Small and Fragile Things - Chapter 21

When Irang woke up, she realized she’d fallen out of bed.

Thankfully, a soft rug had cushioned her fall. If she’d hit the bare floor, she might’ve broken something. Groaning, she pushed herself up onto her knees and rubbed her eyes, which refused to open properly.

“Haahm…”

As her swollen eyelids finally lifted, she took in her surroundings.

It was a place she didn’t recognize.

For a second, panic froze her in place—but then, as memories slowly returned, her mind began to clear.

Now that she noticed, the room smelled familiar. Was this the same scent from the dream?

Her legs were still weak, so she stayed on her knees, carefully looking around the room.

“…”

The space felt like it had his name written all over it.

From the bed frame to the nightstand, the small dresser, the floor lamp, even the hardwood floors—everything was black. Even the comforter. Unlike the fluffy pink one she loved, this blanket was thin and light, clinging to the body like a second skin. Of course, it was jet black.

He must really like black.

The only white things in the entire room were the rug she’d landed on—and herself.

With that in mind, Irang cautiously crawled back up onto the bed.

Stretching her legs out and leaning back against the pillow, she caught sight of her bruised knees. And with that, flashes of the previous night began creeping into her mind—and heat rushed to her face.

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You like it, don’t you?”

“Did that hurt?”

Every word, every memory made her heart burn hotter.

She covered her face with both hands, bit her lip out of habit—and then noticed the glass of water and folded paper sitting on the nightstand.

“I’m thirsty…”

The moment she realized it, her thirst hit all at once. She grabbed the glass and drank every drop, then picked up the paper.

The white sheet was filled with writing—sharp, angular letters like they’d been carved with a knife. Beside it lay a small black card, this one with embossed gold lettering.

White paper, black ink. Black card, gold lettering.

No doubt, he had left them there—for her to see when she woke up.

But—

“…Hmm.”

Irang couldn’t read.

***

Irang had been declared dead the moment she was born.

“Cardiac arrest due to congenital heart defect.”

A single sentence was all it took to document her death.

But that was only the official record. In truth, she had lived all along—separated from the world from the moment she left her mother’s womb, existing as someone who was never meant to exist.

From the incubator, she was immediately handed over to a nanny. She was weaned from formula, learned to walk, babble, and play. But she never once saw her parents.

Not that the nanny ever pretended to be her mother. She fed her on schedule, changed her diapers, and cared for her around the clock. But she didn’t show affection. She was simply doing her job.

So the baby grew up without hugs, kisses, or anyone to meet her gaze. And maybe because she somehow knew there was no one there to respond, she hardly cried. She never threw tantrums or acted out. If you sat her down, she stayed seated. If you laid her in bed, she played quietly by herself.

The first time she ever met her mother was in a cold hospital room.

“…Hi.”

Whether it was a miracle of life or just instinct, the baby recognized her mother instantly.

But the woman who saw that smiling child… her face twisted in a complicated mess of emotions—guilt, regret, anger, fear. Her smile faded, her hand slipped away, and she turned her back.

Time passed. The baby became a little girl. She began to speak. She started asking questions about the world.

Why can’t I go outside like the people I see through the window?

Why don’t I live with Mom and Dad?

The nanny and the driver never answered.

So one day, when she saw her parents again, she asked them herself.

Why can’t I live with you?

Why can’t I go outside?

“Because we don’t want you to get sick. We just want you to always be somewhere safe.”

And the child believed it.

“We need you, so much.”

Her mother had looked so beautiful when she said that. The smile she gave Irang made her heart flutter—so much that she forgot every other thought. And the fact that her mother worried about her? That alone made her happy.

That was the moment a tiny, fragile desire bloomed in her heart—not to disappoint her.

If she grew up healthy, maybe one day she really could live with them.

So she endured it all.

Even when the hospital visits left her sick for days afterward, she clung to the memory of her mother’s smile and willed herself to get better.

She ate everything on her plate. Never begged to go outside. Sat still and read picture books. And often—very often—she stared at the locked door, waiting for the day they’d come back.

“Are all the things in the picture book real? The ocean? School? When can I go see them?”

Her curiosity about the world grew more and more, but she held herself back. Instead, she pestered the nanny—the only link she had to the outside.

But even with all her effort, the parents stopped visiting.

Time passes equally for everyone.

As her body grew, so did her mind. Even if she didn’t want to understand, some truths just settled in. She could feel them. Sense them.

“Mom’s… not coming back, is she?”

It was a question she’d bottled up for years—one she finally pushed out in a whisper, like coughing up bl00d.

The nanny didn’t answer. But her face—usually so emotionless—looked like she might cry.

That was enough.

That was the answer.

And that was the last she ever saw of her nanny.

After that, time moved more slowly than ever.

Locked inside every day, Irang became angrier. And quieter.

There was no one to talk to, and everything started to feel pointless.

No matter how hard she tried, she got nothing in return.

No outings. No toys. No pretty clothes or shoes.

Nothing.

“How do you write my name? Can’t you teach me letters?”

“I want to read real books! These picture books are boring!”

She threw tantrums when she realized other people could read and she couldn’t.

But again, the answer was cruel.

“There’s no need for you to know.”

“If this keeps up, we’ll take the picture books away, too.”

Even learning to read was forbidden.

And so her days blurred together—filled only with boredom and a deep, aching emptiness.

Eventually, even her habit of talking to herself faded away.

As her appetite shrank, so did her strength. She started sleeping through entire days—or collapsing without warning. That’s when IV needles began appearing in her arms as she slept. With no energy left for hope, she began to wilt away in bed.

Around that time, she also finally uncovered the answer to the one question she had carried her entire life.

About why did they even keep me alive.

She overheard the staff talking while they thought she was asleep—while changing out the IV.

“I guess they still need her for something.”

“Jesus… how can they do this?”

“You think they wanted to? They had no choice.”

“What did this kid ever do wrong?”

The fact that the words came from a stranger somehow made it hit harder.

She realized, with chilling clarity.

She was a child they had no choice but to create.

Someone who was being kept alive for a purpose.

And once that purpose ran out, she probably wouldn’t be allowed to live.

That truth—so long denied and ignored—finally showed itself for what it was.

That night, she was too scared to sleep a wink.

And shortly after, she learned there was an even darker, more monstrous truth hiding behind it all.

She was fourteen.

And it was just before her first major abdominal surgery.

“She’s not fit for surgery. She won’t survive this.”

“I said it doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?! Professor, this is criminal—this is murder!”

“Why are you acting like this now? Didn’t you take your share?”

“You told us she was eighteen and healthy! You lied to us!”

“Her parents said it doesn’t matter! She was made for this—to save their son!”

It was on the operating table, surrounded by careless doctors who didn’t even check whether she’d been fully sedated, that the horrifying truth spilled out.

“Even if she’s a ‘designer baby,’ you can’t just kill her for her brother. This is insane!”