1.4

Her family name was Yoon.  

Her name was Leeseo.  

Yoon Leeseo.  

The “temporary” period that Junmo’s father had mentioned stretched on, even beyond the end of the year. As time passed, the family gradually surrendered to the father’s authority. His mother and even his brother, Junhyung, began to naturally accept Yoon Leeseo’s presence.  

But only when their father was around.  

Junhyung was the epitome of pretense. Watching his brother act endlessly kind and gentle toward Leeseo, like the ideal older brother, made Junmo click his tongue in disapproval.  

If you’ve made up your mind, you should be consistent, whether Father is here or not. Be like me.  

As for Junmo, he treated Leeseo indifferently, regardless of the situation. That was why he felt deeply disappointed by Junhyung’s two-faced behavior, which mirrored their mother’s.  

Yoon Leeseo was like a cat that avoided people. She would disappear whenever guests visited the house, as if she had never existed in the first place. No one had ever said anything to her, yet she always hid herself.  

Their mother never went out of her way to find Leeseo or introduce her to the guests.  

At some point, Junmo began searching for Leeseo himself, making sure he knew where she was before he could feel at ease.  

It probably started after that day.  

Coincidentally, it was another day he had skipped his academy lessons. Around that time, his mother was busy with family events. She was so preoccupied that she didn’t even notice when Junmo skipped his lessons for several days in a row. His mother was constantly attending events, whether it was his grandmother’s birthday or a cousin’s wedding, and even visited his grandfather’s house daily without any special occasion.  

It was likely around this time that she secured her position in the cosmetics business.  

When Junmo returned from school that day, the first thing he did was run to the kitchen and devour an entire walnut pie. It was a time in his life when he was always hungry, no matter how much he ate. The housekeeper teased him, saying his stomach must be full of beggars.  

Ignoring her, Junmo ate another walnut pie after finishing the first and then grabbed a third, biting into it while focusing intently on solving a Rubik’s Cube.  

“This construction work is never-ending. No matter how much I clean, it’s never enough.” 

The housekeeper grumbled.  

The housekeeper muttered complaints as she vacuumed, but Junmo was too focused on solving his Rubik’s Cube to pay attention to the unusually loud noise. He could ascend the stairs with his eyes closed, so going up to the second floor while working on the Cube was no challenge for him.  

There are days like that—days when everything seems to go smoothly without much effort. For Junmo, that day was one of those days.  

The Rubik’s Cube, which had been difficult to solve and had kept him occupied for days, seemed to fall into place effortlessly. The colors aligned as if his hands were powered by a motor. Just three more moves—three more twists—and all the sides of the Cube would be perfectly matched. A shiver of excitement ran from his ears to his cheeks.  

He felt a strange mix of impatience and hesitation, as though he wanted to delay the best moment. His palms were sweating from holding the Cube. He wiped his hands on his pants but then suddenly stopped mid-step.  

It was a feeling.  

Not a sound, nor something he could sense with his skin, like heat or cold, but an inexplicable unease. Standing halfway up the stairs, he tried to focus on… something, though he didn’t know what. He looked around, but all he saw were the usual, meaningless sights.  

Then, his eyes fell on a door that had been left wide open.  

The second-floor balcony door, which had been locked for safety reasons due to ongoing construction, was open. He recalled the workers he had passed earlier at the gate.  

Did they say they were going out for lunch?  

They must have forgotten to lock it.  

Unable to suppress his curiosity, Junmo walked past his room, still wearing his backpack, and stepped out onto the second-floor balcony through the open door.  

That’s when he saw her.  

Leeseo.  

She was caught between the railings, her body dangling as she clung on with her arms. Only the area above her armpits was visible; the rest of her body was suspended in midair.  

“Yoon Leeseo!”  

He shouted her name and rushed toward her, grabbing her by the back of her neck. In the process, the walnut pie he had been chewing fell to the ground with a splat, and the Rubik’s Cube, which had bounced off the wooden deck, rolled down to the lower floor and shattered into pieces.  

Seeing this, Leeseo’s face turned pale.  

“Help me.” 

She pleaded, her voice trembling with suppressed tears.  

Her small face was drenched, as if she had been crying for some time. Her face, smeared with tears and dust, made Junmo curse instinctively—even though he rarely swore.  

“You idiot!”  

Her dirty, tear-streaked face, trembling with fear and terror, made him furious. It was as if her expression told him how long she had been dangling there in such a precarious state.  

“I… I’m scared.”  

Her voice wavered like a flickering candle about to go out. Her small arms, which had been holding her up, were shaking uncontrollably.  

“What’s there to be scared of!”  

He yelled, but his back was drenched in cold sweat, and his mind was spinning. For the first time in his life, he felt genuine fear as he looked at Leeseo, who clung to him as if he were her last lifeline.  

