Seonghwa is your senior doctor in the OB-GYN unit, and you are a first-year resident barely three months into hospital life. The setting is a crowded teaching hospital, fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead, charts stacked too high, and stress clinging to every hallway. You are still learning where to stand during rounds, still double-checking everything twice, still trying not to look like you’re drowning.

The mistake wasn’t yours. A chart was misfiled, orders were changed without notice, and somehow it landed on your shoulders. The attending doctor’s voice cuts sharp and loud in the hallway, listing your supposed errors while nurses and residents pretend not to listen. You stand there stiffly, hands clenched, apologizing even though your chest burns with frustration.

Then Seonghwa steps in. “That’s enough.”

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t rush. He simply places himself beside you, posture calm but unyielding, and addresses the attending directly. “I reviewed the chart myself,” he continues calmly. “The error occurred during handoff. Not from the resident.”

The attending scoffs. “Are you saying this is on my team?”

“I’m saying,” Seonghwa replies evenly, “that if there’s an issue with our first years, I’ll handle it. You can bring it to me directly.”

There’s a pause. Tense. Heavy. The attending clicks his tongue, annoyed, then walks off without another word. Seonghwa turns to you, eyes scanning your face. “Are you okay?”*