Monday, Director."
"Hehe. Want some herbal medicine too, Teacher In-ae?"
"Really?"
I'd only said it casually, but Seo In-ae's eyes immediately lit up.
"Okay, wait a moment. I brought back some incredibly rare herbs."
Technically, prescribing herbs personally gathered from the mountains wasn't allowed.
But giving them to a friend as a gift?
That was fine.
Probably.
Giving it to her raw would send her straight into qi deviation, though.
It needed a little processing.
No—
A lot of processing.
"You personally gathered medicinal herbs?"
Her face clearly asked, Is that something doctors do?
I wisely chose not to answer.
If I told her the full story, her trust in me would plummet.
Only one patient had arrived that morning.
As soon as business hours began, I inserted needles into Grandma Heo Soon-nam and headed straight for the herbal preparation room.
"Let's make~ some Gyogamdan~"
This Thousand-Year Pine Poria couldn't be used alone.
The safest method was grinding it into powder and mixing tiny amounts into a larger herbal formula.
When people thought of poria or bokshin, the first prescription that came to mind was usually Chongmyung-tang, the famous memory-enhancing formula.
Or perhaps Bokryeong Bosim-tang.
There were countless others.
Even formulas for insomnia like Guibi-tang included poria.
But for simplicity?
Gyogamdan was best.
"Just grind everything up and knead it together."
First, I cut away the active portions of the poria and separated the sections containing the densest spiritual energy.
Those were mine.
Even someone like me, who could casually digest actual poisons, had to be careful with them.
"Now let's grind the rest~"
Modern blenders truly were wonderful inventions.
I grabbed a handful of Cyperus Rhizome (Xiang Fu)—a famous herb for stress relief—from a drawer and tossed it into the blender alongside the poria.
The cheerful rattling sound filled the room.
Whirrrrrr.
"There. Done!"
I mixed the powder with honey, rolled it into pills, and wrapped them in gold foil.
The finished product looked surprisingly impressive.
"Teacher In-ae, a gift!"
Being a YouTuber-cum-capturer-of-criminals surely came with plenty of stress.
I handed her a Gyogamdan pill.
"Are we selling these now?"
"Nope. I'll only prescribe them when absolutely necessary. Just keep it in the refrigerator."
The remaining task was absorbing the qi from the highest-grade poria.
Back in my office, I practiced circulation techniques whenever I had spare moments between patients, steadily refining the spiritual energy.
Ah.
The power.
I could barely contain it.
Normally, I'd only channel qi through acupuncture when absolutely necessary.
Now?
I could pour it out freely without worrying about running dry.
"Ms. Yoo Min-ha, how was your week?"
"Great, thanks to you, Director."
"Good news?"
"Actually, I sent out a bunch of resumes recently. One company called me in for an interview—and I got hired! I start next month!"
"Oh my goodness, congratulations!"
"Thank you so much. If my menstrual pain hadn't improved, I never would've applied for a job that requires standing all day."
For patients who needed emotional stability and mental recovery, I paid especially close attention when guiding qi into their treatments.
"If work gets stressful, let me know. I have some very good medicine."
"Okay! Honestly, I feel amazing right now. Today's acupuncture feels even more refreshing than usual."
Patients with sensitive qi perception noticed the effects immediately.
Others began noticing within a few days.
"My headaches are completely gone. Could I get the same treatment as yesterday again?"
Naturally.
I'd already digested and refined the spiritual energy before passing on only the beneficial portion.
I still adjusted according to each person's constitution, but the results proved useful for everyone—from exhausted office workers to elderly patients.
"Director, Yijin's skills have improved so much it's shocking. Her physical ability was already outstanding, but now her decision-making has improved too."
"Come on. That's because you're a great coach."
"It's thanks to you."
"And what gift have you brought this time? I told you that's not necessary."
"It's just a small cake."
Among all my patients, the person who benefited the most was undoubtedly Kim Yijin.
Though Grandma Heo Soon-nam wasn't far behind.
"I've gotten twenty years younger after being treated here!"
I'd treated her spinal stenosis with acupuncture, acupotomy, and herbal medicine.
The thickened ligament causing the stenosis had been released, and years of insomnia had finally disappeared.
She grew more energetic every day.
Not metaphorically, either.
The wrinkles on her skin had visibly decreased.
"Hehe. You're flattering me."
"I didn't come for myself today! I brought this gentleman so you can make him some tonic medicine. He's my boyfriend from tango class. Young people call them boyfriends these days, right?"
"Nice to meet you. Do you have any discomfort or health concerns?"
"Nothing hurts. It's just... you know..."
"The important area?" I guessed.
"Exactly!"
"I'll do my best."
It felt like only yesterday that patients refused to come.
Then one day I suddenly looked around and realized all ten treatment beds were occupied.
Whew. I don't have to worry about going bankrupt anymore.
Word of mouth had spread among elderly patients.
Meanwhile, younger visitors could easily find the clinic through the steadily growing blog.
At this point, it was safe to say the clinic had finally stabilized.
If things continued like this for another six months, I'd completely pay off the loan I'd taken to open the practice.
[Yeowon, how have you been?]
In the middle of my increasingly busy routine, an unexpected message arrived.
Who was this again?
