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I.
Lee Yuyeon died for the first time on October 15, 2000. There was nothing but red and pain on her hands, confusion flooding her senses, tears blurring her eyes. There was a flash of blinding white light, and then nothing.
Briefly, she thinks she heard an unfamiliar voice calling out her name.
“Lee Yuyeon-ssi!”
II.
She wakes to incessant knocking.
The early morning sun pours into the room like liquid gold, painting the familiar space in yellow. The clock ticks towards seven, rhythmic in its consistency. And then Yuyeon is sitting up, gasping and looking at her hands.
Whole. Nails bare and uncolored.
The door opens.
“What’s taking you so long, hm?” Lee Dongsik comes in, bringing with him red balsams and their mother’s nail care kit, “Don’t you know I have places to be today?”
“Oppa?”
“‘Oppa, oppa,’ Yah, Lee Yuyeon! You can’t use that on me again. I’m leaving so I don’t get accosted to go to church. Grandmother already knows how much I loved her when she was alive, I don’t need to go to church just so she can know I love her still. Now, give me your hands so we can paint your nails.”
“Oppa.”
“Huh?”
Her brother feels warm and solid in her arms. Real. The blue jacket they got together on their birthday last May feels familiar to the touch, and so do her oppa’s arms around her. Comforting.
Real.
“Did my favorite little sister have a bad dream?”
Yuyeon nods, burying her face on Dongsik’s neck. For a moment, her fingertips feel numb, and she flexes them again before gripping Dongsik’s jacket tight. Real.
“I’m your only sister though.”
“Doesn’t matter,” A hand pats her head before Dongsik brushes her hair with his fingers, untangling the knots while she takes a moment to compose herself, “You’ll always be my favorite little sister.”
Dongsik spends the morning with her, painting her nails and brushing her hair, listening to her stories about her friends and classmates and professors at Seoul National University. Dongsik-oppa stayed up to the last minute before eomma could catch him and drag him to church for today’s requiem mass for Grandmother. Asking only once about her dream.
“Do you want to talk about your dream?”
“No,” says Yuyeon, feeling the coolness of the nail polish on her fingertips when Dongsik misses and the brush touches her skin.
“Are you sure?”
“Hm.”
“Okay,” their gazes meet for a brief moment before oppa takes her other hand, “You know you can talk to me about anything?”
“Yes.”
“You know I’ll always protect you, right?”
“Of course.”
“Good,” Dongsik nods, and Yuyeon smiles at him. “What are you going to play at church today?”
At church today, a strange man sits at the farthest back of the pew. He is wearing a long, dark coat over a white dress shirt; his hair frames his face gently, making him look soft and kind. But then Jinmook-oppa arrives with the flowers and she sees the man’s gaze turn sharp and dangerous.
Even if the man does nothing but observe, Yuyeon considers calling Dongsik over. The continuous and obvious surveillance is unnerving, and it is as though no one else but her could see him, for no one pays attention to the man even if he has such a hulking presence.
Right before mass begins, appa arrives with his new friend from the police. The man takes one look at Nam Sangbae, then gets up and leaves.
She thinks nothing of it until later when she is walking down the familiar, still sparsely-lit road and hears screams breaking the silence of the night. Hastening her pace, all Yuyeon can think about is the suspicious man at the church today. His knowing, sharp gaze; how they keep flitting between Kang Jinmook-oppa and her; how his eyes turned sad when he sees Nam Sangbae in plain clothes—smiling and conversing with her father. She is about to send a message to her brother when she hears a familiar voice calling for help.
“Juseon-unnie?”
And then Yuyeon is running towards Bang Juseon who is cradling her hands to her chest. Bright light comes from behind her and she sees the blood on Bang Juseon’s hands, her fingertips missing, and then—
III.
The door opens.
“What’s taking you so long, hm?” Lee Dongsik comes in, bringing with him red balsams and their mother’s nail care kit, “Don’t you know I have places to be today?”
IV.
Lee Yuyeon plays the piano in preparation for her grandmother’s requiem mass today but her mind is not in it. Six times now has she missed playing a note, the choir faltering along with her. The nuns have started to notice and keep sending her worried looks.
Eomma has sent a message saying they would be late. A car crashed into the Manyang Garden van Jinmook-oppa was driving. They’re at the hospital now, she says, and the police have initiated an investigation into the man driving the vehicle.
When appa arrived, it was with Lee Dongsik-oppa who immediately caught her in his arms and brought him to the car. When Yuyeon asked what happened, he only said the doctors said that Jinmook might not make it, and that the crash seemed intentional.
She doesn’t think about her dreams or the repeated days in it. The man whom she is sure she has never met before. Her phone rings with frequent texts and calls. And if Dongsik keeps looking at her weirdly every time her phone rings with him around, she ignores it and never picks up.
