There's No Way I Can Bathe My Sick Little Brother! Impossible! (Or Was It?!)
His vision was narrowing by the second.
Darkness seemed to creep inward from the edges, swallowing everything. In that shrinking field of view, the black envelope trembled faintly—though of course it was the hand gripping it that shook.
Han Seyeon fought to steady her mind. Anxious fragments of information rose unbidden: Han Sein looking clearly unwell; an overnight trip they called “MT”; the evasive, brushed-off answers; and the semen-stained panties that had been stuffed inside the bag. All those pieces of evidence gathered like a noose, driving her speculation into a corner.
Her eyes squeezed shut. A thought she desperately did not want to entertain surfaced.
Women whose faces she didn’t even know, harassing Han Sein?
Her fist clenched hard of its own accord. A sharp, familiar pain lanced up from her right wrist. Only after the ache registered did a short sigh slip from her lips.
Right. That couldn’t be.
Perhaps the pain had snapped her back to her senses. Han Seyeon drew a deep breath and forced her heart to settle.
First: it was something that realistically almost never happened. The shocking headlines that occasionally flashed across the news were special cases, and the school he attended was prestigious.
Second: if something like that had truly happened, the traces would never have been left this way. An emotionally sensitive boy enduring something that could scar him for life—and then calmly packing his clothes like this? It made no sense.
Once her thoughts reached that point, she managed to regain a measure of calm. That didn’t mean the thoughts muddying her mind vanished. The contents of the black envelope in her hand were still right there, after all.
In the end every path of reasoning funneled toward one answer.
A phenomenon every male experienced without exception.
A wet dream.
Yet a new question immediately pierced through her mind.
Why?
She cast her thoughts back roughly a month. The day her own desire had completely overrun her. Examining the reason for that night made the present doubt feel justified.
Han Sein had masturbated. Not even with a wet-dream pad—literal, blatant evidence. That was why her own lust had gone wild.
But had she seen anything like it since?
Of course she worked long hours; he might simply have cleaned up carefully. Still, secretly satisfying sexual urges under the same roof was no easy feat. Even she, exhausted from hard labor, usually slipped into the bathroom for it. Naturally she had no idea about her little brother’s releases.
I don’t know…
She truly didn’t. A man who masturbated didn’t have wet dreams—that was common knowledge. So why had he, of all people, gone an entire month without touching himself?
“Mmngh…”
A soft voice drifted from behind her. The rustle of a body shifting and the faint, sleepy sounds told her he had finally drifted off. The moment she heard it, Han Seyeon flinched as if she might leap straight into the air.
A memory from the past had just flashed through her mind.
The night she had used the tissue that still held her little brother’s traces to get herself off. The first night the siblings had grown close enough to sleep side by side. The night she had lain awake staring at the hard, insistent rise beneath the blankets.
That night’s memory returned in full.
I’m sure he was asleep… right?
With trembling fingers she slowly sealed the envelope. Looking back, nothing major had actually happened—except for the moment she had, without thinking, brushed her hand over her little brother’s swollen crotch. It had been an awkward, timid touch. She hadn’t even gripped him properly, much less given him a sleeping handjob.
Yet the fact remained: she had felt desire for her own blood-related brother and touched his cock.
Guilt surged, followed hard by anxiety.
What if—just what if—he hadn’t been asleep? Or what if the touch itself had woken him?
A boy who masturbated would naturally grow timid. His only guardian, the pillar holding the household together, was a woman. And that woman had stroked him while he slept?
“Ugh…”
Guilt so heavy she could barely breathe crashed over her. The bag—she needed to finish packing the bag. She had to do something, anything.
Han Seyeon forced her unsteady legs to move. What else still needed doing…?
They said time was medicine.
Three hours of afternoon sleep. While Han Sein rested, Han Seyeon busied herself with chores and slowly wrestled her mind back under control. In a way the process was familiar. Ever since middle school, whenever the house erupted into screaming fights or her mother’s violence, she had calmed herself the same way—by moving her body, by training. This much, she told herself, was nothing.
Until her little brother woke and called for her.
“Noona…”
“Mm. Sleep well?”
She had already sensed him stirring, yet she still pretended surprise as she approached. His expression looked troubled, faintly anxious. The slight flush on his cheeks made them look fever-hot.
“I… I think I’ve got a body ache.”
“Any coughing…?”
He shook his head. Small mercies. It really did seem to be pure body aches. Every time he tried to shift, a thin moan slipped out. Looking at that crumpled face, the anxious knot in her chest loosened a fraction—only for fresh worry to take its place.