The contact name read:
Lee Yujin (Senior, Internal Korean Medicine).
Apparently a senior from university.
The problem was...
I had absolutely no memory of them.
From my perspective, more than twenty years had passed.
Unless someone had been particularly close or particularly annoying, forgetting them was only natural.
[I've been doing well haha. How about you, Senior?]
[I heard you opened your own clinic. Ji-eun was worried about you, so it's good to hear things are going well. Anyway, I'm getting married and thought I should let you know. Drop by if you have time.]
After carefully crafting a polite response, what I received in return was a mobile wedding invitation.
"Oh. That's all?"
A perfectly ordinary wedding gift collection operation.
I was already preparing an excuse about living in Busan and being unable to attend.
Then another message arrived.
[Yeowon, are you going to Yujin's wedding?]
This one was from Hwang Seoyoung.
[Was I close to this senior?]
[? LOL]
[Ever since opening my clinic, my student days feel like a previous life. I genuinely don't remember.]
[Hmm. It's been over two years since anyone talked to them, so it's understandable. But they helped us a lot during our third-year clinical training, so I'm planning to go.]
Seoyoung listed several classmates who would be attending.
To be honest, besides the student council president and Seoyoung herself, I barely had any friends from university.
[Come too! Let's see each other again!]
Hmm.
Responding to such an obvious gift-hunting operation wasn't really my style.
If I'd truly owed this senior a debt of gratitude, I wouldn't have forgotten them.
Then another message arrived.
[You've got your own clinic now and make tons of money! Dress up in luxury brands and show those people who said a boring honor student like you would never succeed!]
...There were people who said that?
I could barely remember my classmates at all.
She really paid attention to other people.
Still.
A friend who had genuinely worried about me wanted to see my face.
That changed things.
The clinic was stable now.
Maybe it was time to visit Seoul.
[I don't have fancy clothes, but I'll come.]
[Since the clinic is closed on weekends, I should be able to attend in person. Congratulations again. I'll see you at the wedding.]
I informed both Seoyoung and Senior Lee Yujin that I'd attend.
After the trip to Gyeongju, traveling no longer felt like such a burden.
Besides, Seoul was even closer by KTX.
A short time later.
Korea University Affiliated Korean Medicine Hospital.
"Dr. Hwang, are you on call tonight?"
"No. Dr. Lee Yujin is on call today."
The hospital officially closed at six in the evening.
For interns, however, official hours meant very little.
After finishing the remaining chart work, it was already nine o'clock.
In a world where half his days involved staying up all night, this actually counted as an early departure.
"Heading home? You look exhausted. Sorry to stop you, but I need a favor."
"Yes, Professor. Is it urgent?"
Professor.
If the professor was still here this late, perhaps something important had happened.
Not that it mattered.
Even on his days off, work calls still came.
"Hmm. I have a conference presentation this weekend, and it needs to be delivered in English. You studied abroad, didn't you?"
"...Briefly. In elementary school."
"Haha. Then you'll understand it quickly. Just review the PowerPoint and manuscript for awkward phrasing before tomorrow morning."
So it wasn't hospital work.
The professor looked apologetic while making an outrageously unreasonable request.
Back when Hwang Sang-hoon had been a student, he'd thought the professor was simply more interested in research than teaching.
Now that they were coworkers, he'd discovered the man's true specialty:
Dumping his work on other people.
"Understood."
But what could an intern do?
When told to do something, you did it.
I need to finish my work early if I'm going to attend that wedding...
Returning home, Hwang Sang-hoon collapsed onto his bed.
Yet his chest felt unbearably heavy.
Was it because of the manuscript?
Not really.
The truth was that he hadn't slept properly in a very long time.
Though when was the last time he'd had a truly uneventful day?
"..."
He lay there with his eyes closed.
Nothing more.
Then sat up again.
I'm sleepy.
Exhausted.
So tired he felt like dying.
Yet sleep never came.
When had this started?
Back when he'd first joined the hospital, he'd fallen asleep whenever he found a spare moment.
Now, however, anxiety lingered throughout the entire day.
Even on the rare occasion he had six uninterrupted hours available, sleep refused to come.
Being unable to sleep in the on-call room was understandable.
A patient could appear at any moment.
But being unable to sleep even at home?
That was serious.
I should just go back to the hospital.
Not long after arriving home, he changed clothes again.
Since he wasn't sleeping anyway, he might as well go in early and review the manuscript.
Truthfully, despite being labeled "the one who studied abroad," he'd neither attended high school nor university in America.
His English wasn't nearly good enough to read like a native speaker.
Several hours vanished in a struggle against English grammar.
By the time he finished, dawn had arrived.
Five o'clock already.
He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for even thirty minutes of sleep.
Impossible.
For months, a dense fog had clouded his mind, interfering not only with his work but with sleep itself.
What if I make a mistake at this rate?
He needed sleep today.
Yesterday had been an on-call shift.
Tomorrow would be another.
And the day after that was his coworker's wedding.
He could still walk around with his eyes open for now.
But if an entire week passed without real sleep...
What would happen next week?
Hwang Sang-hoon put on his white coat and stared into the mirror.
"At this rate, patients are going to think I'm the Grim Reaper."
The gaunt, hollow-eyed figure staring back at him was a sight he wished nobody would ever see.
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