Small and Fragile Things - Chapter 66

For a moment, Soohwan faltered in confusion. Then his gaze shifted back to the woman before him—and she, as if she had been waiting for that exact moment, met his eyes squarely.

“So. Do you think you know who I am now?”

Irang wanted to smile when she first faced her bl00d relative. She wanted this to begin gently, calmly. But it didn’t work.

His face was too much like their mother’s. So alike that if the two of them stood side by side, no one could fail to see the bond of parent and child. Even the way his expression stiffened in shock, it was like a mirror image. The resemblance made her skin crawl. The determination to keep the conversation level shattered the instant she saw that face.

“Are you… the donor?”

“Yes.”

“Ah… I see. Then I owe you an apology for my rudeness earlier. Doctor, you really should’ve told me right away that this was the donor. But… is it even allowed, us meeting like this? I thought donor information was supposed to be confidential.”

The moment he said donor, his entire demeanor shifted. For her, that difference was half a relief, yet at the same time, it made Irang’s insides collapse.

“You really… don’t know anything.”

Unlike her, whose life had been stripped away piece by piece from the moment she was born, he had been the one to receive it all. Things given to him without explanation, things he accepted as natural. And apparently, he’d never once needed to feel guilt for it.

“What do I not know?”

His gentle, untroubled face made her stomach burn hot. That he had lived this long not knowing anything, that fact alone enraged her. It tore her apart.

“Didn’t you ever think it was strange?”

“Sorry? What do you mean? Look, you’ll need to explain yourself more clearly.”

His polite, faintly smiling expression made her want to spit in his face. Hatred boiled up from her chest. Yes, he couldn’t know. No one had ever told him. But even so—

“This is too unfair.”

At the very least, he should have known what his parents had done. At the very least, he should have known whose suffering allowed him to stand here alive. Every time he regained health, every time joy and happiness returned, he should have felt guilt. For her.

“That donor who appeared like a miracle every time your body failed you. Didn’t you find it strange? That a perfect match was always waiting for you?”

“…”

“How could you not find that strange!”

Her words, poured out from her burning chest, made him falter. That hesitation meant something deep inside him had been stirred.

“The first time they jammed a needle into my spine, I was barely two years old. After that, every time they drew marrow, I was left with aftereffects that nearly destroyed me. This scar—” she pressed her abdomen, raw pain in her voice—“came from when they ripped out one of my kidneys. And these,” she pointed at the fresh, angry lines across her torso, “you already know. From just days ago.”

Clatter. Someone outside was rattling the locked door.

The sound repeated, heavy in the silence that had fallen between Soohwan and Irang.
Outside, voices grew louder. The old physician by the door shifted anxiously, wringing his hands.

“Listen… I don’t know what you think you’re saying right now—”

Soohwan’s voice rose, trembling with denial. He would rather refuse reality than face it.

“Do you… do you have some kind of delusion disorder? You mean, every time—that was you? Don’t be ridiculous—”

Those thoughts. Those fleeting suspicions he had shoved into the darkest corners of his mind before. He had dismissed them as nonsense, as paranoia. And ignoring them had never been that hard.

His face went pale, his tone twisting into a brittle anger.

“Even if—if—what you said is true, you should blame your parents! They’re the ones who sold their daughter’s organs for money. Why come after me? Or wait, do you need money now? Is that why you’re here?”

If one were generous, they might call it self-defense. But in truth, it was nothing more than a sneer. Irang’s eyes flared with fire.

“I came here to tell you the truth. To show you what kind of people your parents really are.”

The clamor outside grew louder, the door shaking under repeated attempts. She knew her chance was almost gone—seconds left, if that.

Her vision blurred. Her body was drenched in cold sweat from the moment she’d stepped inside. It would be no surprise if she collapsed right now.

But she clung on with every shred of willpower. Even if she died here, she could not leave without saying this.

“Listen carefully.”

These words would throw him into hell. And no, she would not be sorry.

“My parents, the ones who made me this way… they’re your parents too.”

“What…?”

“I am the daughter of Kim Deok-gyu and Moon Heesook.”

This—this was the only revenge she could take on them. The only way to save a life that might have ended without leaving a single trace behind.

“I am… your sister.”

***

Taeseong General Hospital belonged to the TS Medical Foundation, Moon Heesook’s own family line. It was the perfect place to stage things like this. The repeated, off-the-record transplants between Soohwan and Irang had all been possible only because the Foundation had pulled strings. Their pharmaceutical companies, research labs, care facilities, they had all been used to create her and to hide her.

But even power cannot silence every eye, every ear, every mouth.

“What on earth is going on?”

“Pandora’s box, that’s what. Everything they hushed up—it’s spilling out now.”

“Wait, wait. Everyone else knew? Was I the only one kept in the dark?”

The nurses, hastily cleared from the VIP ward, whispered among themselves, recalling what they had just witnessed.

“So… the organs for transplant were bought with money?”

“No. Worse than that. The donor was dragged away.”

“Didn’t the patient’s guardian say he was a prosecutor? A very high-ranking one?”

“Of course. It’s always people with power and connections who commit these crimes.”

Uneasy eyes turned toward the entrance of the ward. Security guards had already gathered, standing like sentinels. But no matter how firmly they stood guard, spilled water could never be gathered back again.

“Please, Soohwan, listen to your mother, just this once. You can’t just believe everything that woman said.”

“We truly don’t know who she is. Kim Soohwan—you’re still recovering. You need to think of your health.”

Inside the hospital room, the sight was almost grotesque. Two people, each sitting at the peak of wealth and authority, reduced to begging their son. It was the very picture of the saying: the parents are the guilty ones.

“You really don’t know?”

“I don’t! I have no idea what that girl was talking about, or why she’d say such vile things.”

“If that’s true, then prove it. Bring her back here, right now. Let’s confirm it together.”

“That’s impossible!”

“…Why not?”

Kim Deok-gyu’s gaze shifted from his son’s unyielding eyes to his wife’s terrified ones. Slowly, his brow tightened. He didn’t even have the luxury of tracing back where things had gone wrong. All that mattered was damage control. But Soohwan was more determined than he had ever been. A simple lie wouldn’t suffice anymore.

“Even if we bring her back, she’ll just spout nonsense again. And your mother, she’ll collapse. Soohwan, think rationally. A sister? Such ridiculous lies.”

“You already sent her away, didn’t you? So that I couldn’t ask her myself?”

“Kim Soohwan!”

Nothing could soothe him now. He had seen it with his own eyes, the hospital staff swarming to drag Irang away, rough and merciless. And he wasn’t fool enough not to realize whose authority backed the hospital director’s orders.

“Bring her back. Now.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? Don’t you realize what a scandal this would cause if word got out?”

“Say everything she said was a lie. Say the stories of marrow and kidneys were made-up. Fine. But the liver—that’s real. She gave me her liver. And for that alone—shouldn’t you feel grateful?”

“…”

“Even if you did buy it with money, gratitude is still gratitude. Isn’t it?”

His sharp gaze cut into both parents, then his mouth twisted into a bitter smile.

“Then how about this. I still remember. When I was little, for a time Auntie took care of me instead of Mom. Because I cried so much, missing her. And she told me, Mom was away, giving birth to my sibling. If I waited patiently, I’d get to be a big brother.”

“…Ah…”

Moon Heesook finally broke. Covering her face with trembling hands, she wept in despair.