ITDW 12

“By the way, Jaeri, I heard you used your noona’s card to buy alcohol.”

“Gack… ahem…”

Startled by the sudden attack, the choked Jaeri quickly pulled out a tissue and covered his mouth. Heejeon quickly got him a cup of water and gently patted his back. Even amidst this, Yoonjae kept her arms crossed and glared at Jaeri.

“Ah, thank you. I’m okay now.”

“Do you know how much I got chewed out by my oppa? I know his personality better than anyone, and I did it because I wanted to give you some breathing room. You’re not supposed to drink not because you’re a minor, but because of your health. Do you have any idea how upset your noona was when I heard about that?”

Her scolding words were all true, down to the last detail. He just felt sorry. When his hyung scolded him, it was terrifying, but when his noona scolded him—which she rarely ever did—he felt like he was sitting on pins and needles.

“…I’m sorry, noona. I think I was… a little crazy then.”

“I’m sorry to say something unpleasant at the dinner table, but what you did this time was really wrong.”

“Yes. I was wrong. I will absolutely never do it again. I should have apologized to you first, noona. I’m sorry for not thinking of it.”

For some reason, Yoonjae felt uncomfortable with how definitively Jaeri was admitting his fault. He was a gentle kid by nature, but behind the apology that came out so readily, as if prepared, she could faintly see her older brother. She worried about how much he must have disciplined the boy when he had been such a pain to her as well, wondering if it was within the scope she had imagined or if it had exceeded it.

Yoonjae had already found traces that served as material for that imagination. His eyelids, swollen as if he had cried a lot, his hoarse voice, and, crucially, she had seen him wince slightly from pain when he sat down.

“…Did your oppa scold you a lot?”

“It’s because I did something wrong…”

At Jaeri’s calm words, Yoonjae sighed. Jaeri would have to continue living with someone close to him until his bipolar disorder improved significantly, but she deeply disliked the behavior of her older brother, who was playing that role. She was concerned that he might be inflicting another wound on Jaeri. However, she found it burdensome to step up and take on that responsibility herself. Yoonjae had never once, even in jest, asked Jaeri, “Do you want to live with your noona?”

“Jaeri, it’s really hard living with your oppa, isn’t it?”

Jaeri was a little puzzled by Yoonjae’s statement, which was not a question but a definitive assertion. He had never really thought so. He always thought he was strict, but it was meeting those high standards that was difficult; the existence of standards to be followed seemed rather good, so he wondered if he had a slightly unusual personality.

“No, it’s not hard.”

“If it’s hard living with your oppa…”

“I want to keep living with my hyung.”

Yoonjae had been about to say, ‘How about moving back to the main house?’ She couldn’t fathom shouldering the responsibility alone. Even though Jaeri was no longer a child and his illness was generally well-managed, with problems arising only very occasionally.

There was no way Jaeri would move back to the main house anyway, so she had said something useless out of a sense of frustration.

There was a deep rift between Chairman Kim and Jaeri. That chasm began to form when Jaeri lost his biological mother at the age of thirteen and came to live with Jungyoon. At the time, Jaeri had said he wanted to live with his hyung simply because ‘it’s lonely being in that big mansion with just my father.’ In contrast, Jungyoon’s reasoning for insisting on taking Jaeri in was more plausible than Jaeri’s: that the child would be psychologically unstable if he continued to live in the place where his deceased mother had lived.

Yoonjae, who was studying abroad in the U.S. at the time, heard the news that her youngest brother had decided to live with their older brother and contacted her father, berating him for how he could entrust a child who had just lost his mother to their ill-tempered older brother. At that time, Chairman Kim began by saying, “Even between a parent and child, love is something that is given and received, it is not one-sided.”

‘Yes, in that big mansion, after Ms. Min passed away like that, and Jungyoon moved out, and you went to study abroad! If that boy Jaeri had thought of me even a little, he couldn’t have said he would move out too. Instead of asking his hyung to move into the main house and live together, of all things.’

Chairman Kim showed a rare, great emotional agitation, choking up and taking a moment to catch his breath.

‘Jungyoon was always a guy who only knew himself. To think a guy like that would offer to take in his younger brother, he must have tried quite hard to get on his hyung’s good side. …My sons made a decision amongst themselves and dared to speak to me as if they were informing me, so I told them they couldn’t make him look like an orphan when his father was alive and well. But a boy who would rebel to the point of a hunger strike, insisting he would move out with his hyung, how much longer was I supposed to hold onto him?’

Loneliness was deeply ingrained in Chairman Kim’s voice. Yoonjae was startled by that voice. Even she had worried about Jaeri before her father. It was probably because her father, as the head of the group, had always seemed colossal. No, in truth, she hadn’t known that her father thought of Jaeri so fondly. Even though a parent’s love for their child should be a given.

