The Three baby mining brothers - Chapter 5.1

Despite being on the second floor, the height of the ceiling made it feel closer to the sky. Sitting on a chair, Yeoreum stretched out his body while listening to the chirping birds flying by.

‘What should I do? Back at the orphanage, I barely had time to rest, constantly busy with laundry, overdue cleaning, or helping the volunteers. But coming to this mansion, I learned what leisure and freedom felt like.’

The only times he stepped out of his room were for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the occasional stroll in the garden. Most of Yeoreum’s time was spent in his room, which even had its own bathroom. Yi-eon visited almost every day, and soon, Minhyuk, his tutor, would start coming too.

It was still hard to tell whether this situation was good or bad. But one thing was clear: he had become part of their family.

Whenever the word “family” crossed Yeoreum’s mind, his heart raced. The excitement and unfamiliarity of the term drew him in. After stacking the scattered workbooks neatly in the corner, Yeoreum flopped down on the table. The desk was so spotless it seemed brand new. he wanted to adjust to this comfortable life as quickly as possible.

Dinner was seaweed soup. Whenever Yeoreum listened to his elder brothers talk, it was hard to tell if they were fighting or having a conversation. Yi-eon seemed to have decided to treat him like a younger sibling, seating him at the center of the dining table.

“Why are you redoing a perfectly fine room?”

Yi-hon’s voice was louder than usual. Yi-eon smiled casually, as if used to such reactions, and replied, “It’s dusty and more silent than the living room.”

Sighing, Yi-hon exhaled sharply, gripping his spoon tightly. His furrowed brows betrayed his frustration with Yi-eon’s shamelessness.

Yeoreum quietly sipped his seaweed soup, careful not to make any noise, watching their interaction. It seemed Yi-hon was doing his best to restrain himself, likely to appease Yi-eon’s mood.

“The bed’s hastily placed right in front of the bathroom, and there isn’t even a proper bookshelf. Are you sure that’s okay?”

Yi-eon, sitting cross-legged with his arms folded, hadn’t touched his utensils, focusing only on Yi-hon. Yi-hon, in contrast, buried his face in his soup, seemingly determined to avoid the conversation.

“But here’s the thing—if renovations start, Yeoreum won’t have anywhere to stay.”

“What do you mean nowhere to stay? With all these rooms in this big house—”

Yi-hon quickly raised his head, startled by the ridiculous claim, but Yi-eon interrupted him.

“There’s nowhere suitable, so for now, Yeoreum will stay in my room, with me.”

It finally dawned on Yi-hon that Yi-eon’s mention of construction and dust had been part of a ploy. He glanced to the side to see Yeoreum blinking, seemingly unaware of the situation.

Yi-eon clearly knew his mark well. Despite having overheard everything, Yeoreum’s innocent expression revealed no hint of deception.

“If we’re going to argue, my room is better than yours. The first floor is more spacious anyway.”

Still, Yi-hon wasn’t one to give in to Yi-eon’s provocations. If he didn’t say something, Yi-eon would likely drag Yeoreum into his room immediately. Yi-hon spoke words he normally wouldn’t have just to hold Yi-eon off.

With an irritated click of his tongue, Yi-hon slammed his utensils onto the table.

He hoped the suggestion of moving Yeoreum into his room would dissuade Yi-eon from pushing forward with the renovation. After all, it was true the first-floor room was bigger than Yi-eon’s on the second floor.

“Fine. In that case, I’ll leave Yeoreum to you.”

What?

Yi-hon’s pupils widened, though the change was subtle enough to escape notice.

Yi-hon found the whole ordeal exhausting and unnecessary. Still, something felt strange. Yi-eon often did inexplicable things, but this time, his readiness to concede was unsettling.

“Yeoreum, are you okay with this? Don’t worry, he may seem gruff, but Yi-hon’s actually quite kind.”

“…Oh, yes. I’m fine.”

Yeoreum fully understood that his room was going to be remodeled and that he’d be staying in Yi-hon’s room during the renovations. he nodded slowly, glancing at Yi-hon to gauge his reaction. Though his expression remained displeased, he no longer raised his voice. If Yi-hon had refused, things might’ve become awkward, but fortunately, he didn’t.

“Great, I’m glad you’re both okay with this,” Yi-eon said, clapping once before returning to his soup. Watching him, Yeoreum suddenly felt a lump in her throat, even though it wasn’t too late in the evening.

