Jung tightened the last screw in the restored industrial fan, and then he admired his work. He had worked out a side business with old man Hyunki, and the junkshop is now hosting a weekly garage sale every Sunday to sell newly overhauled appliances. Jung simply finds items in the junk that can still be restored by simply cleaning and replacing defective parts with other parts found in the junk shop. It is slowly gaining a reputation for selling quality products. The only thing Jung didn’t like is the fact that old man Hyun-ki absolutely forbids him to give any warranty, and if the item breaks down after a sale, he is not allowed to fix the item.
“But why?! It is not a bother to me; I’ll make the time myself,” Jung whined to him when he gave the policy.
“It has nothing to do with that, you dimwit! "Hyun-ki said, exasperated. “If you give any form of warranty, then other sellers in town and nearby places will get a hold of this place, and that will spell trouble for both of us! We are selling junk; that’s it! If people want to buy junk, then that's on them, but if you give a warranty, then that is a perfectly quality product that is not taxed or regulated by the government; therefore, we are now bootlegging items. That is black marketing. Do you want me to spell Gulag for you?! ”
Jung swallowed his bile. “Oh.”
“Yeah, Oh! ”
"I'll make a deal with you."
"I will never make a deal with you ever again!" Hyun Ki said, cutting him off. "I still remember our first deal, and I learned my lesson."
Sighing, Jung shook his head to dispel the memory and, with one hand, dragged the electric appliance to the next room where Jung stored his finished products that they would sell at the end of the week. According to their agreement, old man Hyun-ki gets 70 percent of all revenue, and Jung gets the other 30 percent. Why? Because the old man owns the tools and spare parts needed to fix the damn things. To the old man, Jung only provides the labor.
Jung didn’t mind since he is earning a lot more than he expected, and he is proud that he is now independently paying for the monthly gas kerosene that his family needs to cook food.
Jung stretched his back and gazed at the office's wall clock. It's now 6:02 p.m. Jung came here after lessons and worked for about two and a half hours. He is mostly alone in the workplace at this hour because the old man left around 3 p.m. There are occasionally late youngsters peddling their recycled trash, and Jung takes care of them, but today was a calm day.
Jung began cleaning the junkshop's little office. It took the old man four months to trust him enough to leave the shop in his skilled hands, despite the fact that the old bastard has more "important things" to do. It took Jung an entire year before he learned that the “important thing” was gambling in the nearby cockfighting tent outside the town.
In any case, Jung is grateful for the trust and feels wanted at work. Because of that, he worked even harder.
Jung closed the junk shop while whistling an unknown, forgotten tune as he headed home. It was a long day, and he promised his mom that he would go home early today.
He was 2 or 3 streets away when his keen eyes noticed an old woman coming out of her home, distressed all over her face. Jung tensed. Despite the prevalence of gangs and lone muggers, the streets of Guanzu are generally safe, but the quiet blackness of the ordinary street, especially at night, feels threatening because many of the light posts lining the streets do not operate.
“Help!! Somebody, help!" A woman yelled.
Jung never considers himself much of an altruistic person. If he sees an argument between men, normally he will steer clear of them. An outnumbered person getting bullied by a group or a female being abused right in front of him will get a second glance, of course. But a helpless grandma asking for help is his total kryptonite. An old woman whose features will remind any westerners of tweety bird’s owner came hobbling out of a nearby house. Jung’s feet were already jogging towards her even before she finished her call for help.
“What’s wrong, Halmeoni? "Jung said, stopping right in front of the old lady. The grandma was startled for a moment since she didn’t see Jung on the dark night, but she recovered quickly. “My husband! He is having a hard time breathing. I don’t know what to do! ”
Jung’s demeanor changed the moment he learned of the problem. This is now an emergency matter. “Where? "Jung asked, but then he turned to the house the grandma came from and did not wait for her answer when he strove towards her door. The grandma followed him quickly while ringing her hands.
As he walked, Jung started asking pertinent questions, like, Did this happen to him before? Is he taking any medications? How old is her husband?
The husband was sitting on a nearby sofa, turning pale as he clutched his heart. He looks at Jung with a scared face, and Jung’s own has turned grim. Without saying anything, Jung leaned over the old man and ripped his polo shirt in the hope that he could breathe easier. Jung felt for his pulse, although he didn’t know why. It was erratic at best.
“You said your husband was taking medicine before. Do you still have any? ”
The despair in Grandma's face almost broke Jung’s heart. "Yes, he has been taking medicine before, but the stubborn old fool stopped taking it because it was so expensive. We don’t have any in the house.”
