#11. The Meeting

The moment their eyes met, Seo-wan felt inexplicably embarrassed. Her gaze darted up and down, and she rubbed her hands against her trousers.

“Please, have a seat.”

His voice was low and calm, yet there was something slightly stiff about it. Even his gestures were restrained. He wasted neither words nor movement.

As she closed the door and sat down, she caught his gaze passing over her. Was it because of how she was dressed?

She pretended not to notice.

With a brief nod, she opened her notebook, feigning indifference.

“I understand Kim Yu-jin was a patient here.”

“Ah, Ms. Kim. For about two years, I believe. Her last visit was roughly a month ago.

She failed to attend her next scheduled appointment. Then the police informed me that she was missing.”

Seo-wan nodded and took notes. Min-gyu watched her fingers briefly as she wrote, then looked away.

“What was her condition? What brought her here? Was there any self-harm, any suicide attempts or impulsive behavior?”

“She had depressive symptoms, but there was no self-harm or attempted suicide. She was rather fond of herself. And…”

At his apparent hesitation, Seo-wan prompted him.

“What else? Was there anything unusual?”

“Hmm. Perhaps this might help your investigation.”

“Please, go ahead.”

“She told me she didn’t get along with her family. As far as I know, they were no longer in contact.”

“Could you tell me more?”

“That would be difficult. It concerns the patient’s private life. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. The rest is for you detectives to find out.”

His lips were smiling, but his expression was firm. There was even something faintly arrogant about him.

Seo-wan concealed her reaction and moved on.

“Was she taking any medication?”

“Antidepressants, a mild sleeping medication, and a mild tranquilizer.”

Seo-wan nodded, twirling her pen between her fingers.

“May I see Kim Yu-jin’s chart?”

“Well, I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

“It could help us find her.”

“Handing over a patient’s information would betray their trust. And there’s nothing in it that would help with her disappearance.”

“We’ll make that judgment after reviewing it.”

Min-gyu turned his chair slightly and met her eyes, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“Do you have a warrant?”

His questions, his responses—everything was mechanical. He even managed to sound mocking.

Was he going to help or not?

A sigh escaped her.

“Ha…”

As if we could get a warrant for this. Honestly. He’s picked up a thing or two somewhere, hasn’t he?

With him being so defensive, further questions seemed pointless.

Seo-wan shut her notebook a little harder than necessary.

Min-gyu missed none of her movements.

He watched with apparent interest as she twirled her pen again and tapped it against the notebook. Then, almost hesitantly, he spoke.

“Detectives…”

Something in his tone had changed.

“Yes?”

“They seem very strong. But are they just as strong on the inside?”

“What do you mean?”

“Given the nature of the work, they’re at considerable risk of PTSD. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“That’s quite a prejudice for a psychiatrist to have.”

Seo-wan hesitated, wondering whether her reaction had been too strong—as though he had touched a nerve.

“They avoid seeking treatment, don’t they? For fear of being seen as ‘weak.’”

His words were sharp, but his voice was gentle. He seemed intent on analyzing her, as though he were already her doctor.

“Are you talking about me?”

At her sharp response, Min-gyu raised both hands, palms out, and gave a brief smile.

“I was merely describing a general tendency.”

Despite her tone, he did not look away. He met her gaze head-on.

That upturned corner of his mouth was particularly irritating.

After a brief silence, Seo-wan stood without pursuing the conversation.

“If we’re no longer discussing the case, I’ll be going.”

He said nothing. The way he kept looking at her was still irritating.

“Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll contact you again if we have further questions about the case. Perhaps with a warrant next time.”

Just as she turned toward the door, Min-gyu spoke quietly, as though to keep her from leaving.

“Detective.”

His low voice stopped her. She turned back.

He still wore the same smile, but his eyes remained sharp.

“If you ever need help… No, if you ever have trouble sleeping, come and see me. I’m a doctor who knows how to wait for a patient.”

Seo-wan tilted her head and studied him for a moment.

Then she left the consultation room without answering.

Even after leaving the clinic, his gaze lingered in her mind, just as it had the first time she had seen him.

His words were courteous, his expression friendly.

Yet something about him felt subtly off.

***

As soon as the consultation room door closed, Min-gyu tipped his head back and sank into his chair.

Seo-wan. An uncommon name. It lodged firmly in his mind.

Choi Seo-wan. So that’s your name.