The Three baby mining brothers - Chapter 11

Early in the morning, the sound of the study’s doorknob clicking made Yi-hon, who was sitting in a chair, immediately turn his head toward the large door. It was Yeoreum.
Yeoreum cautiously peeked his face through the slightly opened door. He glanced around the study before finally spotting Yi-hon, sitting on the sofa.
Amusingly, as soon as their eyes met, Yeoreum’s pupils grew so large that one might wonder if a child’s eyes could expand that much. Startled, he quickly pulled his face back from the gap and slammed the door shut. Yi-hon stifled a sigh with some effort.
“Come in.”
As soon as Yi-hon finished speaking, the door opened slightly again, revealing Yeoreum’s pale face. Yi-hon, finding the déjà vu-like situation rather absurd, showed no sign of softening his expression.
“What is it?”
At his words, Yeoreum opened the door further and stepped into the study, unable to take his eyes off Yi-hon. Whether walking forward or stepping sideways, his gaze remained fixed on Yi-hon.
“I… I’d like to borrow a book to read, if that’s okay?”
Yeoreum, hesitating, sidestepped toward the bookshelves while mumbling. Yi-hon, looking thoroughly uninterested, got up with a sigh, grabbed a blanket that was lying nearby, and lay back down. Stretching his legs and reclining horizontally on the sofa, he closed his eyes as though he were about to fall asleep.
He regretted wearing his glasses, thinking they were unnecessary. With his work finally done, he was enjoying a slightly delayed vacation. It would have been a peaceful holiday if not for the constant interruptions from his younger sibling.
The soft sound of Yeoreum’s footsteps reached his ears. Undeterred, Yi-hon kept his glasses on, pulled the blanket up to his neck, and shut his eyes, relaxing his body. Still weighed down by sleepiness, he felt he could drift off any moment if not for Yeoreum’s bothersome footsteps.
Yeoreum seemed to be wandering around, either walking sideways or thoroughly searching the study. Whatever book he was looking for appeared hard to find. If it weren’t for those footsteps, Yi-hon might have fallen back asleep. Instead, he resigned himself to merely resting his body with his eyes closed.
“Is he asleep…?”
At that moment, Yeoreum’s soft breath brushed against Yi-hon’s exposed arm outside the blanket.
Earlier, Yeoreum had hesitantly descended the stairs and gently opened the study’s door. Despite the courage it took, the sudden eye contact when he opened the door startled him so much that he slammed it shut. Only after hearing the door slam did Yeoreum realize what he had done, his expression turning flustered.
Should I just leave? He had already taken a step back from the door. However, hearing Yi-hon’s voice calling him from inside forced Yeoreum to place his hand on the doorknob once again.
Awkwardly wandering around the study, Yeoreum noticed that Yi-hon’s breathing had steadied. Slowly approaching the sofa, he found himself marveling at the sight of Yi-hon, bundled up under a furry blanket. The man who usually spoke curtly and exuded an air of unapproachable authority now seemed less intimidating and more fascinating.
Yeoreum didn’t expect to have a meaningful conversation with him. However, seeing Yi-hon so visibly tired and asleep brought a pang of regret.
He felt the weight of the two light books he held in his arms. Gently tiptoeing closer, Yeoreum crouched down near the sofa. The space between the table and the sofa was wide enough for his small frame to fit comfortably.
Even with his eyes closed, Yi-hon’s face remained as sharp and immaculate as ever. His flawless complexion was almost unnervingly clear, and the naturally defined contours of his face gave it an intensity Yeoreum hadn’t noticed before. Almost unconsciously, Yeoreum’s hand reached out toward him.

