"Pervert Hospital" Episode 8: The Hanoon Incident [Creative Awards 2025 #Work Novel Category]

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　　　　　Episode 8: The Hanoon Incident.

　I hear the sound of a countdown.
　Time is ticking away, moment by moment.
　While waiting for the elevator, I was already tapping my feet in the box.


　Our hospital has an "employee cafeteria." As part of our benefits, staff can also eat warm meals. Imagine a buffet version of a school lunch.


　It is no exaggeration to say that I work solely for this. Simply put, it is delicious. However, since few staff members eat breakfast, we are served the same trays as the patients.

　My heart is leaping. After all, I had already received information from the chivalrous nutritionist that today's menu included simmered daikon radish. For a lazy, dried-up nurse who never cooks anything simmered, this is a crystal of love.

　Beep, beep, beep, beep,
　05:30
　Here it comes!!!

　I am in the greatest state of bliss in my night shift history.

　Hiding my overflowing joy, I sit quietly in a corner of the cafeteria and put my hands together. I say "Itadakimasu" (let's eat) in my heart. My image is that of a samurai. Instead of a topknot, I have a bun at the nape of my neck.

　The main dish is simmered daikon radish and hanpen (fish cake).
　Potato salad with crab sticks.
　Miso soup with komatsuna and king oyster mushrooms.


　It is an exquisitely strange menu.
　Well, that is fine.


　My appetite cannot be suppressed. First, the daikon. I drew my sword into the simmered dish. I skewered two pieces of randomly cut daikon in a dango-style fashion. When I popped them into my mouth, the broth slowly spread out...

　Hanoon.
　Hmm...??

　Hanoon.
　The inside of my mouth feels "hanoon."
　It is a rumination of "hanoon."


　Th-that is not daikon...
　This is... winter melon!
　I have been had.

　It is a rebellion of "hanoon."
　I, too, gripped my sword—my chopsticks—to start an uprising, trembling with rage. A single drop of cold sweat ran down my spine. I am not fond of winter melon.


　I trudged back to the ward. I am a defeated warrior. The bun at the nape of my neck was quite disheveled, but I did not fix it. I want a companion. The inside of my mouth still feels "hanoon." I want to share this endless, "hanoon"-saturated state with someone. I was already in a "hanoon" high.

　Meals were already being served in the ward.

　"Hey, can someone handle this meal assistance area?"

　Sato, the nursing assistant, is the DJ who runs the floor. The way she quickly serves meals while keeping a beat is just like a small festival venue.

　I raised my hand smoothly.

　"Leave it to Mosquito."

　There is a right person for every job. After all, I am the evangelist who knows every detail of the breakfast menu.

　I sat down next to Eguchi-san.
　In this area, about ten elderly patients with poor swallowing conditions are eating. One of them must be here.

　Someone facing the "Winter Melon Hanoon Incident."
　I set my sights on Eguchi-san.

　Eguchi-san is an elderly lady with a hunched back who tends to doze off while eating. She eats slowly, and unfortunately, it takes time. Eguchi-san is hard of hearing. I spoke into her ear in a deep, low voice.

　"Good morning."
　"Good mor-nyoon."

　First, I appeal to her sense of sight.

　"Please take a look. What kind of simmered dish is this?"

　Eguchi-san answers.

　"This is daikon and hanpen, isn't it?"
　"Ho-ho-hoon."

　Now, time to eat. It is time to check the answer. I slowly offered her a bite.

　Eguchi-san closed her eyes and chewed. Her expression, like a master of the craft, was just like a feudal lord. Having once been a university professor, her presence is dignified even today.

　"How is it?"

　Eguchi-san is chewing that winter melon with a squelching sound. I decide to try speaking to her again.

　"What is this 'hanoon' food?"

　I wait for the chewing sounds to subside.

　"This 'hanoon' food is winter melon, isn't it?"

　I obtained the answers "hanoon" and "winter melon." I am on a roll. I continue.

　"Do you like this 'hanoon' winter melon?"
　"No, I don't like this 'hanoon' winter melon."


　Bingo!
　It was the moment the high-speed slot machine finally lined up.
　At 7:00 AM, I finally found a companion. It is a miracle of the 15th hour.


　DJ Sato is clearing the dishes, going "hanoon, hanoon." The uprising has passed. It is a perfect day for "hanoon."

　The sunlight is quietly pouring into the hospital.
　It is a good morning. Good mor-nyoon.

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