On the third night, news arrived that Kang Jinmook died, and Lee Yuyeon sneaks out to meet Park Jeongje.
V.
Lee Yuyeon wakes up with a gasp.
She clutches frantically at each of her hands, checking her fingertips—whole, nails bare and uncolored. Her breaths are coming in harsh and quick—ragged. In the distance, she thinks she hears the deep rumbling of a car engine, the echo of a crack resonating straight through her spine and paralyzing her body. The clock ticks towards seven. She moves to stand, only for her knees to buckle and send her falling towards the door.
Catching herself on the wood, she hears footsteps approaching, Yuyeon wretches the door open to see her brother with his hand raised and about to knock.
“Yuyeon-ah?” Her vision blurs, and she feels the rest of her body catching up. Her lower body no longer feels numb, her fingertips feeling connected to her body. Dongsik-oppa cradles her cheek, wiping at her tears with a patient smile. “Aigoo, who made my favorite little sister cry, hm?”
Dongsik stirs them back towards her bed, closing the door behind them. Her oppa brushes her hair, singing some new song off-key—in a bid to get a reaction out of her, she knows. But Yuyeon couldn’t muster anything just yet, her tears still falling no matter how hard she tried to stop them.
She died. She kept dying. Over and over. She grapples with the thought—
“Why do you cry so much, hm?” She grapples with a thought— “Did you break up with someone you never told me about?”
She grapples with a thought and only comes up with a deep sense of loss. As though someone cracked her chest open. As though something in her snapped and got broken.
“Who was it?”
Dimly, she knows Dongsik is braiding her hair like he used to do when they were younger; though the length is not quite right for it now. The constant touch brings her comfort even though she does not know how to answer his questions.
“There’s no one,” she turns to look at her oppa over her shoulder, sending him a smile that she hopes to be comforting and believable. After all, Dongsik has this uncanny ability to see right through her.
Dongsik shakes his head and takes her hand, urging her to turn around and face him. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not yet ready. But I want you to know that you can always talk to me. You understand that right?”
Yuyeon nods, squeezing Dongsik’s hand in hers. “Are you coming to church for today’s mass for Grandmother?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Hm, it’d make me feel better if you’re there.”
“Alright. If my little sister wants it, then I’ll go.”
At church today, a strange man sits at the farthest back of the pew. He is wearing a long, dark coat over a white dress shirt; his hair frames his face gently, making him look soft and kind. But then Dongsik-oppa arrives with the flowers and she sees the man’s gaze turn fond, seemingly drowning in their longing.
While Yuyeon does not think it would ever be a problem if her brother decides to pursue a man instead of a woman, Dongsik-oppa only spares the man a glance. And yet, Yuyeon cannot help but notice how the strange man has his eyes glued on her brother the entire mass.
She thinks nothing of it until later when she is walking down the familiar, still sparsely-lit road and hears screams breaking the silence of the night. Hastening her pace, all Yuyeon can think about is the suspicious man at the church today. His knowing, yet yearning and fond gaze. How he always seems to know where Dongsik-oppa is, and how he never let her brother out of his sight.
The deep rumbling of a car engine distracts her from her thoughts. Bright light blinds her, and dimly, she thinks she should turn around—
“Yuyeon-ah!”
VI.
“What’s taking you so long, hm?”
VII.
Lee Yuyeon died on October 15, 2000.
VIII.
“Lee Yuyeon-ssi!”
“Help me! Help me, please!”
IX.
Dongsik-oppa knows.
Yuyeon sighs. Letting her brother rant, she buries her hands deep into her pockets and tries to stifle a smile. He’s not really angry, she can tell.
“You should’ve told me though!” Dongsik turns towards her, walking backward while fixing her with a gaze that she supposes could be threatening had it been trained on someone else. “I knew he was trying hard to impress someone. You didn’t have to make it hard for me to guess.”
“You’re just not as observant as you think you are.”
“Yah!” Dongsik smiles at her, eyes crinkling in that sweet way of his. “Does Oh Jihwa know? We have this bet going, you see.”
“Bet on what?”
“On whether Park Jeongje will have a girlfriend here or in the States when he goes there to study.”
“He’s leaving?”
“Hm. Did he not tell you? I placed my bet that he has a girlfriend here—or someone he likes, at least—because he’s trying so very hard to go to the States and get that prestigious art degree. And for once, I don’t think it was to appease his hag of a mother.”
Usually, Dongsik talking about Jeongje’s mother like that would get even the smallest of smiles from her. But this time, it fails to do so because no, Park Jeongje did not tell her he was leaving.
But before she could further ask what he meant, they stumble across the familiar Manyang Garden van and hear muffled screams. Immediately, Dongsik runs towards it, Yuyeon hot on his heels and sees the moment Kang Jinmook swings a butcher’s knife at her brother.