Would I ever get to touch his face in my life? The thought made Yeoreum’s fingers hover hesitantly before his extended index finger lightly poked Yi-hon’s exposed cheek.
Yi-hon didn’t stir, nor did he wake to stop him.
“He must be sleeping deeply.”
Yeoreum’s face brightened. The texture of Yi-hon’s skin, felt through his finger, was unexpectedly soft. Emboldened, Yeoreum added another finger. Soon, his entire palm rested gently on Yi-hon’s warm cheek, the heat seeping into his hand.
How long had he been like that? Yeoreum abruptly pulled his hand away, startled by the thought that Yi-hon might open his eyes at any moment. Holding his breath in fear, he kept his gaze fixed on Yi-hon’s face, ready to flee at the first sign of movement.
But the only sound Yeoreum heard was the ticking of the clock in the study. Yi-hon’s eyelids showed no sign of opening.
Only then did Yeoreum release the tension in his shoulders and relax. Sitting more comfortably on the floor, he placed the books he had been cradling onto his lap and leaned in slightly.
The distance between them was close enough that Yeoreum didn’t even need to fully extend his arms to reach Yi-hon. He sat with his knees bent, resting his chin on them, gazing at Yi-hon as though admiring a piece of art.
Time seemed to flow more slowly than usual. The steady rhythm of Yi-hon’s breathing was visible to Yeoreum’s eyes as he quietly observed him.
Unlike Yi-eon, who was more relaxed and approachable, Yi-hon was always sharp and meticulous. Yeoreum briefly wondered if Yi-hon usually slept with his glasses on, only to have his attention drawn to the man’s lips. Yi-hon was more reserved and always spoke with certainty, especially to Yi-eon.
Yeoreum occasionally envied the easy, unguarded relationship between the two brothers. But he was quick to erase such selfish thoughts from his mind.
Who knows how much time had passed? Eventually, Yeoreum picked up the books resting on his lap and stood up. Like a moviegoer leaving the theater after the credits rolled, he carefully, almost regretfully, took slow steps out of the study.
“Where’s the boss?”
Chunja, who had her apron tied tightly around her waist, was wiping her wet hands dry as she approached Yi-hon’s study. She was probably looking for him to let him know breakfast was ready.
Startled, Yeoreum reacted as though he had been caught stealing. Worried that the noise at the door might wake Yi-hon, he quickly walked toward Chunja.
“He’s sleeping again. He looks tired.”
“Well, that’s to be expected after such a long trip. Come down quickly. The young boss is already at the table.”
“I’ll just put this back in my room and come down.”
Yeoreum tightly clutched the books in his hands, lifted them slightly to show her, and quickly climbed the stairs. Despite his quick steps, his light frame made no sound as he ascended. Chunja called after him to hurry as she headed toward the dining room.

The sound outside the study finally ceased. Only then did Yi-hon remove the blanket and rise from his seat, leaning comfortably against the back of the sofa.

Since Yeoreum’s arrival, Yi-hon had not fallen asleep even for a moment. He merely maintained a regular breathing rhythm. It was Yeoreum who had misunderstood, grown emotional, and left.

Perhaps it was because the boy had been brought by Yi-eon, but Yeoreum also seemed strange in some way. Yi-hon relaxed the tired tension in his eyes and swept back the bangs that constantly fell over his face. His head was filled with the thought that no matter what the boy did, ignoring him would suffice.

Having made up his mind, Yi-hon immediately moved to his desk. The excuse of a long business trip had piled up his workload, leaving him no room for idleness.

At that moment, Yi-hon had no inkling of how much learning and acquiring knowledge came quicker the younger one was—or how deeply this would come to concern him.

—

Tea time. It was one of Yi-hon’s least favorite moments, recurring whenever there was free time. According to Yi-eon, it was an opportunity to foster sibling bonds over tea, but to Yi-hon, it was just a bother.

“What kind of tea would you like?”

Holding a transparent orange-hued teacup to his lips, Yi-hon looked up at Yeoreum, who had posed the question in front of him. It was the same question Yeoreum asked every day.

“The same as yours.”

Though it was the same tea, poured from the same teapot, Yi-hon didn’t bother to ask why the boy felt the need to ask. Yeoreum also didn’t pursue the matter further, simply drawing out a long “Oh, I see,” while clutching the teacup and sipping at it.

Yeoreum’s peculiar behavior didn’t end there. Whenever Yi-hon left the house dressed casually in comfortable pants and athletic wear, Yeoreum would chase after him and ask, “Are you going to work?”
Yi-hon would catch himself unconsciously gaping before closing his mouth, chuckling softly, and heading out the door.

How Yeoreum could look at him in sportswear—not even a suit—and ask that question was beyond Yi-hon’s comprehension. The boy seemed to know even less than expected. What’s more, Yeoreum often followed him out to the garden, standing there absentmindedly until Yi-hon was out of sight before going back inside.