“What’s your game?”

Yi-hon had taken to spending his time in the first-floor study whenever he was home. While Yi-eon had a large second-floor room to himself, Yi-hon divided his time between his bedroom and the study.

As usual, Yi-hon was seated at the sturdy wooden desk in the study when Yi-eon entered, sprawled across the sofa. The younger brother, ever like a bee to honey, stuck close to Yi-hon even when he had no reason to.

“Huh?”

“Don’t play your little games with me. Why did you agree to this?”

Yi-eon, who had been lying with his hands clasped beneath his head, suddenly sat up. His hair swayed wildly as he moved.

“Brother.”

Yi-eon’s gaze was pure as he looked at Yi-hon.

“I think I like the word ‘family’ too much.”

It was a statement of self-reflection.

Yi-hon found Yi-eon endlessly fascinating. If he had grown up with a brother like Yi-eon, could he have been so forthright and honest? Probably not.

Since childhood, Yi-eon had always called him “Brother.” Even as he grew older and occasionally used “you” or his name, the word “Brother” was something Yi-eon clung to until it wore thin.

Yi-eon’s relentless sincerity was both amazing and, at times, exasperating.

“It’s just a group of people, yet they live together, trusting one another their whole lives. Isn’t that reckless but admirable?”

“I’m not planning to live with Yeoreum alone. You have to stay too, so try to get along with him.”

Because I like you too, Brother.

Yi-eon’s unwavering faith baffled Yi-hon. How could someone who didn’t know their parents trust in a sibling so blindly?

When a newborn baby cries out to its mother, it’s as though it’s declaring to the world, “You made me; you have to take responsibility for me.” That’s how Yi-hon interpreted Yi-eon’s trust.

With no parents left to shoulder the responsibility, Yi-eon had turned to him, his only remaining family. And all Yi-hon could do was nod reluctantly, as if it were a chore.

The next day, their grand two-story home in the heart of Seoul bustled with people for the first time in a while.

Yeoreum woke early as usual, had breakfast with the brothers, and then headed to Yi-hon’s room, led by Secretary Yoon.

“Since there were no specific instructions, I haven’t prepared much.”

Secretary Yoon opened the door and stepped aside. The room, located at the end of the first-floor hallway, was not the dark, unlit place Yeoreum had expected. Instead, it was bright and spacious, with walls so white they were almost dazzling.

“I’ve arranged your clothes and study materials on the desk near the window. Feel free to use them as you wish.”

Secretary Yoon, as always, spoke in a cold and emotionless tone before closing the door and disappearing. Now, only Yeoreum was left in the spacious room.

The room was much larger than his own on the second floor. Since it was a room belonging to someone else, Yeoreum hesitated to step inside carelessly.

The room felt as vast as the cafeteria of the orphanage he used to stay in. In the middle of the space was a wide bed, and beside it was a desk Secretary Yoon had mentioned earlier.

Yeoreum cautiously moved past the bed and headed to the white desk. On the tidy surface were the workbooks and stationery Minhyuk had given him. The bedside table next to it likely held the clothes he would wear while staying in Yi-hon’s room.

Earlier in the day, Yeoreum had seen off Yi-eon and Yi-hon, who left together for work after breakfast, all the way to the garden. The reason he had followed them was to express his gratitude for the new room they’d prepared for him.

It had taken quite a while for him to finally stammer out a “thank you,” but Yi-eon had smiled warmly and ruffled his hair, while Yi-hon had simply glanced his way without a word.

Yeoreum still couldn’t quite find the words to describe the emotions welling up inside him. Overwhelming gratitude and appreciation didn’t seem sufficient.

He slowly approached the desk that had been designated for him and sat down. He still wasn’t sure what he should do, but he couldn’t just sit idly. Resolving to do something, he opened one of the workbooks lying on the desk.

“If I don’t understand, I’ll just memorize it,” he mumbled inwardly, determined. He didn’t want to disappoint the people who had saved him and given him so much.

For the first time in a long while, he became so absorbed in something that he lost track of time. He leaned back in his chair, his body relaxing as tension drained away.

The next thing he remembered was lifting his head after drifting off to sleep.

