Sun Taeyang's Older Brother
I gasped in shock and said, “You’re telling me Daesu’s father is a member of the National Assembly!”
I threw myself fully into the act, letting my eyes tremble as I slumped my shoulders in defeat. “No way… How could the son of someone like that end up in a school like this…? Shouldn’t he be attending one of those elite middle schools for the gifted?”
Daesu’s mother, who had looked startled by my sudden change in attitude, quickly caught on and let out a loud, mocking laugh.
“This is where he builds his foundation, so we put him in this cheap little school for now. He won’t be staying in a place like this for high school.”
“…I see.”
“Pfft… Now do you get it? Do you understand who you’ve been messing with?”
“No. I still can’t believe it! I can’t accept that the child of a lawmaker would show up in a place like this!”
I spoke with a servile expression, as if desperately hoping it wasn’t true. “Please, tell me his name. It’s probably a lie anyway!”
The middle-aged woman burst out laughing, then answered with breezy confidence.
“You must have heard of Woo Changho, right?”
Apparently deciding that wasn’t enough, the woman pulled out a family photo. In it were Daesu, his mother, and Assemblyman Woo Changho. It was unmistakably the current lawmaker himself.
“…Oh my god, it really is Assemblyman Woo Changho!”
The woman seemed delighted by my exaggerated reaction and said, “Get on your knees right now. …No, that won’t be enough. Bang your head on the floor too. All three of you.”
“Team Leader Sun…”
Gaeul wore an expression of helpless guilt, clearly sorry that things had escalated this far. I gently stroked her hair once before speaking.
“Did you get it?”
“Yes, I recorded everything.”
My sister pulled out the smartphone she’d been filming with from her shirt’s breast pocket and added, “I’ve been recording audio too.”
…
A heavy silence fell over the room. I was the one who broke it.
“Assemblyman Woo Changho is a first-term lawmaker, isn’t he? He doesn’t have that much name recognition or a solid base of support.”
“…What are you getting at?”
“Do you think the party will protect a single first-term assemblyman? Or will they just cut off his tail?”
The answer was obvious.
“His tail? Who do you think you’re talking to right now?!”
“I’m talking to the wife of Assemblyman Woo Changho, of course.”
In truth, calling it a “tail” was actually generous. From my memories of the previous round, Woo Changho was nothing more than a first-term lawmaker who ended his political career right there.
…
“I’m planning to upload this video and the recording to Altube, SNS, and every major internet community. It looks like his expulsion from the party will be all but guaranteed. You should start preparing yourselves.”
Her plump body trembled as she spat out, “A recording? One that contains you threatening to beat me up? You think you’ll be fine if you release something like that?”
Of course I’ll edit it before uploading, you stupid woman. What, did you think I’d back down just because your husband is a lawmaker? The moment you said that, you were already screwed. Thanks for making it so easy. I’m grateful you’re too thick-headed to even consider that.
I didn’t say any of that out loud. Instead, I simply shrugged and replied, “Why don’t you take a look at how people react to the video first? Then you can judge for yourself who’s really going to get hurt.”
An abusive parent and a middle schooler who sexually harassed a girl—both revealed to be the wife and son of a current assemblyman. No one would be able to resist clicking on that video.
“I hope the rest of this conversation can continue in court.”
Daesu’s mother frantically dialed a number on her phone. She was probably calling Woo Changho. But the conversation didn’t seem to go well, because her face turned deathly pale.
I helped the collapsed Gahyeon to her feet, took Gaeul by the hand, and turned away. My attitude showed absolutely no lingering attachment. Without hesitation, I walked straight out the door.
That was when I heard Daesu’s mother’s small voice behind me.
“…Wait.”
I turned back with a cold expression, looking at both Daesu and the woman.
“Do you have any further business with us?”
The middle-aged woman stammered as she continued. “…Do you really have to go that far? It’s just kids fighting.”
“Kids fighting?”
“Yes. Like you said earlier, it’s ugly for adults to get involved in children’s fights, isn’t it? Why don’t we just settle things here?”
It was an incredibly shameless attitude. She seemed to know it too, because she kept glancing around nervously.
“Weren’t you the one who said we should have a proper adult fight?”
“Well… I admit I spoke a bit recklessly about that. Now that I think about it, it doesn’t seem worth going through all that trouble for…”
I watched Daesu’s mother break into a cold sweat as she waved her hands in denial. Then I looked at Gahyeon and Gaeul, who were staring at me with dazed expressions. I wanted to show these kids something good.
