Drururuk—
The cassette tape whirred as it rewound. Seven-year-old Kang Ichae lifted his head at the sound, watching a few fluffy clouds drift lazily across the wide blue sky—and for some reason, he suddenly felt a prick of irritation.
‘The sky’s so blue....’
He snorted softly and kicked his feet again. His view shifted. Off to the left, his violin case lay half-buried under sand; it had been that way for a while now.
‘When will Mom come home?’
For as long as Kang Ichae could remember, his mother had always been sick.
Maybe that was why—this time, too—she’d been hospitalized in Korea for reasons he didn’t really understand.
Whenever she smiled at him, she was the same loving mom as always, but once he stepped into the hospital room, everything about her felt strange. Her gaze, which used to shine with affection, her delicate smile—they hadn’t changed, yet her pale skin and slightly furrowed brows made it feel like she was pushing him away.
That must be why she kept leaving him with other adults.
‘I hate it....’
All those people pretending to be kind, whispering behind his back about how his mother had a child out of wedlock, about how their family would probably abandon them now.
‘Why does a dad even matter?’
As long as he had Mom, nothing else was important.
He didn’t fully understand what the adults meant, but he knew it wasn’t good.
One time, a stranger who called herself a “relative” had shown up and lashed out at him for no reason. His mother had chased the woman out and only returned much later, brushing her messy hair aside and saying calmly,
“They’re boring people.”
To Ichae, his mother had looked so cool then.
He wanted to grow up quickly—so he could protect her.
But his hands were still so small, and the wait to grow bigger felt unbearably long.
Pouting, Kang Ichae looked down at the dusty violin case.
He wasn’t really interested in instruments.
He’d just seen a song on TV and thought he could imitate it with the violin at home, but his mom had loved it. So he kept learning and playing—only for her. He didn’t care what anyone else thought.
He didn’t hate music, exactly. But somehow, music alone didn’t fill him. He couldn’t even say what was missing—he just knew something was.
‘...I just want to go back to America soon.’
That’s why he’d run away from it all and stayed here, in the old playground near the hospital.
For over a week now, at the same time every day, he’d been sitting in the same spot. He’d memorized the neighborhood residents by now—the man who shouted about being late every morning, the office worker who came out of the convenience store with cup noodles and a rice ball, always stiff and straight in his suit, and the woman who pushed a stroller while talking on the phone, waiting for her family to get off work.
But among them, there was one person who stood out the most.
‘He’s here again today.’
A boy about his own age loitered near the apartment entrance.
At first, Ichae thought maybe the kid was in the same situation as him, waiting for someone who wouldn’t come—but he was wrong. Every time, an older boy—his brother, probably—would appear and greet him warmly.
‘But why’s he here so early today?’
It seemed too soon for his brother to arrive.
Still leaning her head against the swing chain, Ichae watched idly—and this time, the older brother showed up early.
“Hyung!”
The older boy had pale skin and a cool, neat look, dressed in a crisp school uniform with black wired earphones in his ears. Oddly, the name tag on his chest looked blurred.
The younger one ran up and jumped into his arms. The older brother removed an earphone and said something to him.
‘I’ve got a mom too, you know.’
For some reason, his chest stung, and sharp little words pressed at the back of his throat, wanting to escape.
While he was staring, their eyes met—his and the older brother’s. The boy’s brows furrowed slightly, and startled, Ichae quickly turned away, hopping off the swing and brushing sand from his violin case.
He hadn’t done anything wrong, but somehow he felt guilty.
Just then, a shadow fell across him.
“—Hey.”
A child’s voice followed.
When he looked up, /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ the younger boy was standing right in front of him.
Ichae’s heart skipped a beat.
“...Huh?”
Why was he talking to him?
Up close, the boy’s cheeks looked even rounder and pinker. After a moment’s hesitation, he fidgeted and spoke softly.
“Um... you know, my brother wants to play with you.”
Ichae tilted his head, then craned his neck past the boy to glance at the older brother, who was leaning against the fence, flipping through a vocabulary book. Then he looked back at the kid.
Now the awkwardness hit him full force.
‘If you want to play, then play. What does “my brother wants to play with you” even mean?’
So, he didn’t actually want to—he was just told to.
Ichae scowled.
