“Siwoon?”
“……. “
“Why do you look so old?”
The little brother he remembered as just a child was now a middle-aged man, as if he’d skipped ahead through decades in the blink of an eye. Siwoon, who normally didn’t react to anything, must’ve taken offense—he shot back instantly.
“You’re old too.”
Then he turned and walked right out of the room.
Kim Sibaek sat there, staring blankly at his brother’s unfamiliar back before slowly getting to his feet. He didn’t know why, but when he first saw his brother’s aged face, his mind immediately rejected it—This can’t be right.
His gaze drifted to the mirror hanging beside the bed.
“…I really have aged.”
The man reflected back at him looked to be in his mid-to-late forties. It was definitely his face, yet it felt strangely foreign.
Was this always what I looked like?
Tentatively, Sibaek raised a hand and touched his face. The features resembled his father, his mother, even his brother. There was no doubt this was him.
And yet… something didn’t sit right. The pieces didn’t quite fit.
Was I ever someone who could age so… normally?
But more than that—How did Siwoon age at the same pace as me?
Sibaek let out a long sigh, rubbing the space between his brows. Something about this morning felt off. Maybe he was just tired.
From the kitchen came the sounds of clinking dishes—Siwoon was making breakfast.
Kim Siwoon. His younger brother.
Stepping out of the room, Sibaek glanced around the living room. It felt unfamiliar somehow.
A display case was packed with accolades—four gold medals from Olympic individual sabre events, a bronze in the team category, and trophies from countless other competitions. Not just Olympic wins—every one of them was a mark of Kim Sibaek’s life.
Framed photos lined the walls, most of them of the two brothers. Sibaek, always smiling brightly beside his expressionless sibling.
It wasn’t like they were sisters, and the photos might’ve come off as overly affectionate for two grown men, but no one dared criticize them. Their story was too well known.
The tale of a fencing prodigy who became the first Korean to win Olympic gold had even reached Korean communities overseas. And during one emotional interview, when Sibaek cried while saying he was still searching for his long-lost brother, the story went viral.
It didn’t take long after that to reconnect.
Siwoon, who’d nearly died after being sold off by an organ trafficking ring, had eventually been adopted by a kind couple. They treated him like their own son. Sibaek had grown close to them too—visiting Korea with them, inviting them to the U.S.
That had all been nearly thirty years ago.
Sibaek had since become a fencing coach. Siwoon majored in biology and worked as a researcher.
They weren’t overly sentimental—didn’t cling to each other—but they were close. They fought sometimes, made up just as quickly, and leaned on one another.
They were good brothers.
“Smells good. Thanks for the meal.”
Despite having a polished American name, Siwoon could whip up a solid Korean meal. Doenjang-jjigae and pork cutlet for breakfast? Delicious.
“You’re heading back to the States next week, right?”
“…….”
“Work still got you busy?”
“Not really.”
He didn’t always answer, or he’d stop at one word. But Sibaek knew—his brother listened carefully to everything he said.
“What about you?”
Moments like that—when Siwoon asked a question back—always made Sibaek smile. Since his brother never smiled, he figured someone had to do it for both of them.
“Me? Same old, same old. Teaching kids to fence, day in and day out.”
Fencing had started as a way to find his brother. Somewhere along the way, it had become his life. He’d even coached the national team once—but honestly, he preferred teaching kids. That brought him joy.
His job was fulfilling. And even if they lived far apart, he could see his brother anytime he wanted.
Life was good. Full.
“I’m almost fifty, and people are still trying to set me up. Turning them down politely has practically become its own job.”
“…….”
“But hey, people say “voluntarily single” these days, right? That’s the term?”
“…….”
“What about you?”
“Work.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, like marrying his job was the most natural thing in the world.
Sibaek chuckled and picked up a piece of pork cutlet with his chopsticks.
The TV, left on just for background noise, had finished a commercial and was now airing a new program—one of those documentary shows that went over Korea’s most notorious violent crimes.
One phrase, in particular, pierced through the background chatter and caught his ear.
—Today’s case dates back thirty years. Some of you might’ve already guessed, right? That’s right. The criminal who shook the entire nation—Tae Chul-hoon.
Sibaek remembered it clearly.
The final victim had been even younger than Siwoon was when he’d been trafficked.
—After murdering his cousin’s family and several neighbors, Tae Chul-hoon fled from Gyeongsan to Seoul. He was carrying a bag that concealed the kidnapped body of his cousin’s child, Tae-gun. If the brutal dismemberment and disposal of Tae-gun’s corpse hadn’t been discovered, the whole case might’ve stayed buried in darkness forever.
Dismembering the corpse of a five-year-old child wasn’t horrific enough—the body bore clear signs of prolonged, savage abuse. The official cause of death? Burns.
