The Three baby mining brothers - Chapter 4.2

Yi-eon gently patted Yeoreum’s head, who was gazing up at him, before stepping out of the room. In one corner of the room stood a large desk. Although Yeoreum had never sat at it before, it looked functional and perfectly suited for its purpose.

Does this mean they want me to go to college? Yeoreum wasn’t sure how to respond to their sudden suggestion. Slowly, he walked over to the desk and sat down on the white chair.

At the orphanage, even when the boiler was fully running, the chairs were always cold enough to chill him to the bone. Perhaps because of that, Yeoreum instinctively sat down cautiously. Feeling warmth rising from beneath him, he found it unexpectedly fascinating.

It wasn’t particularly cold outside, but the chilly wind still blew, so the warmth of the chair brought a sense of comfort and stability. The desk was spacious enough to lie down on, and it held everything one could possibly need. A strange mix of emotions washed over him.

The unfamiliar workbooks, writing tools, and numerous notebooks all seemed unnecessarily expensive and high-quality. Resting his arms on the desk, Yeoreum idly traced his fingers along its white surface, when suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

“Yes, come in.”

A young man wearing a black hoodie and well-fitted jeans, with glasses perched on his nose, entered the room. Behind him stood Yi-eon, watching Yeoreum over the man’s shoulder. Startled, Yeoreum quickly rose from his seat and bowed his head in greeting.

“Is this the new little brother you mentioned?”

The man, who seemed to be a private tutor, chuckled lightly and pointed a finger at Yeoreum. Yi-eon stepped into the room, placing an arm casually over the man’s shoulder as he glanced at Yeoreum, who stood there silently.

“New little brother? What are you even talking about? Yeoreum, come here. Say hello. This is your tutor and my friend, Oh Minhyuk.”

“Friend?”

Minhyuk scoffed, brushing off Yi-eon’s hand from his shoulder as if tossing it aside, and stepped closer to Yeoreum. Seeing him up close, Minhyuk realized Yeoreum looked even smaller and younger than he had thought.

“A high school student? He could easily be mistaken for a middle schooler with that delicate face.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m that guy’s friend, Oh Minhyuk. Let’s get along well.”

Yeoreum slowly extended his hand and shook the one Minhyuk offered. It had been a while since Minhyuk had visited Yi-eon’s house, and now, thanks to the not-so-subtle coercion to tutor someone, here he was again. The house was still massive, but what stood out even more was the presence of an incongruous little chick—a small, innocent figure like Yeoreum—within it.

Up close, Minhyuk couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle. It was obvious whose taste this was. Innocent, young, pale-skinned, and with dark hair that shimmered with a hint of ocean blue. It almost felt as though Han Yi-eon had crafted someone to perfectly match his preferences.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Yeoreum mumbled, his words trailing off awkwardly. He had been worried about whether he could manage, but upon meeting the tutor, a determination to do well took precedence over his fears.

At first, Minhyuk had been irritated about being asked to tutor a kid—it wasn’t something he expected or wanted to do as a regular college student. But slowly, curiosity began to creep in. Even more so when he noticed Yi-eon standing at the door, watching them as if to supervise.

Although Minhyuk was at an age where he should’ve been posing as a graduate student rather than an undergrad, Yeoreum’s wide-eyed gaze full of trust made it clear he truly believed Minhyuk was just an ordinary, academically successful college student.

This time, Yi-eon seemed to have found someone good. Though, as always, Minhyuk couldn’t help but think Yi-eon was a detestable guy.

“Alright, get out. Let the two of us have some time alone,” Minhyuk said, slinging the bag he had begrudgingly carried off his shoulder and setting it down. He turned toward Yi-eon, who was leaning casually against the doorframe.

Minhyuk’s eyes involuntarily noticed Yi-eon’s unnecessarily long legs first, but jealousy surged quickly, and he looked away.

“Minhyuk, ‘time alone’ sounds a bit strange,” Yi-eon replied, forcing a pouty expression onto his face as he leaned his cheek against his palm, smiling at the annoyed Minhyuk.

“Why? It’s true, isn’t it? Don’t you want your little brother to get into college as soon as possible? Now, get out.”

“I don’t really have to leave… but I guess Yeoreum does, huh? I’ll bring some snacks up later. Work hard.”

