The Small Bruise Jeong Ayeong Inflicted (1)
How was I supposed to dodge this?
How do I get out of this situation?
It felt like the sound of my eyeballs rolling in their sockets was echoing through the room. My thoughts tangled into a mess.
First of all, saying Kang Hyeona had hit me was absolutely out of the question. But telling the truth? Jeong Ayeong could end up in danger. Of course Han Seyeon was a rational person—she wouldn't completely lose her mind. But people always talk about that one-in-a-million chance, don't they? If she really snapped, Ayeong's life could be at risk.
In the end, I chose the hard line.
"I bumped into something."
"…What?"
"I said I bumped into a desk… while I was spacing out and walking."
I put on my thickest face. Would she really be able to tell the difference between a bruise from a fist and one from walking into furniture? It would be rude to keep pressing when the person involved was denying it.
Was her anger gradually cooling? Her expression started shifting into something closer to oh no. She even looked a little sorry.
"Sorry…"
"It's fine."
"Still, you should be careful."
"Thanks for worrying about me."
She apologized right away. I was glad we were close siblings after all. That worried face and those careful eyes fretted over whether her little brother was hurt.
But somewhere in between, a tiny desire had taken root.
"Does it hurt if I press it?"
"Yeah. A little…?"
"Lie down. I'll go get something for a compress."
Han Seyeon was changing little by little. Words she never would have said before, actions she never would have taken—now she did them without hesitation. And emotions she never would have harbored before, she was harboring those too.
Losing my mind?
Well, I'd never been angry all the way to the top of my head, so I didn't really know. Even in the ring I'd always kept my cool and stayed rational. Han Seyeon found her own state both fascinating and unfamiliar.
My little brother got hit? Not even certainty—just probability—and I had almost lost my reason. Regardless of the actual truth, just the imagination that someone might have been bullying him made my teeth chatter. In reality I had snapped and threatened him. Anyone could see the fear on his face. Those trembling eyes and their light had been directed straight at me.
Reading the room. In other words, he was gauging my mood. I'd seen that look countless times, hated it so much that I'd taken responsibility for him—and now the gaze that had once been aimed at our mother in childhood was aimed at me.
Throb. Throb.
A self-loathing that poked and prodded at my heart. Han Seyeon's breathing grew unstable. She tried hard to calm herself.
"I bumped into it…"
What tightly gripped her reason was none other than Han Sein. His upright gaze was fixed on his sister. He spoke clearly, word by careful word. It wasn't fear. Not the look of someone terrified of getting hit again. Not the appearance of tightly shutting his eyes, trembling, and reading their mother's mood. She felt the throbbing self-loathing ease just a little.
And the choice that rose from feeling sorry flowed out through her mouth. An apology, and worry.
"Lie down. I'll go get something for a compress."
"Okay…"
It was a small desire blooming in her unconscious. Han Seyeon wasn't aware of it, but the sexual desire rising from the deepest depths sometimes filled its greed under perfectly normal pretenses.
Back in her boxing days, bruises had been common. So even though it was old, she could still find an ice pack. She took ice from the fridge, filled it, and approached Han Sein.
"Like this… should I lie down?"
"Yeah…"
The end of Han Seyeon's words trailed off. Because the sight of him lying on the fluffy blanket was just too attractive. The same old T-shirt and pants he always wore. She thought maybe she should put in some real effort on the next payday and buy him new clothes.
Skin as white as if it had drunk milk. Slender arms and legs. His cute lips were tightly closed. And those red eyes looked up at her, nervous. Was this the first time? Well, proper treatment would be the first, right? Looking just at him lying there, he looked pitiful—like a puppy waiting for surgery.
"Should I… lift this up?"
"……."
It was clearly a question, but her hands were already lifting the T-shirt. Han Seyeon gulped down her saliva. If she hadn't, it would have dripped straight down the corner of her mouth. That was how alluring Han Sein looked—a man lying completely defenseless.
He's my little brother. This is my little brother.
Only after muttering it like a spell inside could she grasp onto her faint reason. The soft visual of his belly fat. An impulse to knead it rose, but Han Seyeon slowly sat down.
"It's just a compress."
"Mm…"
Hearing her words, Han Sein tightly closed both eyes. Over the pulled-up fabric he brought both hands together on his chest as if praying. Seeing those completely closed eyes, Han Seyeon's heart began to waver too. Her gaze headed to his stomach.
Was it because he never exercised? Rather than muscle, pure fat showed. Luscious skin and the only flaw—the bruise. Below the navel. To be precise, a very small bruise near the lower abdomen. A typical mark mixed with red and purple. She slowly placed the ice pack on the spot.
"Hnn… y-you should've said something."