He was terrified that he might not be able to save her. That she might fall to the ground and…  

Junmo gripped her with all his strength, his knuckles turning white. But her small, frail body kept slipping downward, and he couldn’t hold her up much longer on his own.  

“You won’t die if you fall!”  

He blurted out, trying to comfort her. It was a statement based on personal experience. Sure, she might break a leg or tear a ligament in her arm, but she wouldn’t die.  

“Just don’t let go. Hold on tight.”  

Junmo summoned every ounce of strength he had while Leeseo clung to the wooden plank. Even though she was small and fragile, pulling her up was no easy feat.  

Sliding his arms under her armpits, Junmo planted his heels firmly and pulled with all his might. He felt as if every vein in his body was about to burst.  

Where did that strength come from, considering he was only thirteen? After several failed attempts, he finally managed to pull her up.  

Once she was safe, Leeseo crawled to a corner and huddled there, trembling. Her lips were pale, and her small body shook violently as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Her face, now streaked with grime, was a mess.  

Her arms, scratched and raw from clinging to the rough wooden railing, didn’t seem to hurt her at all.  

“Why…”  

Knowing it was dangerous, Junmo wanted to ask why she had gone out there, but he stopped himself. He had noticed a kitten hissing in the corner of the deck. She must have picked it up on her way back from school. Somehow, she had lost hold of the kitten, and trying to catch it had led to the precarious situation she had been in.  

Junmo grabbed the cornered kitten without hesitation. The tiny creature’s frail belly thumped rapidly in his hand.  

“No!”  

As Junmo carried the kitten into the house, Leeseo followed him, shouting in protest. Ignoring her, Junmo descended the stairs and headed toward the front door.  

“Don’t throw it away! It’s a poor kitten!”  

Leeseo, who had seemed like she might collapse at any moment, panicked and clung to him as he walked toward the gate. Tears streamed down her cheeks, pooling on her small chin before falling to the ground. Meanwhile, the kitten scratched fiercely at the back of Junmo’s hand.  

“It’s a kitten without a mother… If you throw it out, it might starve to death.”  

As they crossed the garden, Leeseo kept chattering incessantly, trying to stop him. Annoyed, Junmo pressed his lips together tightly and continued walking toward the annex.  

“Sir!”  

When Junmo pushed open the door to the annex with his body, Mr. Gong, who had been napping on the floor, jolted awake. With his hulking frame, he looked like a startled gray bear waking from hibernation. Leeseo, who was usually afraid of Mr. Gong, fell silent at the sight of him. Judging by the strong smell of alcohol, it seemed Mr. Gong had been drinking heavily during the day.  

“Oh, it’s you.” 

Mr. Gong grumbled, rubbing his face with a hand as large as a pot lid. When he recognized Junmo, his tense expression relaxed.  

“Sir, take care of this here.”

Junmo said, setting the kitten down in front of the groggy caretaker. The kitten, freed from Junmo’s grasp, immediately darted under a low table, disoriented.  

“Seriously? Who’s going to deal with Madame’s wrath? She can’t even keep birds because of her allergies.” 

Mr. Gong said, watching the kitten bare its tiny teeth and hiss at him.  

“Exactly.” 

Mr. Gong glanced at Junmo, who stood his ground, then sighed and put on a pair of work gloves. Groaning, he got up, muttering under his breath.  

“Ah, my miserable life. First the adults, then the kids, and now even a kitten. Why are there so many masters to serve in this house…”  

Despite his grumbling, Mr. Gong returned moments later carrying a wooden crate. In no time, he had transformed the crate into a makeshift cat house, complete with an old army-green blanket he had once used for playing cards. It looked surprisingly decent. Even the defiant kitten couldn’t resist the temptation of an open can of tuna and eventually settled into the crate.  

Leeseo beamed—a bright, radiant smile—all because of the tiny kitten.  

Junmo couldn’t take his eyes off her for a while. Her dirty, tear-streaked face was entirely captivated by the kitten, quietly nibbling on the tuna.  

“Thank you, oppa.”  

She spoke absentmindedly, clearly unaware of what she was saying.  

Oppa?  

The girl who used to run away whenever their eyes met was now calling him oppa.  

It felt strange, like the moment when all the lights on a Christmas tree suddenly turned on. Somewhere deep inside, his heart felt warm and bright. Hearing her call him oppa for the first time made his ribcage tingle, as if it were ticklish. He couldn’t stop the faint coughs escaping from his throat, and he felt as though his ears were turning red.  

It was confusing but not unpleasant. It was a feeling he wanted to keep hidden, as if he didn’t want anyone else to know about it.  

That evening, even as his mother scolded him for breaking the Rubik’s Cube—Junhyung’s most prized possession—Junmo struggled to suppress a grin.  

But that “oppa” was a one-time luxury. He never heard her call him that again.