MBL 1

“Kang Joonwon, what time do you think it is right now?”

The first sound to break the silence at the morning dining table, where no conversation had taken place, was Father’s angry shout.

I flinched but didn’t lift my head. The front door opened, and rather heavy footsteps crossed the hallway, approaching the kitchen.

Having stayed alert all night, my ears keenly attuned to his presence, I could tell who the source of the sound was without turning around.

His name was Kang Joonwon, and my name, following the family naming tradition, was Kang Joonyoung.

He was my hyung, and I was his younger brother.

Hyung showed no particular reaction to Father’s furious yelling. With a stiff, expressionless face, he approached the dining table. He bowed his head slightly to greet Father and sat down across from me.

“…….”

“…….”

Our eyes met.

Hyung looked at my face and my school uniform with a gaze that felt both unfamiliar and thorough, as if he were seeing me for the first time in a long while.

I awkwardly averted my eyes.

Stepmother placed a spoon, chopsticks, and a bowl of freshly cooked rice in front of hyung. His gaze, which had been fixed on me, shifted to Stepmother. His eyes were not those of a son but of someone looking at a stranger.

“Don’t scold him too much; he’s an adult. He’ll manage on his own.”

A brief silence followed.

Father, who had been frowning, ready to give hyung a piece of his mind, let out a displeased sigh at Stepmother’s defense.

Even if Stepmother hadn’t intervened, hyung likely wouldn’t have paid much attention to Father’s words anyway. Hyung didn’t just ignore Father; he never obeyed anyone’s instructions. That said, it wasn’t as if he completely disregarded Father’s words. He listened, in a way.

He just listened quietly, neither arguing nor agreeing when Father disciplined him. No matter what Father said, hyung let it go in one ear and out the other, quite literally.

He was indifferent not only to others but also to himself. Generally quiet and averse to conflict, he could turn uncontrollably aggressive if his boundaries were crossed, so even Father avoided reprimanding him too harshly.

“Eat up.”

Stepmother spoke kindly to me and hyung.

The role of a stepmother in a remarried family was an uncomfortable one, even if the relationships were amicable. Unfortunately, our relationship wasn’t particularly friendly.

Stepmother had been Father’s secretary, working closely with him for many years. To us, she was familiar as Mrs. Yoon.

Even before the marriage, when urgent matters arose or Father had a business trip, Mrs. Yoon would often visit our house to assist him. Both hyung and I knew her well.

She always pitied Father, who had been alone for years after losing our mother, and us two brothers, who grew up without a mother.

When she visited our house, she would sometimes secretly slip me pocket money to buy snacks or give me gifts from Father’s business trips on Children’s Day or my birthday—gifts Father himself never gave.

So, I called her Mrs. Yoon, and even now, in my heart, I still called her Mrs. Yoon, not Stepmother.

“Did you see the news yesterday? They said a natural gas bus exploded on the way to work. A lot of people got hurt.”

Mrs. Yoon started the conversation, as if we always chatted like this during breakfast.

“Joonyoung, how about riding a bicycle instead of taking the bus? It’s good exercise and healthy. The school isn’t that far, is it?”

“Bicycles are more dangerous. The bike lanes aren’t even properly set up.”

The school was close enough to ride a bike to. The problem was that I didn’t know how to ride a bicycle, and Father, who said bikes were dangerous, didn’t know that I couldn’t ride one.

Hyung knew very well that I couldn’t ride a bicycle. When we were younger, he must have run dozens of kilometers around the school playground, holding the back of my bike, trying to teach me how to ride.

Despite all his efforts to teach me, I might be able to learn quickly now, but back then, I couldn’t get the hang of it, and I still haven’t ridden a bike to this day.

“I can’t ride a bicycle.”

At my words, everyone’s eyes turned to me.

Back then, when I was scared, hyung would tell me I could do it, to try, that he was holding the bike steady from behind, comforting and encouraging me to keep pedaling forward.

“Why can’t Joonyoung ride a bicycle?”

Father wasn’t asking me; he was asking hyung. It was a question of why he hadn’t taught me properly.

Perhaps judging it wasn’t a question that demanded an answer, hyung didn’t respond. It also felt like a silence that said, “What does it matter to me whether my brother can ride a bike or not?”

