The middle-aged woman fumbles with the video camera clumsily, some fingers pressing against random buttons and other fingers crudely, yet unintentionally, smudging the camera's lenses. "I can't figure out this thing." She laughs nervously as she continues to awkwardly turn the camera over in her palm, "Jonghun, dear, you think you could help me? You're young, so you're good with technology, right?" She pauses, turning around to glance at the tall, dark-haired eighteen-year-old standing silently behind her.

"Of course." He replies almost immediately, his voice smooth, somewhat deep, and without any hitches. His face is startlingly handsome - a slender nose centered between two almond-shaped eyes; dark and slightly windswept locks resting neatly across his forehead; lips as full smooth as the yellow sun blazing in the cloudless sky above them. He steps forward, his long piano fingers wrapping around the video camera as he takes it from the woman's hands.

As soon as he takes the camera from her, the woman rushes several steps forward onto a neatly cut lawn of grass. A young toddler boy, no more than two or three years old, sits in the middle of the lawn, stubby little fingers yanking out tufts of grass from the ground and throwing it into the air behind him. He giggles, his entire body bouncing up and down as he laughs. Jonghun watches in silence, video camera still wrapped in his fingers, as the woman reaches the toddler and kneels down beside him.

"Jaejin, Jaejin!" The woman coos, pulling the toddler onto her lap as she positioned herself to face the camera, "Look at the camera, Jaejin; look at the handsome man! Let's look at Jonghun! Give him a big smile, Jaejin!" Jonghun holds up the video camera, pointing it at the mother and child, eyes not focusing on the tiny monitor but instead at the child in the woman's lap. Jaejin merely giggles in reply to his mother's voice and aimlessly swats at the air with his small hands. The beginnings of a smile stretches at Jonghun's lips, pulling his mouth upwards as he continues to watch Jaejin squirm cheerfully in the woman's lap.

Jonghun continues to film them for awhile and when he finally puts the video camera back into the woman's hands, it's already nightfall; they must have been out there for hours. Jonghun doesn't know what they must have done for hours; all he knows was that it was the first time he had been so utterly and hopelessly captivated. He had watched the little boy snatch ambitiously at invisible bugs and romp gleefully around on the grass; it had been such simple sights, but it was perhaps the most wonderful few hours he had ever spent.

At dinner, Jaejin's mother ladles extra soup into Jonghun's bowl. He looks up at her questioningly, inclining his head as he opens his mouth to speak. She shakes her head, thus clamping his mouth shut. "It's a thank you present. I'm sorry that the only thing I can give you is food." She says and then turns to face the high chair in which Jaejin is seated.

"For what?" Jonghun asks, his tone unsure and tentative.

She merely smiles in response and remains quiet until she sits back down in her own chair, "How old are you, Jonghun?"

"Eighteen." He replies instantly, his answer confident. He is Choi Jonghun. He is eighteen. That was all he, and everyone else, needed to know.

"So young." She replies, more to herself than to him. She spoons some more porridge into Jaejin's mouth.

"I guess." Jonghun finally replies, shrugging slightly, "But that's just how old I am."

"When's your birthday, then?" She asks.

Jonghun opens his mouth, once again confidently, but nothing comes out. He remains still, his mouth still hinged open, for several moments before he finally closes it in shock.

He doesn't know. In fact, he doesn't even know what a birthday even is. He is Choi Jonghun. He is eighteen. What else did he need to know?

"I'm...I'm not sure." He replies, hesitation apparent in his voice for the first time in a long while.

"You're different aren't you, Jonghun?" Jaejin's mother continues; this time, she's the one who inclines her head curiously to the side. Her voice is slightly icy.

"Am I?" He asks, looking at her uncertainly.

"That's right." She adds, "You know how we met, right?"

Jonghun furrows his brows in concentration before he finally shakes his head. No, he didn't know.

"We met almost three years ago. About a month after Jaejin was born." She drops her gaze from Jonghun's face and instead looks at her son, "And the very night after his father passed away."

Jonghun doesn't know how to respond. He remains silent, holds folded in his lap. He glances down, glaring holes into the wooden knots of the table.

"You approached me and told me your name and your age. You told me that you came to me for one purpose and one purpose only."

He doesn't remember any of this. In fact, Jonghun isn't even quite sure what remembering even is. All he knows is that he is Choi Jonghun, and that he is eighteen years old.

"You said to me 'I am Choi Jonghun. I am eighteen. I've come here for one purpose and for one purpose only.'" Jaejin's mother pauses; her arm had absentmindedly reached out from underneath the table and towards the high chair next to her. Her delicate, pale fingers lightly brushes across Jaejin's forehead and sweeps away some unruly bangs. Jaejin's eyes are closed; dribbles of clear drool ebbs from the corners of his small mouth.

"You then pointed at the bundle of my arms, 'to give Lee Jaejin happiness'. You looked exactly the same as you do now...same face, same features, same everything. So I want to ask you a question, Choi Jonghun."

He continues to stay silent. He already knows what she's going to ask. He knows only one answer to her question and he knows it isn't enough, but what else is he to say if that was the only thing he knew?

"Who are you?"

"I am Choi Jonghun." He begins in almost a whisper, but she interrupts him before he can finish.

"Who are you?!" She repeats in a sudden shriek, her voice raising several octaves. Jaejin's mother stands up and marches over towards Jonghun. Her fingers, no longer seeming delicate and pale but instead rough and blistered, clutches threateningly at the collar of his shirt, "You've showed up once a month ever since you've first came up to me! Each time, you forget your first meeting with me. Each time, you look at Jaejin for hours before disappearing again. What do you want from him?! Are you even human?! Why are you here?!" She continues to loudly interrogate him, yanking the eighteen-year-old up from the chair with surprising strength, "Stay away from him." She growls, "Please. Stay away from him, oh my god. I don't know what you've been doing all these years but please, just stop it. I thought it was okay at first, but it's...it's become so unrealistic and...and so dangerous. Stop looking at him. He's my son."

"I am eighteen." He continues in a faint croak as his own shirt collar begins to choke him, "I've come here for one purpose...and for one purpose...only..." He gasps for air, "to give Lee Jaejin... happiness."

There is a slight pause; Jaejin's eyes flutters open. They both look towards the high chair. Jaejin blinks groggily, catches sight of Jonghun, and lets out a cheerful giggle.