What baffled Yi-hon most was that Yeoreum had recently started spending more time in the living room.

The boy, who previously stayed cooped up in his shared room with Yi-eon on the second floor, was now doing everything from the sofa in the living room. It was hard not to find it odd.

The living room was a spacious area, and the sofa faced a long corridor. Halfway down the corridor was a large door leading to the dining room, with stairs leading upward on the opposite side. At the end of the corridor was Yi-hon’s study, making his space the most visible from the living room.

Countless times, Yi-hon had encountered Yeoreum glaring intently at the end of the corridor while reclining on the sofa, his hands resting on its back.

“What are you looking at?”

Adjusting his glasses, which he had been using while working, Yi-hon stopped in front of the study door and addressed Yeoreum, who was once again staring at him from the sofa.

Yeoreum, visibly flustered, quickly turned away as if pretending nothing had happened. However, instead of retreating, he widened his eyes and stood up from the sofa.

Then, running up to Yi-hon at the study door, he faced him directly. Their gazes met.

“Where are you going?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Yi-hon’s curt response followed his sharp words. It was baffling how Yeoreum could still ask where he was going when it was clear he was about to enter his study. It was hard to tell if the boy was oblivious or just plain strange.

After asking, Yeoreum quickly nodded and disappeared, as if his questions for the day had been exhausted.

“Oh… Then I’ll head upstairs.”

Before even finishing his sentence, Yeoreum walked toward the nearby stairs and ascended quickly, leaving without a second thought.

It was the one left behind who was left dumbfounded. Still staring at the staircase, Yi-hon spotted someone else coming into view.

It was Yi-eon, emerging from the dining room. If someone’s behavior seemed strange, there had to be a reason. And the only person likely to know the answer was Yi-eon. Yi-hon quickly called out to him.

“Han Yi-eon.”

“Hm? What is it?”

Was asking Yi-eon really the right choice? Wouldn’t it just make things more tiring? Worrying about this, Yi-hon stood still, staring at Yi-eon.

“Don’t tell me you were waiting for me?”

Pointing at himself with outstretched fingers, Yi-eon’s face lit up with a broad smile.

“Come in.”

“Wow, this is the first time you’ve invited me in first.”

Beaming with excitement, Yi-eon eagerly followed Yi-hon, even reaching the sofa before him and reclining comfortably. Shooting him an irritated look, Yi-hon also sat on a separate sofa some distance away.

“Do you know why the kid’s acting so weird?”

The only reason he had bothered to drag the perpetually annoying Yi-eon into the study was to find out what Yeoreum’s intentions were. He was afraid the boy might grow into a second Yi-eon.

“Who?”

Yi-eon always pretended not to know, even when he knew everything.

“Yeoreum?”

“He keeps following me around and saying nonsensical things. A kid who could barely make eye contact suddenly acting like this—there must be a reason, don’t you think?”

It was Yi-hon who had now assumed the relaxed posture Yi-eon had earlier, spilling his thoughts rapidly before leaning back against the plush sofa.

“Cute.”

Yi-hon frowned deeply.

“What? Even in this situation, you…”

He scrunched his face in frustration at Yi-eon, who was still far from serious. But Yi-eon only laughed out loud in response. At least he wasn’t clutching his stomach with laughter like before, which Yi-hon considered a small relief.

“Both of you, I mean. You’re just as cute as Yeoreum.”

Yi-eon smirked excessively, undeterred, even though Yi-hon was far past the age for being called cute.

With a sigh, Yi-hon leaned back against the sofa, tilting his head back. Everything felt bothersome. Dragging Yi-eon in had been a mistake from the start.

“Maybe he just wants to get closer to you?”

“Kids often show affection for no apparent reason. Maybe Yeoreum’s decided you’re his chosen one. I’m already getting plenty of love from him. You just haven’t given him a chance yet. It’s only natural.”

Yi-hon listened to Yi-eon’s words, though he couldn’t understand them. What had he done to deserve such affection? Even for Yi-eon, was being family a sufficient reason to warrant this level of love? Yi-hon could firmly say no.