“If you show me one act of sincerity, I might be willing to end things here.”
“…Sincerity? What do you mean?”
I took four steps forward, looked down at the middle-aged woman, and said, “Get on your knees to Gahyeon and Gaeul. Then bow deeply and say, ‘I was wrong. I won’t do it again.’”
I’ll teach you the perspective-taking you should have learned back in elementary school, lady.
“Oh, you don’t have to do it like some pathetic insect. I do have that much consideration, after all.”
Besides, such an ugly sight probably wouldn’t be good for the children’s education.
“You think I’m going to do something like—”
“Then I guess our conversation ends here. See you in court.”
The moment I finished speaking, Daesu’s mother dropped to her knees.
“…I was wrong.”
It was a truly pathetic sight.
“Don’t look at me. Look at Gaeul and Gahyeon when you speak.”
The woman’s cheeks quivered with barely contained rage, but she turned to Gaeul and Gahyeon and said, “…I was wrong. I won’t do it again.”
I looked at her miserable state and gave a light scoff.
“Since you’ve shown your sincerity, I’ll consider this matter settled here. I hope the teacher will wrap things up properly.”
“…Ah, yes! I will!”
“And of course, keep in mind that if any rumors start spreading, this spark could flare up again at any time.”
The teacher could only swallow nervously.
I gave a small smile to Gaeul, who was staring at me with a blank expression, and said, “Let’s go.”
As we left through the school gate, Gahyeon asked with an anxious face, “Is this really okay?”
I could guess why the child felt so uneasy. From Gahyeon’s perspective, having to attend the same school as that Daesu kid, the future probably looked troublesome.
“Don’t worry. Once things calm down a bit, I’ll edit and release the video and recording. I’ll make sure that Daesu punk can’t show his face at school anymore. And as a bonus, I’ll take care of that lady too.”
I’m pretty thorough with my after-service, after all.
In the smoking area tucked away in a corner of the playground where we’d parked the car, my sister, who had been smoking, said to me, “You know this time was a lot more dangerous than what we prepared for last time, right?”
“…I know.”
She was right. Honestly, we’d been extremely lucky. The fact that I could check Daesu’s account, and that the woman had been stupid enough to reveal her husband was an assemblyman—everything had relied on luck.
“But I just couldn’t hold back.”
When I saw the two kids looking like they’d committed some crime and were drowning in guilt, I couldn’t stand it. Those children weren’t the ones at fault.
My sister looked at me with a mysterious smile and said, “Didn’t you say you graduated from that kind of thing?”
…
“That you’d succeed even if it meant using people and making them fall?”
I had definitely said that to her. It was a kind of vow. A declaration that the me who had regressed would live a different life.
“I wasn’t saying it lightly.”
“I know. I know you’re not the type to say something like that lightly.”
“Thanks for thinking that way.”
My sister shrugged and continued, “And I don’t necessarily think this meddlesome side of yours is a bad thing. It’s part of what makes you who you are… But I can’t help but worry.”
She took a drag from her cigarette. The smoke she gently exhaled rose through the ventilation fan and toward the sky.
“So I’ll nag you just once.”
She stubbed out her cigarette and looked at me before saying, “Your desire for success and that soft heart of yours don’t go well together.”
“…You’re one to talk, when you’re softer than I am.”
“It’s because I’m like that that I can say this.”
…
“If you can’t decide on a clear direction, you’ll end up getting hurt someday.”
It was a statement filled with experience. I could relate to those words with painful clarity.
“I just hope that no matter which path you choose, Taeyang, you won’t get hurt.”
To keep her from worrying, I spoke confidently. “I’ve already chosen my direction. I’ll move exactly as I told you back then. Even if it’s self-righteous or selfish, I will succeed.”
“Then what about the current situation? Is this also part of that selfish process toward success?”
It wasn’t without reason. But I couldn’t say it. How could I say it in front of my sister—that Gaeul had looked like the version of her who had sacrificed herself for me in the past?
Instead, I squeezed out a lame excuse. “…A momentary lapse?”
My sister looked at me, gave a small smile, and roughly tousled my hair. Then, as she left the smoking area, she said, “I’ll head out first.”
“Why don’t we go home together? I’ll give you a ride.”
“That’s a company car. You shouldn’t use it for personal reasons.”
It was a very typical, rigid way of thinking for my sister.
“I’ll take that Gahyeon kid home, so don’t worry about it.”
“Just get in the car. Our boss isn’t the type to make a fuss over something like that.”