“...I don’t want to.”
“...Y-you don’t?”
“I don’t like being with strangers. It makes me feel bad.”
“Oh... okay....”
The boy mumbled his agreement but still lingered nearby for a while. When Ichae ignored him, he sighed and trudged away.
‘...What the heck was that?’
The boy ran back to his brother and started babbling. A moment later, he yelped as the older one pinched his cheeks. The boy swatted at his brother’s hand, grumbling in protest. The look on the older brother’s face reminded Ichae of his mother’s expression sometimes.
His eyes dropped.
‘...He just left because I said I didn’t want to?’
He knew it was petty, but it made him feel strangely lonely and annoyed.
He was about to pick up his violin case and head back to the hospital when—
“Hi.”
The empty swing beside him moved.
Startled, he looked up. The older brother had sat down, winding his earphones neatly around his MP3 player.
“I’m the brother of the kid who talked to you earlier.”
“So what?”
“Ah...”
He shoved the MP3 into his bag, then glanced at Ichae, who had shrunk into himself like he expected to be scolded. His voice softened.
“You know, my brother’s been wanting to be friends with you. But he’s shy and not good with words. If he did something wrong, I wanted to apologize for him.”
“...Oh, no.”
Ichae quickly shook his head.
“He didn’t do anything wrong....”
“That’s good, then.”
So the boy really had wanted to be friends with him.
His chest felt light, almost floating. A laugh almost slipped out; he covered his mouth and swallowed it. Then came another question.
“You like the violin?”
“...It’s okay.”
“Really? You’re always carrying it around, so I thought you loved it.”
“You saw me?”
“Of course. A little kid wandering around with a violin all the time—it’s hard not to notice.”
He added with a lazy yawn, “My brother’s around your age, so I was curious.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“No. I’m an only child.”
“I used to be too, until my parents suddenly told me I was getting a little brother. Totally unfair.”
“...I see....”
“But once he showed up, it wasn’t so bad.”
It showed—because even when he teased his brother relentlessly, there was warmth in how he treated him.
“...Looks that way—”
“Yeah, he’s cute.”
Did he not listen when other people talked?
He didn’t seem to.
“He could totally be an idol someday. He’s got the looks for it.”
“Ah... yeah....”
“You too.”
He tapped his foot and added casually, “You’re smart-looking. Cute.”
It wasn’t even a new compliment, but for some reason it made him flush. Ichae rolled his eyes and quickly changed the subject.
“...You’re always studying, huh? Are you good at it?”
He partly just wanted to keep talking.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“...Not very humble, are you.”
“It’s true.”
The easy shrug and confident tone reminded Ichae of his mom somehow—it made him seem cool.
“Why do you study so hard?”
“Hmm....”
Ichae expected him to say something boring like, “Because it’s a student’s duty.” But instead—
“I have something I want to do. To make that dream come true, I have to study now.”
What kind of dream was that?
It sounded like something from an educational broadcast, so old-fashioned that Ichae couldn’t even react.
Then a vibration buzzed somewhere.
The boy pulled his phone from his uniform pocket, checked the caller, and answered.
“Yeah, Mom? ...I swear, it’s my first time skipping night study—oh, not that? Seo Hojin? What about him?”
He trailed off mid-excuse, his face tightening.
“He’s crying and making a fuss? ...Okay. I’ll be there soon.”
He hung up, grabbed his MP3, and looked at Ichae.
“Better get home before it gets late.”
Ichae stared at him, then said quietly,
“...You’re leaving?”
“......”
His eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t show it much, but it felt like he found Ichae cute.
“I have one question.”
“...What is it?”
“You know, do you feel good when you see me?”
Ah—so the little brother had tattled.
He must’ve repeated Ichae’s exact words from earlier: ‘I don’t like being with strangers.’
Embarrassed, Ichae lowered his head and kicked at the sand before mumbling softly,
“...It’s not bad.”
No, honestly—it’s nice.
But what did it matter? He was going to leave anyway.
“...Yeah?”
The older boy tilted his chin, pretending to be calm, and their eyes met again.
“I had fun.”
He smiled faintly, ruffling his hair as the name on his badge came into focus.
“Then, should we see each other again tomorrow?”
Seo... Hoyun.
That was his name.