But now, he needed to find a reason. Becoming family meant being everything for them, sharing and receiving immense affection.

Though he found the process exhausting, Yi-hon believed that half-heartedly accepting Yeoreum would eventually bring this chapter to a close. That was all there was to it.

—

“Where are you going?”

Holding a trowel in his hand as he walked down the corridor, Yi-hon encountered Yeoreum in a bright sweatshirt. It was the boy’s first question of the day. By now, even Yi-hon had unconsciously started keeping track of how often Yeoreum spoke to him.

“Outside.”

He pointed toward the door with the trowel in his hand. Having spent all of January away on a long business trip, he had taken the holiday season off. However, with growing pressure from his secretary, Yoon, and the incessant ringing of his phone, too much time had passed to keep ignoring it.

Promising to return to work after the weekend, he was starting the new year with that thought in mind. Thinking about it made it unbearable to just sit still, so he had opened a drawer, pulled out dusty equipment, geared up, and was heading out—only to encounter Yeoreum here.

“Don’t you have tutoring?”

“It ended early. Are you going to work in the garden?”

The orphanage, where Yi-hon had spent more than half his time, also had a wide garden and vegetable patch. On weekends, they used to set aside time to tend the garden and water the plants regularly.
Seeing Yi-hon in casual clothes with a trowel in hand brought memories of the orphanage rushing back to him. The nervousness from talking to Yi-hon quickly faded away due to the nostalgia.
“Go upstairs and study.”
But Yi-hon seemed to notice Yeoreum’s intention to follow him. Waving the trowel in his hand, he urged Yeoreum to go back upstairs.
Yeoreum, blocking his way, couldn’t take a single step past the door because Yi-hon, who turned around, now stood in front of him. Yeoreum, whose view was blocked by Yi-hon’s chest, slowly looked up. Still avoiding his gaze, Yi-hon gestured with his chin, signaling for Yeoreum to go back upstairs.
“Can’t I come with you? I think I’ve studied too much; my head hurts… I promise I won’t get in the way.”
It was just a small vegetable patch and garden near the main gate, not even the front yard. It was also a place Yeoreum frequently went for walks. His wide, pleading eyes made Yi-hon unable to refuse anymore.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Yi-hon quickly went outside, leaving Yeoreum behind. It was more like permission than a refusal. The child’s persistence seemed to be growing more similar to Yihyeon’s.
It was mid-January, and the wind was still cold and sharp. The weather was harsh enough to demand thick layers of clothing. Yet, Yeoreum followed Yi-hon with only a sweatshirt on.
Even Yi-hon, wearing a thick jacket, felt the biting cold wind. Yeoreum, however, seemed more focused on keeping up with Yi-hon than on the weather.
Yi-hon stopped at a pile of soil on the left side of the mansion, holding his trowel. At first glance, it was hard to tell if this was a vegetable patch because it was so messy. Yet, the withered sprouts here and there proved its purpose.
When Yeoreum first arrived here, autumn had just ended, and winter was settling in. The garden was filled only with faintly tinted trees, with no flowers in sight. Watching Yi-hon try to bring some changes to this place felt fascinating to Yeoreum. It was enough to make him forget the cold.
Yi-hon began smoothing the uneven soil by kicking and rubbing it flat with his foot. His gestures seemed full of care and affection, but that wasn’t the case. While the soil and fertilizer were supposedly suitable for gardening, Yi-hon had no knowledge of such things.
Gardening wasn’t a hobby of his. He neither enjoyed harvesting fresh vegetables nor growing beautiful flowers. His pastime, if one could call it that, was so meaningless and wasteful that even Yeoreum couldn’t help but laugh at it.
“What’s that?”
Yeoreum asked as Yi-hon picked up a small box attached to the wall of the mansion and threw it onto the flattened soil. Yi-hon glanced at Yeoreum. Since Yeoreum had followed him this far, he thought it wouldn’t hurt to do something different from last year.
“Seeds. Do you want to pick some?”
“R-really? Can I?”
Yeoreum hesitated, wondering if this was something Yi-hon normally decided in advance. However, excitement overpowered his doubt at being given this opportunity.
He crouched in front of the box, carefully eyeing Yi-hon. Though the box was small, it had made a dull thud when dropped, indicating its weight. Inside, as expected, were many seeds, neatly packed in small bags with names and illustrations on them, making them easy to recognize.
There was a surprisingly wide variety—everything from wildflowers to familiar items like strawberries.
“Take out a bunch. We’re going to plant them all at once.”
“Huh? Are they all okay to plant now?”
The sheer number of seeds made Yeoreum hesitate. Moreover, some seeds didn’t seem fit to survive the harsh winter.
“I don’t know. Just pick the ones you like.”
This was a tradition Yi-hon had started as a New Year’s ritual. He would purchase all kinds of seeds, plant them in the soil, and watch to see what would sprout and bear fruit throughout the year.