‘He’ll come back if he can’t stand his hyung’s temper. That’s enough of that talk. We’ve already decided to do it that way.’

However, even after a year, and then two years passed, the youngest did not return to the main house, and Chairman Kim was left alone in that large mansion after losing his beloved spouse. And with each passing year, as his loneliness grew like tree rings, the emotional rift towards his youngest son also deepened. In reality, it was not solely Jaeri’s fault, yet the stubborn adult could not bring himself to be considerate of and understand the child.

Furthermore, seeing Jungyoon go through with it despite his opposition, he judged that he needed to crush his spirit before officially bringing him into the company. It was a rational rather than an emotional reaction. Looking at the chairmen around him, there were no examples of an heir doing as he pleased against his father’s wishes.

Originally, the plan was to begin the succession process in earnest once Jungyoon finished his public health service, a matter that had been communicated not only within the group but also to the party concerned. The groundwork had already been laid since he was a medical student. However, even after Jungyoon completed his public health service, Chairman Kim did not call him to the company for some time. He intended to wait until he came and bowed his head, apologizing for going against his father’s will.

A year passed, then two years. The succession process, which had been proceeding in order, came to a halt with only time flowing by, but Jungyoon, as if he had no lingering attachment whatsoever, lived his life as a cardiothoracic surgery resident at a university hospital with great diligence. It seemed he was on the verge of even obtaining his specialist certification.

It was Chairman Kim, rather, who became anxious and could no longer wait, summoning him. This was because he couldn’t predict how Jungyoon would act after obtaining his specialist certification.

He thought that even so, if the father were to bend first, his son would prostrate himself, overwhelmed with gratitude, but his son was, as expected, unpredictable. With a good-natured face and a smile, the words he uttered were, ‘Father, I’m not going to the company unless I enter at the Senior Manager level or higher.’

Chairman Kim had no other choice. Jungyoon was a man who did what he said he would do. Given Jungyoon’s personality, which enjoyed focusing intensely on one thing, medicine was also a suitable field for him to devote his life to.

Seeing Jungyoon’s relaxed attitude, Chairman Kim finally realized the reason Jungyoon had gone to medical school in the first place. In order not to have his life swayed by his father, the head of the group, the eighteen-year-old Jungyoon had prepared another option. It was a belated realization. To Jungyoon, the birthright of being the eldest son of a chaebol family must have been both a gift and a shackle.

In this process, the father understood his son. And, he was a little impressed. His eldest son had the magnanimity of a businessman, the spirit to never back down, and the ability to plan from a long-term perspective. He had confirmed that the child in whom he had placed the greatest expectations was born with the strengths he loved. Although he didn’t show it on the outside, another emotion, shovel by shovel, covered the hurt feelings.

Jungyoon’s succession process was resumed. The fact that the eldest son of the Hanyoung Group held a medical license was a unique history, so the rumor that the family’s firstborn did not want to inherit the group had circulated in the industry as an established fact. Upon the news that this eldest son was suddenly joining the company, there was speculation in the industry that he would probably join Hanyoung Bio, but Jungyoon joined Hanyoung Co., Ltd., the holding company of Hanyoung Group, as an Associate Senior Manager. That was unconventional.

With that, the family affairs began to run properly to some extent. However, the resentment Chairman Kim had left for his youngest son remained, hardening like a knot in wood.

It wasn’t that Yoonjae didn’t understand Jaeri. She thought he could have been that way, being young at heart. Jaeri had always been unusually attached to Jungyoon and distant with their parents, and that became more severe after Jaeri was sent to live with their maternal grandparents in America at the age of six and returned two years and eleven months later. Perhaps it was because Jungyoon was the one who went to America at that time and brought Jaeri back himself.

While Yoonjae was silent for a moment, Heejeon and Jaeri ate their food diligently. But the topic that seemed to have been concluded was brought up again by Yoonjae.

“I haven’t been attentive enough to you as your noona.”

“My hyung takes good enough care of me. He’s good to me when I’m sick, too… This time, it could have been a big deal, that’s why my hyung was like that.”

At Jaeri’s words, which seemed to defend his hyung with some hidden meaning, Yoonjae, wearing an ambiguous expression as if she were thinking about something or perhaps disappointed, stayed still without eating anything. Heejeon held a piece of kimbap in front of Yoonjae’s mouth.

“Eat something, Yoonjae. Aren’t you hungry?”

Yoonjae accepted and ate the kimbap. Heejeon and Yoonjae looked at each other with warm eyes.

“Thanks. It feels like I invited you out and we only talked about our own things.”

“It’s okay. It was a conversation you needed to have.”

“Yeah.”