He wasn’t sure when he had dozed off. Raising himself from where he’d been slumped, Yeoreum’s gaze fell on the large window before him. The sky was growing dim, the faint light of dusk signaling that quite some time had passed.

Right then, a soft knock sounded from the distant door. He instinctively wiped his mouth with his wrist and stood up quickly. Despite the short nap, he felt surprisingly light.

“Yeoreum, are you awake?”

It was Secretary Yoon. He greeted Yeoreum at the door, asking if he’d woken up from his early evening rest. Embarrassed, Yeoreum slowed his steps, feeling awkward. He’d truly intended to study but had ended up falling asleep.

Without responding, Yeoreum opened the door. Standing there was Secretary Yoon, looking just as composed and formal as he had earlier that morning when he escorted Yeoreum to the room.

“Everyone is gathered. Please head to the dining room,” Yoon informed him.

“Dinner?”

Yeoreum hadn’t been sure if Yi-eon and Yi-hon would return home together, but it seemed likely since they were both at dinner. He also realized that Yi-hon must have already been to the room while he was asleep.

“Yes, please head over quickly.”

Yeoreum trailed after Secretary Yoon, who walked ahead with cold efficiency toward the dining room. He instinctively kept his gaze fixed on the floor, too embarrassed to lift his head.

The realization that Secretary Yoon had caught him sleeping made him want to crawl into a hole and hide. And if Yi-hon knew too, it was almost unbearable to think about. No doubt Yi-hon had informed Secretary Yoon about his nap.

Yeoreum briefly entertained the idea of claiming he wasn’t feeling well to excuse himself back to his room. But he dismissed it, knowing he’d have to share this room with Yi-hon for the time being.

“Please, enjoy your dinner,” Yoon said before departing.

“Ah, thank you, Secretary Yoon.”

Feeling weighed down by embarrassment, Yeoreum hesitated before stepping into the dining room.

“You’re here? Sit down.”

“…When did you get back?”

At the familiar dining table, Yi-hun was already halfway through his meal, his plate nearly empty. Yi-eon, on the other hand, greeted Yeoreum with a warm smile.

“Not long ago. We were hungry, so we just changed and came straight down.”

Dinner with the two brothers wasn’t just about filling one’s stomach. Every meal was an opportunity for Yeoreum to learn new things. Trying unfamiliar dishes and figuring out how to eat them kept him busy.

Just a few days ago, a thick-cut sirloin steak had been served. Yeoreum hadn’t known what to do with the slab of meat on the plate. Should he use the fork? Or maybe chopsticks? The confusion on his face had been evident to anyone watching.

At first, Yi-eon had found it odd that Yeoreum seemed to know so little and had wondered what kind of place his orphanage had been. But now, he simply found it amusing.

Yeoreum, to him, was exactly the kind of child they needed—one who didn’t resist, who went along with things. Yi-eon couldn’t decide if he should feel grateful for that or pity him, so he just smiled instead.

“Hey, Yeoreum, are you getting along with my brother?” Yi-eon asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Well, it’s your first day, so maybe not yet.”

Yi-eon tapped a rhythm on the table with his fingers, glancing at Yeoreum with playful eyes. Caught off guard, Yeoreum stammered, unable to come up with an answer.

He didn’t even know if he could say he’d exchanged proper greetings with Yi-hon, let alone anything else. He snuck a glance at Yi-hon, who was quietly finishing his meal without a word.

The rest of dinner passed with Yi-eon making light conversation and asking questions. Thankfully, nothing was mentioned about Yeoreum falling asleep at the desk.

Yeoreum, overwhelmed by embarrassment, only managed a few nods and shakes of his head in response until the meal finally ended.

—

“Don’t worry about me; I’ll be staying in the study,” Yi-hon said curtly.

“Huh?”

Before Yeoreum could fully process what was happening, Yi-eon shoved Yi-hon into the large room on the first floor where Yeoreum was staying. Yi-eon stood guard at the door until it closed firmly behind him.

Shrugging as if he couldn’t be bothered, Yi-hon walked past Yeoreum, grabbing a few long-sleeved shirts and small belongings. Without giving Yeoreum a chance to say anything, Yi-hon opened the door and left.

“Does he have something urgent to do…?”

Yeoreum shook his head and sat back at the desk. He figured Yi-hon wouldn’t return until Yeoreum had gone to bed. Feeling reassured, he reopened the untouched workbook. There was still plenty of time.