It was a faint moan. More like a thin whimper than anything sexy. But it was more than enough to shake her heart. Surely he had asked her to warn him before placing the ice pack. How could it sound so seductive? Still tightly closed eyes, eyelids slightly folded. Whether the cold bothered him or he was trying to endure it, Han Sein's lips wriggled.
"U-uhh… how long do I have to do this?"
"Is it very cold?"
"Yeah. A little…"
It didn't seem like a little. Well, he'd always been sensitive to the cold. A little time passed. When she lifted the ice, his belly—reddened as if cooked—came into view. The pure white skin dyed red, and a subtle sadism bloomed. As if her throat were growing dry, Han Seyeon's throat periodically swallowed saliva.
"It's too cold… uhh."
"Cover up with the blanket."
Then Han Seyeon's gaze wavered, and her heart wavered with it. It was a simple movement. Han Sein grabbed Han Seyeon's hand. A direct action, and her mind was too hazy to grasp his intention. She tried to open her mouth, but afraid of stuttering, Han Seyeon just held it open without making a sound. If she stuttered and showed how flustered she was, she was terrified her current feelings would be found out.
Fortunately, perhaps? Her worries and questions flowed out through Han Sein's mouth instead.
"Noona's hand is warm. The blanket is cold."
The hand slowly pulling. Han Sein's hand was cold—she knew because she'd gripped it tightly recently. Conversely, Han Seyeon's body was hot like the sun. It had always been that way, but today it burned even more passionately. To the point that sweat droplets slid down her cheeks.
"Hnn… warm…"
Seeming to feel good, the corners of Han Sein's mouth drew a soft arc. His languidly loosened eyes blankly looked at the ceiling. And the hand resting on his belly just froze, not knowing what to do.
Can I touch? Is it okay to touch?
Siblings three years apart. In another family they would have gotten angry. But in Han Seyeon's head no such questions existed. Only the sensation of his soft belly fat that still held the chill. Small. His build itself was small, so it was natural—but exaggerating a little, if she fully spread her hand she could cover his entire abdomen.
The subtle hand trembled. The cold sensation transmitted through her palm. The soft fat and his gradually rising warmth. The cautious hand began to move by desire.
"Hoo…"
Twitch. The moving hand stopped like a thief with cold feet. Han Seyeon, who had been reading the room, was gradually being eaten by desire. Every time she moved her hand she felt the soft, fine texture of his skin. When she brushed past as if gently pressing, his body trembled lightly as if ticklish. He reacted to her actions.
Han Seyeon, who had never touched a man's body even once until now, felt curiosity for the first time. Enough to momentarily forget her responsibilities. Toward the path her deep desire cried out for, she stroked her hand down, and moved again.
"It reminds me of Dad."
"…!"
Fondling a man's body. In the middle of filling her own desires, that single phrase lodged itself in Han Seyeon's heart.
"Dad's hands are healing hands… When I had a stomachache, he always stroked me like this, right?"
"Th…at's right."
"Do you remember?"
"Mm, I remember."
Han Seyeon tightly closed her eyes—to the point of forgetting what answer she had even given. From the depths of her heart the emotion called guilt began to bloom. Rooted in family love, nourished by past memories, it bore the fruit of the reality that she had been fondling her little brother's body to fill her desires. A reality colder than any winter. In Han Seyeon's heart a strong blizzard raged. The throbbing in her chest tormented her like a heartbeat.
Just now. What the hell did I just do? Daring to do this to my little brother. I shouldn't do this. Of course. This is something I shouldn't do. Between family. How could…
"Mm?"
"It's fine. Done."
Han Seyeon forced out an awkward smile. She decided it was just her own little episode—but then his expression entered her eyes.
"Really…?"
"Why…"
"It felt good."
Twitch. Han Sein's body, about to get up, twitched. He smacked his lips as if regretful. And his eyes looked far away as if something wistful—as if recalling the past. But to Han Seyeon's ears it only sounded lewd. That became kindling once more.
"It was good… because it reminded me of Dad…"
It became an awl named guilt, stabbing her chest over and over.
Ah. My little brother is missing the past enough to recall Dad. And I, I…
"I'm going to the bathroom for a bit."
I've come to harbor such feelings toward my little brother.
"Mm. Go ahead. I'll put away the ice."
Han Seyeon escaped as if fleeing and headed for the bathroom.
"Huk… hnn…"
She spat curses in her heart. Sitting on the toilet, she grabbed her head as if tearing it out. A subtle headache came, but compared to the pain in her chest it was nothing. The reason she had fallen into self-loathing—
"Hnn… sh, it…"
Her lower belly had heated up and her underwear had grown sticky. And to Han Sein, who had made that regretful expression, she had been about to say, Then shall we do a little more? It had risen all the way to the tip of her tongue, about to come out—but because he had mentioned their father, it was a word that could not leave her mouth. It only became thorns that tormented her all over again.