I could still hear his voice in my ears, firmly holding my trembling hand, telling me to try, that he’d hold on, that I shouldn’t be scared. But now, I couldn’t even remember the last time we had a proper conversation.

“Then learn now, right? Joonyoung, after the college entrance exam, learn to ride a bike, learn to swim too. You can swim, can’t you?”

“No… I can’t swim either.”

Father’s disappointed gaze wasn’t directed at me but at hyung, who hadn’t taught me properly.

“Well, then you can learn that too. Joonyoung has long arms and legs; he’ll do well.”

While hyung, the one being scolded, showed no reaction, Mrs. Yoon, seeing hyung get glares every time she spoke, grew anxious and tried to wrap up the conversation positively.

Father knew Mrs. Yoon was desperate to gain approval from me and hyung. Hyung’s unfriendly attitude wasn’t the only issue.

Whether we knew her or not, there was no one around me, at eighteen, who would suddenly take to a new stepmother and call her “Mother,” and that was true for both hyung and me.

However, neither hyung nor I outright rejected or pushed Mrs. Yoon away. We acknowledged her as Father’s wife, but because she was Father’s wife, she couldn’t become our mother. We simply lived with her as nothing more or less than the Mrs. Yoon we’d known before, keeping emotional involvement at bay.

When hyung reached for the water pitcher, the smell of alcohol wafted over. He had been drinking all night and only returned home in the morning.

Mrs. Yoon instinctively waved her hand once to dispel the smell but said nothing, despite both she and Father noticing the strong alcohol odor.

To me, it was simply fascinating to see hyung sitting there with a perfectly normal expression, reeking of such a pungent smell.

Hyung mixed his rice with soup and swallowed it as if drinking. He didn’t even chew. The weary irritation of wanting to hurry to bed and sleep was evident in his careless way of eating.

When I reached for the kimchi, my chopsticks clashed with hyung’s. Like a lowly, servile animal, I quickly withdrew my chopsticks.

Hyung looked at me. There was no expression, no hint of anything.

My hyung, Kang Joonwon, was a person whose thoughts were utterly unreadable.

Having lost our mother early, we were closer than any other brothers. Beyond close, we were deeply affectionate with each other.

Hyung filled in for our busy father, becoming a father when I needed one and sometimes even a mother. My emotional growth was shaped entirely by his devoted care.

Hyung was so dedicated that when I was younger, smaller, and frailer than others, he took care of me through every illness I had.

Father was often away on business trips, rarely home.

I still remember hyung nursing me when I was sick.

It was one of those days when Father was absent. My fever was so high I felt delirious, and my whole body ached as if my brain were melting. It was just the two of us at home.

A young hyung and an even younger me.

The smell of hyung holding me as he cried, the earnest warmth of his body.

Back then, it really was just the two of us. That’s the kind of bond we had.

But that hyung changed when he hit puberty and secondary sexual characteristics began. The model student who was exemplary in everything started exuding a dangerous aura and grew distant from the family—specifically, from me.

He found it annoying. He was fed up. He was sick of me always clinging to him like a baby bird seeking its mother whenever something happened.

Because of me, four years his junior, hyung always had to take the blame for my shortcomings and mistakes. Father, who never indulged me, was so intimidating that I always whined at hyung’s feet.

When I realized that hyung would take the fall for all my wrongs, I, at a cunning age, even blatantly demanded he play the role of my protector. Whenever I was about to get scolded by Father, I’d insist it was all hyung’s fault.

Hyung changed noticeably around the time I was old enough to learn shame and pride. The student council president, praised by adults as not just diligent and exemplary but exceptional, started acting strange at fifteen or sixteen. It was the start of typical teenage rebellion.

Hyung would leave for school but not go, skip cram school, and sometimes not even come home. Then, in the winter of his second year of high school, he dropped out, accompanied by some unknown older woman.

Hyung quit school on his own and calmly left the house in his school uniform as if he were going to school. Neither I nor Father, who was busy with work, had any idea about his antics. Or rather, Father, who was still single back then, and I were the only ones who didn’t know—everyone else seemed to.

Having swept every academic competition, outshining students from elite schools, and with a handsome face to boot, hyung was so well-known in the area that he wasn’t just some random kid but a local celebrity featured in newspapers.

