Chapter Text
Zhou Mingrui was found dead.
This didn't make sense.
It doesn't. It doesn't. It doesn't. It doesn't.
Less than a month ago, Kim Soleum visited Mingrui for his 26th birthday. He looked healthy, smiling as always, complaining about his job with exaggerated sighs, unsuccessfully negotiating with Soomin for a discount on her cupcakes, pretending not to notice how his mother cooked so he could replicate it himself later. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Perfectly normal.
They had even exchanged silly memes via text message a few days prior.
So why him? Why so soon?
Kim Soleum squeezed his eyelids and fists shut, swallowing the nausea from the acid dripping from the hole in his stomach.
It was in this state of confusion and numb movements that Kim Soleum raced through the airport entrance at a speed faster than usual.
An entrance similar to the one he and his family used to look forward to every summer.
. . .
2007
Seven-year-old Soleum watched expectantly down the airport corridor where travelers, freshly disembarked from the planes, leave the airport.
He and his father were waiting for his cousin's family to arrive so they could take them home and spend the rest of the summer month together.
But this time, Soleum was internally buzzing with excitement for another reason. In his small hands, he held his new GP1X, the first korean handheld console released the previous year, which his parents had bought him as a belated birthday present.
He was eager to show it off to his cousin and see his jealous expression.
Several minutes passed as Soleum mentally scanned every child who came into view.
Not him. Not him. Not—
“BOO!”
“AH!!”
Little Soleum jumped in fright, his skin prickling.
“Hehe!”
His cousin Zhou Mingrui materialized out of nowhere behind him, grinning and looking at him with amused malice.
How did he get there? How hadn't he heard him?? Why hadn't his dad warned him???
Soleum felt betrayed and annoyed.
Nine-year-old Mingrui ruffled his hair to tease him further. “Soleum-ya looked like a cat!”
Squinting, Soleum roughly pushed the other boy's hand away. “I don't like you.”
“Mhmmm.”
Soleum turned his head with the most indignation a child could muster. “I'm not lending you my game console anymore.”
“Heh— wait. Your what???” Mingrui opened his eyes and barely registered what his younger cousin actually held in his hands. “Since when do you have that???”
“A week, and you’re not going to touch it!”
“Oh, come on! It was just a little joke!”
“No.”
“Don’t be such a crybaby!”
“MH!”
The two boys argued all the way to the car, with the adults just watching, amused.
. . .
A year after the incident of getting lost on Chinese New Year, Soleum’s family returned to China.
“PFFFT!” Eleven-year-old Soleum didn’t bother to hide his mocking expression.
Thirteen-year-old Mingrui just turned his face away, too embarrassed to face his cousin. Too bad he couldn’t go to his room because he was incapacitated on the sofa.
About five days ago, during a dare with his friends to climb a tall tree, Mingrui ended up falling and fracturing his ankle, which condemned him to wear a cast and use crutches for who knows how many weeks.
It was lucky that his relatives were traveling here; otherwise, Mingrui would have missed the family month.
At least Soleum was more considerate than his cousin at that age, so he didn't comment —for now— on the matter.
That vacation was less hectic.
They went to quieter places or stayed home entertaining themselves with what was available, like board games or videogames.
Board games were suggested by Mom Zhou, something the boys weren't very enthusiastic about. But to their surprise, it was actually entertaining and a good way to spend time together as a family. The cousins bonded over their interest in Xiangqi and their disdain for Go.
They also played other games, such as Yunnori, Origami (which Mingrui hated), Dragon Castle, Samurai Sword, Godori, Yutnori, and even Dad Kim taught them how to play poker, betting pieces of cookies.
Another thing to do at home was to play videogames, which they perhaps spent too much time staring at a screen for hours on end.
As an extra, Soleum, and by extension Mingrui, had no choice but to play with little 3-year-old Soomin, either with dolls or roleplaying as the princess and her faithful companions (Soleum the knight and Mingrui the wizard trapped atop a tower).
They both silently swore never to speak of it again.
At the end of the month, they both ended up with an excess of knowledge about all kinds of board games, several embarrassing acting experiences, and Mingrui's ankle cast covered in blue scribbles and pink flowers.
. . .
2010.
 |
A'Ming |
18:02
Soleum-ya! Wanna play a DFO?
Dont you have an important exam that defines your future or something?
I already studied for today
Lol sure
19:10
What an asshole
Yeah
Ive never seen an opposing team quit so fast
That part was hilarious
If dude did it on purpose he was a genius
But to continue spamming messages all over the screen
just for trolling
I hate the global megaphones so annoying
Yeah
wanna play something else?
a Lineage 2?
Nah not in the mood to play something similar
A Crossfire then
I thought you got tired of shooters
Kinda but it's the most violent thing you tolerate
🙄
Have you tried Ragnarok online?
