Chapter 27: TPMR

Chapter 27

A strange ceiling greeted him.

“...?”

Where am I?

Just moments ago, he had been at a wedding hall.

Hwang Sang-hoon's eyes snapped open as he sat upright.

Fortunately, while the ceiling was unfamiliar, the walls were not. A framed graduation photo of his cousin hung prominently nearby.

“Seo-young's house?”

Right.

He had definitely gone to the wedding.

He had collapsed in the parking lot for no apparent reason, met Han Yeo-won unexpectedly, and with her and Hwang Seo-young's help, regained consciousness and attended the ceremony without incident.

And then...

“And I passed out again?”

For a brief moment, worry flashed through him. Was there actually something seriously wrong with his body?

But after taking stock of himself, he quickly realized something.

He felt fantastic.

As though he had slept a solid twelve hours.

“Ah!”

Surely it wasn't Monday already?

He hurriedly checked his phone.

Fortunately, it was only 6 p.m. on Sunday.

There were still twelve full hours before work.

Relieved, he slowly climbed out of bed.

“How did I even get here...?”

He wandered into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water, and tried desperately to piece together his missing memories.

But no matter how hard he thought, he couldn't remember.

Everything after Han Yeo-won's forehead flick had completely vanished.

Beep.

As he stood alone trying to figure things out, the sound of the door lock opening echoed through the house.

He immediately headed toward the entrance.

* * *

“Oh? You're awake, Oppa. Feeling better?”

Hwang Seo-young kicked off her shoes carelessly as she entered.

After tossing several shopping bags from the department store onto the floor, she carefully studied his complexion.

Much better.

The energy Yeo-won had quietly infused into him while he slept in the car had clearly done its job.

This was originally a special technique reserved for patients who were practically on death's door.

“Yeah. Did you guys bring me here?”

“We did. Yeo-won worked really hard, you know.”

“I'm so sorry!”

I immediately bowed ninety degrees toward Hwang Sang-hoon.

The first collapse wasn't my fault.

The second one?

Well...

Maybe one-third my fault.

Naturally, I had to take responsibility and treat him.

“No, no, don't do that. I was the one causing trouble.”

Flustered, Sang-hoon waved his hands frantically.

But I remained stubborn.

“I had no idea your constitution was so weak. Just because someone is a man in his twenties doesn't automatically mean they're healthy. My perspective was too narrow.”

“It wasn't that serious...”

“No. This was entirely my mistake. I should have handled you with the care one uses for a fragile child.”

Sang-hoon looked utterly helpless as he tried to stop me.

Only after noticing his cousin struggling not to laugh did he finally relax.

“Ah... you were joking.”

“I'm one hundred percent serious. I'm just glad you woke up after getting some proper rest.”

My wording may have been exaggerated.

But the sentiment was genuine.

Perhaps I had been carrying certain biases about young people's health.

Back in Murim, men in their twenties were usually either rising martial talents from prestigious clans or farmers who spent every waking hour performing physical labor.

Even at my clinic, at least seventy percent of male patients in their twenties were athletes who had injured themselves during exercise.

People like Hwang Sang-hoon—young men who looked perpetually exhausted—were surprisingly rare.

These days, however, modern people rarely exercised.

Maybe a single forehead flick really could knock someone over.

“So I really collapsed because of... that?”

“Yeah! You took twenty years off my lifespan yesterday!”

“Haha... sorry.”

“I thought you were joking too. You were sleeping so soundly.”

Apparently lacking any defense, Sang-hoon scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“I should've listened and waited in the car. I probably caused a huge scene at Senior Yoo-jin's wedding. By the way, who carried me?”

“Yeo-won did.”

Come to think of it, that had been another careless mistake on my part.

“...?”

“Yeo-won just said, 'Wow, he must be exhausted,' then scooped you up in a princess carry like it was nothing. Everyone nearly lost their minds. You're the only one who didn't see it.”

After openly posting videos of martial arts on NewTube without getting caught, I had become far too careless.