Jung nodded in understanding. For most peasants in rural areas, they could not afford to follow a doctor’s prescription. A medicine for twice a day becomes a once-a-day endeavor. Then it becomes half a tablet a day. Then the tablet is cut into four portions.
“How about any aspirin? "Jung asked instead.
The grandma jumped. “Oh! Yes, we have some! ," she said, and then she left them as she went to their bedroom. Jung almost stood up to help her because, despite the situation, the grandma was making the cutest energetic shuffling as she hurried towards their room.
Jung sighed, then returned his attention to the husband. First, Jung opened his status screen and upgraded his first-aid skills. He needed all the help he could get to help this man. Unfortunately, he only has 4 skill points left. Like many of his unused skills, the “First Aid” skill is only level 1. Also, it is a specialist skill.
Congratulations!
You have upgraded the specialist skill “First Aid” to level 2.
You instinctively know what to do in order to stabilize a patient. Your very presence prolonged the life of a seriously injured patient, but still, without the proper cure and tools to heal them, they will still perish in the end.
Requirements: WIS 1, INT 1 (requirement met)
Current level: 2
Needed skill points to upgrade to the next level: 3
Remaining Skill Points: 2
He gasped as years of book knowledge and hard experience rushed into his brain about first-aid know-how. He is getting used to it. Sometimes the skill upgrade barely touched him, but sometimes it staggered him as his brain felt it was getting an aneurysm from the sudden rush of data within him. This time, it was slightly above average in terms of pain, but Jung mastered it quickly enough. This is not the time to get distracted.
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Jung swiped away the messages from the system and then checked the old man’s breathing and then his pulse again. Both are erratic. Somehow, Jung suddenly knew how to accurately measure such things with his senses alone. However, besides that, he has no idea how to interpret any of the accumulated medical information he just received, except in very general terms.
Within half a minute, the grandma came back with a small bottle of aspirin. Jung grabbed a few pills and then looked around the house.
There is an old-edition magazine on the low table, and Jung grabbed it. He tore a page out and placed about 2 or 3 pills in it, then he folded it. Using the nearby glassware he suspected the old man was drinking from, Jung used that to grind the tablets into powder under the folded paper. The pills were broken into smaller pieces, and a portion of them became powdery. Jung created a funnel with another page of the magazine by rolling it up and then placing it in front of the old man’s mouth. “Swallow! ” was all he said as he poured the grinded aspirin into the mouth of the old guy. The patient quickly obeyed. A few more gulps and coughing later, he ingested all of it.
Jung spent another few seconds checking the old man’s vitals, such as his temperature, but nothing more happened except that he was turning bluer. Jung made his decision. He turned to Grandma grimly, whose lower lips were already trembling. She looked so small, old, and fragile in front of him while she kneeled down, her hands pinned to her chest.
“We need to bring him to the clinic,” Jung said with finality. “I’m going to carry him there. You need to grab things here that he might need and then follow us. I-“
“No! "The grandma said with sudden strength. “I won’t leave him! Please! I will come with you.”
“You won’t be able to keep up. What if something happens to you? ”
“Nothing will happen to me! Now, stop arguing and carry my husband to the clinic!”
Both are locals and knew that the small town could not maintain its very own hospital. The closest medical facility available is the small clinic in the middle of the town. By foot, it is at least 2 miles away. That means it would take 30–45 minutes to cover that ground. If they jogged and ran all the way, then it might take 20 minutes. Jung wanted to argue some more, but the stubborn eyes of the old woman, etched with hidden fear, convinced him that it would be a futile effort and that the old lady would not budge. So, with a grunt, Jung stood up and carried the older man in a bridal carry. Jung carefully navigated his patient out of the door and into the gate beyond. He took special care not to bump his head or feet in the narrow corridors. The old man was heavy, but Jung developed lean muscles a long time ago from continuous exercise and hard work. The weight didn't bother him.
When he was out of the building, Jung started to sprint. Only to stop seconds later, when he saw through his senses, the grandma waddling forward in a hurry to catch him. In another setting and situation, he would have smiled because the little old lady looked so cute hurrying like that, but Jung is more concerned that the lady might get her own heart attack if she continues to force herself forward.
Cursing, Jung adjusted his angle of carry until the old man was in a modified fireman's carry. This freed his other hand, and he sprinted back to the house and, like a puppy, carried Grandma under his arm.
Then he ran.
