“Yugeon, you’re here? Oh, and Suho too.”
Lee Minha greeted me with a warm smile, as if it were the most natural thing. I couldn’t tell whether she was just about to leave or had just gotten back, but she was dressed in outdoor clothes.
“Where are you going?”
Min Yugeon asked with a curious look. Lee Minha nodded.
“I have an appointment, so I need to step out now. I’ll be back by dinner.”
“Okay.”
“Suho, would you like to stay for dinner later?”
“I was planning to head back before then.”
“All right then.”
“Take care.”
After seeing Lee Minha off, I headed to Yugeon’s room with him.
Inside the room, a completed model of a ship sat neatly on display. Unlike when he was younger, the space was no longer filled with just blocks—lined up along the shelves were various machines he’d built since getting old enough to grasp complex assembly processes.
I was examining a compact game console he’d recently started experimenting with, piqued by curiosity.
“If I had a Watch, I’d be making progress a lot faster.”
Flopping down on the chair, Min Yugeon muttered a quiet sigh.
The Watch, issued to adult residents, was a highly useful device packed with various functions. Most notably, it offered exactly what Yugeon wanted—information search, real-time alerts about major happenings inside the colony, financial activity, and communication with others.
At its core, though, it was a personal ID.
Each Watch stored the wearer’s unique code and identity information, making it something residents wore like a second skin.
“You’ll get one soon.”
I replied while toying with the game console. Since we would all receive one after graduation, it wasn’t far off for us either.
“And honestly, I’m impressed you managed to make all this without a Watch.”
I gestured subtly toward the shelves. There were certainly other ways to gather the information needed to build these, but none could match the convenience of a Watch that allowed on-the-spot searches anywhere, anytime. The fact that he’d made these devices by asking around and doing independent research spoke volumes about his grit and passion.
Min Yugeon straightened up and looked at me with gleaming eyes.
“That was a compliment, right? Say more, please.”
“……”
Seeing this hulking guy trying to act cute in that deep voice was borderline lethal. I shuffled sideways to slip out from between Yugeon and the desk—but only got so far before he grabbed my sleeve and kept me close.
Time passed quickly as I entertained his little antics and we chatted about life after graduation. At one point, I had a few snacks he’d brought, then left the room to wash my hands.
I was just returning to his room a little while later when—
“Why the hell isn’t your application in? That’s what I’m asking!”
“……?”
A sudden yell from the room made me freeze. That voice—no doubt it was Min Sanghan. Had he come home already?
I crept closer to the door. It was wide open, and the scene inside was plain to see.
“You really want to make life harder for yourself, huh? You’ve got a smooth path laid out for you thanks to your dad, and all you have to do is follow it. Why won’t you just listen?”
Min Sanghan barked in frustration, standing face-to-face with Min Yugeon. But judging from Yugeon’s expression, he felt just as exasperated—he stared at Sanghan with sunken eyes, totally unphased.
“Yeah, I’m curious too. Why should I?”
“What?”
“Why should I live doing something I don’t even care about?”
“……Hah.”
His tone and face practically screamed that he’d been putting up with this for far too long. Min Sanghan’s mouth hung open, clearly taken aback.
“You little punk, how dare you talk to your father—!”
“So are you me now? Are you gonna live my life for me?”
“……!”
“This need to control everything—it’s a sickness. I’ll design my own life.”
Min Yugeon’s icy tone only deepened the red in Min Sanghan’s already flushed face. It was clear he’d never been talked to so bluntly before. Which only meant Yugeon had been holding back for a very, very long time.
“Min Yugeon!”
Min Sanghan roared, trembling with rage, his fists clenched.
…He clearly had no idea I was home. The thought flashed through my mind—should I make my presence known or not?
Min Sanghan stormed over to Yugeon’s desk. Then, with a wide sweep of his arm, he sent everything on it flying.
The crash was deafening. Things slammed into the wall and floor, breaking apart in a chaotic mess.
The model ship was no exception.
“…What the hell are you doing?”
Min Yugeon spoke in a low voice. His eyes were fixed on the wreckage—the model, once pristine, now shattered into jagged fragments.
“You ungrateful brat. You don’t even realize I’m doing all this for you.”
Min Sanghan grumbled through clenched teeth.
“If I’d known you’d grow up into such an ungrateful brat… I should never have raised someone like you in the first place.”