Yi-hon always said it was a pointless and worthless endeavor. Yet, Yi-hon found the yearly process of different seeds sprouting and bearing fruit fascinating.
He didn’t expect plants that needed to be planted in winter to survive, but he couldn’t help but wonder about crops meant for summer.
Even though he didn’t water them regularly or observe them daily, Yi-hon always remembered to clear out dead sprouts, like today.
This time, he had a child accompanying him. Yeoreum, still looking up at Yi-hon with a mix of confusion and anticipation, began carefully selecting seeds to take.
Yi-hon, meanwhile, kicked at the soil to create space for planting.
Although it was technically a garden attached to the mansion, the outdoors was still the outdoors. The cold wind made Yeoreum’s hands tremble as he stood up, clutching several seed packets. By now, the hems of his pants were covered in dirt.
“Picked them? Just scatter them.”
“Huh? Is this okay?”
Still unsure, Yeoreum obeyed and began scattering the seeds. The small seeds quickly disappeared into the soil.
He scattered seeds for various things—flowers he’d never seen, lettuce, melons, and strawberries. Afterward, he crouched back down and gently covered the seeds with soil.
The cold, rough texture was vivid against his hands.
Yi-hon came closer and used his foot to push more soil over the area where Yeoreum had been working.
Startled by Yi-hon’s sudden presence and the soil suddenly filling his view, Yeoreum lost strength in his legs and fell backward. With a gasp, he realized he was now completely covered in fertilizer-mixed soil, not just at his pant cuffs.
But Yi-hon wasn’t done. He grabbed a bright blue watering can nearby and tipped it over.
Even more startled, Yeoreum quickly scrambled backward. Although he thought he’d dodged it, water from the watering can splashed onto the ground, leaving his beige sweatshirt dotted with muddy stains.
Standing a safe distance away, Yeoreum looked at Yi-hon with slightly resentful eyes, almost glaring.
“Do you want to try?”
Mistaking Yeoreum’s expression as interest, Yi-hon handed him the watering can.
Still sulking, Yeoreum reluctantly took the can. Though he wasn’t cold anymore, he was beginning to feel a bit worn out.
After pouring all the water over the seeds, Yeoreum followed Yi-hon back inside.
As soon as they stepped in, the temperature difference was striking. The cold wind disappeared, replaced by a lukewarm atmosphere that felt soothing.
Looking down, Yeoreum saw his shoes completely covered in mud, unrecognizable. His whole appearance screamed that he’d just been through something messy and exhausting.

“Ah!”

Yeoreum, trying to scrape off the dirt from his shoes by moving his feet back and forth, bumped into something as he stepped inside. Grabbing his head in pain, he looked up.

Standing before him was Yi-hon, whom he assumed had already gone inside.

“It’s not just your shoes that are the problem.”

“…What?”

“Your pants too, and the rest of you as well. Anyone would think you did everything by yourself.”

Yi-hon glanced at Yeoreum’s pants and sweatshirt, clicking his tongue in disapproval. Yeoreum’s eyes narrowed in frustration, but he couldn’t decide where to start explaining.

Technically speaking, his pants got dirty because Yi-hon startled him, and his clothes got wet because someone sprayed water in an area where people were standing.

“Andvthe auntie already has enough on her plate.”

You’re just creating more work for her. Yi-hon didn’t finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear. If Yeoreum walked all the way up to his room on the second floor in his current state, he’d leave a trail of dirt and debris like a breadcrumb trail marking his path.