My sister clicked her tongue in annoyance and said, “You dense idiot. It looked like that Gaeul girl had a lot she wanted to say to you. Go listen to her.”
“Say to me? We can just talk in the car together.”
My sister turned around, flipped me off, and called out to Gahyeon.
“Gahyeon? I’ll take you home. Let’s go together.”
Gahyeon glanced between me and Gaeul before saying, “What about Noona?”
“Gaeul has something to talk about with Team Leader Sun. How about we be considerate and give them some space?”
Gahyeon let out an understanding “Oh!” and then trotted after my sister. When they had walked a little distance away, she turned back, looked at Gaeul, and shouted, “Noona, fighting! I like you! I’m rooting for you!”
…What exactly was she rooting for?
Gaeul’s face turned bright red at Gahyeon’s words, as if remembering something embarrassing. Her small face and very fair skin made the blush stand out even more.
I asked purely out of curiosity, “What is Gahyeon rooting for?”
“…I don’t know either.”
She clearly didn’t look like she didn’t know, but since she didn’t seem to want to talk about it, I pretended not to notice.
Gaeul and I got into the car. Only then did I realize that the usual time for reporting to Cheon A-ram had already passed. I called her and apologized. She kindly asked about Gaeul’s well-being and even suggested that I head home from the field today. It was a warmth rarely seen from an agency CEO.
Grateful for Cheon A-ram’s consideration, I drove the car toward Gaeul’s house. Gaeul remained silent, only stealing glances at me. After experiencing something like that earlier, even the ultimate social butterfly Gaeul seemed to find it hard to speak first.
But seeing her like that made it difficult for me to speak either. So we stayed silent all the way until we reached the hill in front of Gaeul’s house.
If it was going to be like this, shouldn’t I have just brought my sister and Gahyeon along?
“We’re here. Want to get out?”
Even at my words, Gaeul hesitated and didn’t move. I couldn’t tell if she didn’t want to get out or if she still had something to say.
Watching her, I suddenly remembered something I had prepared.
“Ah! Wait a second. I have something for you.”
I got out of the car, leaving Gaeul with a puzzled look on her face, and took a shopping bag from the trunk. After getting back in, I handed it to her.
“…What is this?”
“It’s for you, Gaeul. You can open it.”
Gaeul opened the bag and took out the packaged item. It was a yellow Adidas jersey that matched her warm brown hair perfectly.
“This morning, when Winter wore this, you said it was pretty. You also said you were jealous.”
…
“But I thought there was no reason for you to feel jealous. I figured something like this would look really good on you too.”
Gaeul stammered, “W-why… are you giving something like this… to me?”
Her awkward tone didn’t sound like a positive reaction. Did she not like it? Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted my own sense of style. It seemed the gift was a failure.
Not wanting to burden her, I spoke as casually as possible. “Tomorrow is Children’s Day.”
…
“I told you I’d become your adult from now on, didn’t I? So I wanted to take care of you a little.”
…
In my opinion, that was what an adult should do. But judging by her reaction, it seemed like a bad idea.
“The receipt is inside too, so if you don’t like it, you can exchange it for something—”
Gaeul, who had been silent, suddenly looked at me as if she couldn’t let that comment slide and shouted, “There’s no way I wouldn’t like it!”
“…Gaeul?”
Hugging the yellow Adidas jersey tightly, Gaeul was crying.
“Something like this… hic… how could I… possibly… receive this… sob… sob…”
Without a word, I pulled out a tissue and wiped her tears. Gaeul grabbed not the tissue, but my hand holding it, and used it to wipe her eyes.
…
There was a child who had to bloom even though she wasn’t ready. That child had endured harsh winds and vicious insects all alone. But the morning dew must have been too cold for her to bear. So the child had to return to being a flower bud. Trembling with small, delicate leaves.
I stayed by her side until that flower bud could shed its dew and once again pretend to be a fully bloomed flower.
“…Team Leader Sun.”
“Yeah?”
“…Can I call you Oppa?”
The words felt like a signal that Gaeul was starting to trust me, and they made me happy.
…But Oppa? The age difference is pretty big. I didn’t want to become like Ban Seongcheol, who forced trainees to call him Oppa.
“Oppa might be a bit much. If it’s Uncle, then…”
“Oppa.”
She spoke firmly, as if she wouldn’t allow any objections. There was even a certain spirit in her demeanor that made me shrink back a little.
“…Alright. Call me whatever you want.”
“…Oppa.”
Gaeul smiled with a warmth that could be felt even through her tears and said, “Taeyang Oppa.”