Hometown Visit (1)
After the final performance of POA, which still felt unreal, So-yeon became a star overnight.
The show had always drawn solid viewership, but her story—the underdog narrative and that miraculous comeback—touched everyone who watched. Thanks to that, Kang So-yeon was now juggling a packed schedule: debut preparations, variety show appearances, YouTube shoots, and more.
“I want to come see you, but I can’t find a single free second.”
“Enjoy it. We can always make time for just the two of us.”
“Hehe. Got it, Oppa. I’m heading back in!”
“Hey. If you need money, just say the word.”
“Aww, Oppa, I’m Kang So-yeon now! I should be the one giving you allowance.”
“Haha. Just hearing that fills me up. Call me. And eat properly.”
“Mhm. Bye-bye!”
Tae-san stared at the darkened screen of his phone. The call log with the contact saved as “My Sister” glowed softly.
His chest swelled with warmth.
Did So-yeon feel this way too?
He remembered how she had squeezed in calls even during POA filming, somehow finding time to watch his videos. Her voice had been bursting with joy over his debut, far more than her own ranking. When she heard he was doing a one-act drama, she had screamed so loudly her voice cracked. She had even saved the allowance he sent her and bought him a homemade cake.
Compared to her achieving the idol dream she had chased since childhood, his own acting career might seem modest. Yet the more affection he felt for acting, the more deeply he understood her heart. Fulfilling a long-held dream was an enormous thing in life. Being able to witness and support that success as her older brother filled him with quiet joy.
He decided to send a gift card so she and her fellow trainees could order chicken together.
When he opened his chat list, an old notification he had always ignored caught his eye today. The profile picture was unmistakable: a gentle statue of the Virgin Mary standing against a backdrop of fully bloomed azaleas. Beside it was the name “Kang Julia.”
In that instant, memories he had buried came rushing back like a wave. The scent of disinfectant mixed with sun-dried laundry. The voice that scolded the children with “You little rascals!” yet always held warmth in her eyes. Sister Julia, the director of Always Spring Orphanage, had been like a mother to him.
Tae-san’s finger hovered over the “Send Gift” button, then stopped.
It’s probably been five years…
Whenever her birthday notification popped up, he had only managed to send a cake voucher, carrying a guilty heart. Ever since he left the orphanage at nineteen and was thrown into the world, he had used the excuse of being too busy surviving to visit. He had to worry about next month’s rent and earn every extra penny for his sister’s sake. Visiting Sister had felt like an unaffordable luxury, so he had buried the guilt and looked away.
But things were different now.
Out of habit, Tae-san opened his banking app. Seeing the balance gave him courage.
“No more excuses. Since I’m thinking about it, I should just go.”
If he was going, he couldn’t show up empty-handed. He headed straight to the large supermarket near his house and filled a cart with snacks the kids would love—chocolate, jelly, potato chips, and banana milk, their eternal favorite. The cashier stared in surprise at his impulsive splurge, but Tae-san only grinned back.
With two heavy black plastic bags in hand, his steps toward the intercity bus terminal felt light.
The bus left Seoul’s dense forest of buildings and entered Gyeonggi Province. The scenery outside the window gradually became familiar. Suddenly, a very old memory surfaced.
One of the older boys who had left the orphanage first had once visited during the holidays wearing a worn tracksuit. In his hand was a single black plastic bag filled with freshly steamed hot buns straight from the factory. The children had cheered and rushed toward him, and he had smiled awkwardly while patting their heads.
Someday, when I become an adult, I’ll come back just like that hyung and buy the kids delicious snacks, he had once thought.
That forgotten childhood promise was finally coming true, five years later.
After arriving at Ansan Terminal, he transferred to a village bus. At last, the rusted iron gate came into view, with the faded sign “Always Spring Orphanage” hanging above it.
With a creak—the sound both old and warm—the gate opened. Tae-san slowly looked around the courtyard. Where dust used to fly, a small patch of grass had been laid for the children. The old slide had been repainted in bright colors. Yet many things remained familiar: the ivy climbing the building walls, the small flowerpots on the windowsills.
Just then, one of the nuns who had been bent over the vegetable garden lifted her head. White-streaked hair, a gentle smile, wrinkled eyes. It was Director Sister Julia.
“Oh my… Tae-san?”
She walked toward him slowly, forgetting to brush the dirt from her hands, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Sister… It’s me. Tae-san.”
“Good heavens, Tae-san, you rascal!”
Sister Julia pulled him into a tight hug. Wrapped in her warm, soft embrace, Tae-san felt like he had become an innocent boy again, leaping over five years.
“I’m sorry, Director. I came… far too late.”
“No, no. What are you sorry for? I know how hard it is just to get by. The fact that you showed your face is enough to thank God for.”
