Chapter 45
In modern times, PPI (Proton Pump Inhibitors) are the most commonly prescribed medicine for excessive stomach acid.
The reason is simple — they have few side effects and work very well for acid-related problems.
“And today, I discovered something else,” Father said. “It doesn’t just protect the stomach. Lia, look here. This herb you recorded — Batio — removes gas.”
He took a liquid, which I assumed was concentrated Batio, and dropped a single drop into a glass flask full of foam.
Plop.
The sound was crisp, and almost instantly, the foam at the top of the flask began to vanish.
I covered my mouth with both hands in surprise.
I had never met anyone in this world who had explored medical knowledge this deeply.
“Father, how did you even think of removing gas?” I asked, blinking in shock.
“Oh, haha. Actually, Nella kept saying her stomach was making strange noises. When I listened, it sounded exactly like bubbles swelling up and bursting. I figured… if bubbles form inside the stomach and don’t go away, they might affect the body somehow.”
In my experience working in the ER, many mild stomachache patients had either constipation or bloating from gas.
The more I listened, the more amazed I was.
Father’s knowledge of abdominal pain was nearly as detailed as modern medicine — probably because he had treated many patients with illnesses like Mother’s, and endlessly studied materials to help cure her.
I fiddled with his research journal, which recorded every detail of the medicine’s experiments and Mother’s symptoms.
So that’s why Father has become so thin and worn out… all these experiments for just one person.
It was his desperate devotion for Mother.
“So, Lia, what do you think?” Father asked, looking tense.
I stared at him for a moment, then slowly flipped through Mother’s medical chart.
I needed to help him, not get lost in emotions.
“Well… according to these notes, your guess is right — stomach trouble seems to be the main cause. I think this medicine will work.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes, but since Mother’s been ill for so long, I think you should slightly reduce the acid-suppressing ingredients.”
I pointed to the ingredient ratio in his notes.
We couldn’t rush the treatment and end up causing more harm than benefit.
“Yes, you’re right.”
Father listened carefully.
“And I think you should make the coating agent thicker — stickier — to protect the stomach more.”
“To shield the stomach better, right?”
“Yes, exactly.”
When our discussion ended, Father’s face brightened.
“Thank you, Lia. Your opinion really helped.”
“It’s for Mother — you don’t need to thank me.”
“No, I mean it… Haa.”
Then, he sighed, looking troubled.
“…Is something wrong? Another problem?” I asked.
After hesitating, he confessed.
“Well… I never thought Nella’s illness was contagious, but now I know for certain it isn’t.”
“…”
“I’m the one who decided she should live in the annex — to protect her from people’s judgment. But I feel guilty… maybe the isolation made her suffer more.”
Worry darkened his face again.
“And it feels like her health got worse while she was there.”
It was clear Father was blaming himself.
But if he hadn’t done it, others might have feared or even threatened her.
I believed his choice had been the best option.
“At least now you know her illness doesn’t spread to others,” I said, holding his hand.
We couldn’t lift her isolation right away — if her symptoms didn’t improve, people would still be afraid.
So, the priority was still to cure her.
“Let’s do it together, Father. We can do it. You’ve already made this great medicine.”
“Lia…”
“Let’s work so that Mother can leave the annex soon — so she won’t be lonely anymore.”
Perhaps my words helped, because Father’s heavy expression finally eased into a small smile.
***
We left the lab, quickly ate dinner, and headed to the annex.
Even as we walked, my mind kept racing.
It’s best to give it in the morning on an empty stomach… I should also prescribe other herbs to help…
“…Ah.”
“…?”
“Lia!”
“Yes? Did you call me, Father?”
“What are you thinking about so hard?”
He looked worried because I had been lost in thought.
“Are you… worried about seeing her?”
“Huh?”
“I understand. As her child, it must be hard to see your mother sick.”
The deep frown between his brows made me remember a scene from the hospital.
Doctor, my child knows her mother is sick, but I’m afraid seeing me like this might shock her. Could you explain it to her instead?
…Is that how Father feels right now?
But there was one thing he didn’t know — I had the memories of Room 406, but not her exact emotions.
I was only a little uneasy — not so shaken that Father needed to worry.
“I’ll be fine, Father. I’m going to see her as a doctor, not just as her daughter. A doctor can’t let emotions get in the way.”
I smiled brightly, and he seemed to realize something, nodding in agreement.
“…Yes, that’s right.”
While we talked, we arrived at the annex, bathed in the red light of sunset.
We passed the well-kept garden and stepped inside.
It was my first time entering since I came here.
Although few people maintained it, the inside was clean and tidy.
That must be thanks to Father, making sure she lived comfortably.
There were water bottles placed within easy reach everywhere, and all the furniture had smooth edges to prevent injury in case she fell.
Seeing it made me think,
I wish my own mother had been treated in such a nice place.
The situation was so similar that I couldn’t help but remember her.
Why is it that, after someone is gone, all you can think of is what you failed to do for them?
If only I had graduated sooner and been able to help her…
Even now, I sometimes regretted it when I thought of the past.
That regret always brought a wave of longing for her.
But so much time had passed that I could barely remember her face — only fragments remained.
Like her lying motionless on the cold hospital bed, the loud beeping of the machines between us, or the chilling air of the funeral hall.
Memories that made my chest tighten whenever they surfaced.
After the accident, I never even got to talk to her properly…
Maybe because I lost her so suddenly, I could now understand — even if just a little — the feelings of Room 406.
If I had a way to save my family, I would have done anything.
I stopped in front of Mother’s door and took a deep breath.
Then, gathering my courage, I pushed it open.