“Come or don’t. Just make sure it’s something expensive,” Minhyuk retorted.

Yi-eon, who had been standing there idly stroking his cheek, soon left the room with his long strides. Though their brief conversation hadn’t seemed particularly emotional, Minhyuk couldn’t relax until the sound of Yi-eon’s footsteps completely disappeared.

Was he 19? Or was it 20? Though Yi-eon was taller, Minhyuk wasn’t far off in height, yet the smaller and more fragile-looking Yeoreum made him wonder if the kid could handle anything properly. At least his eyes seemed to have some spirit in them.

“is your sure name Han?” Minhyuk asked, propping his chin on his hand as he spoke in a monotonous voice.

Yeoreum slowly nodded. Han Yeoreum. Of all the surnames, it just had to be Han. How perfectly Yi-eon had managed to find someone who even matched his family name—it was almost sickening. Minhyuk thought to himself that dealing with the Han brothers was nothing short of exhausting.

How Yi-eon had managed to find someone with the Han surname as well was almost uncanny, leaving Minhyuk feeling exhausted by the whole thing. He had somehow ended up entangled with the Han family, to the point where he now had to take responsibility for sending this kid—picked up from who knows where—to college.

Even though Minhyuk acted like he didn’t care about anything and pretended to be annoyed in front of Yi-eon, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t uneasy. Bringing someone in, lying about their identity, and casually involving others—it all felt too reckless for comfort.

It was clear Yi-eon must have used his smooth, snake-like tongue to ensure that young Yeoreum wouldn’t dare to rebel. There was no point in digging deeper, as nothing good would come from it. Minhyuk shook his head, pushing the rising thoughts away. All he had to do was what was asked of him.

“Nineteen?”

Minhyuk’s question made Yeoreum try his best not to show any signs of unease. It had been so long since he had been lying about his age that he could barely remember if he was supposed to be nineteen or twenty. Of course, he had no intention of telling Minhyuk the truth either.

Instead, Yeoreum simply nodded and pulled his chair closer to sit properly. He figured this must be the correct way to act. His posture was tense, his back stiff with nervousness.

Since they had gone to the trouble of assigning him a tutor, Yeoreum felt determined to do his best. His mind was completely focused on absorbing everything Minhyuk would say.

Looking at Yeoreum, Minhyuk couldn’t help but notice his spotless, innocent face. Yi-eon, who used to annoy Minhyuk daily for no reason, had a brightness to him, like pure snow falling in the middle of winter. But Yeoreum—he was even more radiant.

Moreover, despite being 19, Yeoreum’s cheeks were still round and soft, as if his baby fat hadn’t completely disappeared. His slender frame made the contrast even more noticeable. Minhyuk, who hadn’t interacted with someone so young in a while, found it fascinating.

For some reason, his fingers started itching, as if he wanted to pinch Yeoreum’s cheek.

“This is interesting. Can I touch it?”

“What?”

Sitting across from each other at the desk, Yeoreum couldn’t stop Minhyuk’s hand as it reached out toward him. Minhyuk didn’t really wait for permission, either. He had already started gently rubbing Yeoreum’s cheek.

“When I was your age, my skin was practically garbage. But you and your brother both have amazing skin. Are you sure you’re not Han Yi-eon’s real brother?”

The idea of being Yi-eon’s biological brother was absurd. Yeoreum quickly shook his head.

“N-no, I’m not.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. You don’t seem anything like Yi-hon hyung, either.”

Yi-hon, who always buttoned his shirts up to the very top and kept his hair meticulously combed, was so sharp and flawless that he seemed incapable of bleeding even if you pricked him. It was only natural that someone like Yeoreum, timid and seemingly unable to do anything, would have nothing in common with him.

Yeoreum slowly nodded, agreeing with Minhyuk’s observation.

Meanwhile, Minhyuk continued cupping Yeoreum’s cheek with his hand, his face lighting up with genuine amazement.

“Wow, it’s so soft.”

As Minhyuk’s touch pressed against his skin, Yeoreum’s cheeks grew warm and slack, his expression twisting slightly in a strange way. His voice slipped out in a tone that was just as odd.

“It… it hurts…”

Hurt? Minhyuk thought he had been gentle, but apparently, it had been painful for Yeoreum.