At the very least, I should have pretended to struggle.

Sang-hoon's eyes darted around in confusion.

“I'm... pretty strong.”

His expression grew strangely blank.

He clearly didn't believe me.

Hmm.

I'd always thought he was annoyingly unreadable, but perhaps because he'd just woken up—or because exhaustion had finally cracked his poker face—I could actually tell what he was thinking.

“Want me to carry you again as a demonstration?”

“No thanks. I'll pass.”

“You survived death three more times while sleeping, actually. Seo-young was driving.”

I smoothly changed the subject.

Soon we were discussing how I needed to get my driver's license after returning to Busan, and before long I began unpacking dinner.

We'd bought sushi from the department store basement while shopping.

“Let's eat while we talk.”

“Sounds good.”

Back in university, the three of us had never once eaten together like this.

Life truly was unpredictable.

As I arranged the sushi across the dining table, Seo-young immediately began targeting the most expensive-looking pieces.

“Aren't you eating, Oppa?”

Unlike her, Sang-hoon merely picked at his food.

“I'll eat slowly. My stomach's been acting up lately.”

Definitely a problem.

“Oppa, have you tried treating it and failed? Or have you just been ignoring it?”

“The heartburn only happens occasionally—”

“And your insomnia looks chronic.”

“...Yeah.”

“I'm not trying to scold you! If you've already sought treatment, maybe I can help. Or at least we can figure it out together.”

“Oh.”

Sang-hoon's eyes widened slightly.

He'd looked like a child caught sneaking candy.

“You're going to prescribe something?”

“Of course. Though I'm sure there are plenty of excellent doctors around you.”

“Not really. Honestly, I'd appreciate it. I've been thinking I should do something, but I kept putting it off. I can't quit my job anyway, so I figured nothing would change.”

“The ability to withstand stress changes.”

Since the patient had agreed, we quickly finished dinner and gathered around the table again.

Ironically, prescriptions at my clinic were typed into a computer.

Spreading paper across a table like this reminded me of my student days studying in the Medical Pavilion.

“Already have a formula in mind?” Seo-young asked.

“I do, but I still need to examine him first.”

“True, true.”

Seo-young picked up a pen and wrote:

Chief Complaint

at the top of the page.

“Your main complaint is insomnia, obviously. What time do you sleep and wake up?”

“My bedtime varies... I have to be at work by five, so if I'm home, I wake up at four. If I'm on call, four-thirty.”

“Eek! What kind of hospital expects people to work those hours?”

“Your hospital is different?”

“We start at six!”

Even Imperial Korean Medicine Hospital sounded rough.

But a university hospital was on another level entirely.

“Then you sleep around four hours? You at least go to bed by midnight, right?”

“I usually fall asleep around two... if you count naps, maybe three or four hours total.”

“Do you have trouble falling asleep?”

“It takes about an hour. Then I wake up repeatedly. Day or night. Sometimes I can't even tell if I'm asleep or just lying there with my eyes closed.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“Falling asleep has always taken me a while. It got this bad after I started working at the hospital. Too many overnight shifts. I'm sleepy during the day and wide awake at night.”

I nodded slowly.

The collapse had already suggested it, but the condition was severe.

Without adequate sleep, the body had no opportunity to recover from either physical or mental stress.

“Have you ever passed out like this before?”

“No. This week was... unusually busy. I swapped shifts to attend the wedding and had a mountain of work from my professor. I practically didn't sleep.”

“You mean last night?”

“For about a week.”

Correction.

His working conditions were far worse than those at Imperial Korean Medicine Hospital.

How did anyone survive a week like that?

Good thing I didn't take that position.

If Professor Lee Min-seok had successfully persuaded me...

Just imagining it was horrifying.

Running a private clinic wasn't always easy, but at least I could eat and sleep when I wanted.

“You don't seem to have much appetite.”

“Now that you mention it, no. I never really noticed because I'm always rushing through meals.”

“Any digestive problems?”

“Yeah. Anything remotely spicy causes immediate heartburn. I get diarrhea too.”

