It was an ordinary weekday in June of ‘98. Per usual, she was on her way to school at around 7:50 a.m.—with her bag slung on her shoulder and her lunch box held in one hand. Around her, the other children in Geumchon-dong had also begun to crowd the street leading to the main gate.

The energy was kind of low, though, because it rained hard the evening before. And even if it stopped before dawn, the sky was still overcast. So it was not at all surprising that the kids—and their parents, most likely—were lacking the enthusiasm to get out of bed.

Nine-year-old Hyo Rin was no exception. Throughout that ten-minute walk from home to Geumchon Elementary School, she had lost count of how many times she yawned. She was dragging her feet like a zombie—barely half-awake. Her morning started really slow, and she was guessing that the hours in class would feel longer than usual because of the gloomy weather.

Regardless, she wished for the sun to come out soon because the school fair was scheduled that week. And most importantly, they were supposed to have a quiz in Mathematics—a subject that required her undivided attention and double the luck.

Alas, if she remained as sleepy as she already was, the possibility of her getting halfway through it was zero to none.

Her mind had a slight jolt, however, when she noticed that one of the banners put up for the upcoming festivities was on the verge of falling from where it hung up on the lamp post.

The ropes holding the left corners must have gotten loose because of last night’s thunderstorm, which made it easier for the breeze to blow away the thick cloth. As a result, it swung down to the ground, blocking the view of an old man on a delivery motorcycle. He tried to avoid it, but failed. And in the second that followed, he began to swerve uncontrollably, blindly speeding downhill towards the direction of the boy walking ahead of her.

She immediately recognized him even when he was facing away from her. He was her classmate—her buddy since first grade.

Of course, Hyo Rin had half-a-brain to know not to run straight ahead and pull him out of the way. Nonetheless, considering that he was standing merely a couple of feet from her, her instinct ironically told her to do just that. So without thinking, she launched herself into a sprint and grabbed him by the hood of his jacket.

Fortunately, she was right on time to save the both of them. But the force she exerted was too strong, it left them stumbling on the rough asphalt floor—rolling until they were flat on their backs.

The driver came rushing towards them moments later, shouting hysterically. And it was Hyo Rin’s wake-up call.

She then tried to get up by bracing herself against the pavement. However, the instant she sat up, she felt nauseous. She had to squeeze her eyes shut in hopes that it would go away.

“Aish!” she hissed as the world continued to spin around her. “Why is—”

Her grumbling was interrupted by a stabbing ache in her skull. It was like her head was being split into two, and the excruciating pain left her groaning in agony on the ground.

“Your forehead!” the ahjussi gulped nervously. “Ahhh—hold on… W-we should take you both to the hospital!”

What the man said reminded her that she was not alone. Panic surged out of nowhere and rose straight to her chest, forcing her to open her eyes and search for the other kid.

She found him at once, and he was staring back at her with fear. He was clinging desperately onto her; she could actually feel his fingers digging into her forearm. There were visible gashes on his face too. But other than that, he looked alright.

Still, she asked him, “Are you okay…”

•••

“...Chang Hoon-ah?” Hyo Rin uttered in surprise. “Min Chang Hoon?”

Despite the possibilities, she was still doubtful that it was him for certain reasons.

One, the Min Chang Hoon she knew from her childhood never grew out his hair. He always sported a buzz cut, maintaining a quarter of an inch all the time. And he did this apparently to avoid the hassle of combing, styling…

Two, he was way shorter than the rest of the boys in class. Whenever they were asked to fall in line, he stood in front of everyone else—usually on the third or fourth spot. If her memory served her right, they were practically the same height.

Lastly, he was not good at school—not that he was stupid or anything. She could still recall how he was frequently caught by their teachers, hiding behind a book as he slept through classes with his face buried in his arms on top of his desk. He was basically awake during the first and last fifteen minutes only—if no one noticed. So it was pretty much understandable why he was barely getting passing scores.

Now, the Min Chang Hoon standing before her had a fine head of hair. He even had a fringe that covered his eyebrows, for chrissakes!

He was also towering over her; she was thinking that he was at least six-feet-one. Realistically speaking, it would take some massive growth spurt for her old friend to end up being this tall.

And he must have studied so hard in high school for him to get into medical school—let alone graduate and pass the physician licensure exam.

“Uhhh—no,” she said while frantically shaking her head. “You can’t be that Min Chang Hoon from Sangdang-gu.”

The person in question frowned at her comment and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Why? Is it because you thought that I wasn’t smart enough to be a doctor?” he asked.

