Chapter 5

Hanuel

I shouldn't care anymore.

I got what I wanted—I got into Oxford's medical school. I made it, just like Hyun-woo-hyung. I should be content. I should be free from the endless comparisons, the condescending sighs, the way my family used to look at me like I was a disappointment.

But the problem with being compared to Kim Hyun-woo my entire life is that even when I finally caught up, it was never enough.

Because I got in on my second try.

Woo-hyung got in first.

And my family never let me forget it.

I remember the day he got his acceptance letter. The way my parents looked at me, the disappointment heavy in their silence. I hadn't even failed—I just hadn't been as fast as him. That was enough to make me the lesser one. The stupid one. "Hyun-woo made it into Oxford on his first try," My father had said. "What about you?"

What about me? I had been trying. I had studied just as hard. But none of it mattered because I wasn't Woo-hyung.

So when I got my own letter a year later, there were no cheers. No celebration. Just a relieved sigh from my mother and a gruff "Finally." from my father, like I had finally done what was expected of me.

And now that we were both there, nothing has changed. I still heard his name in every conversation. Hyun-woo this, Hyun-woo that.

"Hyun-woo is already excelling."

"Hyun-woo got a scholarship."

"Hyun-woo barely even rests, he's so focused."

I was so tired of it.

He's perfect. And I? I was just… there. Always one step behind.

But not this time.

This time, I had something he doesn't. Or at least, something I could make up, again.

A weakness.

I stared at my phone, tapping my fingers against the screen before finally pressing the call button.

Woo-hyung's father picked up on the second ring.

"What is it?" he said, that same tone of voice, always curt, always impatient, like he's too busy to waste time on anything trivial.

I almost smiled.

"Uncle," I started, keeping my tone neutral, like I'm reluctant to say this but oh-so-concerned for my dear cousin, just like I did that day. "I wasn't sure if I should say anything, but… I've been noticing something about Woo-hyung lately."

There was a brief pause, then a sharp inhale. "What do you mean? What again?"

"I don't know," I sighed, dragging out the words like I'm hesitating, like I cared. "He's been acting strange. Distracted."

"Distracted? Is it that girl again?" His tone sharpened.

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Yeah. I think so. I don't know much, but they've been together a lot. Late nights. Cafeteria. Working together. Studying alone."

Silence. Thick, heavy silence.

I didn't have to elaborate. I already knew what he was thinking.

I could hear the tension building on the other end of the call. His breathing tightened. His grip on the phone probably did too.

But I didn't stop there.

Because I knew what would push him over the edge.

"He's been looking tired, uncle. Worn out." I paused, letting it sink in before adding, "You always said distractions are dangerous for someone like him, right?"

Silence.

Then, a slow, deliberate exhale. "I'll see about that."

And just like that, I had won.

I didn't know how he was going to handle it. But I do know one thing—Woo-hyung was about to break even more than he already had.

And for the first time in my life, I finally felt like I was ahead of him.

---

Hyun-woo

The call came late at night.

I had been at my desk, trying to focus on the words in my textbook, but they blurred together, swimming in and out of focus like ink dissolving in water. My body was beyond exhaustion, my mind too drained to absorb anything, but I couldn't afford to stop.

I couldn't afford to fall behind.

The ringing cut through the silence.

At first, I didn't move. I just stared at my phone, watching my father's name glow on the screen like a warning.

Then, slowly, I picked it up.

"Hello."

Silence. A suffocating kind of quiet. Then—

"Hyun-woo."

One word. My name, spoken like a reprimand.

I gripped the phone tighter. "Yes, father."

"What the hell are you doing?"

The words came fast, clipped with restrained anger, but I didn't react. I closed my eyes for a brief second before exhaling slowly. "I don't understand."

"I'm disappointed." His voice was sharp, tense, like he had been waiting for me to slip. Then the words that made my stomach drop— "Really? That girl again?"

I froze.

Not this again.

Of course.

Of course, Hanuel had done it again, just like I feared.

"Dad," I exhaled, already feeling the frustration creeping up my throat. "We've talked about this."

"Clearly, we haven't, if you're still lying to me." His voice was measured, but I could hear the anger simmering underneath. "Don't lie to me. What's the girl's name?"

I ran a hand over my face, pressing my fingers against my temples as if that would stop the impending headache. "Dad, I really don't have anything with any girl—"

"I said don't lie!"