Yeoreum’s cheeks were now flushed a vivid red, his soft skin visibly irritated. Minhyuk, flustered, quickly opened his hand and lightly ran his palm over Yeoreum’s warm cheek to soothe it.

Click.

It was at that moment Minhyuk heard the sound of a door opening. He turned his head, startled. The door, which Yi-eon had slammed shut earlier, was now ajar. Standing there, leaning casually against the wall, was Yi-eon, his face unreadable but stiff.

“When did you come in?”

Yeoreum, rubbing his overheated cheek where Minhyuk’s hand had been, blinked rapidly, tears threatening to spill. Is that how strong an adult man’s touch always was? His cheek throbbed, and he fought the urge to cry.

Oblivious to Yeoreum’s plight, Minhyuk immediately pulled his hand away, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. He stood up abruptly, his gaze shifting nervously to Yi-eon.

Yi-eon, arms crossed and still leaning against the wall, didn’t bother hiding the faint smile curling at his lips as he slowly approached.

“What are you doing?”

For some reason, Minhyuk’s heart began pounding erratically. He instinctively stepped back, only to find himself trapped by the desk.

Yi-eon was holding a small plate he’d left on a nearby table. On the plate were strawberries carved into delicate rose shapes, impossibly intricate and beautiful—hard to believe Yi-eon had done it himself.

Yi-eon placed the plate on Yeoreum’s desk and casually perched on the edge of it, positioning himself between Minhyuk and Yeoreum.

Minhyuk didn’t respond, staring at Yi-eon in silence. Having spent nearly ten years observing Yi-eon, Minhyuk knew what the narrowed gaze meant—something had rubbed him the wrong way.

“You’re not seriously upset just because I touched his face, are you?” Minhyuk asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Minhyuk, still standing awkwardly, didn’t even think about sitting back down. The absurdity of the situation weighed on him. Why had Yi-eon shown up at such an inconvenient time? Why now, of all moments?

Yi-eon shrugged in response, turning away from Minhyuk to look at Yeoreum instead.

The atmosphere wasn’t entirely light, so Yeoreum kept his head down, glancing nervously at Yi-eon for any sign of his mood. As soon as Yi-eon turned his head, their eyes met. The faint scent of strawberries drifted into Yeoreum’s nose.

Yi-eon’s gaze settled on Yeoreum’s visibly reddened cheek. No one else seemed to notice, but Yi-eon’s brow twitched slightly.

“I was just curious because his cheeks felt like mochi. I didn’t mean anything by it. Hey, are you even listening to me?” Minhyuk’s frantic explanation came from behind Yi-eon, accompanied by flailing arms.

But Yi-eon didn’t reply. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the faint marks left on Yeoreum’s pale skin. Slowly, Yi-eon reached out a hand, ignoring Minhyuk’s protests.

Yeoreum instinctively leaned slightly into the touch. The cool sensation of Yi-eon’s fingers on his warm cheek eased the tension in his furrowed brow. A small sigh of relief nearly escaped his lips.

Yi-eon used one hand to gently hold Yeoreum’s cheek while picking up the fork he had brought with him in the other. He extended the fork toward Minhyuk, the sharp glint of the utensil catching the light.

“Minhyuk, do you want some strawberries?” Yi-eon’s voice was calm, but the way he gestured toward the plate made the fork seem more menacing than it should have.

Minhyuk hesitated for a moment but ultimately accepted the fork. He speared one of the rose-shaped strawberries and popped it into his mouth. For a split second, he worried it might be poisoned, but the sweetness of the strawberry quickly put him at ease.

“By the way, Minhyuk,” Yi-eon suddenly said.

“Hm?” Minhyuk responded mid-bite, already reaching for another strawberry. He froze when Yi-eon’s tone sharpened slightly.

“Yeoreum isn’t comfortable with the touch of strangers, so could you be more mindful of that in the future?”

Yi-eon’s words were soft but carried an unmistakable edge. Minhyuk stiffened, the fork pausing mid-air.

Yi-eon leaned back further, completely shifting his position to sit comfortably on the table. Now, Minhyuk was the only one left standing. The distracted, distant demeanor Yi-eon had been wearing earlier was entirely gone, replaced with an empty smile that betrayed no emotion.

“You’re practically Yeoreum’s tutor now. Of course, you understand,” Yi-eon said, his tone light but sharp enough to cut.