“My body… won’t move.”
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“No. I’m fine.”
“You can’t even hold yourself up properly—”
“J-just a few days of rest. I only overdid it a little…”
“Sigh.”
Her heart clenched tight and stifling. Money was already stretched razor-thin; the thought of medical bills made her stomach drop. She hated herself for even thinking about money while her little brother was sick. Reality, however, refused to look away.
Then a different kind of reality spilled from his lips—one that poured a strange new wind into her chest instead of crushing it.
“Help me… get up a bit…”
“Mm.”
Until that moment she hadn’t thought much of it. Her little brother was sick; as his noona she was supposed to take care of him. Family looked after family. That was all.
But then—
“Ugh…”
“Are you really okay?”
“Mm. Feels like muscle pain.”
His body went completely limp. Rising while fully leaning against her, he looked painfully fragile. His legs trembled; the more they shook, the harder he pressed into her. He was already an adult. The need to care for him hadn’t changed, yet the boy who had become his own person suddenly felt different—like a return to childhood, to the years when responsibility for him had weighed on her like a stone. Those memories had never been kind.
And yet—
“Haa… sorry, Noona. Am I heavy?”
“Ah—no.”
Her heart hammered. The solid warmth of him pressed flush against her, far beyond simple contact. Deep inside her emotions a subtle, shameful pleasure stirred. The corner of her mouth twitched. She felt alien to herself for feeling desire, pleasure, hunger while her little brother was sick and completely dependent on her.
Yes.
To put it bluntly, she was turned on.
He had nowhere else to turn. He could only lean on her—his sole guardian. That helpless reliance returned to her as a brand-new, intoxicating stimulus.
“Noona, bathroom…”
“Yeah.”
He left the circle of her arms. The hand she had been holding slipped away; his own fingers found the bathroom doorframe for support. Her lips pressed together with something like regret, yet the still-unsteady legs that carried him away kept teasing at her heart.
The door closed slowly. Han Seyeon exhaled a short breath and opened the refrigerator. It was almost funny how old the house was. A bathroom ought to have some soundproofing, yet if she held her breath and focused, every sound came through with brutal clarity.
—Zzzrrr.
Just the simple sound of a stream. Three hours of sleep would leave anyone needing to pee. Any louder and she would have felt embarrassed, but it was more than enough to set her imagination racing.
The size of the thing that had tented his pants earlier… water flowing out of it…
Saliva pooled under her tongue before she could stop it.
Silence returned. The stream stopped. Then came a dull thud and a sharp cry of pain.
—Thud!
“Ow!”
“Se—Sein!”
She was already running. A noise like that from the bathroom meant only one thing: a fall. The door flew open. He lay crumpled on the floor.
Her voice cracked sharp and high.
“Why—why did you fall?!”
“I figured… while I was in here I’d wash up. But I can’t manage it.”
“You should have asked for help!”
The words came out raw with shock and worry. Only moments ago lust had filled her mouth; now something entirely different poured out. She had been that frightened. Han Sein was special—far more than just a little brother. If he hadn’t existed, she would have ended her own life with her own hands long ago.
“I-I thought I could do it alone…”
“A kid who can’t even make it to the bathroom by himself thinks he can wash?”
“Sorry…”
His head drooped. Only then did guilt finally cut through her. The panic faded and the lustful reality of the scene flooded back in: pants and underwear half-yanked down, the important parts still covered, yet his earlier words burned in her memory.
Between rough, uneven breaths she spoke, half-agitated.
“Do you want to wash?”
“…Yeah.”
“I’ll wash you.”
“Huh?”
A flustered little sound escaped him. Han Seyeon kept her desire locked behind a firm mask. It absolutely was not because she wanted to see him naked. She was angry that her little brother had nearly hurt himself. As family. As his guardian. Because she was worried. That was why she said it.
Her expression and tone were perfectly confident. Thank god the frantic pounding of her heart didn’t show on her face.
“I said I’ll wash you.”
“…….”
His mouth opened, then shut tight. A storm of emotions crossed his features. It was a selfish, inconsiderate offer. As a man, how mortifying and shameful must it feel?
Even so she pulled the mask of a caring noona firmly over her face—the face of someone who simply wanted to look after her little brother. She stepped closer, bent down, and held out her hand the way a guardian does when tending to someone who is sick.
“Because I’m your noona. I’ll do it.”
“…Okay.”
The soft answer reached her. The corner of Han Seyeon’s mouth lifted—just a fraction, so slight no one else would ever have noticed.