“HyeMi-aa~~ anyoong..” I waive at her from my phone screen, I’m video calling her.

“Oppa..” She waives back. “What are you doing today oppa?”

“Today I’m going to walk around the city and be a tourist.” I grin at her.

“Mwo, you’ve been there almost two weeks and you haven’t explored the city yet?”

“Not yet, I was too busy. HyeMi-a, the food here are so great, I’m sure you’ll love it, I will take you here one day.”

“Jinjja? Aish, I’m green with envy oppa. I eat boring food here, if I’m not stuck in this hospital I could have come with you.”

She swirl her phone around so I can see her surroundings. She’s getting her treatment in the best room with the best facility our nation can provide. Being a South Korean president’s daughter she has all kind of facilities a girl can dream about.

My poor HyeMi, she’s born in a good family and always had the best things given to her, but the thing she needs the most—her life—is something she really has to fight for. I met HyeMi four years ago, when my father got an invitation to the blue house and asked me to him. She was sitting on a wheelchair the first time I met her, but I didn’t hesitate to get to know her better. HyeMi’s the kind of girl that allows me to help her even with the tiniest thing, makes me feel needed as a man. She loves classical music, paintings, opera, and all kinds of high class entertainment a girl can get. It’s no wonder she’s been spoiled from the day she was born.

“HyeMi-ah, how’s the search of the donor going?” I ask her that question in every phone call I make.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m tired with your question, oppa. If we find one, I will contact you first. Aish, why do I have to inherit appa’s sickness.” She scratches her own head in frustration.

“I’m just concern, baby.”

“You should do a trip down to French hospitals there, oppa. Who knows there’s a donor in France that will be my match?” she ignites the idea.

Indeed there is one. I hang out with her quite often too.