Not yet
just heard of it
A very chill one
your computer wont cry
Lol
fine
gonna try it I guess
. . .
“…”
“Heh.”
That same year, in the summer.
Soleum smiled with genuine malice and suppressed irony at his older cousin.
“…Life is so unfair.”
The korean teenager only raised the tips of his lips even higher, without needing to mock aloud to make his thoughts obvious.
Biology worked in mysterious ways.
Mingrui was sure that he was at least 7 centimeters taller than his cousin the last time they saw each other, that is, 6 months ago.
Now, Soleum had caught up to him in height, while Mingrui had barely grown 1 centimeter. And Soleum was only 15 years old!
At this rate, he would surpass him, something that was going to bruise Mingrui's ego as the older one.
Something that Soleum was eager to witness.
Throughout his life, Soleum had always been one of the shortest in his class. His mother kept telling him he'd grow soon, encouraging him by saying that, since he'd inherited so many of his father's genes, he'd surely inherited some of his height too; it was just taking some time.
Thank goodness his mother was right.
"No hard feelings, right, A'Ming?" With a radiant yet somewhat polite expression, Soleum said mischievously. The reproach of old taunts vibrated in the air.
Even his voice was different.
Mingrui now realized how foolish he'd been. Through the low-quality voice chats in online videogames, he hadn't noticed the growing tone difference, but now in real life, it was much more obvious.
"...Of course."
Clinging to the little extra height he could secure before turning 18, Mingrui decided to ignore his cousin's mocking eyes and the amused glances of his parents and uncles.
They were all thinking the same thing, but out of pride, he wasn't going to mention it. At least his family took pity on him in that regard.
Mom Kim clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Leave your bags, Soomin has a surprise for you all!"
The newly arrived passengers nodded and, with practiced ease, arranged their belongings in their respective rooms.
Seven-year-old Kim Soomin wore a pink apron stained with flour and chocolate, a sweet, smiling, and expectant mess, gazing toward the dining table.
Her mother smiled as she distributed freshly baked cookies onto plates. "I helped Soomin make them." It was clearly the other way around, but given the girl's radiant and proud expression, no one said a word.
The classic chocolate chip cookies smelled delicious and looked fluffy. Very appetizing at first glance. Everyone took one and a bite.
Immediately, silence fell over the dining room.
The adults quickly composed themselves to praise the little girl's efforts.
“So good!”
“Pretty good.”
Her uncles said, but Soomin half-ignored them, focusing on one person in particular. “So?” She seemed to care a lot about her cousin’s opinion.
Mingrui forced a smile. “Aren’t they a little too sweet?”
“Mmm…” The girl narrowed her eyes. “I thought you’d say they needed more sugar, you like sweet things!”
“Ah… yes, but… balance is also good, don’t you think?”
Soomin scrutinized him for a few seconds before turning her head away. “Maybe.” With that, she went to the kitchen, grabbed a small notebook stained with cookie dough, and jotted something down quickly with intense concentration.
“…” Mingrui reflexively took another bite, only to be bombarded with an explosion of sweetness that even for him was too much. It was a good thing the little girl didn’t see his grimace.
Meanwhile, Soleum discreetly hid his cookie. He was the main victim client of his little sister's first attempts when she decided her new hobby would be baking.
. . .
2011
As the children grew up, it became more difficult to take them out to do things as a family. There was also the fact that their parents didn't have the same energy as before.
Regardless, even after Mingrui turned eighteen, his parents bought him a round-trip ticket to Korea.
“Your last reward for your good grade on the Gaokao.” His father said.
However, his mother knew that her sister would be able to pay for Mingrui's ticket herself, just so the family could be together during that special month.
Of course, on the condition that they actually spend time together instead of just sitting in the living room playing videogames (which they already did the rest of the year). So, their mothers sent them to a nearby park to look after Soomin and get some sun.
At least the little girl was quite sociable, so she didn't need her brother and cousin to play with her. This left them with nothing to do but make sure she didn't run off into the street, observe the trees, and try to understand the birds' language.
The 16-year-old korean boy was about to yawn when his cousin gave him a light nudge with his elbow.
"Soleum-ya, slowly turn to your right." Mingrui whispered in that tone every teenager knows.
Soleum almost rolled his eyes and, naturally, his gaze drifted to the path to his right. There, on another bench a little further away, were two girls around his age, perhaps looking after a younger sibling. They clearly averted their gaze from him when he looked at them.
Mingrui smiled. “The one on the left was staring at you a lot,” He said discreetly. “The two have been whispering for a while.” He offered unsolicited information.
But Soleum turned her attention elsewhere. “Mhm.” He hummed without much interest.
“Come on, not even a comment?”
“She’s ok.”
“How curt.”
“What else do you want me to say? I can’t see her properly.”
