The Forest Service distributed the gear to the competing hospitals. Each team received two backpacks with sleeping equipment, a diagnostic kit, a tablet PC, and trekking poles, among other necessities.
The system was simple: a photo of a fully treated tree, taken with the tablet, was sent to the judges. This round was a race against the clock. The key was to diagnose and treat the trees with speed and precision.
“Seo Tae-joon, let’s go. Time to get ready.” Ji-woo shouldered her pack and tapped Seo Tae-joon, who was hunched over a map. He didn’t so much as blink, his eyes tracing every contour line and symbol.
A small drone buzzed overhead as the timer on their tablet began its countdown. With a final glance toward the team from Me Tree Hospital, Ji-woo set off in the opposite direction.
Her spirits sank as she took in the grim state of the forest. Broken trees were everywhere. The scars from last year’s landslide ran deep across the mountainside, the ground a treacherous mix of loose rock and stripped bark. Their boots quickly became caked in mud, and the murky, overcast weather made it feel as if they were trekking through a wasteland.
“Looks like we have our work cut out for us today.”
“…”
Ji-woo tilted her head. Seo Tae-joon hadn’t said a word since they entered the forest. A profound seriousness had settled over him, a sharp-edged sensitivity she’d never seen before. His unusual intensity put her on edge as well.
“What is it?”
“…”
“Are you not feeling well? Is your head bothering you?”
A dry smile touched Seo Tae-joon’s lips. “You’ve always been so concerned about my head.”
“Pardon?”
“Back at the drug farm. When I was taking a beating, do you remember what you said?”
She couldn’t recall the details clearly. She’d been running on pure adrenaline.
Seo Tae-joon playfully nudged her forehead with his finger. “You told them not to hit me in the head.”
He was smiling. Ji-woo felt a blush creep up her neck and quickly looked down at the ground.
She sat and began the emergency treatment on a nearby tree. Her first task was to prune the shattered limbs, carefully restoring the tree’s balance. She splinted the larger broken branches, binding them with steel wire in what was essentially a cast.
Once she finished, she scrambled to the next tree with the agility of a chipmunk. Seo Tae-joon was a blur of efficiency at her side, handing her the tools she needed and documenting the work with the tablet.
“So many of them are already dead,” he observed quietly.
Most were either split clean in half or had drowned in the waterlogged soil.
“A healthy tree has a short, brilliant bloom before the flowers wither, but an unhealthy one has sparse leaves and weak blossoms. See this?” Ji-woo pointed. “Most of the trees here are like that, right?”
Even on the trees that still bore a few flowers, their branches were warped and sickly, the petals already browning at the edges, ready to fall.
Seo Tae-joon frowned as he listened.
“That’s a sad story.”
“Pardon?”
“To blossom only to wither so quickly,” he said, his voice morose.
“The flowering season is always short,” Ji-woo said with a shrug, but Seo Tae-joon’s frown deepened.
“Then I’ll never give you a flower.”
“Why?”
“It’s a symbol of a short life.”
“…”
Ji-woo felt a small pang in her chest. He understood her point about the trees, but she still wanted to receive flowers from him, even if they represented a fleeting existence.
She turned her focus back to her work, carefully connecting a yellow rubber tube. She was just about to insert it into the nutrient holes she had drilled when she saw it.
“…”
His expression had shifted again.
Ji-woo knew that look all too well.
“What’s wrong? Another wild boar?” Ji-woo stopped what she was doing, her voice dropping to a whisper.
But Seo Tae-joon’s gaze was fixed on some distant point, his brow furrowed in concentration. Her own nerves flared in response.
He finally turned to look at her.
“What?” she pressed.
“I don’t know what it is, or what that sound means.”
Seeing the anxiety on her face, Seo Tae-joon deliberately changed the subject. “Ji-woo, do you really want this Cheongdome project that badly?”
“Uh…” She scratched her cheek. “Do you think it’s a ridiculous dream?”
“No,” Seo Tae-joon said gently. “No one loves trees more than you do.” But even as he spoke, she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands were clenched into fists.
He kept hearing it—a sound that had been nagging at the edge of his senses since they’d entered the forest. It came from all directions at once, intermittent and unsettling. He was on high alert but forced his expression to remain calm. He wouldn’t worry her. This project was her dream.
“It’s not just about the contract or the money…”
Seo Tae-joon’s eyebrow twitched as the sound returned. A bird suddenly burst from the undergrowth and shot into the sky.
Was it just the flapping of wings?
“I thought… I thought I could do it well, because you’re watching me, Seo Tae-joon.” Her soft voice cut through his heightened senses, soothing the frantic edge.
“I was so frustrated with myself in front of Hwang Jo-yoon, unable to say a word. But then, seeing how you react to things, how you never back down… I knew I couldn’t put this off any longer. I want to face this head-on, as an adult, with the skills I’ve worked so hard for.”
“…”
Though Seo Tae-joon possessed extraordinary hearing, in that moment, the world fell completely silent. The disturbing sound, the rustle of leaves, the distant drone—it all vanished. He heard nothing but her. He took in every detail of her face: her earnest eyes, her lips, the slight furrow of her brow.