RB - 48

48. The Brothers’ Secret and Blasphemy

Seo-yeon had always yearned for an “ordinary life.” Was there a day that made her feel the rarity of this seemingly obvious value as acutely as today? The void in her chest quickly filled with sadness. Hiding around the corner of the building, Seo-yeon finally let the tears she’d been holding back flow freely.

“Huuuk, euheuk.”

It felt as though a sharp boning knife was carving out a piece of her heart. As the tension suddenly released, her body went limp like overcooked noodles. If someone were to tap her shoulder, she might collapse onto the asphalt without resistance. Lately, it felt as if she were stitching together each day like a patchwork quilt just to keep going. The pastel hues of the sunset seeping through the forest of buildings only deepened her sorrow. Her sobs grew heavier.

As a child, the phrase Seo-yeon envied most was, “Do you think you’re the only one with a mom? I have a mom too.”

When kids fought wildly and one, losing ground, would threaten, “I’m telling my mom on you,” the other would retort confidently, “You’re not the only one with a mom. I have a mom too.” Seo-yeon always watched these exchanges with fascination. How bold those words sounded.

The loneliness she had forced deep down inside now overwhelmed her. She truly was like duckweed, aimlessly floating on water without roots.

Seo-yeon, the resilient little bird, had always lived cautiously to avoid falling into self-pity. Just as teasing someone for being a fool was wrong, pitying herself for being pitiful was something she couldn’t allow.

She desperately needed someone to cut away the surge of self-pity welling up inside her—but it wasn’t Jung-hyuk. She didn’t want to show him any weakness, saying things like, “Your mom came to see me today. Thankfully, I didn’t get drenched, but she insulted me, calling me an orphan.” 

To stop her self-pity, she needed to meet a friend—and fortunately, her dinner plans with Jin-hyuk were still valid. Seo-yeon rummaged through her bag and pulled out a compact powder. Patting her reddened eyes, she muttered to herself.

“Did I know I’d get hit like this when I made dinner plans? Time to roll out the mat, Han Seo-yeon.”

The traces of sadness in Seo-yeon’s eyes disappeared under the beige powder.

A little later, when Seo-yeon met Jin-hyuk, she ate the clam kalguksu (noodle soup) as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Slurping loudly, she focused entirely on devouring the dish.

Jin-hyuk was a bit surprised by her uncharacteristic behavior, but he found her hearty eating adorable and couldn’t help but smile softly. He spoke quietly so the neighboring tables wouldn’t hear.

“You could totally film a mukbang. Assistant Manager Han, you clearly have a talent for it.”

Only then did Seo-yeon pause her eating and lock eyes with him. After staring at his wide, startled eyes for a few seconds, she burst out laughing. “Pfft, hahaha!” Still giggling, she said,

“Then send donations or star balloons. I’m a money sparrow—nothing’s free, remember? I told you I need to pay off my rental loan.”

Jin-hyuk chuckled and replied, his smooth eyebrows arching kindly.

“Would you accept goods instead of star balloons? Let me buy you coffee.”

Seo-yeon nodded in agreement and finished the rest of her kalguksu. But just as they were leaving the restaurant, her legs gave out, and she collapsed. Jin-hyuk instantly caught her and shouted,

“Assistant Manager Han, stay with me! Han Seo-yeon!”

While Jin-hyuk desperately called her name, the restaurant owner dialed 119.

“Someone has collapsed here. Where are we, exactly?”

“It’s okay. It’ll be faster if we take my car.”

Jin-hyuk stopped them from reporting it and carried Seo-yeon to the building’s parking lot. He judged it quicker to drive her to a nearby hospital himself. Soon, his black Mercedes sped through the streets, ignoring traffic signals.

“She suddenly collapsed. This is an emergency.”

Amid the bustling crowd of patients, Seo-yeon was swiftly placed on a bed. The hospital’s distinct alcohol smell made Jin-hyuk shiver—it was a place he hated more than anything.

The doctor who rushed over checked her blood pressure and pupils before speaking.

“We’ll need to run some detailed tests. For now, her vital signs are stable, so it’s likely due to overwork or stress.”

Soon after, a young nurse rolled up Seo-yeon’s blouse sleeve. Blue veins showed faintly beneath her pale skin.

“You’ll need an IV.”

With practiced hands, the nurse inserted the needle into Seo-yeon’s vein.