Or so he thought.

By the time he checked the clock again, it was past 11 p.m., and no one had come near the room. He paced by the door, even pressing his ear against it, but all he heard was silence.

Sleepiness crept in, his eyelids growing heavy. Each time he blinked, ten minutes seemed to pass. He thought about going to bed without washing up, but his eyes started to sting with unshed tears.

Just as he was about to give in and crawl into bed, the door creaked open with a faint sound.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

It was Yi-hon.

Now dressed in glasses and casual clothes, he looked entirely at ease. The light spilling through the open door revealed his slightly puzzled expression.

“I… I haven’t washed up yet…” Yeoreum stammered.

Relieved that Yi-hon had returned, a wave of reassurance washed over him. At least now he could wash up and go to bed properly.

“Then hurry up and wash, and get some sleep,” Yi-hon said, his tone clipped but not unkind.

If the bedroom had been his only personal space, Yi-hon might have booked a hotel or cleared out a spare room. However, since he spent more time in his study than in his bedroom, it wasn’t as easy a decision, which was why he hadn’t said anything about it until now.

After dinner, he packed clothes and underwear, then went to his study to work on overdue tasks. There was a large sofa in the study, big enough to sleep on, making it no different from a second bedroom. Although it was slightly inconvenient and Yi-hon silently cursed Han Yeoreum for the trouble, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

What truly left him speechless, however, was realizing he’d left yesterday’s meeting notes on the bedside table in the bedroom. By the time he noticed, it was already late at night, long after Secretary Yoon had gone home.

Grumbling about the hassle under his breath, Yi-hon stayed in his study, determined to wait until he was sure Yeoreum had fallen asleep before retrieving the notes. Encountering Yeoreum late at night was bound to cause unnecessary complications. When the clock passed 11 PM, hurried and heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway.

It seemed Yeoreum, upon entering the room, naturally identified the door to the bathroom. He darted inside with small, quick steps. The moment Yeoreum disappeared into the bathroom, Yi-hon turned away without hesitation and opened the drawer of the bedside table. He retrieved the stacked meeting notes he had apparently forgotten, likely because he had reviewed them while lying on the bed.

“He couldn’t sleep because he hadn’t showered?”

It was surprising. Being a child, Yi-hon had assumed Yeoreum would already be asleep at this hour.

He could hear the sound of water running. “Why doesn’t he close the door?”
Though Yeoreum wasn’t visible from where he stood, the light streaming through the gap in the bathroom door was glaringly bright. Yi-hon shook his head, smirking faintly, and started to turn back toward the study.

“Why… why aren’t you coming in?”

Yeoreum’s voice, usually small and timid, rang out loudly and clearly, almost jarring to the ears. It echoed throughout the bathroom, amplified by the walls.

Yi-hon, who had been about to leave, hesitated. The way Yeoreum shouted made it sound as though something had happened.

“Is there a problem?” Yi-hon thought. Since this was Yeoreum’s first time in the room, Yi-hon decided it was plausible. Placing the documents back on the nightstand, he slowly walked toward the bathroom.

The bathroom was spacious, large enough to comfortably fit a sizable bathtub. From the doorway, Yi-hon could see the rectangular tub at the far end. Expecting to find Yeoreum flustered and uneasy, Yi-hon stepped in front of the wide-open bathroom door. Instead, what he saw made him stop short.

“Why are you completely naked?”

Yeoreum stood there, entirely unclothed, not a single thread of fabric on him. He wasn’t even wearing anything below the waist, his body fully exposed. Yi-hon had assumed something must have gone wrong, that perhaps there was a mess in the bathroom or something had broken. Yet, the space was spotless.

“…I was going to take a bath.”

Yi-hon brushed a hand through his hair, keeping his gaze fixed on the boy in front of him. Yeoreum, holding both hands nervously in front of him, seemed anxious, as if even he didn’t fully understand his own actions. Yi-hon sighed heavily, the sight of Yeoreum’s behavior exasperating him. His large sigh seemed to startle Yeoreum, whose shoulders quivered faintly.

“Why did you call me?”

“…I just wanted to bathe quickly and go to sleep.”

The conversation felt misaligned, their words not quite connecting. Suppressing his rising irritation, Yi-hon pressed on.

“But why did you call me for that?”