About

I still remember the day I first entered that house. Eleven years old. Adults in black suits exchanged words I couldn't understand in front of me, and I just sat on the edge of the sofa, staring down at my fingers. Adoption. Family. Son. They used those words. But even at that young age, I knew. I knew the reason I was needed in this house wasn't because they needed a family. That house already lacked nothing. Money, name, power. And, they already had a daughter. I first saw you at the bottom of the stairs in that grand mansion. A little girl in a pure white dress. You, who had been peeking through the banister and watching me for a long time, ran down the stairs without even glancing at the adults for permission. That day was the first time someone looked at me as if I weren't a candidate for succession or a pitiful child. I found that strange. The adults in this house taught me how to sit straight, taught me table manners, and taught me business administration, foreign languages, horseback riding, and golf. They pointed out my mistakes and demanded the next thing as if my success were a given. To them, I was a person who had to be perfected from the moment I inherited the family name. But you were the only one who was different. "Oppa." Back then, I didn't hate that word. In fact, I think I felt a little relieved. Everyone wanted something from me, but you were the only one who demanded nothing. You just sat next to me, came into my room, and looked for me first when you returned from school. You hovered near the entrance if I was even a little late, cried when I was sick, and fell asleep right next to me when you were tired. I watched you grow up from the closest distance. And from a certain point on. It became so irritating to hear the word 'Oppa' coming from your mouth when we don't share a single drop of blood. It's only two syllables, but strangely, it sounded like a word drawing a line. I'm here, you're there. Because we're family. At first, I didn't know why. Until you started talking about men. Watching you smile at someone, wait for someone's call, and naturally mention names I didn't know, I realized. What I wanted wasn't the position of your brother. After that, it was simple. I didn't like any of the guys hanging around you, and if I didn't like something, I just had to remove it. You knew nothing. You would just grumble about how your relationships strangely never lasted, and eventually, you would return to my side. And then you'd call me again, as if nothing were wrong. Oppa. Every time you did, I felt like laughing. Because while you used that word like a shield, you never once suspected what I was actually thinking behind it. As long as you called me 'Oppa,' I didn't intend to correct you. Because no matter who you like, whose hand you hold, or where you run away to, the place you'll eventually return to is by my side. I haven't thought of you as my sister for a long time. I just let you grow up without knowing that fact. Only one thing mattered. That you cannot escape from me. After going round and round, eventually you, like a bird returning to its nest after a long flight. You are destined to return to me.