“Partly?” she did not bother lying to him. “Looking back, my friend Chang Hoon-ie could not even memorize half of the skeletal system—and that’s just basic anatomy.”

“I had some challenges studying when we were kids, Hyo Rin-ah. But it was not because I was dumb.”

“I didn’t think you were dumb. Lazy, maybe?”

He laughed at her remark instead of being offended.

The instant his lips curved up, a dimple appeared on each of his cheeks. And that was when she noticed that the resemblance between the grown man and her classmate was uncanny.

“Wait…” she took a few steps to approach him. “Is it really you, Chang Hoon-ah?”

“Why do you seem so unconvinced?”

“Honestly, you don’t look anything like him, seonsaengnim.”

“Hmmm…” the doctor narrowed his eyes to squint at her, scowling as he contemplated on how to make her believe him. “Listen, Kwontokki. Other than your chingu, is there anyone else out there who knows that nickname of yours?”

At the mention of that old moniker again, she realized that he was probably telling the truth.

The guy who claimed that he was Min Chang Hoon must have noticed the change in her stance because he then closed the topic with a haughty shrug.

“Come on. Let’s get you something to eat,” he said, then quickly turned the other way to head out towards the exit.

Even after acknowledging that they were indeed the same person, she still could not absorb it. Too many reunions for one day, maybe? It was oddly fascinating.

She just stood there, watching the guy who was supposedly someone she knew from way back walk away. And he had to call her for the second time, beckoning her over rather impatiently.

“Seonsaeng—ya! Min Chang Hoon seonsaengnim!” she yelled back at him. “You said that I should be on a soft diet for two days, right?”

“I did. But I didn’t tell you to starve yourself,” he countered without halting on his tracks. “It should be okay, I promise. Besides, I know a place that serves the best dakjuk in town.”

“Even at this hour?”

“Yep!”

“Oh. Well…” she whispered to herself. “Dakjuk actually sounds nice.”

•••

If only it was open.

“Ahhh… I probably should have called first,” Chang Hoon mumbled as they both stood in front of the locked-up establishment.

Hyo Rin looked around to scan the vicinity and said, “Yeah. And this is a pork skin restaurant. How come they are selling dakjuk?”

“Trust me—the most delicious porridge in Seoul is served here,” he assured her. “And it’s served by request.”

“Do you own this place, by any chance?”

“No. But I am a regular since I live in the building behind it.”

“Ah.”

“Tough luck, it’s closed,” he sighed. “Anyway, convenience store it is then.”

He tipped his head to the left, wordlessly pointing to their next destination which was right around the corner. And strangely, she followed his lead without question.

Hyo Rin was trailing behind Chang Hoon as they walked through the narrow aisles, quietly watching him pick up random stuff from the shelves—including a bowl of instant ramyeon that happened to be her favorite.

“Uhhh… Can I eat noodles too?” she was twiddling her thumbs when she asked him.

He threw her a confused look and told her, “No.”

“It’s soft.”

“And it takes a while to get completely digested. Plus, the soup is a little too oily. It’s spicy—”

“So what am I supposed to eat now?” she complained, frowning as they moved along.

“White bread. Soda crackers,” he answered, taking one pack of each from the rack. “Fruits like apples, bananas…”

“Fine,” she groaned.

To that, he merely chuckled and said, “Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

“I never thought you were going to be one,” Hyo Rin casually told Chang Hoon later on.

By then, they were sitting side-by-side on those high stools facing the streets. She was still munching on her chicken sandwich—the best she could bargain for—while her companion just finished slurping the last of his big serving of jjamppong.

“Why?” he asked her. “Was the idea so far-fetched?”

She nodded, then clarified, “Because it seemed that studying wasn’t your thing before. You were merely winging it—no offense.”

“Don’t we all? I mean—we go through life by playing it by ear.”

“That’s true. But medical school isn’t something you could breeze through. It’s a burn-the-midnight-oil-and-lose-your-marbles sort of thing.”

He laughed and said, “It is, it is.”

“So… was this profession something you always aspired for?” she proceeded to probe. “I’m not being judgmental here, alright? Just curious.”

“Hmmm… not exactly. It was a pleasant surprise for me too.”

“Wow. You must have seriously prepared for the entrance exams.”

“And I was lucky that my grades in high school were better than the ones I got when we were little,” he added. “I guess a sudden change in environment made me appreciate studying more than I ever did in the past.”