“Oppa!”
“Lee Dongsik-ssi!”
X.
She wakes to incessant knocking.
The early morning sun pours into the room like liquid gold, painting the familiar space in yellow. The clock ticks towards seven, rhythmic in its consistency. And then Yuyeon is sitting up, gasping and looking at her hands.
Whole. Nails bare and uncolored.
The door opens.
“What’s taking you so long, hm?” Lee Dongsik comes in, bringing with him red balsams and their mother’s nail care kit, “Don’t you know I have places to be today?”
“Oppa?”
“‘Oppa, oppa,’ Yah, Lee Yuyeon! You can’t use that on me again. I’m leaving so I don’t get accosted to go to church. Grandmother already knows how much I loved her when she was alive, I don’t need to go to church just so she can know I love her still. Now, give me your hands so we can paint your nails.”
“Oppa.”
“Huh?”
Her brother feels warm and solid in her arms. Real. The blue jacket they got together on their birthday twenty years ago feels familiar to the touch, and so do her oppa’s arms around her. Comforting.
Real.
“Aigoo, what does my favorite little sister want this time, hm?”
“I want you to finally introduce me to your boyfriend.”
Dongsik laughs, pushing her onto her childhood bed back at their home in Manyang. While they still regularly go back to the little town despite each of them having their own career in Seoul, this has been the shortest they stayed in town for the past two years. Primarily because her brother finally met someone back in the city and is keeping it a secret.
“Just tell me who the unlucky guy is so I can give him an early warning,” Yuyeon rolls her eyes and pushes her brother back, “And stop wearing this jacket, it doesn't fit you anymore and you know eomma hates it when you do. You should’ve thrown it away years ago.”
“I’ve thrown mine away,” says Dongsik, taking her hand and proceeding to clean her nails. The cool, morning light catches on the scar peeking out of the collar of his shirt and Yuyeon couldn’t help but look at it and think of that fateful night years ago. One that they both cannot remember clearly, one that they both agreed to bury in the past. “This one’s yours that I stole last night from your cabinet when you were busy making out with Oh Jihwa in the garden.”
“Shut up!” She kicks at her brother’s leg and earns a pinch in her arm in return.
“Yah! Stay still or you’re going to get nail polish all over your fingers and I’m not helping you paint your nails again.”
Rolling her eyes, she relaxes the hand her brother is holding and rests her chin on her free hand. She lets his gaze roam across her childhood bedroom—the plaques and certificates, the medals, the photographs, notes made during her undergraduate studies, the little knick-knacks from friends and family—eventually falling on her brother.
To Yuyeon, her Dongsik-oppa has always been reliable—a strong pillar she can always depend on, someone she knows like the back of her own hand and who knows her the same way. Though she will not tell him straight to his face lest it gets to his already inflated head, Dongsik has grown stronger and more reliable in the years he spent with the police, climbing through the ranks with his brand of crazy that mixes so well with his sharp wit and even sharper eyes.
“Stop thinking too hard,” he admonishes, flicking her forehead, “You need your brain cells when you start digging through the Commissioner General nominees on Monday.”
“Ah, don’t worry too much about me, oppa, I can cross-examine any Commissioner General or your boyfriend even when I’m drunk.”
It takes longer than she expected for Dongsik to bring someone home. Though their parents never had any problems with their preferences, she knows Dongsik worries about it sometimes still—often overthinking if their parents would approve, or if his partner’s family would approve of him. Case in point: Lee Sangyeob from three years ago. While that relationship was short-lived, Yuyeon knows its importance to her brother. After all, it was the first time Dongsik ever brought someone home.
This time, they’re back in Manyang to celebrate their birthday. It is a simple celebration, like it has always been for the past twenty years—intimate, and only with their closest friends. Only a handful of the company they keep in Seoul ever reaches Manyang, for Yuyeon and her brother have always kept it and their family and friends living in it close to their hearts. Rarely do they ever share the quaint little town and all its little secrets. And when they do, it is only to do those they decided to keep for most of their lives.
And so when Dongsik brings home a man wearing a long, dark coat over a white dress shirt, whose hair frames his face gently, making him look soft and kind, Yuyeon couldn’t help but wonder if they had met someplace else. That fond yet longing gaze the man fixes her brother with is something she is sure she has seen before.
And then Dongsik introduces the man to her, his eyes shining with happiness, crinkling in that familiar way of his when he smiles true and from his heart.
“Yuyeon-ah. This is my partner, Han Joowon.”
“It’s an honour to finally meet you,” the man bows; his voice sounds familiar, though she does not think she heard him speak so calmly before. Their gazes meet, “Lee Yuyeon-ssi.”