Jung has the running skill at level 9 now. On top of that, he has two specialist skills called “Running Man," which give him another 30% extra stamina and speed on top of his running upgrade. Then the skill “Second Tank “prolonged his stamina consumption even if he went all out.
It took Jung a moment to realize that the old grandma was screeching like a banshee in his arms. Curiously, her hands are in a superman pose, as her entire body was in Jung’s arm, and he sprinted in the paved streets. There was no time to check on her, and all Jung can do is continue hurrying towards the clinic.
Jung knew where the clinic was because he’d been there before, and although it was a long time ago, the town changed very, very slowly. He visited the place because some women’s communist groups organized a relief program for some western provinces that got hit by the flood. That happened when Jung was 9 years old. His mom was a volunteer, and they delivered some old clothes packages in a donation box and left them in the clinic. Jung, and thankfully, his parents have never been in a serious sickness or accident to warrant visiting the clinic. Any small sickness, like coughing or a cold, is something Jung takes care of himself with herbal remedies.
It took Jung exactly 6 minutes to reach the clinic, but, to his dismay, the lights inside the clinic are already closed. Jung dropped the old lady to her feet as gently as he could, but the little grandma was still wobbly. Then he banged at the door gate several times, asking for a doctor. Then he set the husband in a nearby plastic seat. The old man wasn’t looking good, but he was at least still conscious. Jung banged at the door again while screaming for help. He checked on the grandma and guided her to a seat next to her husband.
On paper, North Korea’s health system is near perfect. They may not have the desired number of doctors, but they have one of the highest numbers of medical support personnel in the world. They have an adequate number of beds per 1000 patients and an intricate interconnection of hospitals and clinics that are working with complete efficiency. In reality, however, the system is rather, er, ... efficiency challenge. Even major hospitals have no access to modern medical diagnostic tools, and with the constant brownouts even in the capital, the tools that they do have are susceptible to questionable maintenance readiness. On the outskirts of major cities and industrial complexes, most Koreans rely on clinics with hard-working personnel to deal with their medical needs. It is said that if a clinic decides to transfer you to the major hospitals, then you are as good as dead.
Jung was about to bang at the door again when the lights turned on and a woman in her thirties came out, annoyed. “Why, in the ancestors’ name, are you banging at my door like a lunatic at this hour?! I should-" the woman said, but stopped abruptly when she noticed the old couple in the chair.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but Yeong-gam is sick!" Jung said animatedly.
The woman glared at Jung but walked outside nonetheless to see who was with him. “Mrs. Lee!" the woman said, surprise in her voice as she leaned towards the old woman.
The relief in Grandma's face was so palpable. It was hard to tell her that the danger was not yet over. “Doctor Han! Something is wrong with my husband! Please take care of him, I beg you!”
Doctor Han has shoulder-length hair that, for some reason, she tied in a double ponytail behind her that looks cute to her, despite her stern face and no-nonsense attitude. She is shorter than Jung, but she carried her authority with such ease that Jung couldn’t help but obey.
Only then did Jung notice the stethoscope around the woman’s neck, and she is using it now to check the older man’s vitals. Jung suddenly blurted out what he knew. He rattled out the patient’s temperature, pulse rate, heart rate, and respiration rate five minutes ago. For a moment, the new woman, a doctor, if Jung needed to guess, simply looked at him for a moment, then she suddenly stood up.
“What is your name? "She demanded.
“Kim Jung-Hee, Doctor! ”
Well, I’m Doctor Han Soyeon,” she said curtly. “Can you carry the patient inside? ”
Jung didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he easily scooped the older man again in a bridal carry and followed the doctor inside the clinic, with the grandma shuffling closely behind. No one questions how easily Jung carried the old man, as if he only weighed like a feather, despite the obvious fact that the old man outweighed Jung at least twice. Hell, his wife would testify that her husband’s gut alone is already a hundred pounds, give or take.
The female doctor opened the door to her clinic wide, and Jung barged in. He found a medical table, and Jung placed the husband on top of it quickly but carefully. Jung explained that he gave him some aspirin.
“Are you a doctor?! "Soyeon, the doctor, asked in annoyance.
“No, ma’am.”
“Then don’t do something like that again when you are not sure! "The doctor was preparing an injection of some kind, and Jung kept his mouth shut. It was an emergency, Jung wanted to say, and he wanted to do something remotely helpful at the time. But then again, there is no productive reason to argue with the doctor. So he kept his mouth shut.