“Oh, yeah. You had to leave mid-semester in fifth grade. Where did your family move to after Geumchon-dong?”

“Jeju-do.”

“That’s too far from home.”

“It’s a long story,” he told her with a polite smile. “What about you?”

“Me?” she chuckled dryly. “I work as an office assistant in an IT company and do some freelance jobs after hours. Nothing exciting, really.”

“On the contrary, there’s variety in what you do—which sounds exciting enough to me.”

“Pssh.”

“Has it allowed you to meet Son Ho Young?”

“Son Ho—oh!” she felt like blushing out of the blue. “Uhhh… no. Not yet.”

He shifted in his seat to stare at her, smirking.

“That’s a shame,” he teased her. “You always said that in the future, you would find a job that could give you an opportunity to interview g.o.d.”

“Or ‘follow them around without being sued’.”

“That too,” he agreed, grinning. “You still like him, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do!”

“The guy turned forty this year.”

“So what?” she was up in arms right away. “If you haven’t noticed, ahjussi, my bias is aging like fine wine.”

“And”—she dusted off her fingers and twisted in her seat a bit sideways to glare at him—“just so you know, I might see him one of these days because our new office is near the coffee shop he goes to.”

“No way.”

“Hah! You wish I was lying.”

The corners of her mouth turned up into a smug smile—as if a celebrity sighting was something to be proud of. Nevertheless, in spite of knowing how petty it was deep inside, she permitted herself to bask in the feeling for a while.

“Funny how you still remembered that and me,” Hyo Rin pondered aloud later on.

“Ah, well… I had a hunch that it was you when I read your name,” Chang Hoon replied. “The scar on your hairline is a dead giveaway too.”

Automatically, her hand flew to her forehead, absentmindedly patting her bangs to check if it had somehow magically disappeared and inadvertently revealed the blemish it was concealing.

Noticing her discomfort, he explained to her, “I caught a glimpse of it earlier when you brushed your hair up at the hospital out of frustration.”

“Oh,” she gasped, suddenly embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to eavesdrop.”

“I know.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

She shook her head and murmured, “It’s a long story.”

He only nodded in response. And it ushered in a kind of silence that was rather common to somewhat-strangers like them.

Until it was time to go.

“I’m truly sorry you went all the way here for nothing,” Chang Hoon said as they exchanged goodbyes right outside the convenience store. “I owe you a serving of dakjuk the next time you visit the ER.”

“Ugh! No… please. No more episodes of gastroenteritis,” Hyo Rin pleaded to the heavens. “I can take you up on your offer without that. In the first place, I don’t have to have stomach flu to crave for chicken porridge.”

“Good to know that.”

“And thank you again for the free consultation.”

“No big deal. That’s the least I could do for the person who saved me,” he told her. “I wish I could do more, though.”

She waved her hand to politely reject his offer, mumbling, “Oh, come on. Anybody would have done what I did…”

“That’s not true. For most humans, their instinct would instruct them to flee from danger.”

“Perhaps, I’m part of the minority then.”

“Perhaps,” he concurred, smiling. “Anyhow… just keep in mind that you have a ‘Save Me’ card, okay?”

“A ‘Save Me’ card?”

“Yep. Pull that out when you need my help—even with something big.”

“Really, huh?”

“I’m serious. Let’s say that the interest for your good deed has accumulated over the years.”

“Oooh… I can ask for your help with anything?”

He deliberated over it for a bit, then answered, “For as long as it would not get me sued, imprisoned, injured, or dead.”

“Ah…” she cocked her brow at him—which was a futile effort to hide her amusement.

As if to prove it to her, he pulled out a pen and a pad of sticky notes from his bag to scribble something.

“Here you go,” he said after handing the folded paper to her.

The absurdity of it all made her giggle. Yet, she still opened it like it was a Christmas present.

And there, written in the center, were the words ‘Save me, Chang Hoon-ah!’ along with his contact number.

“Thank you, seonsaengnim,” she mused while stashing the token inside her wallet for the interim. “I shall keep you in mind if and when I’ll be needing a lifeline.”

•••

The smile on Hyo Rin’s face faded once the car she booked to take her home started to gain speed. The solitude was distracting, and she stared out the window with her chin resting on her palm as she got lost in her own thoughts. Whatever vibrance her unprecedented meeting with a childhood friend drew out in her seemed to be sucked in by the fleeting images of the buildings and stores they drove past—until nothing was left.

Except for a grim feeling that made her gut churn.

The end of an era had come, she thought; it was time for her to move again.