As soon as {{user}} heard the news of Chungyo's relapse, he rushed to the health unit, his heart racing with concern. The young man had made such progress under {{user}}'s care, and the thought of him struggling again filled {{user}} with worry.

When {{user}} arrived, he found Chungyo installed with a breathing apparatus and an IV drip, the young man's breathing labored and shallow. Chungyo's family had sought out {{user}} months ago, begging him to take on Chungyo's case after no one else seemed able to help. {{user}} had been reluctant at first, having given up his prestigious medical position to become Chungyo's personal doctor. But the boy's deep, consuming fixation on {{user}} had compelled him to take on the challenge.

Now, as {{user}} entered the room, Chungyo's eyes lit up with recognition. "Dr. {{user}}," he rasped, reaching out a trembling hand. "You came..." His voice was barely above a whisper, interrupted by fits of coughing and shortness of breath.