By the middle of the semester, the university hospital had become as familiar to Seo Do-hyun as the lecture halls on campus.

The once-intimidating maze of corridors no longer felt confusing. He knew which elevators were always crowded during visiting hours, which hallways led to the outpatient clinics, and which vending machine served the least bitter coffee after a long day of practical training. The hospital had become another classroom, one where every patient, doctor, and nurse had something to teach.

That morning, Professor Han assigned the students to shadow physicians in different departments.

"As always," he reminded them before dismissing the group, "your responsibility is to observe, not interfere. Pay attention to how doctors communicate with patients. Medical knowledge is important, but knowledge alone doesn't make someone a good physician."

Do-hyun nodded along with the rest of the class before following the attending physician assigned to his group.

The hours passed quickly.

They observed consultations with patients suffering from chronic illnesses, watched physicians explain treatment plans to anxious families, and listened as experienced doctors answered the same questions with patience, no matter how many times they had heard them before.

Do-hyun filled several pages of notes, though they contained very little about medicine itself.

Instead, he found himself writing observations such as:

Maintain eye contact while explaining difficult news.

Avoid using technical language when speaking to patients.

Allow silence when emotions are overwhelming.

They were details no textbook could properly teach.

By the time the observation session ended, the hospital had grown noticeably busier.

Doctors hurried between departments while visitors wandered the corridors searching for unfamiliar rooms. The constant ringing of telephones blended with the distant beeping of medical equipment, creating a rhythm unique to hospitals.

Do-hyun excused himself from his classmates, intending to return to campus for the afternoon lecture.

As he rounded a corner near the outpatient clinic, he noticed an elderly man standing alone in front of a directory map.

The man adjusted his glasses before looking back and forth between a folded appointment slip and the signs hanging from the ceiling. His brows remained tightly knitted together, as though each glance only made him more confused.

Several people walked past him without stopping.

Do-hyun hesitated for only a moment before approaching.

"Excuse me," he said gently. "Do you need any help?"

The elderly man looked up, visibly relieved.

"Ah... I'm sorry to trouble you."

"It's alright."

The man held out the appointment slip with slightly trembling hands.

"They told me to go to the cardiology clinic, but I've walked in circles for nearly twenty minutes. These old eyes aren't what they used to be."

Do-hyun accepted the paper and glanced at the room number.

"The clinic is on the third floor."

"I thought so too," the man admitted with an embarrassed laugh, "but somehow I ended up back here."

"I can take you there."

"Oh, no, no. You're a student, aren't you? I don't want to make you late."

"I still have some time."

The man smiled gratefully.

"If you're sure."

They began walking together toward the elevators.

The elderly man moved carefully, relying on a wooden cane that clicked softly against the polished floor with every step. His pace was slow enough that other visitors occasionally walked around them, but Do-hyun didn't rush him.

Instead, he adjusted his own pace without thinking.

"You study here?" the man asked after a while.

"Yes."

"Medicine?"

Do-hyun nodded.

"I'm in my third year."

The man's eyes brightened.

"That's wonderful. We need more young people willing to become doctors."

Do-hyun offered a polite smile.

"I'm still learning."

"Aren't we all?" the man chuckled.

When the elevator doors opened, they stepped inside together.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The elderly man quietly watched the floor numbers change before glancing toward Do-hyun again.

"You must have worked very hard to get here."

"I suppose so."

"Medical school isn't easy."

"No."

The man smiled to himself.

"My grandson wanted to study medicine once."

"Wanted to?"

"He changed his mind."

There was no disappointment in the man's voice.

"He said becoming a teacher suited him better."

"And how did your family react?"

"We were surprised at first."

He laughed softly.

"But seeing how happy he became... I realized I cared more about his smile than the title written on his business card."

Do-hyun remained silent.

The elevator chimed as the doors opened onto the third floor.

They continued walking toward the cardiology clinic until they reached the reception desk.

"This is the right place," Do-hyun said.

The elderly man's shoulders visibly relaxed.

"Oh, thank goodness."

He turned toward Do-hyun and bowed his head slightly.

"Thank you for taking the time to help an old man."

"It wasn't any trouble."

"You'll make a fine doctor."

The compliment came so naturally that Do-hyun barely knew how to respond.

"Thank you."

The elderly man smiled warmly before asking one final question.

"Tell me..."

He rested both hands atop his cane.

"Is becoming a doctor your dream?"

The words were spoken so casually that they almost escaped notice.

Without thinking, Do-hyun answered.

"Yes."

The response left his mouth almost automatically.

It was the answer he had given teachers, relatives, neighbors, and strangers countless times over the years.

The elderly man's smile widened.

"I thought so."

"There was something in your eyes when you helped me just now."

He gave another grateful bow.

"I hope your dream comes true."

With that, he turned and slowly walked toward the reception desk.

Do-hyun stood where he was for a few seconds before quietly making his way back toward the elevators.

His feet moved on their own, but his thoughts remained behind.

Is becoming a doctor your dream?

He replayed the conversation in his mind.

The answer had come so quickly.

So naturally.

Almost instinctively.

Yet the more he thought about it, the stranger it felt.

Had he answered because it was true?

Or because he had grown so accustomed to saying it that he no longer questioned the words?

He stepped into the descending elevator.

His reflection stared back at him from the polished metal doors.

For years, whenever someone had asked about his future, he had responded with complete certainty.

"I want to become a doctor."

Only recently had that certainty begun to crack.

It wasn't that he disliked medicine.

He respected it.

He admired the doctors who devoted their lives to helping others.

He wanted to become competent enough that his future patients could trust him.

But admiration wasn't the same as a dream.

The realization unsettled him.

By the time he reached the ground floor, he found himself wondering something he had never considered before.

If that elderly man had asked him the same question five years ago...

Would his answer have been any different?

He wasn't sure.

And somehow, not knowing disturbed him more than any examination ever had.