As he spoke, Sang-hoon pointed beneath his sternum.

“Do you have epigastric fullness?”

I immediately focused on that detail.

The term literally meant "fullness beneath the heart."

A sensation of pressure beneath the solar plexus that felt uncomfortable but wasn't necessarily hard to the touch.

“...Ah. So that's what it's called.”

Sang-hoon pressed the area thoughtfully.

If it actually felt hard when pressed, it became a more severe condition known as epigastric hardness.

“Has this been around for a while?”

“My stomach wasn't exactly great even in school. But Hyun-neung kept dragging me out drinking...”

“Oof.”

As expected.

Illnesses rarely appeared out of nowhere.

Years of alcohol and stress had already laid the groundwork.

“Your face is slightly flushed too. Heat rising upward. Insomnia, poor appetite, heartburn, indigestion, diarrhea, epigastric hardness.”

I tapped the paper.

“I've got it.”

The major diagnostic points were all there.

And I'd found the core issue.

“Gui Pi Tang?”

Seo-young blurted out.

“Just because someone has insomnia and poor appetite doesn't automatically mean Gui Pi Tang.”

“But he's stressed! Isn't it overthinking? Then maybe Wen Dan Tang since the fullness is caused by phlegm?”

“There are more insomnia prescriptions than just Gui Pi Tang and Wen Dan Tang! Though between the two, Wen Dan Tang is closer.”

“Wow. You sound exactly like Professor Lee Min-seok.”

The two formulas she mentioned were famous insomnia treatments.

Gui Pi Tang was ideal for exhaustion caused by excessive thought and mental strain. Excellent for students and office workers. Especially effective when poor appetite accompanied palpitations.

Wen Dan Tang was much stronger and more excess-oriented.

It targeted phlegm-heat accumulation—patients who startled easily and suffered restless, vivid dreams.

Honestly, neither choice would have been terrible.

Sang-hoon's insomnia had persisted so long that deficiency and phlegm accumulation both existed.

Treating either would help his body begin recovering.

There were many roads to healing.

But...

Why take the scenic coastal highway when the expressway goes straight to Busan?

The best prescription was the one that restored health most efficiently.

Selecting the herbs most perfectly suited to the patient—that was the true skill of a physician.

“You're being distracted by the poor appetite. That's secondary. The real issue is the epigastric hardness. We need to unblock the obstruction first.”

“Ooh? Then what is Director Han Yeo-won's answer?”

Seo-young ceremoniously offered me the pen with both hands.

Sang-hoon also watched with interest.

“Don't overthink it.”

Taking the pen, I sketched a crude human figure on the paper and marked the area beneath the sternum.

“The picture is pretty obvious. You've been stressed since your student days. Your digestive system was already weak, whether because of alcohol or not.”

“Right.”

“At first, your body still had enough strength to recover through eating and sleeping. But after entering the hospital, your sleep became restricted by external factors. So the blockage kept growing, obstructing the body's flow.”

“Mm.”

“The key issue is right here.”

I tapped the marked spot.

“This hardened knot beneath the heart blocks communication between the upper and lower body. Heat accumulates above while cold gathers below. Heat rises to the head, causing insomnia. Cold settles in the abdomen, causing diarrhea.”

Therefore, treatment should follow the same logic.

If this were a frail elderly patient unable to tolerate dispersing treatments, I would combine it with tonics.

But no matter how exhausted he was...

Hwang Sang-hoon wasn't that far gone.

Beneath the drawing, I began writing herbs:

Pinellia.

Scutellaria.

Coptis.

Ginseng.

Dried Ginger.

Jujube.

Licorice.

Then I wrote the formula's name.

Banha Sasim Tang (Banxia Xiexin Tang).

“Ah!”

Seo-young clapped her hands.

“Xiexin... draining the center. Of course. Dispersion before tonification.”

Sang-hoon understood immediately as well.

Had this been a multiple-choice exam question, he would've gotten it right instantly.

But real-world prescribing was never that simple.