Bitter Reality

A steady rain fell as a man with black hair stood alone, his tears hidden by the downpour. Grief weighed heavily on his soul.

"My name is Li Tianming. I'm thirty-one and I live in Hangzhou. When I was fifteen, my parents died during a tragic Accident. I vowed then to become a doctor to spare others such pain."Because the Hospital they were admitted to had no experienced doctor for their proper surgery.

After their deaths, my uncle—my mother's elder brother, Joon Seo—became my guardian. He encouraged me every step of the way. Despite the long hours of study and endless nights working by lamplight, he gently lifted me to bed when I fell asleep at my desk. With his unwavering support and my relentless dedication, I finally graduated at twenty-six from one of Hangzhou's top medical universities—delayed only because I insisted on mastering every skill.

As a doctor, I have treated countless patients—always refusing to let them suffer without hope. One tense midnight stands out: A bloodied woman burst into the ER, clutching her injured child. I guided the mother to triage and focused on the girl, who coughed up blood. Deep gashes marred her back.

"Did we administer anesthesia?!" I snapped at the nurse.

The nurse hesitated. "I—I forgot. I was on a tense phone call."

"In a trauma case? Enough!" I barked. "Start it now!"

As the anesthesia took effect, the child whispered, "Uncle, don't save me…"

My heart plunged, but I pressed on. We stabilized her, and I chastised the nurse: "Follow protocol! Phones must be silent—no exceptions."

A bandaged woman burst in, her eyes wild. I asked, "Are you her mother?" She shook her head, then swayed forward. Gently, I steered her away and returned to the girl.

She was no more than eight—shaking, tears in her eyes. I placed a steady hand on her forehead. "It's okay. You're safe now." After a moment, I asked, "What happened?"

Through sobs, she said, "After Dad left, Mama snapped. She drank, grabbed a knife. I tried to run, but she slashed my back, beat me, and threw me out the window…"

My heart shattered.

I told her to hold still and rushed to find the woman. A scream erupted down the corridor. I ran and saw the girl motionless—she'd jumped from the third floor. Cradling her, I checked her pulse. She was gone.

I handed her to the staff and fled into the night, my tears lost in the rain. I went home early and rang my uncle's bell. He opened the door to find me soaked, hollow-eyed. He wrapped me in his arms as I collapsed. "I couldn't save her, Uncle," I sobbed.

He held me, and together we called the police. The investigation revealed the mother was a powerful corporate chairwoman. When she discovered we'd contacted the authorities, she launched a ruthless defamation campaign—calling my uncle a thug, a rapist, a murderer. Unable to bear the scandal, he hanged himself.

Rumors spread everywhere. He walked down the street, and a woman slapped him, sneering, "I never knew you were like this." As she walked away, she dismissed him coldly: "Don't ever look for me." She'd been the only reason my uncle stayed single—she'd promised they would marry once their dreams were fulfilled.

Even at the store, people stared as if he were a criminal. A child bumped into him, startling him, and whispers followed him down the aisles.

At home later, he heard a bang—the police. They arrested him and dragged him to the station. He spent a night there. The next day, the same woman from before bailed him out, saying, "This is your last warning—never show your face to me again." My uncle, Ji Woo, pleaded, "Please, just hear me out." She left without a word. On the walk home, people looked at him like he was poison.

I was away at a hospital in another city, performing emergency surgery. Two weeks later I returned to find his body—lifeless. A devastated despair washed over me as I held him, tears flowing freely.

At his funeral, I heard the cruel rumors firsthand. Rage lit a fire in me. My uncle—who had given so much—was broken by malicious lies.

Days later, while gazing at his photograph, a group of threatening men appeared. A woman in a dark suit stepped forward, her lips curled in a triumphant smirk.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

She replied coolly, "I caused all this."

I lunged at her—but her men restrained me. She pulled a knife, stabbing me twice in the stomach. As I collapsed, she whispered, "That was my child. What I did is none of your business." I spat, "You psycho. No wonder your husband left you." She nodded to her men. "Throw him off the hill."

…As blackness closed in, I heard two voices whisper: "My child…"

Then I opened my eyes to see unfamiliar faces, clad in old-fashioned garments. A man gently lifted me upright and spoke in a calm voice:

"His name shall be Namgung Seung."