Yeoreum had intended to clean himself up after taking a shower. Just as he was about to retort, Yi-hon leaned down and grabbed him by the waist, hoisting him onto his shoulder.

“Hey, what the…!”

Before he knew it, Yeoreum was slung over Yi-hon’s shoulder like a child. The only thing he could see was Yi-hon’s back and the scenery in the opposite direction they were walking.

Even though he hadn’t been carried like this in a long time, being lifted so effortlessly felt far from pleasant. Yeoreum wriggled and squirmed in an attempt to protest, but Yi-hon smacked him lightly on the butt, bringing his movements to a halt.

“Stop squirming. You’re making the dirt fall everywhere.”

With a subdued “Ugh,” Yeoreum stopped moving. A soft whisper about his butt being smacked reached his ears, leaving him too embarrassed to continue protesting.

When Yi-hon finally put Yeoreum down, it wasn’t in Yeoreum’s room on the second floor but in the bathroom attached to Yi-hon’s own room.

“What are you doing? Go in and shower.”

It was the first time Yeoreum had been back to Yi-hon’s room since staying there during the renovation in his own room.

Yi-hon firmly shut the bathroom door behind him as he left. Left alone in the bathroom, Yeoreum looked down at his dirt-covered clothes and let out a dry laugh, comparing his disheveled state to Yi-hon’s clean and tidy appearance.

His shoes, pants, and even his underwear were soaked, but at least he had achieved his goal of having three conversations a day. After all, maintaining family communication was important.

Trying to suppress the twitching corners of his mouth, Yeoreum peeled off his damp clothes, letting the dirt and grime wash away. Even the dried, crusty patches came off after some scrubbing.

Fresh and clean, Yeoreum ran his hand over his face, grabbed a neatly folded towel, and dried himself off.

“…What?”

When he looked for clothes to change into, he realized there weren’t any. The ones he had been wearing were too filthy to wear again. In his rush to shower, he hadn’t thought about bringing clean clothes.

Placing his dirty clothes into the laundry basket, Yeoreum cautiously cracked open the bathroom door. He peered out, hoping Yi-hon might have left some clothes for him.

Unfortunately, his hope was in vain. There were no clothes in sight—just the sound of Yi-hon’s footsteps somewhere outside.

“…Um…”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t have anything to wear…”

“Wait there. I’ll get you something.”

Relieved that Yi-hon had heard him, Yeoreum waited. Soon, he heard the sound of a drawer opening and closing as Yi-hon searched for clothes. Gaining confidence, Yeoreum opened the door fully and stepped out of the bathroom.

The cold air hit him immediately, making him shiver. The warm, humid air of the bathroom had lulled him into forgetting how chilly it was. Goosebumps spread across his body, and he began trembling uncontrollably.

Feeling lightheaded, Yeoreum stumbled toward the bed and leaned against it, sitting on the floor. He couldn’t sit on the bed without clothes, and he was afraid of fainting if he stood any longer.
“These should fit. Try them on…”

Turning with clothes in hand, Yi-hon glanced toward the bathroom, expecting Yeoreum to still be inside. Instead, he noticed the door wide open and quickly spotted Yeoreum on the floor.

Unlike most people, who would at least wrap themselves in a towel, Yeoreum was sitting completely naked on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face.
“Why are you sitting on the floor like that?”

Approaching Yeoreum, Yi-hon noticed the boy’s trembling frame. He sighed, wondering how someone could be so careless about their well-being.
“Stand up and put these on.”

He stood close enough that his toes nearly touched Yeoreum, looking down at the boy who still hadn’t raised his head. Yi-hon had expected him to be blushing and pleading for privacy, but Yeoreum continued trembling in silence, his head still buried in his arms.
“Are you cold?”

