Extra - Someone's Brother

Inside the locker room where every light had been switched off, silence ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lay thick. Only a hollow desolation drifted through the quiet space. In the darkness that had claimed the room, two figures stood facing each other.

One was a young man in his mid-twenties with light brown hair. The other was a boy who looked to be in middle school, with hair as black as midnight. They regarded each other through a heavy, complicated silence.

"......"

"......"

The young man was the first to break the uneasy standoff. A small groan escaped him as he looked away. A neatly packed bag hung from his hand, and the black cap pulled low over his eyes marked him unmistakably as someone about to leave for somewhere far away.

The boy simply stared at him, dazed. His dark eyes were so full of pain it seemed he might break into tears at any second. Unable to meet that grief, the young man slowly opened his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Naru... Your brother's going away to a rather distant place..."

"......"

The boy said nothing. He only trembled, body flinching as though the words had struck him.

The young man bit his lip. The sight of the boy shrinking into himself dragged up memories of their first meeting.

—Hey! So you're Naru?

—I'm your senior, the one right above you! Call me Chang-ho hyung!

—If anything's hard, tell me. I'll help you with it all!

He felt his throat close up. He had once boasted that he would fix anything for the boy. Now he was leaving without keeping a single promise. The absurdity of it stung.

Plop. Drip.

A few tears fell onto the cold locker-room floor. Transparent streaks had already carved paths down the boy's pale cheeks.

The young man reached out and gently stroked his hair. The boy's head bobbed up and down with each pitiful touch. The young man fought to keep his expression from collapsing. An awkward, pasted-on smile sat on a face that held no joy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at all. Even he knew how miserable it looked.

"It's not much of a parting gift, but... take this."

He held out a small eco-bag. Inside were several books arranged with care. The worn cover bore the title Heroes Who Erase Sadness.

When the boy saw it, he looked up at the young man as if asking what it meant.

"It was the novel you liked so much... I'll never read it now anyway..."

"......"

At the murmur, the boy lowered his head completely. His scarred hand clutched the bag so tightly the fabric creaked.

The young man gazed at the sobbing child with eyes drenched in guilt, then turned away.

"Well then... goodbye, Naru."

I'm sorry for running away like this.

With a short farewell, the young man opened the locker-room door. The hinges creaked. The boy watched his retreating back and finally broke.

"Hic... sob..."

The sound made the young man pause for a single breath, but he did not stop walking. In the end, another person had left the boy's side.

. . .

It was a sweltering summer day. A brilliant sun blazed down, scorching the blue-green blades of grass. Between the lush leaves, a deep emerald scent flowed and spilled. That seasonal fragrance crept through the open window and into the room.

Ring-ring! Ring-ring!

The alarm clock beside the bed shrieked. Chang-ho woke from the dream, heavy eyelids lifting at the noise.

"Ugh..."

Still half-asleep, he rubbed his eyes and fumbled across the nightstand with numb fingers until he silenced the alarm. The clock read eight in the morning.

"......"

He stared at the time in silence, then collapsed back onto the bed. His stiff body surrendered to gravity, sprawling limply. As he lay there, eyes slowly focusing, the plain white ceiling filled his vision. A featureless expanse without a single pattern.

Chang-ho remained lost in thought for a while before dragging a hand down his face.

I'm sorry, Naru... Your brother's going away to a rather distant place...

Well then... goodbye, Naru.

The dream replayed in his mind, the voices from the past echoing near his ear. He tossed and turned.

"......Fuck."

The curse slipped out suddenly, shattering the room's quiet. The word without a target swirled through the empty air.

One month.

A whole month had passed.

It had already been a month since Naru died.

He had found the article by chance while browsing the internet with no particular purpose. The moment he saw the headline, a bad feeling had gripped him. Even as he clicked it while muttering "It can't be," the premonition proved accurate.

"......"

Chang-ho recalled the moment he had learned of Naru's death far too late, and the past scenes flooded back.

Naru, let's take a break.

Hey~ I told you, let's rest! Rest is important too, isn't it?

Shh. Should we set training aside for a bit and read books in the corner?

It's fine~ We just won't get caught!

"......Damn it."

He clutched his violently churning chest and twisted his face. His mind was a complete mess, refusing to calm. Chang-ho retched and tore at his hair.