“Then go closer.”
“No thank you.”
“What if she asks for your number?”
“I highly doubt it. She looks really embarrassed.”
“Then you go ask her for it.”
“If you’re so interested, you ask for her number.”
“No way, they look 15.” The self-conscious 18-year-old refused point-blank. Resigned to his cousin's lack of initiative, he sighed in exasperation. "Although with that serious face you wear every day, maybe you'll scare her off."
Soleum raised an eyebrow. "What does that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, nothing." Mingrui dismissed his cousin's indignation with a wave of his hand. "Only that if you want to have more chances, you should smile more." He chuckled. "Unless you want to imitate those enigmatic, emo anime characters."
Soleum blinked a few times and made the wise decision to ignore his cousin for the sake of his peace of mind.
More minutes passed as the friend tried to encourage the indecisive girl, but she finally shook her head and dragged her scorned friend to the other side of the park, calling a small child to follow them.
Mingrui couldn't help but sigh loudly.
Just then, Soomin arrived, watching the direction the two girls had gone. “Wasn’t that girl over there staring at Soleum-ya a lot?” She asked bluntly.
“Right?” Mingrui nodded to his observant little cousin. “But Soleum-ya’s unfriendly expression probably scared her.”
Soleum gracefully continued to ignore them.
Soomin nodded seriously before turning her attention. “And does A’Ming have people who secretly look at him, too?”
“…” Mingrui blinked a few times as now being the target of the little girl’s gaze. Smiling self-deprecatingly, he replied, “Not that I know of.”
She looked directly at him with confident eyes before stating, “Maybe if A’Ming grew taller, more girls would look at him.”
“……”
“Pfft—” Soleum couldn’t help but let out a stifled laugh, hiding his satisfied smile behind his hand.
"I'm not even that short..." Mingrui whispered to himself while barely managing a smile to maintain his composure. “...Where did you learn to be so cruel?”
Soomin tilted her head. “I was just telling the truth. My friends only like boys taller than them.”
“That…” For the sake of his self-esteem, Mingrui decided not to add anything more, or else his cousin would attack his fragile heart again.
It was true that he no longer had the confidence to grow anymore, while Soleum had surpassed him in height by 5 centimeters in a year, with plenty of time to add more.
Mingrui had already accepted defeat in that regard.
. . .
2015.
“Muahahahaha!”
On the dining room table, the ultimate exponent of abuse of dominant position, de facto monopoly, and predatory practices emerged triumphant.
The 12-year-old girl had just bankrupted her 20-year-old brother and 22-year-old cousin in Monopoly.
“I never liked this game anyway.” Mingrui dragged his chair back, pushing away the bad memories of this unfair match.
Soleum just raised his arms in defeat.
How did a not even a teenager manage such a feat? Pure luck.
The first few rounds were so disastrous for Mingrui and Soleum that it was ridiculous. But the worst case was Mingrui, who never landed on an affordable property and kept getting Community Chest cards. He was fined and went to jail three times each, all in a row!
The result? Soomin bought properties like crazy. It wasn't long before she became the owner of half the board and left the other two penniless by simply fining them for trespassing on private property.
The girl looked at her defeated brother and cousin. Smiling maliciously, she jumped out of her chair and went to her room. Soon, she returned with a DVD as bright as her eyes.
The deal was that whoever won the Monopoly game would force the others to watch any movie they wanted.
They were surprised by the chosen film, which wasn't a romance. Soomin picked 'Lunae,' about the protagonist's journey to reunite the high school friend group as one of her friend's dying wish.
Both had heard of it because of its popularity back in the day, but they'd never watched it.
After the movie ended, they exchanged glances and mentally sealed an agreement.
"So? What did you think?" Soomin asked expectantly.
"Decent."
"I was expecting worse."
Actually, they did like it, and the resolution of the conflict even saddened them— the disastrous friend group didn't manage to reunite in time, but they commemorated their deceased friend at the end.
However, they weren't going to admit it to Soomin, who made a pout.
. . .
A trend started on the internet: sharing an old photo with family and recreating it years later in the same place.
Unbeknownst to them, Kim Soleum's family did this very thing years before it became popular.
It all began when Mingrui was 11, Soleum 9, and Soomin 1. On the baby's first trip to China, the family visited a zoo.
In front of the giraffe enclosure, the mothers took a picture: the cousins side by side with the baby in the middle, being held by both of them. Coincidentally, little Soomin laughed and raised her arms just as a giraffe turned toward the camera.
That photo was framed.
Seven years later, they returned to the same zoo and had the idea to take the photo again in the same spot.
Just like in the original, 16-year-old Soleum was on the left, 8-year-old Soomin in the center, and 18-year-old Mingrui on the right.
They even carried Soomin between them to make the recreation as accurate as possible.
