Saving My Siblings
The clock ticked on. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. The sound echoed through my empty room. A sharp, acrid smell stung my nose. What had I been doing? My memory was hazy.
Tick. Tick. Water dripped. Each drop sent tiny ripples across the surface of the bathtub where I sat. Ah… right. I have to die. Those ripples stirred something in my mind.
Thirty years old. Male. Fired from the company I’d bet everything on years ago. I’d done whatever it took to get in, grinding as an intern, desperate for a full-time position. Somehow, it never happened. I became a shut-in. Gambled away every last penny. I was a failure. A worthless human being.
Yesterday, my parents finally disowned me.
……
I hated it. I hated the world that had shaped me this way.
“…What have any of you ever done for me, anyway?”
Nothing. I grew up in indifference. Cup ramen was my daily meal. I never knew warmth. That was my life—an existence that received no kindness.
Shit……
If there was a next life, I hoped I’d be reborn as a pretty girl loved by everyone. The thought was vague, but it lingered.
“Kuh…!!”
Breath caught in my throat. My vision filled with hazy smoke. The burning briquette I’d set earlier came into focus.
“Kuhk…!”
I kicked my legs wildly, sending the water in the tub into violent waves—nothing like the gentle ripples from before. That was how I died.
“…!!”
My eyes flew open again.
“Unni…!! Unni!!”
“Noona… don’t die…!!”
Loud crying filled my ears. The stench of blood and alcohol assaulted my nose.
…Why is it so noisy?
But that wasn’t my problem. I was sleepy. I just wanted to sleep.
“Wake up…!!”
“Noona… Noona…!!”
Someone kept shaking me, refusing to let me rest. Goddamn it…… Annoyed, I shot upright, ready to scold whoever was disturbing me.
“Unni…?”
“…Noona!!”
Two small children stared at me, calling me “Unni” and “Noona.” They looked young, yet their bodies were almost the same size as mine. It was as if I had become a child myself.
I looked down at my own body.
“…Pale.”
It was pale. A few bruises marked the skin, but overall it was fair. In the mirror, a pretty girl looked back at me—unusual hair color, black eyes, delicate features. The sight triggered a flood of memories.
“…Kuh…!!”
“Unni?!”
“Noona?!”
Pain crashed through my skull. I clutched my head, squeezing my eyes shut. The children’s trembling voices asked if I was okay.
“I-I’m fine, hic…!!”
“Unni…!! Pull yourself together…!!”
“J-Jiwoo, be quiet… Dad’s…!”
I stayed curled up for a long time, head in my hands, as twelve years of memories slammed into place.
Time passed. It was now 11 p.m. I lay between my siblings, staring blankly at the familiar yet unfamiliar ceiling.
……
All the memories had returned. This afternoon at 1 p.m., our drunk, worthless father had started threatening the kids. Unable to watch, I’d taken a soju bottle to the head in their place. I’d never been hit there before, so I collapsed instantly and blacked out.
“…So I regained my past-life memories just like that?”
I murmured, reaching a pale hand toward the ceiling. Just to be sure, I recalled every detail about myself.
“…Past life: Kim Suho, thirty-year-old unemployed single man who committed suicide. Present life: Yoo Suhyun, twelve-year-old victim of child abuse, with two younger siblings.”
The memories of both lives were crystal clear and perfectly ordered. I even remembered that I’d retained my past-life memories until around age two.
“Haa… This is my fate.”
I buried my face in the pillow, lamenting my lot. Getting hit by Dad and recovering my memories? Even after reincarnating, my life was still a mess. It felt unfair, yet my heart ached for the two children beside me.
“…What sin did you two ever commit?”
Born into this family, forced to grow up in this environment—what must that feel like?
“Unni… I’m sorry… I’m sorry I couldn’t take the hits instead… Sorry you always have to get hurt.”
Jiwoo, the second child and my little sister, mumbled in her sleep and hugged me. Not to be outdone, Minu, the third child and my little brother, hugged me too. He just kept murmuring “Noona, Noona.”
My poor, adorable siblings.
……
I resented the reality of living with an alcoholic father after Mom ran away, yet I looked at their unmarked bodies.
“…So I really took every single blow until now.”
Memories surfaced—always stepping in to protect them.
“Dad…!! Hit me, not Minu…!! Kuh…!!”
“Jiwoo!! Jiwoo…! Leave it to Unni! Kuhk!! Run…!!”
Tears welled up. I pulled my siblings closer to my scarred body and made a vow.
Now that I had my past-life memories, I would become their one and only parent.
“…I’ll protect you.”
Nothing had changed. Memories or not, I would keep them safe. No matter what, I would make sure they never got hit again.
After all, this is a life I already lived once.
Dying here wouldn’t change anything. Ruining one life is hard enough—ruining it twice is easy. I’d long since abandoned any attachment to living. But these two…
“…You two can still shine.”
They still had that chance. I decided to bet on it. This time, I would walk a kinder path. I swore I would never let my siblings suffer.
“…Pain is something this Unni and Noona will take for you. You two just need to live.”
I would send them to school like normal kids. I wanted them to enjoy ordinary lives. I might become a shut-in again, but that was fine.
From the day I regained my memories, I began drawing every ounce of our father’s attention.
“Aagh…!!”
“You crazy bitch!! You don’t even recognize your father who’s like the sky to you!!”
“I’m sorry… hic…! I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t easy. It hurt. Flesh tore. Yet I respected how he avoided hitting my face, saying it would be useless later if damaged.
…It’s okay. This is enough.
The more wounds accumulated on my body, the more I thought that. The simple fact that my siblings weren’t being hit made me happy.
At some point, I became his punching bag. Four years. Five years. I took the beatings steadily, relentlessly. No matter how determined I was, having past-life memories made a person strange. Before long, I started going to him for punishment as if it were natural.
“Where the hell is that bitch Suhyun?”
“…I’m here, Dad.”
“Money!! You didn’t bring any…?!”
A slap followed, and somehow money appeared.
“Hey, you said you’d take the hits for your siblings too.”
“…Unni, hic…!! No! I’ll take it!! No, don’t hit her!”
“…It’s okay, Jiwoo.”
“Get up. Pants leg up.”
Even when my legs shook from the blows, my body moved the moment he told me to stand. Fear of his hands had been carved into me.
That continued through high school. I never let it show around others.
…I can’t raise my siblings without Dad.
He worked manual labor and brought home money, so I couldn’t kick him out. I just kept taking the hits.
In my third year of high school, my homeroom teacher saw the excessive bruises and smelled the alcohol on Dad, then reported him immediately.
Surprisingly, when they took him away, I felt nothing. Or rather—
…How am I supposed to protect them now?
The thought of living without an adult left me lost. And so I became a shut-in. After graduating and sending my siblings—one year apart—to college, I locked myself in my room. I was terrified to go outside. I didn’t want to.
Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock.
The clock echoed in the dark room. Trash and filth filled the space. In that darkness, I spoke in a weak voice, smiling.
“…S-So, where should I cut next…?”
The chat exploded.
I really didn’t understand why everyone kept calling me pitiful. I was just a cool older sister who had saved her siblings, that was all.