At Heejeon’s gentle voice, Yoonjae relaxed the tension in her brow. But the atmosphere, which had turned somewhat serious, did not lighten. Unlike usual, Yoonjae was quiet, and Heejeon asked Jaeri about his future plans or things he wanted to do, but those were things Jaeri hadn’t really thought about, so the conversation ended quickly.

Jaeri had just intended to have lunch together, and he didn’t think they had had a conversation that would make the atmosphere strange, so he couldn’t understand why it had become like this.

Jaeri studied his noona’s expression. Heejeon, noticing this discomfort, once again brought up a light topic that could lighten the mood.

“You must have worked hard studying.”

“It’s something everyone goes through, but… it was tough. I was in America during my first year of high school. I followed my hyung while he was doing his MBA. I worked hard there too, but it’s different from doing it in Korea.”

“I see. Ah, Mr. Jaeri, isn’t it incredibly spicy?”

He went through the hardship of studying thirteen hours a day and almost couldn’t even go to college. Suddenly feeling stressed, Jaeri shoved tteokbokki into his mouth indiscriminately. His face turned bright red. Heejeon got him a drink and, asking how he could eat like that, pressed the bell to request extra cheese.

“We’re adding cheese, please make it a double. That’s okay, right?”

Heejeon asked, looking at Jaeri, and then immediately at Yoonjae. The siblings nodded. The siblings hadn’t even known that adding cheese was possible. Heejeon smiled broadly.

“This is really too spicy. Mr. Jaeri, are you okay?”

Seeing Jaeri now finally shedding tears, he quickly handed him a tissue. Jaeri wiped his tears, and also his runny nose and sweat.

“This is the first time in my life I’ve eaten something this spicy.”

“Actually, me too.”

Heejeon and Jaeri looked at each other’s red faces and laughed, amused.

They continued to eat, thinking that the tear-jerkingly spicy food was edible when smothered in cheese, and drank a ton of peach-flavored juice and sweated profusely because the tender lining of their throats was stinging and burning. After some time, their throats felt better, but their stomachs were burning terribly.

Throughout the evening, Jaeri unconsciously stroked his sore upper abdomen, then snatched his hand away in surprise, lest his hyung’s gaze fall upon it.

It happened just now, too. Jungyoon was sitting on the living room sofa reading a business review, and Jaeri was heading to the living room from the kitchen, holding a mug of warmed milk.

Without taking his eyes off the text he was reading, he asked.

“Jaeri, what did you have for lunch today?”

“Yes, huh? Uh, why?”

At Jaeri’s question, Jungyoon tilted his head slightly and rolled Jaeri’s words around in his mouth.

“Why?”

“No… it’s just… why, you’re curious… I was curious too.”

“I did order security to be discreet, so that my little brother wouldn’t be uncomfortable. You really didn’t know, did you?”

“…I had tteokbokki. The spicy kind.”

When Jungyoon’s eyes turned stern, Jaeri quietly placed his mug down on the dining table.

“You know very well that it’s food you cannot eat.”

“My noona, she said she really wanted to eat it. And, Heejeon hyung said he wanted it too… so I couldn’t help it. Since they both said they wanted to eat it. And I’m the youngest one.”

He didn’t know why a lie suddenly came out, but in any case, the lie had begun. Jungyoon beckoned him over, and Jaeri hesitantly approached and knelt obediently before him. Jungyoon, sitting on the sofa, looked down at Jaeri and spoke in a whisper.

“Those two don’t have that kind of taste.”

“My noona said she wanted to eat something spicy because her schedule has been so hectic lately and she’s stressed. Heejeon hyung too. Legal professionals are busy, you know.”

Once he started lying, for some reason the words began to flow like water. It was true that his noona’s schedule had been hectic lately. When a lie is mixed with truth, it becomes a more plausible lie.

Without a reply, Jungyoon picked up his cell phone and called Yoonjae. He switched to speakerphone mode and placed it on the table. Then, crossing his long legs, he leaned back comfortably on the sofa and gazed down at Jaeri, who was sitting on the floor. He looked like a carnivorous animal, drowsy after a feast, looking at its prey for play. Jaeri used to like that posture of his hyung. Because it was cool. But now, beyond being cool or not, he himself had become that plaything prey, so it was difficult to fully receive that gaze. He felt like he would inadvertently stimulate him. He avoided his gaze, feigning composure by engraving the marble pattern of the floor into his eyes. Jungyoon continued to keep his eyes on Jaeri. The call connected.

— Oh, oppa.

“I called to thank you for hanging out with Jaeri today.”

Jungyoon, leaning comfortably against the sofa, said in an emotionless tone. His impassive gaze, which he raised as if bothered or tired, landed on the chandelier on the ceiling.

— Why are you talking like a parent thanking a babysitter?