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Kang grew up in a poor but close-knit family. His mother was a cleaner, his father a taxi driver. Money was tight, but his parents did everything they could to ensure his education. With difficulty, Kang entered medical school, specializing in cardiovascular surgery. Jun was in his year—a head taller, with a raspy voice, a strict character, and a strong sense of discipline. They rarely interacted, but both were top students.

Five years had passed since graduation. Both worked as cardiac surgeons and performed complex heart surgeries at the country's leading center. That day, Kan was the last one out of the operating room. The patient had died. Kan removed his gloves and sat on the cold floor against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest. He rested one hand on his forehead, his head bowed heavily, and stared into space.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t care,” Jun’s hoarse voice sounded nearby.

Kan remained silent.

"Mistake?" June asked.

— No. We did everything according to protocol. But he died.

Jun sat down next to him and stared ahead in silence for a few seconds.

"You knew where you were going," he said coldly. "Don't be a whiner."