He had cherished that boy. Treated him like a real younger brother. At the same time, the child had always filled him with pity. A boy forced to live each day struggling inside an unwanted cage of misfortune.

That was why Chang-ho had wanted to help him. He had wanted to reach out. Even though he knew it was wrong, he had stepped forward to shield the boy.

The impulse of a single moment. The price for that choice had been far too heavy.

"It's because of me......"

I ruined everything. Because of me.

Muttering words that made no sense, Chang-ho gripped the bedsheet until his knuckles turned white. The fabric twisted horribly beneath his rough grasp, as if trying to capture a fragment of his regret.

"......If only I'd run away with you back then."

Back when he had been driven out of the kendo world by a violent incident. Back when he fled to the countryside as if escaping with his parents. Back when he had to clean out his personal locker and abandon his place on the national team.

If only he hadn't hesitated. If only he had taken the boy and run. If only he had found the courage to save him from that devil's torture...

Your ending wouldn't have been this miserable.

"Because I was a coward..."

Chang-ho bit his lip and rubbed at his eyes. Before long, transparent streaks traced down his cheeks. A faint sob echoed through the summer air inside the room.

On the old screen of his mind, the videotape of memories kept playing. This was a story from the past. After you disappeared. A fragile shard of memory chewed over again and again, trapped between guilt and longing.

. . .

Exactly five years before Naru's death. It was nearly a full year since Chang-ho had met Naru on the national team and begun living with him like a brother.

After finishing another brutal schedule like any other day, Chang-ho had been walking lightly to show his face to Naru when someone called out to him.

"Seo Chang-ho."

"......?"

At the somehow familiar voice, he turned. The moment the man entered his sight, Chang-ho's face hardened like stone.

A middle-aged man with black hair and those distinctive sharp eyes. A face he hadn't seen in nearly six years. And one that brought no joy at all.

"......Senior Han-chul."

With a low mutter, Chang-ho glared at the man before him.

Kim Han-chul. The living legend of the Korean kendo world. A monster who had written the myth of five consecutive world championship victories. The man who stood at the absolute peak of Korean kendo history, and the current president of the Kendo Association.

And... Naru's father.

. . .

Inside a café not far from the training hall, two men sat across from each other at a corner table. A young man with light brown hair and a middle-aged man with black hair. Seo Chang-ho and Kim Han-chul.

"So... what brings you here?"

Chang-ho asked, eyes cold as he stared Han-chul down. Contempt, disgust, and betrayal swirled thickly in that gaze. They were the eyes of a child forced to witness the ugly truth behind a hero he had once admired.

"It's been a while. Roughly six years, I'd say."

Han-chul returned the greeting casually, as if the younger man's glare meant nothing.

Chang-ho felt bile rise at the man's brazen attitude.

"Yes... it has been a while."

"Your reaction is rather disappointing."

With a voice stripped of emotion, Han-chul ran his fingers over the coffee cup on the table. He tapped it lightly with his index finger and spoke.

"You already know why I've come to see you, don't you?"

"......"

Chang-ho kept his mouth shut. Not because he didn't know. Because he didn't want to acknowledge it.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? That for the past year you've been staying close to my son..."

There had been an unwritten rule among the athletes in Chang-ho's training group: never get close to the boy called Kim Naru.

—That kid Naru... the association president's son.

—Every senior who got involved with him ended up ruined.

—If you show him even the slightest kindness or treat him warmly...

—They say you get dragged into suspicious violence cases or suffer strange injuries and are forced into early retirement...

—So it's best not to get tangled up with him.

Chang-ho recalled the warnings his seniors had given ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him.

"You know I've been turning a blind eye all this time, don't you?"

"......"

"I'll say it plainly. Stay away from my son."

Once again, Chang-ho gave no answer. Han-chul sighed at the stubborn silence and studied him. Those hollow eyes were pitch black, completely devoid of life.

"Think about your career as an athlete... Do you really want to destroy your entire life over such pointless sentiment?"

This is a warning. A warning for your life.

"Consider it carefully."

Han-chul tilted his cup once more. The casual tone and relaxed gesture made Chang-ho's teeth grind together.

Could those words truly come from a father?

The hand holding Chang-ho's own cup tightened on its own.

Crumple!

The disposable cup gave way, contents spilling over and soaking his hand in cold liquid.