No one knows what hyung was up to after quitting school. He was probably earning money. To leave home, to abandon me, to prepare meticulously to leave us behind.

Father had noticed hyung was acting strange as he went through puberty, but he was too busy with his business to pay attention. Besides, hyung was exceptional in his own right, so Father deliberately let him be, assuming he’d manage.

When Father belatedly learned hyung had no high school to graduate from, hyung delivered news of his college acceptance. Even then, Father didn’t scold him, just as he hadn’t before or after, and stopped meddling in hyung’s affairs. But there was always an exception.

When it came to issues involving me, Father didn’t discipline me directly but went through hyung. He knew hyung’s words had more influence over me than his own.

As hyung became an adult, our relationship grew extremely distant. He was like a different species to me, and as I matured, even I, as oblivious as I was, could tell he disliked and found me bothersome.

I was intimidated by such a hyung. With that brilliant mind of his, he never taught me a single math formula. There were times we didn’t even speak once a month. We were worse than strangers.

“Joonyoung, you’ll be late. Hurry up and eat.”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Yoon urged me as I sat there, lost in thought. I answered briefly and ate my food so slowly it must have looked frustrating. Meanwhile, hyung had already finished his portion and was drinking water.

“Want me to give you a ride?”

Hyung’s sudden voice made all three of us freeze in surprise.

I looked up and stared at him. Father also turned to hyung. Only Mrs. Yoon pretended not to notice and continued eating quietly.

“If I drive you, you won’t be late.”

“…….”

“There’s still time, so eat slowly. Don’t stuff your face.”

Hyung spoke to my puzzled gaze. Despite reeking of alcohol, his speech was clear and composed.

Father opened his mouth to reprimand him but, seeing how clear his voice and actions were despite the hangover, didn’t say anything about driving someone in a drunken state.

I slowed down, chewing the food I’d been rushing through. Hyung didn’t rush me and quietly waited until I finished breakfast.

His sudden kindness and consideration threw me off. Under his gaze, my actions grew increasingly stiff. I eventually put down my spoon.

“Are you done?”

Mrs. Yoon asked, but even as she did, she grabbed my half-eaten rice bowl, spoon, and chopsticks all at once and put them in the sink.

Hyung picked up the car keys he’d placed on the table and stood up. It was a signal that he’d be waiting outside.

I drank some water and picked up my heavy bag from under the dining chair, filled with workbooks for cram school.

“I’m off to school.”

“Okay, study hard. You said the mock exam is coming up soon, right? You need to get serious now.”

“Yes.”

I replied dutifully to Father and crossed the living room to open the door.

Hyung was standing outside the front door. He suddenly reached out toward me. There was no reason for it, but I flinched all over. Before I knew it, my bag, which had been on my shoulder, was in his hand.

“Why’s your bag so heavy?”

“…….”

“Don’t carry all this around like an idiot; leave it in your locker. You don’t study at home anyway, do you?”

“…….”

Hyung scolded me, perhaps annoyed by the heavy bag.

His reprimand suddenly brought a wave of sadness and resentment.

I was a high school senior preparing for the college entrance exam. Hyung was out more often than he was home, and Mrs. Yoon, who visited too frequently to just be assisting Father, ended up marrying him last year and living with us.

Having to accept Mrs. Yoon, whom I never expected to become my mother, as a parent was like a storm of upheaval and change.

I was already a senior who didn’t want to live even if everyone catered to my moods, and on top of feeling wronged about being a senior, I had to bear this sudden life change alone. My older brother only showed up to confirm he was alive when I wondered if he was dead or not, and no one paid any attention to me, trapped in this whirlwind of upheaval and change.

That wasn’t the only thing that upset me. The fact that, despite being my brother, our relationship was so distant and awkward made me even more heartbroken.

If he felt he’d lost something from his childhood because of me, I was confident I could repay him that much. The affectionate hyung who was so devoted to his only younger brother was now nowhere to be found, no matter how hard I looked.

I followed him down the path through the garden of our detached house.

As summer turned to fall, the garden’s colors were fading like washed-out hues. This garden and yard were filled with memories of him.