His voice cut through the air like a whip.

I clenched my jaw. "I'm not lying."

"Then tell me her name."

I exhaled sharply, my grip tightening around the phone. "There is no name. There is no girl."

"So what, you expect me to believe Hanuel made this up?"

"Yes!" I snapped before I could stop myself. "Because he did!"

Silence. A dangerous kind.

"What are you thinking?" he demanded. "Do you know what people will say if they find out? Do you know what will happen if you ruin your career before it even begins?"

Ruin.

The word echoed in my head, bouncing around like a cruel joke.

What exactly was there to ruin?

I hadn't done anything. I hadn't been with anyone. I barely even spoke to her. But none of that mattered.

Because in his eyes, I had already failed.

I could picture him now, sitting in his office, his fingers curled into a tight fist, the way he always did when he was angry but trying to control it.

"Hyun-woo," he said, quieter now, almost eerily calm. "You are not like other people. You do not get to be distracted by things like this. You have worked too hard—I have worked too hard—to let some girl ruin everything." He paused. "You think I sent you to Oxford so you could waste your time chasing after some woman?"

"You're not listening to me." I hated how tired I sounded. "I am not with anyone. I barely even know her."

"But she exists."

My pulse stuttered.

"I—"

"You hesitated."

I forced myself to take a breath. "I hesitated because I don't understand why we're even having this conversation again."

"We're having this conversation because you're being careless." His voice was like steel. "This is how it starts. One distraction turns into another. Before you know it, you're losing focus. You're falling behind."

Falling behind.

I almost laughed. If only he knew how much I was already drowning, even without the so-called distraction he was so obsessed with.

"You have one job, Hyun-woo," he continued. "To be the best. Not to chase after some girl who will only drag you down."

I gritted my teeth.

"I am not chasing anyone."

"Then explain why Hanuel keeps seeing you with her?"

"Ask Hanuel," I shot back. "Since he apparently knows my life better than I do."

"Hanuel wouldn't lie to me."

I let out a sharp breath, gripping the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles ached. "Then that's your mistake."

"Watch your tone."

I shut my eyes, trying to rein it in.

"This is your last warning," he said, his voice clipped and final. "I will not tolerate this again. Focus on your studies. I do not want to hear about this girl ever again."

The line went dead.

I stayed there, gripping the phone, my breathing slow and controlled—because if I let it slip, if I let myself feel everything all at once, I might just smash the damn thing into the wall.

This wasn't about me.

It wasn't about her.

This was about control.

And as I sat there, staring blankly at my desk, all I could think about was how much I wanted to rip Hanuel out of my life entirely.

I sat there for a long time, staring at nothing.

The room was too quiet now. The fluorescent light above me hummed softly, the pages of my textbook lay open, but I couldn't focus on a single word.

I felt—

I didn't know what I felt.

Nothing.

Everything.

I inhaled slowly, forcing my body to move. My hand reached for my pen, but it shook slightly. My fingers were tense, rigid, as I stared at the page in front of me.

Then, finally, I let the pen drop.

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling through my nose. The feeling that lingered wasn't sadness. It wasn't anger.

It was just emptiness.

As if something inside me had finally given up.

---

I found him in the hallway.

Baek Hanuel.

Standing there, looking smug, like he hadn't just thrown my entire life into chaos again.

I didn't think. I didn't hesitate. I just grabbed him by the collar and shoved him hard against the wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" My voice was low, seething, but my grip was iron.

Hanuel's eyes widened in surprise, but only for a second. Then that same damn smirk curled on his lips. "What's this, hyung? Getting violent now?"

"Shut up." My fingers tightened. "Shut the hell up before I make you."

His smirk didn't fade. If anything, it deepened, like this was some kind of game to him.

"Touched a nerve, didn't I?" he mused. "You usually pretend not to care. But I guess I finally found your weak spot."

I slammed him back again, harder this time, until I saw the flicker of discomfort in his expression. "What did you tell him?"

Hanuel tilted his head slightly. "Him? Oh, you mean your father?" He let out a quiet chuckle. "You already know, don't you? He called you, didn't he? Let me guess—he was furious. Told you to stay away from that girl like she's some kind of disease."

Something inside me snapped.

I grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him forward, our faces inches apart. "Say another word. Go on." My voice was barely above a whisper, but it dripped with something dangerous.

Hanuel finally stopped smiling.

Good.

"You don't get to keep doing this." My words came out sharp, controlled, but beneath them, there was a rage I could barely contain. "You don't get to keep lying about me. You don't get to mess with my life like it's some joke."

Hanuel scoffed. "Lying? Come on, hyung. I only told your father what I saw."

"You saw nothing." I spat. "You know you saw nothing."

He rolled his eyes, like I was being unreasonable. "You were with her, weren't you?"

"For a few moments. Just in the same damn hallway, and working together just to fucking rescue a collapsed person, barely having exchanged any words, driven by nothing other than obligation. And suddenly that means I'm in a relationship?" I let out a bitter laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"You're overreacting."

That was it.

That was the moment I truly, fully lost it.

I shoved him again, but this time, there was no restraint. Hanuel stumbled, barely catching himself, his smirk finally dropping.

"You don't get to decide what happens in my life," I said, my voice eerily calm. "You don't get to twist my words, lie to my father, and then act like I'm the crazy one for being pissed."

Hanuel straightened, brushing off his shirt. His expression had shifted—less amusement, more irritation. "You're being dramatic. You act like I ruined your life or something."

I let out a hollow laugh. "You did ruin my life."

His brows furrowed slightly, like the thought had never even crossed his mind.

I took a step closer, my voice lower now, but sharper than ever. "You've been doing this since we were kids. Always looking for ways to pull me down. You couldn't stand that I got in on my first try, could you?"

His jaw tightened.

Ah.

So that was it.

"It must've eaten you alive, right?" I continued, my tone almost mocking now. "Hearing them compare you to me. Watching them tell you to be more like me. Watching me walk into Oxford while you had to wait a whole extra year."

His expression twisted. I saw it—just for a second. The bitterness, the resentment.

And then it was gone, masked behind indifference. "I don't care about that."

"Then why do you keep trying to drag me down with you?"

Silence.

He looked away. Just for a second.

And that told me everything.

"Stay out of my life, Hanuel," I said, my voice cold. "I mean it. You think this is fun? You think this is just some little game? It's not. You don't get to lie about me and then act innocent when my father loses his mind over it. You don't get to mess with me like that."

Hanuel's expression darkened. "What if I don't?"

I took another step forward. "Then I'll make you regret it."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "You're all talk, hyung."

"Try me."

We stood there, tension crackling like static in the air.

Then, finally, Hanuel let out a quiet laugh and shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. You want me to stop? Consider it done."

I didn't believe him for a second.

But I didn't care.

I had said what I needed to say. I had drawn the line.

And if he crossed it again?

I wouldn't just push him against a wall next time.

---

A few days had passed since the confrontation.

The anger had dulled, but the exhaustion remained. It was always there, lingering beneath my skin, pressing against my ribs like a weight that never let up.

I hadn't spoken to Hanuel since then. Hadn't seen him, either. Not that I wanted to.

But my father's voice still echoed in my head.

"Who is she?" "You don't get to be distracted." "You have one job—to be the best."

I shut my eyes.

And then, it came again.

The past.

It was always like this—random, sudden, like a dream slipping through my fingers. I never had control over when the memories came or what they showed me.

And I never fully remembered anything from before I was ten.

Except for these fleeting visions.

"What do you want to be when you grow up, Hyun-woo?"

A woman's voice. Soft. Warm. Safe.

I didn't know how old I was in this memory, but I was small. Sitting on a plush rug, gripping a crayon too tightly, coloring something—a sky, maybe? The blue was smudged across the page.

I looked up. She was smiling. Her face blurred, her features indistinct. But I knew.

"I want to be an astronaut," I had said, beaming.

She laughed. "An astronaut?"

I nodded eagerly. "Or a firefighter. Or maybe an artist! But I also want to be a scientist. And a baker!"

Her laughter was light, like wind chimes. "That's a lot of things, my love."

"I can do all of them!"

She leaned down, brushing a gentle hand over my hair. "You can be anything you want. Whatever makes you happy. Just be a good human being."

I held onto those words.

For years, I held onto them.

Until she was gone.

The memory shifted.

Another voice.

Deep. Familiar.

"You're going to be someone great, Hyun-woo."