A short, bitter laugh escaped Min Yugeon at his words. As he turned to face his father, a dark fury began to flicker across his expression.
It was obvious the tension had already reached a boiling point—but even so, what Min Sanghan had just said was something that should never have been uttered, even by mistake.
Before he could say anything worse, I lifted my hand and knocked firmly against the open door.
“Ajusshi.”
Startled, Min Sanghan whipped around toward me.
“S-Suho?”
“Hello.”
As soon as he realized I was there, a deep wave of embarrassment and shame swept over Min Sanghan’s face. It was a look I’d seen once before—when I was a child, after I’d caught him in a moment of weakness.
“……”
“……”
A horribly heavy silence filled the space. Min Sanghan glanced sidelong at Yugeon, who was staring blankly at the floor, and forced himself to speak in a falsely calm tone.
“Right… so you were here.”
“Yes.”
“…I just dropped by for a moment, so I’ll be heading out now.”
His face clearly showed his desire to flee the scene as quickly as possible. I just bowed wordlessly.
As he passed by me, breathing unevenly, Min Sanghan suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“Oh. I saw your application, Suho.”
“Ah.”
“You filled it out very neatly. Not a single flaw.”
So he really was being considered for the next director of the research institute. That would explain why he was in charge of managing the applicants—and how he knew Min Yugeon hadn’t submitted one. Still, the fact that he was so furious about it that he dropped everything and rushed over… I couldn’t quite wrap my head around that.
“You’ll get good news soon.”
He gave my shoulder a light pat before letting go, forcing a smile as he turned and quickly exited the room.
As his figure vanished down the hallway, I shifted my gaze to Min Yugeon.
He was still staring at the shattered remains of the model ship like a statue.
“Min Yugeon.”
“……”
He lowered his head without responding.
…Could it be that, just like his father, he was ashamed because he’d shown me a side of himself he hadn’t meant to?
Even if that were the case, I had no intention of pretending I hadn’t seen any of this. I carefully stepped around the fragments scattered across the floor and walked over to him. Even when I stood right in front of him, he didn’t raise his head.
“Yugeon-ah.”
I reached out and gently cupped his face with both hands. His face tilted up without resistance. There were no tears in his eyes beneath his long lashes, but his expression—lacking the usual smile—was clearly shadowed.
It took a long moment before he finally spoke.
“What’s the point of saying something like that?”
“……”
“And what’s the point of breaking everything like that?”
His voice was quiet, but tinged with emptiness. It felt like he was so angry, he’d drained all his strength.
Then suddenly, he pulled my hands down and leaned his face into my shoulder. I wrapped both arms around his back and held him close.
“If I’m not some obedient son, then I’m not even worth being a son, huh?”
His weary breath brushed against me, and a dull ache spread in my chest, as if his pain had become mine.
After a moment, he mumbled softly.
“…But you know.”
“Yeah?”
“I said some pretty harsh things too, right? Told my dad he was sick or whatever.”
At his bitter, almost guilty question, I silently patted his back. Too kind for his own good.
“You just said what needed to be said.”
“I just said what I wanted to say.”
“Same difference.”
Judging by how Min Sanghan had acted, even if Yugeon had approached the whole thing rationally from the start, it probably still would’ve devolved into a shouting match.
I turned my head to the floor. The wreckage scattered beneath us looked painfully sad. Every piece had been crafted with care and affection—and all of it had been reduced to debris in a fit of rage.
“Let’s fix what we can.”
At my sudden suggestion, Yugeon looked up. Following my gaze down to the floor, then looking back at me, he blinked.
“This?”
“Just a little at a time. Whatever we can manage each day.”
I’d only ever watched him build blocks since we were kids, so I probably wouldn’t be much help… but still.
“You’ve never even built one before…”
He let out a soft puff of laughter, murmuring with a slightly more relaxed expression.
“Suho.”
“What?”
“I was embarrassed, honestly. I thought I shouldn’t have called you over.”
Maybe trying to hide the awkward look on his face, he leaned his forehead back onto my shoulder.
“But no… I’m glad you’re here.”
“…Glad about what?”
“I like being with you.”
His low voice sent a small shiver through my body. I could feel the subtle pressure of his arms tightening around me.
“…Thanks.”
It was a plain thing to say. So I just reached up and gently patted the back of his head.