In the summer, we’d splash around in a mini inflatable pool, and in winters with heavy snow, we’d have snowball fights and make snowmen—always two, standing side by side like us close brothers. When the snowmen melted in the spring, hyung would move the shrinking snowballs to the fridge for me when I whined.

“…….”

A hyung who put a snowman in the fridge for his crying younger brother.

His kindness in childhood was almost lethal.

That same person was now exhaling the sharp smell of alcohol with every breath. Tiny particles that could intoxicate me seemed to slip through my lips with his breath. My breathing grew heavy.

Passing through the garden and out the gate, I saw the new car hyung had bought earlier this year without Father’s help, parked on the side of the road. The black sedan suited his calm demeanor perfectly.

To hang out with friends, show off, or charm girls, a car was essential. Instead of coming home, he reeked of alcohol and seemed busy chasing girls.

“Hyung, you’ve been drinking.”

I spoke curtly to his back, which showed no hesitation about driving.

“I didn’t drink.”

“You smell like alcohol.”

“Someone spilled it on me. I didn’t drink.”

“Don’t lie. You reek of alcohol. I’ll just take the bus.”

“I really didn’t drink.”

I didn’t want to get in the car he’d bought to impress others.

Instead of heading to his car, I turned to walk along the sidewalk. Hyung came over, grabbed my arm, and stopped me. As if to prove he hadn’t been drinking, he suddenly leaned in close, opened his mouth, and told me to smell his breath.

“……!”

Startled, I jerked my head back. He exhaled again, telling me to smell.

The alcohol smell wasn’t coming from his breath but from his chest.

He took my hand, which he was holding, and pressed it to his chest. His shirt was still damp. I brought my hand to my nose after touching his clothes. The alcohol smell was sharp and vivid, like a toxic substance.

“You think I’d drink like that and drive you to school?”

As if he couldn’t fathom such a thought, he grabbed my wrist again and led me to the car.

His sudden kindness must have come from seeing me, his blood-related brother, struggling to eat under Father’s and Mrs. Yoon’s watchful eyes, looking pitiful. Blood is thicker than water, and family loyalty bends inward—that’s what brothers are.

I didn’t want to accept his kindness. It felt like he was trying to offset the guilt of leaving me alone in this awkward, unfamiliar space with a single ride to school. His attempt to ease his debt to me with something like this felt unfair.

“I’ll just take the bus. You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“Stop nagging and get in.”

“Aren’t you sleepy? You stayed out all night, didn’t you?”

“I won’t kill you, so don’t worry and get in.”

His voice felt unfamiliar, as it had been so long since we’d had a conversation, but the words came out surprisingly easily.

Seeing him frown slightly at my stubbornness, I couldn’t muster more defiance and stood in front of the car door.

He unlocked it. I’d thought he was saving money to leave home, but instead of moving out, he bought a fancy new car that didn’t match a college student’s budget, especially one who didn’t take allowance. He’d never driven me before. This was the first time.

Whenever I heard a car pass by the house while studying, I’d look out the second-floor window, wondering if it was hyung’s car, Father’s car, or just some random car.

Hyung got into the driver’s seat. I climbed in beside him, my eyes darting around to see if there were signs of someone else having been in the car.

True to his personality, the car was clean and simple, with no clues to trace. Not even a takeout coffee cup with lipstick marks.

“Put your seatbelt on.”

He looked at my busy eyes strangely and urged me. I buckled up, and the car glided forward smoothly.

The car soon fell silent. Only a heavy quiet lingered.

He drove without speaking. He accelerated, then braked at a red light to stop. True to his promise not to kill me, he drove calmly and safely. I had to admit he hadn’t been drinking.

“……When are you moving out?”

Looking out the window at the passing scenery from his passenger seat instead of a bus, I asked quietly.

I felt his gaze turn toward me.

“What?”

“When are you leaving home? You’re going to, aren’t you?”

“Who said I’m leaving home?”

“You joined the military because you wanted to leave home, didn’t you? Without even telling us.”

Hyung entered college, took a leave of absence after one semester, and enlisted in the navy without informing us, disappearing one day. Even during his occasional leave, he never came home. I thought then that he’d abandoned me.

That he’d really left me behind.

“The military was something I had to do eventually, so I got it over with early.”

“Not contacting us for two years? Is that normal? Does everyone do that?”