My father.

He wasn't like how he was now. His voice back then—it wasn't cold, sharp, or suffocating. It was filled with pride.

"You can do anything, son."

He meant it. I knew he did. Back then, he believed in me, just like she did.

But then—

Then she died.

And everything changed.

I snapped back to the present, breath unsteady, eyes fixed on the desk in front of me.

The air in my dorm felt too tight, like the walls were closing in.

I pressed my fingers against my temple, exhaling slowly.

Why did these memories come back now?

Why did I only remember pieces? Why only fragments?

And why did it still hurt?

I had spent years pushing it all down, locking it away. It was easier to move forward that way. Easier to forget.

But now, with everything happening—with my father tightening his grip, with Hanuel's endless interference—something was unraveling inside me.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was standing in the middle of two versions of my life.

The boy who wanted to be an astronaut, an artist, a firefighter. The boy who was told he could be anything.

And the man who had no choice but to be exactly what his father wanted.

I clenched my fists.

No.

This wasn't about what I wanted anymore. It hadn't been for years.

This was survival.

And in this life, dreaming was a luxury I couldn't afford.

---

I wasn't sure if I had been dreaming or remembering.

It was the same as always—flashes of a life I could barely recall, slipping through my fingers before I could grasp them. Like trying to hold water in my hands, only to watch it seep through the cracks.

I had never questioned it before. The gaps. The missing years. I had grown up simply accepting that I couldn't remember anything from before the age of ten or something. It was just how things were.

But lately, the past had been creeping in.

Like ghosts.

I was standing in the kitchen. Or maybe it wasn't a kitchen. It felt different, bigger. A dining hall?

I was small. A child. Sitting at a large table, swinging my legs. There was warmth in the air, the scent of something sweet.

"Hyun-woo, be careful, it's hot."

A woman's voice.

I turned my head, catching a blurry glimpse of her.

She was setting down a plate in front of me—pancakes, stacked high, drizzled with honey. The sight alone made me grin.

"Mom made your favorite," she said.

Mom.

The word felt foreign on my tongue.

"Eat well, my love."

She reached out, smoothing my hair down.

That touch—gentle, full of warmth—I knew it. I had felt it before.

But I couldn't remember her face.

No matter how hard I tried.

I woke up with a sharp inhale, the remnants of the memory fading like smoke.

I sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over my face, my pulse unsteady.

Why now?

Why were these fragments returning now, of all times?

I glanced at my phone. 3:42 AM. The room was silent, the air thick with the weight of my thoughts.

I leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.

My mother.

I had always known she died when I was young—7 or 8, from some heart disease, they said. But I had never questioned why I couldn't remember her. Why the only thing left of her were these fleeting glimpses—her voice, the warmth of her hands, the ghost of a smile I couldn't fully picture.

And my father…

He had been different back then.

"Hyun-woo, do you want to play?"

I was running through a field, the grass damp with morning dew. A man stood nearby, arms crossed, watching me with amusement.

My father.

I stopped running, turning toward him. "Play what?"

He smirked. "Tag. You think you can catch me?"

I grinned. "You're too slow!"

And then, I was chasing him, my tiny legs struggling to keep up. He let me grab onto his shirt, hoisting me into the air with a laugh. "Got me, huh?"

I shrieked with joy.

"You're going to be strong, Hyun-woo," he said, still smiling. "You're going to be someone great."

Back then, those words didn't feel like a demand.

They felt like a promise.

I exhaled sharply, grounding myself back in the present.

That version of my father—where had he gone?

When had he changed?

I knew the answer.

When my mother died, the warmth left with her.

I didn't remember much of what happened after. I only remembered waking up one day and realizing that things weren't the same.

The house felt colder. The laughter disappeared. My father stopped playing tag, stopped asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up.

And instead, he started telling me.

"You'll be a doctor, Hyun-woo." "Focus. No distractions." "This is what's best for you."

No more dreams of being an astronaut, an artist, a firefighter.

I was going to be a doctor. That was final.

And I had accepted it.

Because what else could I do?

I leaned forward, pressing my palms against my face.

These memories—these feelings—I thought I had buried them.

But they were still there, just waiting for the cracks to show.

And now, with my father's suffocating grip tightening, with the weight of everything pressing down on me—

The cracks were beginning to shatter.