Chapter 2: Expectations

The rhythm of medical school settled back into place almost as soon as the semester began. By the time the second day arrived, the brief excitement of returning to campus had already faded, replaced by the familiar pressure of lectures, assignments, and the quiet understanding that there would never seem to be enough hours in the day.

Seo Do-hyun walked through the university gates with the same steady pace he always did. Students hurried past him carrying cups of coffee, some laughing loudly while others frantically reviewed notes before class. Conversations drifted through the cool morning air, ranging from weekend plans to complaints about the workload that had already begun piling up.

He listened without really listening.

By the time he reached the lecture hall, nearly half the seats were occupied. As usual, he chose the same seat he had been using since the beginning of the semester—not because he particularly liked it, but because routine was comforting. It eliminated unnecessary decisions, allowing him to focus on the things that mattered.

He unpacked his notebook, arranged his pens neatly on the desk, and opened yesterday's lecture notes. Before long, the pages were filled with additional annotations and neatly highlighted passages.

"You really don't know how to take a break, do you?"

The familiar voice made him glance up.

Min-jun slid into the chair beside him, balancing a cup of iced coffee in one hand while suppressing a yawn.

"I was just reviewing yesterday's material," Do-hyun replied.

"Reviewing?" Min-jun leaned over to glance at the notebook before letting out a defeated laugh. "You've practically rewritten the entire lecture."

"I remember things better if I organize them."

"I wish my brain worked like yours."

Do-hyun smiled politely, though he wasn't sure how to respond. People often assumed studying came naturally to him, but they rarely saw the hours behind it. They didn't see the late nights, the endless repetition, or the quiet fear of falling behind.

The conversation ended as Professor Kim entered the lecture hall carrying a stack of slides and reference books. Within seconds, the room fell silent.

Today's lecture focused on pathology.

For nearly two hours, Professor Kim explained the mechanisms behind various diseases, occasionally pausing to ask questions that kept everyone alert. The projector illuminated diagrams of damaged organs and microscopic tissue samples while students hurried to copy every important detail before the next slide appeared.

Do-hyun's pen moved steadily across the page.

He wasn't the fastest note-taker in the room, nor was he trying to record every word. Instead, he listened carefully, identifying the ideas that mattered most before rewriting them in a way that would make sense when he reviewed them later. It was a habit he had developed long before entering medical school, one that had carried him through countless examinations.

By the time the lecture ended, several classmates had gathered around his desk.

"Can I borrow your notes later?" one of them asked.

"I missed the explanation about inflammatory responses."

"So did I," another admitted. "Your notes are easier to understand than the professor's slides."

Do-hyun nodded without hesitation.

"Of course."

Helping his classmates had become another part of his routine. It wasn't something he gave much thought to anymore.

After a short break, the class moved to the anatomy laboratory.

The atmosphere changed the moment they stepped inside.

Bright overhead lights reflected against rows of stainless steel tables, while the faint scent of disinfectant lingered in the cool air. Shelves lined the walls, filled with anatomical models, preserved specimens, and textbooks that had seen years of use. Even the students who were usually the loudest instinctively lowered their voices.

Professor Lee greeted them with a calm smile before beginning the practical lesson.

"Understanding anatomy isn't simply about passing examinations," she said as she adjusted a skeletal model beside her. "Every structure you learn today will eventually help you understand the human body standing in front of you. Someday, someone's life may depend on the knowledge you're building here."

The class separated into small groups, each assigned to a different workstation.

Do-hyun carefully examined the model in front of him while discussing muscle attachments and nerve pathways with his teammates. His movements were precise, his explanations concise, and whenever someone struggled to identify a structure, he patiently guided them through it without making them feel embarrassed.

"You should become a professor someday," one classmate joked after he correctly answered another of Professor Lee's questions.

"Or a surgeon," another added. "You barely look nervous during practicals."

Do-hyun simply smiled.

"I still have a lot to learn."

It was an honest answer.

No matter how much he studied, there always seemed to be another textbook waiting, another lecture to prepare for, another skill to master.

When the afternoon practical finally ended, everyone headed toward the university cafeteria together.

Compared to the quiet concentration of the laboratory, the cafeteria felt lively. Trays clattered against tables, conversations overlapped with laughter, and the aroma of freshly prepared meals filled the room.

Do-hyun joined a table with several classmates, grateful for the brief opportunity to rest before the afternoon's independent study session.

As they ate, the conversation gradually shifted away from classes.

"So," Min-jun began, setting down his chopsticks, "have any of you decided what specialty you want after graduation?"

"I have," a student across the table answered almost immediately. "Neurosurgery. I've wanted to become a neurosurgeon ever since high school."

Someone beside him nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm leaning toward pediatrics. I've always liked working with children."

"I think I'd rather go into research," another classmate said. "There are still so many diseases we don't fully understand. I'd like to contribute to finding better treatments."

One by one, everyone shared the future they imagined for themselves.

Some spoke with absolute confidence, while others admitted they were still deciding between different fields. Even those who hadn't made up their minds talked with excitement about the possibilities waiting for them after graduation.

Do-hyun listened quietly as the conversation moved around the table until, eventually, every pair of eyes settled on him.

"What about you, Do-hyun?" Min-jun asked. "You've got the grades to go into almost any specialty. If you could choose, what would you want to become?"

The question was simple.

Simple enough that everyone else had answered without hesitation.

Yet Do-hyun found himself unable to respond.

He lowered his gaze toward his lunch, absentmindedly moving a grain of rice across the tray with his chopsticks while searching for an answer.

Surgeon.

Pediatrician.

Researcher.

Emergency physician.

None of the possibilities stirred anything inside him.

Not because he disliked them, but because he had never truly imagined himself becoming any of them.

The silence stretched just long enough for Min-jun to tilt his head.

"Do-hyun?"

He looked up and offered the only answer he had.

"My parents wanted me to study medicine."

There was no bitterness in his voice, nor any trace of embarrassment.

It was simply the truth.

"They believed becoming a doctor would give me a stable future," he continued. "So... I studied medicine."

The table fell quiet.

His classmates exchanged brief glances, uncertain whether to continue the conversation.

After a moment, Min-jun spoke again, his voice softer than before.

"But what do you want?"

The question settled heavily in Do-hyun's chest.

He opened his mouth, intending to answer, but no words came.

It wasn't because he wanted to keep his dreams private.

It was because, for the first time in his life, he realized he didn't have an answer.

As he looked around the table, he saw classmates whose eyes shone whenever they spoke about the futures they wanted to build. Their dreams were different, but they all had one thing in common.

They had chosen them for themselves.

Do-hyun quietly lowered his gaze.

Until that moment, it had never occurred to him that he had spent twenty-four years living according to someone else's dream.

And somehow...

He had never stopped to ask what his own looked like.