The screen flashed a photo of the final victim. It looked like a picture taken by the boy’s father: a sunny afternoon in the courtyard of a beautiful hanok, the child playing happily with his mother.
—Tae Chul-hoon kept the boy locked up for quite some time in a semi-basement apartment. It’s pointless to dwell on what-ifs when it comes to the past… but still, I wonder. If even one person—just one—had paid attention to Tae-gun, heard his screams, noticed the signs of abuse… could that little boy have been saved?
He should’ve been thirty-five by now. But in that photo, he was forever five, frozen in time with a bright, innocent smile. Completely unaware of the horror waiting for him.
That unguarded smile twisted something deep inside Kim Sibaek. He rubbed at his sternum as if trying to soothe a pain that had suddenly taken root.
“That basement apartment where he died… it was in the neighborhood near the orphanage I stayed at. Back then, during the summer, I was temporarily living out of the main dorms and commuting from the orphanage to school. I might’ve passed right by it without even knowing.”
“…….”
“There must’ve been a lot of people like me—walking past, not noticing anything.”
That’s why the case had stuck with him all these years. He’d seen it—cops sealing off the street, neighbors murmuring in horror. “Murderer.” “Child.” “Dismemberment.” Those grim words had filled the air.
He remembered how tiny the child mannequin was that the police carried in for the crime reenactment. So small it had haunted him.
Just like the host said—if someone, anyone, had noticed that boy’s pain… could something have changed?
“If you had noticed something, you probably would’ve gotten caught up in a scandal.”
The unusually long statement from his brother made Sibaek look up.
“If luck wasn’t on your side, they might’ve stripped you of your spot on the national team. You’d never have fenced again.”
“Bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”
“Then you never would’ve found me. You never even imagined I’d been adopted to the U.S., right? It was an illegal adoption—never even recorded. There was no way to trace it.”
Sibaek tried to laugh it off, but his brother kept going.
No… was it really Siwoon speaking?
The figure before him—someone he had believed to be his brother—was quickly growing younger before his eyes.
He blinked.
And now, a small child sat in the center of the room, waiting patiently.
“So, who will you choose? Me? Or that child?”
Kim Sibaek gasped and opened his eyes.
Soft morning light filtered through the blinds, drawing pale lines across the ceiling. It was morning.
A dream? That was a dream?
His palms were drenched in cold sweat. It had felt so real.
Nervously, he glanced to his side. The person lying beside him wasn’t a middle-aged Siwoon. It was Tae Woon.
Tae Woon—the boy he’d found in that basement apartment, now grown up.
Relief hit him like a wave.
What kind of dream was that…?
Had he really dreamed that Tae Woon had died thirty years ago? That Siwoon had survived instead?
It was nonsense. Just a messed-up dream. A hallucination mixed with delusions about a brother who had died long ago.
A perfect Olympic gold medalist. A brother adopted into a loving American home. Therapy, education, a successful career as a scholar—it was all too clean. Too convenient.
So neat it felt embarrassing—even though no one else had witnessed it, Sibaek couldn’t help but feel ashamed.
And yet, the dream clung to him.
“So, who will you choose? Me? Or that child?”
That voice still echoed in his ears.
Choose…?
He almost followed the thought, chased the memory down its path—but then stopped himself.
What did it matter, who he would choose? His brother was already long gone.
And just like the show’s host had said—even if it was only one person, someone had noticed. That person had been him.
He had found Tae Woon.
Tae Woon survived. That was enough.
Fully awake now, Kim Sibaek turned his gaze to the man beside him once more.
Tae Woon was still fast asleep, breathing softly and evenly. And for a moment, Sibaek saw the child from the photo overlaid on his face.
That boy had survived. Had grown up. Had become a good man.
And for Kim Sibaek, that was enough.
He had no regrets about the choice he’d made.
“Woonie.”
“Mm…”
He’d meant to wake him, but instead, Tae Woon let out a low groan and burrowed in closer.
The arm already draped over Sibaek’s chest pulled him in tighter.
Can’t breathe…
Tae Woon’s body was stronger than his own, more solid, more muscular. The dense weight of those arms made it hard to move—hard to even inhale.
No… it wasn’t just the weight. That warmth—pressing in close, clinging tightly to him—carried a deeper heat.
A need.
A longing that seeped into him, thick and inescapable.
Sibaek wiped a hand across his face and sat up a little too fast.
As he shifted, Tae Woon furrowed his brow in his sleep, instinctively pulling him back in—and in doing so, their legs tangled.
“……?!”
And then Sibaek froze.
He could feel it. Something pressing firmly against his thigh.
And it shocked him to his core.