Then the patient started convulsing, and Jung had to hold him down. The old man was surprisingly strong, and Jung had a hard time keeping him in place. The wife sobs nearby, and Jung doesn’t dare look at her. “Hold him! ," the doctor said as she injected something into his arm. The old man subsided eventually, but it didn’t stop the intensity of the doctor’s stare at her patient. Jung knew that the patient was still in trouble.
For some reason, the doctor felt the need to explain what she was doing to Jung. “This is nitro-glycerin; it will help widen the blood vessels. It helps improve the blood flow into the heart. I’ll use two pockets for now and give more in the next 15 minutes if nothing happens.”
In a controlled panic, the doctor gave Jung several things to do, like connecting the tubes she injected in the old man’s body to a nearby monitoring machine. Jung has to balance the saline solution on top of the guy’s head until the doctor places a nearby medical stand to hook the solution into. The beeping noise in the machine was just starting when the flat line tone began.
Jung cursed under his breath. Without any hesitation, the doctor climbed up the patient and started CPR on the dying husband. The wife sobbed even louder. Jung wanted to comfort the old lady, but he felt the doctor would need him. And he was right. After 30 seconds, the doctor called him.
“Do you know CPR? ”
With his level 2 First Aid skill, Jung is at least confident in that. “Yes,” he said simply.
“Then take over,” the doctor said. “I need to apply the ambu bag over his face to help him breathe.”
Jung quickly climbed over the medical table and straddled the old man, and then, without any need to tell him to start, Jung did CPR. He did a powerful compression, rhythmically and steadily. He leaned with his entire weight in the compression, and he was afraid for a moment that he might crack a rib or something. He did that continuously for another minute or so, but Jung felt it was like a lifetime, and then the monitor’s dead tone stopped out of nowhere, informing them that the heart beat returned on its own. Both Jung and the doctor gave a sigh of relief.
The doctor injected another drug using the tubes. “This is thrombolytic. We call it the clot buster. It helps break up blood clotting in the veins that are blocking the blood flow to the heart.”
Despite the situation, Jung asked questions after questions about the drugs, what other options are available, how much dosage you give an average patient, etc.
The doctor answered every question Jung asked, and the young man realized that it was the doctor’s way to cope with the emergency by going into lecture mode. A screen popped up in front of Jung, but he quickly swiped it away without looking. There is no time for the system right now. He still needed to keep checking the monitor for any danger. The worst possible condition at this point is brain damage, but the old man lost oxygen for only a minute or so, so Jung is relatively sure that the chances for that are negligible. He hoped.
It was anti-climatic in the end, but Jung smiled when the doctor explained after 20 minutes of monitoring that the husband is out of danger for now, and the wife sobbed gratefully. Jung was surprised when the old lady hugged him. Jung can feel the lady trembling in her old bones, and with a sad smile, Jung hugged her back with one arm and just patted the small woman in the head with the other.
Thirty minutes later, Jung helped the older woman return home and grabbed a few essentials since they agreed that the husband needed to stay in the clinic at least overnight but, more than likely, a few more days, just to monitor his well-being. The old lady returns twice to her house since she needs a lot of things if she has to guard her husband in the clinic. Jung was forced to carry blankets, pillows, chairs, hygiene bags, extra clothes, and other things the wife felt she needed to be comfortable in the clinic. Once, Jung noticed 2 men loitering around as they walked back to the clinic. They were eyeing the grandma, but they uncomfortably walked away when Jung glared at them and emitted a dangerous aura back at them. When the house is locked down and the grandma is comfortably situated at the clinic, Jung said his goodbyes at 9:08 p.m. in the evening.
He ran fast in the dark as he made his way into the forest to get back home. His level 8 "Seeing" skill made it easy for him to navigate the dark.
His mother did not believe his excuses when he arrived at 9:26, and he was whacked in the buttocks numerous times with his mother's dreaded weapon, the slippers, for being late and breaking his promise to her to go home early.
"Helping a grandma, my ass!" yelled Jin Ae.
Sniffling sadly, he rubbed his sore butt as he returned to his bed. The very thought of rebelling and being angry about unfairness or such nonsense didn’t even occur to Jung. His mother is the queen of the house, and her law is the law of the land. And her judgment is final. When she makes a decision, that decision is final, and there is no such thing as an appeal; all you have to do is accept it and endure the punishment before moving on with your life.
Even so, as he lay in bed, he thought he did well today. It is not every day that he saves a life. Gradually, his smile returned to his face. He whispered to himself, “Good job, Jung Hee.”
And then he closed his eyes and slept like a baby.