At his question, Yeoreum slowly nodded. His body felt cold, and his head was spinning. Even with his eyes closed, the room felt like it was tilting and swaying.
“Cold? Or sick?”
Yi-hon knelt in front of Yeoreum and placed a hand on his head, gently lifting it. Yeoreum’s flushed face was pale with exhaustion, and his eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

“You really push yourself too hard,” Yi-hon muttered, realizing Yeoreum’s body was icy to the touch. The boy was shivering so much that Yi-hon could feel it through his hand.
Yi-hon sighed, draping a thick hoodie over Yeoreum’s shoulders. Though he had never dressed anyone before, he worked methodically, pulling the hoodie down and securing it in place. The oversized garment was easy to put on, but the real challenge came with the pants.
Yeoreum’s curled-up position left little room to maneuver. Still trembling and lethargic, he barely moved, leaving Yi-hon to do all the work.
“Hold on tight.”
Yeoreum weakly wrapped his arms around Yi-hon’s neck, his grip tightening slightly. Yi-hon adjusted the boy’s position and helped him put on the pants, sighing again at the sheer effort it took to dress him.

As Yi-hon stood, lifting Yeoreum just enough that his feet were barely off the ground, he released the arm that had been supporting Yeoreum’s back and began sliding his legs into the pants. He had also brought a new pair of underwear, fresh out of the packaging, but sheer stubbornness made him give up on helping Yeoreum with that.
Yeoreum, unable to lift his head, clung even closer to his older brother as Yi-hon shifted to dress him. Despite the pounding in his head and the spinning world around him, Yeoreum’s mind remained clear.
I should’ve just stayed in the bathroom and waited. Why did I come out only to end up in this state?
Yeoreum let out quick, shallow breaths to try to regain his strength, but nothing seemed to go his way. Feeling on the verge of tears, he buried his face into Yi-hon’s shoulder and moved his legs into the pants his brother was trying to help him wear.
“What did I even do to deserve this?” Yi-hon muttered under his breath, though his voice carried a faint hint of laughter.
Yeoreum, realizing how ridiculous he must have looked, flushed with embarrassment. His face grew hot, and he couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting, unintentionally pressing closer to Yi-hon.
Yi-hon, sensing the younger one’s movements and the slight increase in resistance while putting on the pants, couldn’t help but let out a bemused sigh. He smoothed down the fabric and gave Yeoreum’s plump bottom a light slap to stop him from squirming. The sound of the soft smack echoed lightly in the room.
“Why… why the butt again?” Yeoreum’s voice was hoarse, cracking with surprise and disbelief.
“Stay still. Otherwise, it’ll get worse, and we might have to head outside,” Yi-hon replied with calm pragmatism, though his words carried a veiled warning.
At that, Yeoreum’s body froze. Yi-hon was likely referring to taking him to the hospital if his condition worsened. But in Yeoreum’s muddled state, the words twisted into something far more humiliating.
The swirling thoughts in his head spiraled even further as he clung desperately to Yi-hon, his grip tightening. His fevered mind toyed with ridiculous ideas—could this embarrassing state be considered an illness that needed medical attention? No, he couldn’t possibly ask Yi-hon about that. The thought alone made him bury his face even deeper into his brother’s shoulder.
While Yeoreum’s overactive imagination continued to torment him, Yi-hon worked with focused efficiency, pulling the pants all the way up to Yeoreum’s waist. With that done, he effortlessly lifted Yeoreum and carried him to the bed, laying him down as though tossing a pillow.
“Ah!”
Yeoreum yelped as he landed on the bed, his backside hitting first before his back followed, knocking the air out of his lungs.
“Just sleep,” Yi-hon said curtly, brushing his bangs back with a swipe of his hand. He felt strangely exasperated but resigned to the situation, as if he had unwittingly taken on the role of raising a fully grown child instead of simply helping out a younger sibling.
I should’ve just called Yi-eon. Whenever I’m around Yeoreum, I always end up doing things I’d never imagined myself doing. Like this whole thing in the bathroom just now.
“It hurts…” Yeoreum whimpered.
“Where?” Yi-hon asked, his tone barely masking his impatience. He figured Yeoreum would fall asleep soon from sheer exhaustion, but the younger boy kept repeating, “It hurts,” with watery eyes and flushed cheeks.
Instead of replying further, Yi-hon pulled the blanket up to Yeoreum’s neck, wrapping him snugly.
“Just be quiet and sleep,” he said firmly. Sitting beside Yeoreum, Yi-hon waited until his brother’s murmured complaints faded into soft breaths. Confirming that Yeoreum had finally fallen asleep, Yi-hon rose to his feet.
Even though this was his own room, Yi-hon instinctively moved quietly, careful not to wake Yeoreum as he left.