She cupped his face with both hands and examined every corner.
“You’ve grown even taller. Are you eating well? And So-yeon? How is our pretty So-yeon doing?”
“So-yeon’s in a group audition program right now, so she’s stuck in training camp. She couldn’t come with me.”
“I saw her on TV. I was so nervous the whole time. Our So-yeon standing on such a big stage… I’m proud, but I’ve been praying every day that she isn’t suffering too much.”
Hearing her motherly, affectionate voice made the guilt he had ignored for five years surge like a wave.
Just then, a low, deep voice came from behind him.
“Kang Tae-san?”
Tae-san slowly turned around. Standing there was a man far larger than he remembered—easily over 190 centimeters, with broad shoulders, biceps the size of an average adult’s head, a short sports haircut, sharp eyes, and a rough scar. He looked like the kind of person who could make even a gang boss back down.
“…Jin-cheol hyung?”
It was Min Jin-cheol, his one-year-older brother from the orphanage. Beside him stood a woman whose small frame contrasted sharply with Jin-cheol’s massive build. Barely over 150 centimeters, wearing thick horn-rimmed glasses and round, startled eyes like a frightened rabbit—Baek Yeon-ju.
“Whoa, you punk. How long has it been? You’ve turned into a total city slicker. I thought you became a celebrity or something.”
“Haha… Yeah. It’s been a while.”
Jin-cheol laughed loudly and approached, giving Tae-san’s back a rough pat. The impact made Tae-san stagger for a moment.
“It’s been a long time for you too, Yeon-ju noona.”
“Yeah, Tae-san. Have you been well?”
His greeting with Yeon-ju, who had always been close during their orphanage days, came naturally. With Jin-cheol, however, an awkward tension lingered. The last time they had seen each other was seven years ago, when Jin-cheol was being loaded into a police car.
Back then, as a high school senior, Min Jin-cheol had been sent to juvenile detention for single-handedly sending a dozen local thugs to the hospital.
“You little punk, where the hell were you on the director’s birthday? You didn’t even show your face.”
Jin-cheol scolded him right away.
“Even a guy like me has visited every single year since getting out of juvenile detention. Someone as successful as you should be taking better care of her.”
“Why are you picking on Tae-san, Min Jin-cheol? Is that how you greet your little brother after all this time?”
Yeon-ju smacked Jin-cheol’s thick forearm with her small hand.
“Hehe. No, Yeon-ju. I’m not picking a fight. I’m just happy to see him…”
The man who had roared like a lion moments ago was now stammering in front of the rabbit-like Baek Yeon-ju.
The mismatched sight made Tae-san laugh despite himself. The awkward wall built over five years seemed to crumble a little.
“Kids, come eat some potatoes while you catch up.”
Sister Julia brought out fluffy steamed potatoes—the same taste they had enjoyed as snacks during their orphanage days.
The four of them sat in the small reception room and quickly fell into lively conversation, as if the past five years had never happened. Tae-san munched on a potato while glancing at Min Jin-cheol.
It was strange. This was the same hyung who had been a figure of terror throughout their school years, rumored to be part of the notorious “iljin” crowd. Yet sitting before him now, Jin-cheol gave off none of the repulsive, sleazy feeling Tae-san had sensed from Jo Tae-man. He simply felt like a big, slightly rough-around-the-edges neighborhood brother.
Come to think of it, Jin-cheol hyung was never the same type of iljin as Jo Tae-man.
In fact, Min Jin-cheol had been closer to an original iljin disciplinarian. At the high school Tae-san attended, the very concept of iljin couldn’t exist—because a natural-disaster-level force named Min Jin-cheol stood firmly in the way. He only targeted thugs who bullied weaker kids. As a promising fighter, he followed his own rule of “never touch ordinary people,” so he never once picked a fight with non-thugs.
He ended up in juvenile detention after going after a group of thugs from another school who had been bullying an orphanage junior. He single-handedly injured over twenty of them, each requiring at least eight weeks of hospitalization.
It was famous enough to make the local newspaper.
While reminiscing, Tae-san’s gaze shifted to Baek Yeon-ju, who sat quietly beside Jin-cheol.
“Jin-cheol, you’ve got potato on your mouth.”
Yeon-ju naturally pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the corner of his lips. Jin-cheol’s face, which had been devouring potatoes with the ferocity of someone ready to chew up the world, instantly turned bright red.
“Uh… huh? Th-thanks, Yeon-ju. But Tae-san’s watching…”
“Oh? You don’t like it?”
“…I like it.”
He accepted the handkerchief with both hands, respectfully, despite his massive frame.
Tae-san stared blankly, doubting his own eyes.
What did I just witness?