Jin-hyuk couldn’t bear to watch the thin, sharp needle pierce her skin. Clenching his fists repeatedly, he struggled to steady his breathing while glancing around. The chaotic emergency room, crowded with patients and people, felt like barely controlled chaos.

Grabbing a nurse returning with a chart, Jin-hyuk said,

“I’d like to move her to a regular ward.”

The nurse, charmed by Jin-hyuk’s handsome appearance, smiled instinctively and explained kindly,

“There’s probably only an 8-bed room available right now.”

After a brief hesitation, Jin-hyuk spoke. Finding excuses for Seo-yeon mattered less now than moving her to a comfortable space. There was no room for choice.

“There should be a VIP ward available. I’ll contact Professor Sung myself. My name is Shin Jin-hyuk.”

---

A few hours later, Seo-yeon regained consciousness. She felt as refreshed as if she’d woken from a deep, restful sleep. Stretching lazily seemed perfectly natural given how pleasant she felt. But the unfamiliar surroundings immediately tensed her again.

What was this high ceiling, spacious room, refreshing aroma, and somehow luxurious bedding? Even more bizarre, several doctors were busily checking her condition. Furrowing her brow at the strangeness, Seo-yeon asked,

“You’re awake. I’ll call your guardian.”

“My… guardian?”

Seo-yeon thought of Bi-ryu first but shook her head. She was Bi-ryu’s guardian, not the other way around. The person who entered the room was Jin-hyuk. Smiling warmly to greet him, Seo-yeon’s expression soon turned puzzled as she asked,

“Who did you fight with? What happened to your face?”

Jin-hyuk’s cheek was bruised blue, and his lip was slightly split with dried blood. His once-perfect eyebrow was torn at the tip, with a drop of blood forming.

“Come closer. Did someone hit you? Who did this?”

Seo-yeon pressed Jin-hyuk incredulously, but he only sighed deeply. After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke.

“Promise me first. You have to believe I wasn’t trying to lie.”

Jin-hyuk pulled a chair close to the bed and studied Seo-yeon’s expression. She looked at him with concern, like someone caring for a beaten puppy. Then, her tone suddenly turned angry.

“What kind of lunatic hits someone without fear? This needs to be reported to the police. We can’t just let it slide. Sigh…”

“Promise me quickly. That you’ll believe me.”

“Do I really have to promise? What kind of lie is this?”

When Jin-hyuk clammed up, Seo-yeon patted his back soothingly. Seeing him so battered made her feel too sorry to stay mad, even if he had lied.

“Fine, I promise. Tell me. I’ll believe whatever it is.”

Jin-hyuk’s shoulders slumped like a rain-soaked puppy, and he hesitantly began.

“I told you I was an only child, right? That was a lie… Well, technically, it wasn’t. You see…”

Seo-yeon moistened her dry lips, confused by this strange explanation. Jin-hyuk continued, gauging her reaction.

“I do have a brother, but he’s such a bastard that I’ve practically cut ties with him. So I lied and said I was an only child.”

Good grief, what kind of sudden family drama was this? Seo-yeon scratched her head awkwardly and said,

“Ah… I guess that’s possible. But what kind of bastard makes you cut ties completely?”

“A real piece of work. A bastard who started picking fights with his stepmom late in life after she raised him since he was little.”

Internally, Seo-yeon thought, Wow, that really is a bastard! But since openly agreeing with family insults wasn’t polite, she held her tongue.

“It’s okay. Everyone has family issues. That kind of lie is called a ‘white lie.’ I understand completely.”

Seo-yeon patted Jin-hyuk’s drooping shoulders. Slowly lifting his head, he asked in a pitiful voice,

“So you understand? There were unavoidable circumstances.”

What was there not to understand? Seo-yeon answered promptly.

“Of course. I already know you saved your mom’s number as ‘Her Majesty’ on your phone. If your brother disrespected her, it’s understandable you’d cut ties.”

Seeing genuine kindness in Seo-yeon’s eyes, Jin-hyuk made a call.

“Yeah, I told her. Come in. Get in here, you bastard.”

“Here? Your brother? That bas—uh, why is he coming here?”

Before Seo-yeon could finish her flustered question, the door swung open. Standing there was Shin Jung-hyuk, his eyebrow also torn and crusted with dried blood.

The humidifier hummed ominously in the tense atmosphere.