At least he’s not telling me to stop eating the strawberries, Minhyuk thought, popping another petal-shaped strawberry slice into his mouth. He chewed slowly and nodded in agreement.

From what Minhyuk could see, Yeoreum didn’t seem afraid of other people’s touch at all. There had been no startled reactions, no expressions of fear, no tremors. The kid just seemed uncomfortable, likely because Minhyuk had been too rough. If anything, Yeoreum seemed perfectly fine with others, despite Yi-eon’s claims.

But things always took on a different meaning when Yi-eon spoke. Han Yi-eon had a way of altering people, reshaping them entirely without them even realizing it. He left no room for escape, no way for people to walk away from him. His eyes always seemed to carry that silent warning.

“Yeah, got it. I’ll be careful,” Minhyuk replied casually, though he felt a faint chill run down his spine.

Whether Yi-eon meant his words as a suggestion, a warning, or a threat, it didn’t matter. Minhyuk had no intention of testing the waters. He’d long since learned that following Yi-eon’s lead was the safest path. He didn’t want to dwell on what it might mean for Yeoreum to be caught up in this.

Shrugging, Minhyuk picked up his bag, which had been lying on the floor. “This is last year’s college prep material. I thought I’d have Yeoreum try a few problems first, and then we’ll decide whether to focus on the basics or move on to advanced stuff. Also, you do know I’m not even old enough to get into college myself, right?”

Yieon nodded as if it were obvious and accepted the several workbooks handed over by Minhyuk instead of responding to Yeoreum’s gaze beside him.
“Thanks for the strawberries. They’re good. Can I leave now? I came here to deliver these and check in on you anyway.”
“Do as you like.”

Minhyuk slung his bag over his shoulder and took in Yieon and Yeoreum with his gaze. For some reason, the image of a kangaroo cradling its joey in its pouch flashed through his mind.

Yieon, leaving the silently standing Minhyuk behind, looked at Yeoreum, who quickly stood up and bowed his head in greeting.
“Thank you. I’ll work hard from now on.”
“Alright, see you next week.”

Perhaps because the session ended sooner than expected, contrary to their assumptions of a long lesson, there was a hint of regret. Yet, at the same time, the realization of having something to focus on sparked a hidden determination.

“When you head downstairs, follow Secretary Yoon. He’ll take you home.”

Just as Yeoreum was about to grab the doorknob and step out, he turned his head back at Yieon’s words. The thought of being able to travel comfortably brightened his mood. It was simpler than he thought.
“Thanks for that.”

Yieon, whose face had been full of smiles, gently turned Yeoreum’s shyly lowered head toward him as soon as the former disappeared from sight.
“So, how was it today? There’s still a long way to go. Do you think you can do it? It’s okay to give up.”

Yieon’s hand touched Yeoreum’s cheek again, the slow, gentle motion feeling soft and comforting.

Just as Yieon had said, the road ahead was still long. Yeoreum had studied hard, but he wasn’t particularly good at it. However, the only thing he could do for his family right now was to study. Cleaning the house was fine, but he couldn’t take on anything more, like earning money or handling bigger responsibilities outside.

The weight of the burden he had finally found settled on Yeoreum, yet he felt oddly relieved.
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
“Hmm.”

“You don’t need to push yourself,” Yieon murmured, his tone quiet, but his gaze seemed to search for something in the quiet figure before him.

If Yieon were to hold onto Yeoreum any stronger, it might leave a bruise on him. Though that might not be entirely bad, the idea of gauze once again touching Yeoreum’s cheek felt unappealing.

As Yeoreum nodded, Yieon glanced around his room. He had picked the cleanest room he could find and hurriedly filled it with the bare essentials for Yeoreum. But looking at it now, it felt inadequate.

Sensing Yieon’s discomfort, Yeoreum froze and stared blankly into the air, his breathing almost imperceptible.

The quiet night was marked only by a plate of leftover strawberries and several workbooks on the table. For a boy who had been brought here so suddenly, there was no luggage to speak of.

With a heavy sigh, Yieon rose abruptly from the table and gave his wrinkled trousers a sharp shake.
“Get some rest.”

After running a hand gently through Yeoreum’s hair, Yieon opened the large door and left. Yeoreum, who had been staring intently at his retreating figure, only nodded after he was gone—a response too late to reach him.