She sat on the 'bar' formed by their linked arms, then she held onto their necks. When a giraffe approached, Soomin raised her arms, and the photo was taken.
Years passed, many families began posting their own age-record photos on social media, and for no particular reason, this family decided to go a step further and take a third picture.
Soleum, now 22, Soomin, now 14, and Mingrui, now 24, were in the same positions, but without carrying her. She only raised her arms when a giraffe turned to their backs.
Although neither of the boys was particularly fond of photos, these three pictures have always brought a smile to their faces. They were very nice memories.
. . .
Some might have found it a chore to travel to another country two times a year for a whole month, but they never felt that way.
They were fortunate to grow up with the same interests, to stay in touch aside family obligations, and even to have enough money saved in their adult lives to continue visiting, either as a family or individually for birthdays.
Ultimately, the biggest expense was the plane tickets, never the lodging. They always had a home to get to.
And beyond that, there was always someone to chat to, share good news, complain about school or work, struggles with living alone, express random midnight thoughts, try a new game, play the same games, or simply send memes.
That was always their life.
. . .
Until the world decided to shatter that normalcy without warning.
2018.
Kim Soleum packed his bags, bought a last-minute ticket, texted his manager on the way to the airport that he would be gone for a few days, boarded the plane, and checked out in record time.
He needed answers. What happened? Why him? Why so soon?
However, Kim Soleum was met with disappointment after disappointment.
The body was found two days after his death due to the stench. It was sudden, while he slept. No evidence of a previous deceased, murder, or suicide was found.
Zhou Mingrui simply closed his eyes, unaware that he would never wake up again.
Just like that.
As cruel as that.
The funeral was held four days later. It was simple; Soleum's aunt and uncle would have loved to offer their son something better, but they hadn't had time to prepare for the expense.
Because who prepares for this? For their child's funeral?
A humble wake, a modest altar, a priest, and a couple of attendants.
All the participants wore white and held four sticks of incense.
The altar was made of a piece of white wood inscribed with the words: «A life deeply loved, no matter how short». In front of it were candles, incense, money, and a couple of plates of food. Finally, in the middle of it all, was a photo of the deceased, smiling.
At the center of the room lay Zhou Mingrui's body, well-dressed and made up. He almost looked asleep. Almost.
Kim Soleum wasn't so sure, because ever since he arrived, he hadn't dared to look at his cousin directly. He was too afraid; he'd always been terrified of anything even remotely inanimate or not-alive in real life.
He'd always been a coward.
He felt like the worst person in the world.
However, Kim Soleum couldn't avoid it forever. At some point, it was his turn to approach the deceased and pay his respects in front of everyone.
With trembling hands and legs, he approached the wooden board and knelt on the rug.
Kim Soleum wanted to get away and hide, but the pressure of the eyes in the room made him raise his head.
He glanced at the face of the sleeping Zhou Mingrui, cleaner and more composed than he had ever seen him upon waking on those summer and winter mornings, but it was still him.
Paler, but it was still him.
A Zhou Mingrui he would never see like this again.
With an internal gasp, Kim Soleum awoke.
From the moment he boarded the plane until the entire process of helping with the funeral, he had been caught in a trance of repressed emotions and automatic movements that broke down in this moment.
The acidic pit in his stomach returned harder than ever.
There, Kim Soleum understood. It wasn't that he was afraid of seeing a dead body, but rather that he was afraid of facing reality, of confirming that the person he grew up with would never be there again.
His hands trembled, and he clenched them. His throat went dry, and he swallowed hard. His mind raced, and he lowered his head before standing up.
He barely managed to look at his deceased cousin for two seconds.
You're pathetic, Kim Soleum.
He didn't know if he stumbled as he stood and walked to his place beside his family.
The funeral continued; the music never stopped, the scent of incense was ever-present, and the pyre, fueled by the offerings, always flickered.
At a certain time that night, Zhou Mingrui's friends said their goodbyes, leaving the rest of the funeral process to the family.
Despite his fear and his desire to hide behind the wall, Kim Soleum volunteered to stay awake all night. His aunt, uncle, and parents were getting old; he felt obligated to attend.
In the end, all five of them stayed, even his younger sister.
For the rest of the night, everyone took turns napping, except for Kim Soleum. He watched over the bonfire until dawn, sipping water as his only source of energy, burning offerings every so often, letting the glow of the embers reflect in his dark eyes to ward off sleep.
However, he never saw the deceased directly again. He didn't have the courage to face reality one more time…
Until reality forcibly pulled him up by the head when Zhou Mingrui was moved to the cremation chamber.
His pulse accelerated as a great surge pierced the back of his neck.
Only then did Kim Soleum regret so much— not offering a few last words, not giving a goodbye look, not even being able to raise his head...
Kim Soleum looked up and opened his mouth—
The doors closed.
It was too late.