Chang-ho took a slow breath to steady his rage, then spoke.

"Just what is your reason for doing this...?"

"Reason?"

"The reason you're driving that pitiful child with such cruelty...!"

"......"

He had always thought something was off. The training Naru endured was missing screws in every direction. Sparring against people wielding bizarre weapons. Being forced to run full marathon courses once a week. Being beaten all day long under the pretense of training.

Every one of them was abnormal. They looked far closer to torture than training. Cruel, malice-filled torture. Acts focused solely on inflicting pain, with training being the last thing on the mind.

"Just what... did that child ever do to deserve this...?"

At the question, Han-chul's pupils darkened further. The black eyes, melted deep with darkness, resembled a night sky without a single trace of moonlight.

Han-chul answered in a voice like ice.

"For that child's happiness."

"You crazy fuck."

The thick curse left Chang-ho's mouth before he could stop it.

Han-chul showed no reaction. He simply set down his cup with dead eyes and rose from his seat.

"Choose. Will you continue staying close to my son, or will you distance yourself?"

Incidentally, I strongly recommend the latter. Truly.

. . .

The rest was predictable. After a short silence, Chang-ho chose to remain by Naru's side.

You will regret this.

Leaving those words behind, Han-chul walked out of the café. Chang-ho remained seated, staring blankly at the empty table.

A few months after that meeting, Chang-ho was swept up in a suspicious case of violence.

Chang-ho was dragged under by the current before he could even struggle. Kicked out of the position he had held in the blink of an eye, he had no choice but to flee.

. . .

"Fuck..."

Lost in thought, Chang-ho suddenly spat the curse. The empty sound spread through the vacant room and faded. It crumbled away without achieving anything, without becoming anything.

I... will stay by Naru's side. I won't let things go your way.

It had been a laughable vow. A momentary act of defiance thrown at the childhood hero who had disappointed him. The impulsiveness of a young man whose emotions still outran his reason. Stupid arrogance that made him believe he could actually help Naru in that situation.

Chang-ho clenched his teeth and kept wiping his eyes. A powerless voice slipped out between trembling lips.

"Stay by his side, my ass... What a pathetic idiot..."

The resolution he made that day had summoned a far greater storm than he ever imagined. It was violent. Overwhelming. Cruel beyond any possibility of resistance.

In the end, Chang-ho could not overcome Han-chul's reach. He fell to his knees. As a result, he lost everything he had built, and left Naru with a wound that could never be washed away.

"I shouldn't have run away like that back then..."

If he was going to lose everything and run anyway, he should never have left Naru alone in that locker room. He should have grabbed the boy's hand and fled together. Instead of cowering before that immense power and tucking his tail, he should have done something—anything.

Since he had shattered his own life with his choices, he should have at least protected what he had tried to protect until the very end...

"It's because of me... If only I'd made a better choice that day..."

The guilt piled up neatly, forming painful memories. Those memories filled a corner of his heart.

Now that Naru had taken his own life, there was nothing left for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Chang-ho to do. All he could do was stare up at the distant tower of regret and bitterly lick his wounds.

"Ugh... ugh..."

Chang-ho wept in agony. Summer sunlight squeezed through the gaps in the curtains. Each time the warm rays touched his haggard face, a faint heat brushed his cheek. The sensation was unbearably unpleasant.

He reached out irritably and yanked the curtains shut. It reminded him too much of the small boy's hand that had once touched his cheek beneath warm sunlight. He could not endure it.

Outside the window, cicadas cried. The air carried the heavy heat of summer. Everything seemed determined to imprint the season called summer once more.

Now that he thought about it, it had always been summer.

—Hi! So you're Naru? I'm your immediate senior! Call me Chang-ho hyung!

The season when he first met you.

—Then... goodbye, Naru.

The season when he left you.

—Naru... committed suicide?

The season when you left the world.

"Fuck... fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Raw, unfiltered words poured out. The voice that spoke them sounded less like muttering and more like a wail. It was pure emotional release.

The distant cries of the cicadas seemed to mock him. Chang-ho covered his ears and curled into himself. Yet the summer refused to pass. It simply melted his collapsed body in its merciless heat.

Yes. Summer.

An endless summer.

The brutally, viciously cruel summer that had taken the boy away.