"Help!" she shouted instinctively — panicked, shocked that the scene felt exactly like one in a medical drama.
People crowded around. Some called an ambulance; others, of course, were just filming with their phones.
A few minutes later, the siren wailed. Paramedics rushed out with a stretcher.
Naima explained nervously, holding out her phone with a translation app open.
"We were just about to cross the street," she stammered. "Then suddenly this man collapsed right in front of me. Luckily I caught him—his head didn't hit the pavement."
The paramedics listened while checking on the man. Then one of them turned to her and said, "You, come with us!"
Naima froze. "Huh? Me?" She pointed to herself, glancing around to make sure there wasn't someone else they meant. "Wait, I'm just a passerby, not a cameo in the emergency episode!"
But the paramedic had already opened the ambulance door and motioned for her to get in.
Naima looked down at her grocery bag, then up at the sky.
"Oh God… this isn't what I meant when I said I wanted to 'be the lead in a K-drama.'"
But in the end, she got in—reluctantly, hugging her bag of onions and spicy chips like a life vest.
The siren blared again. Naima sat in the back seat, clutching her groceries tight. The faint smell of onions and raw chicken mixed with the sharp scent of rubbing alcohol.
One paramedic busied himself checking the unconscious man's vitals. The other looked straight at Naima.
"Your relationship with the patient?" he asked quickly—in Korean, which Naima caught through the translation app.
Naima blinked, startled. "Eh?! None! I'm just a passerby! He collapsed out of nowhere! I'm not his family, not his friend, not—anyone! I was just walking by!"
Her phone's translator blurted loudly: "I am a pedestrian only!"
The paramedic frowned. "…Pedestrian family?"
Naima sighed. "Oh great, the translator messed up again."
Meanwhile, the man slowly regained consciousness. His eyes opened weakly and met Naima's.
"Anyeong…?" he murmured.
Naima awkwardly bent forward. "Ah, hello, sir! You're awake! That's great. I'm Naima. Don't worry, you're safe. Your head didn't hit the asphalt—just had a brief encounter with a stranger's arms."
The paramedic looked up sharply. "Arms?"
Naima flustered. "No! I mean—reflex! A reflexive head rescue move! Not a romantic scene!"
Silence filled the ambulance, then one of the paramedics snorted a laugh. Naima looked straight ahead, hugging her groceries even tighter.
"Okay," she whispered, "I swear I'll never say I want to live in a K-drama again."
---
"Wait! Can anyone here speak English?!" Naima cried, standing in the hospital hallway clutching her grocery bag like a baby chick.
People stared—some confused by her voice, others by the green onion sticking out of her plastic bag.
Finally, a calm young doctor appeared from behind a curtain, wearing a neat white coat and an amused smile.
"Yes, miss?" he said in a tone that was polite but clearly suppressing laughter.
Naima burst out, "Oh, thank God! I'm not his family, okay? I'm just a random pedestrian! He fainted in front of me and I caught him so his head didn't hit the pavement!"
The doctor nodded blankly. "Okay."
Naima gaped. "Okay? Just... okay?? The nurse asked me to sign a paper! A paper, doctor! I can't even read Hangul! What if I accidentally donated a kidney?!"
The doctor chuckled. "No, no kidney. Just witness paper."
Naima eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure? Because my life already feels like a K-drama contract marriage episode, and I don't need more paperwork to prove it."
The doctor grinned. "You speak Korean?"
Naima shrugged. "Only survival level—'annyeong,' 'gamsahamnida,' and 'sale, fifty percent.'"
A nurse nearby tried and failed to hold in her laughter.
Naima sighed deeply. "Look, doctor, I was just trying to buy vegetables. And suddenly—boom!—I'm in an emergency room scene holding garlic and trauma."
The doctor chuckled again. "You did well. You helped him. He'll be fine."
Naima's face softened. "Really? So I can go now?"
"Soon," the doctor replied. "After sign… last paper."
Naima groaned. "This is how every villain origin story starts."
"And…" The doctor's shoulders shook slightly with laughter. "I know you're not his relative…" He pointed toward the patient on the bed. "…I am."
Naima's eyes widened. "You're his relative?!"
"Nephew," the doctor said smoothly, clearly enjoying her shock.
Naima slapped her forehead. "Oh my God, of course. Out of all the people in this city, the one I catch from fainting has to be your uncle."
"Small world," he said casually.
"Tiny world," she shot back. "Like... micro-sized world."
He laughed. "Uhm, can I thank you with… gamjatang?"
Naima squinted. "What's gamjatang?"
"Pork bone soup," he said, smiling proudly. "Very delicious."
Naima stiffened. "I'm so sorry, I don't eat any kind of pork or alcohol."
His expression faltered. "Ah—vegetarian?"
"Nope," Naima said flatly. "My faith forbids it."
"Oh!" His cheeks flushed a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
Naima smiled faintly. "It's okay. I mean, I also didn't know my grocery trip would end in an ambulance."
That made him laugh—a full, genuine laugh this time. "You're funny."
Naima arched an eyebrow. "I'm traumatized."
"Ramen?"
"Doesn't fit my tongue."
"Coffee and bread?"
"No pork? No alcohol? Okay."
"Great! My shift ends in ten, nine… now! Let's go!"
The doctor peeled off his gloves, then casually gestured for her to follow him out of the ER.
As the automatic doors slid open, Naima froze. White marble floors. Pale gray walls. Modern chandeliers. The hospital logo gleaming at the far end of the lobby. Everything looked oddly familiar.
"Wait… where have I seen this before?" she thought.
She glanced around, following the doctor's steps. The reception desk, the blue arrow signs, even the faint antiseptic smell mixed with coffee from the lobby café—everything tugged at her memory.
Something shiny caught her eye—a large sign in bold navy Hangul letters.
Ding!
Naima stopped short, eyes widening. "Is that… Seoul High Hospital?"
"Yeah," the doctor said, pointing at the sign. "Why?"
"I can't read Hangul, but I remember that font…" She tilted her head, trying to recall. "I think I've seen it before…"
"You've been here before?" the doctor asked curiously.
"Um, no, not really. But…" Naima bit her lip.
"You know someone here?"