It was like watching a predator wag its tail helplessly in front of a rabbit—an ecological disruption in the making.
“Hohoho. Those two are something else, aren’t they?”
Sister Julia spoke with a warm smile, as if she had read Tae-san’s thoughts.
“They started dating not long after leaving the orphanage. Jin-cheol has never been able to say no to a single word from Yeon-ju since they were little.”
It was an unbelievable fact. More beauty and the beast than anything—truly a rabbit and a lion in extreme visual contrast.
“Noona must be happy. With someone like Jin-cheol hyung around, no one would dare mess with you.”
Tae-san said it half-jokingly. Yeon-ju adjusted her glasses and let out a small sigh.
“Happy? Do you know how much I worry every single day because of him? He’s working steadily at the manpower agency now, but I’m terrified he’ll lose his temper again and cause trouble someday.”
“No, Yeon-ju! I’ve really become a decent person! Have I ever hit anyone since I started dating you? No, right?”
“Then what about that drunk guy you knocked down last month?”
“That’s because he kept clinging to you…”
“Be quiet.”
At Yeon-ju’s firm command, the 190-centimeter giant shut his mouth with a whimper.
Tae-san found Min Jin-cheol’s flustered state in front of his girlfriend oddly endearing.
Somehow, it doesn’t suit his size… but also kind of does.
The sun was beginning to set, and the smell of dinner cooking spread through the orphanage courtyard. The three of them spent the afternoon with the children. Jin-cheol became a human jungle gym with his massive body, while Yeon-ju read fairy tales on the side. Kang Tae-san showed off the cooking skills he had gained from a recent experience and made tteokbokki for the kids in the kitchen. Sister Julia kept exclaiming in admiration at his skilled hands.
After the lively time passed, Tae-san stepped outside for a short break and approached Min Jin-cheol, who was sitting on a bench. He had noticed a faint shadow on Jin-cheol’s face throughout the day whenever he was looking after the children.
“Hyung, is something wrong?”
Jin-cheol gave a bitter smile.
“Does it show?”
“A little.”
“……”
Jin-cheol hesitated for a long time. Despite his sturdy build, his eyes wavered like a lost child’s.
“Actually… Yeon-ju is pregnant.”
“…What?”
Tae-san’s eyes widened at the unexpected confession. It should have been happy news, yet Jin-cheol’s face held more shadow than joy.
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“It is. It is a good thing, but… I don’t know if I deserve to be a father.”
He muttered self-deprecatingly.
“Yeon-ju’s a civil servant. Stable job with a steady paycheck every month. She’s always been smart and good at studying. But me? I’m just a day laborer living hand to mouth, and a guy with a criminal record. How am I supposed to support a family? That’s all I keep thinking.”
His voice was heavy with helplessness and self-loathing.
“Yeon-ju says it’s fine. If we don’t have money for a wedding, we can just register the marriage first. But… that’s easier said than done. I’m scared I won’t be able to give her a proper wedding like everyone else, or provide for the kid…”
Tae-san listened quietly. Then he smirked and spoke playfully.
“So? Are you planning to run away and abandon your pregnant girlfriend? That would be pretty lame.”
“Hey! You little punk… Do I look like that kind of guy to you?”
Jin-cheol flared up and shouted. Tae-san finally relaxed and shrugged.
“Then it’s fine. You two can take responsibility together. Noona’s dating you because she likes you, so why are you digging yourself into a hole alone?”
“……”
“Like you said, Noona’s smart. She knows exactly who you are, doesn’t she?”
At Tae-san’s straightforward reassurance, Jin-cheol couldn’t say anything more. He cleared his throat awkwardly and changed the subject.
“Still, you’re impressive. You’re the pride of our orphanage, you punk.”
“Me?”
“Of course. I always knew you’d make something of yourself with that face. I just didn’t expect you to become an actor. It was surreal seeing you on TV. You’re definitely going to be even more successful. I guarantee it.”
Even while carrying his own worries, Jin-cheol still lifted his younger brother up. Tae-san felt a warm spot in his chest.
“Oh, right. When that school violence article about you came out, I left a comment online.”
Jin-cheol scratched his head sheepishly.
“I wanted to defend you, so I wrote, ‘I was the top dog at that school back then, and Kang Tae-san wasn’t that kind of kid.’ But man… internet people are scary.”
Tae-san suddenly recalled one oddly supportive comment he had seen and realized it must have been from him.
“By the way, are you not dating anyone? What are you doing at your age with no girlfriend?”
Before long, Jin-cheol had started nagging like a meddlesome older brother. Strangely, Tae-san didn’t mind the scolding. It actually felt warm. Maybe because he had never had someone above him to nag like this.
Tae-san felt as if he had gained both an older brother and an old friend in Min Jin-cheol.