“Yeah, it should be about this much.”

“Yep. It’s going to end at this time from now on.”

“It’s already past 1 am, but I’m happy because I experienced 2 am yesterday.”

Inside the car going home after all the shooting ended. Bong Gi pressed the radio button with a satisfied expression. The calm midnight radio. The melody without major ups and downs helped to relax the tension, erase many thoughts, and also to untangle longheld thoughts.

Ji Ho, who had been exchanging words with Bong Gi, briefly held his phone. He saw a new message and subtly smiled. A photo of a splendidly written English certificate and a trophy. And excited characters.

[Ji Ho oppa! I won first place in the concours I attended this time! I wanted to tell you… You’re busy with work, aren’t you? Take care not to catch a cold. (8:05 PM)]

It was a message from his younger sister, Saebom. Looking at the date on the certificate, it was last week. She probably hesitated whether to send it or not while wandering around the piano for a week. Although it was quite late, he felt like he would wait and moved his hand.

[Congratulations, Saebom. You worked hard. Take care of your health too. (1:20 AM)]

The sent message filled the screen. When he scrolled down the screen with his finger, it was the 6th message exchanged this year. Saebom’s messages, each with a neat tone. Every time she sent a sentence, it seemed like she had thought about it several times.

‘Ji Ho, you’re listening to aunt’s words, right? Get better quickly so I can pick you up. You know dad loves you a lot, right?’

Why did he only nod his head that day? Indeed, who breathes by saying they will breathe. So, it seems like he didn’t tell dad. That he loved him a lot. Because it was too obvious.

If he knew that was the last, he would have screamed. But he was sure. Even though he didn’t say it, he was sure his dad knew. He would have felt my love with his whole body. Because I did, too.

“Oh dear, my child who used to shiver… must have closed his eyes comfortably.”

The funeral hall was filled with middleaged men with coppercolored skin. They were the men who had been on the boat with dad.

Their rough, toughlooking hands wiped the tears flowing between the deeply set wrinkles around their eyes. But no matter how much they tried to wipe them away, their eyes would easily get wet again when they saw me.

I think I blankly watched their tears. Those tears were as salty as the sea, weren’t they? No? Did their tears make the sea? Our dad’s tears must have made some sea too, right? The twelveyearold me had such quirky thoughts.

I had to have such thoughts to cry a little less.

“Ji Ho, Ji Ho, your mom gave birth to your sibling. But it seems difficult to take care of both of you because the baby is still so small. So, let’s go to middle school while living with your aunts.”

I think I nodded calmly. It wasn’t disappointing because I thought I hadn’t lost something, but it had never been there. Even though I was really fine, I heard that they sent living expenses without fail every month, probably feeling uncomfortable for not being able to take me right away.

“Let’s spend a year at your smaller aunt’s place next year. Is that okay?”

So, I lived in the houses of my big aunt and small aunt, moving back and forth each year. That’s why I transferred schools every year during middle school, and I guess this part played a role in why my life before high school was not disclosed.

A child who sat quietly in the back of the class, preparing for the next transfer. A middle school in a corner of Mokpo, with not many students. There’s hardly anyone who knows me from then.

And the year I turned 17, a call came. From mom.

“Ji Ho, you’ve grown so well. I’m sorry for not being able to fetch you sooner.”

“It’s okay. Thank you.”

The conversation between mother and son was stiff, but she must have felt it clearly. That my words of thanks were sincere. Because I felt that her words of apology were sincere.

And next to her stood a man with a refined face. Neatly groomed hair, under which was a pale face. He was tall, and above all, his hands looked delicate. A small figure was fidgeting behind his legs, peeking out and exploring me.

“He looks… just like a prince,” the little figure said.

I looked at the child who hid in embarrassment. I later heard that it was thanks to this child that I became a part of the family. My big aunt said that she wanted to take me in once this child was old enough to understand and accept the whole situation, probably when he entered elementary school.

Thankfully, the child seemed pleased. He was excited about having a big brother.

That was my new sister, Saebit, who I got as soon as I arrived in Seoul.

“How about changing your surname to ‘Yu’? I want you to do what’s comfortable for you.”

“It’s okay. I like living as An Ji Ho.”