A distant “pop” is audible. Yixing draws the iPhone from his pocket and quickly skims the text message he had received. He excuses himself from the dining table and leaves the room. Eun Hye sighs, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

                “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if Kai didn’t pursue this career?” Na Hee asks, curiosity consuming her insides.

                “I really do, especially on the days he doesn’t visit me – which is quite often. But how else is my mother’s death going to be justified if Kai oppa doesn’t do anything? This world I live in – the world we all live in, we constantly betray each other. It’s hard to trust someone in this world – this world is a world built on a foundation of lies.” Eun Hye stares at Na Hee. “But I can’t imagine Kai oppa doing anything else – he’s meant for this world, despite his late training in the field.”

                “…so where do you live if Kai is gone most of the time?”

                “Right here,” Eun Hye dreamily says, “Yixing oppa takes care of me most of the time. Sometimes, the other oppas come to visit, but that isn’t often. If you’re wondering as to why Kai oppa doesn’t keep me by his side, he has his reasons. He knows that it’s dangerous to keep his sister at his side – I’m practically his weakness.”

                Suddenly, Na Hee feels envy deluge her body. If only she had someone like Kai. He could protect her from everything with the power he held at the palm of his hand. Then again, could Na Hee trust someone like Kai? He was a merciless man who was meant for the mobster world. How could she possibly trust someone with that much power?

                “There is a guest here,” Yixing says, momentarily breaking Na Hee’s train of thoughts. Eun Hye eagerly glances up – it’s evident that nobody visits this isolated house. Just then, the man who Eun Hye has idolized has made an appearance.

                “Hi, Eun Hye,” Kim Jong In flashes a charismatic smile at his step sister.

                He advances towards the two seated girls. Eun Hye merely returns the smile. She stands up and gives a quick hug to her older brother. Kai breaks away from the embrace and turns to Na Hee, who is awkwardly sitting between the two siblings.

                He s his hand forward, “Hi, Na Hee.”

                Everything about Kim Jong In was familiar. Na Hee observes the man before reaching out to shake his hand. Their hands fit together perfectly; the warmth of his hand courses throughout her body.

                Words are fighting to climb out of ; the question finally tumbles out.

                “Have we met before?” Na Hee asks, completely forgetting Eun Hye and Yixing’s presence.

                “I believe so – we’ve just never had a conversation longer than five minutes.”

                Na Hee recalls the umbrella he handed her – Mr. E. She remembers everything about Kim Jong In, yet there was something that lied deeper that was familiar. “I mean – like when you were younger…” she utters, though realizing a moment too late that she wasn’t make sense.

                However, Kai merely flashes a reassuring grin. “Perhaps,” he says.  

* * * * *

                When Na Hee arrived, the orphanage directors constantly had their eye on her. Every so often, she would hear them whisper amongst themselves.

                “Bless her soul – both of her parents died in front of her own eyes.” 

                Their words served as a reminder of that fateful night. However, they were still relatively nice to Na Hee, and for that, she was thankful for their kindness. Despite her late entrance into the orphanage, she still had her own tasks to fulfill to keep the place running. Because Na Hee had entered late, she was rendered to washing the dishes every evening. Occasionally, some younger children would offer to help, but Na Hee would merely push them aside. They soon gave up after realizing they could not break her stony exterior. In fact, everyone, including the directors, gave up trying to associate with her.

                But then he came. He was a transfer from a nearby orphanage that had closed due to the lack of community funds. Story was that his mother had given up for fostering care after realizing that she could not fund the child’s necessities. To cut the story short, Kim Jong In was the result of a one-night stand. However, even knowing the harsh reality, Kim Jong In did not let it get to the better of him.

                He was a child with a bright heart – the directors had taken pity of him too.

                He was the one who had reached out to Na Hee first. He did not even look at her with a different filter, for they shared the same pain – of being abandoned. However, Jong In never gave up unlike everybody else. He kept trying to become Na Hee’s friend, and eventually, her heart wavered – she let him into her heart.

                Jong In was two years older than her, but despite the age difference, the two of them were inseparable. Because Jong In understood Na Hee perfectly well, they could share conversations that lasted hours upon hours. Sometimes they’d talk about the weekend drama, other times, they’d talk about their future.

                The orphanage had one swing set to occupy the children – during the day, it was filled with other children. Na Hee and Jong In chose to back away, preferring to experience the orphanage’s backyard in serenity. Thus, they sat on the swing set every single night, staring at the gleaming stars in the sky.

                “Oppa, do you ever wonder what lies beyond this orphanage?”

                “When we turn eighteen, we are officially kicked out, that’s for sure.”

                Na Hee rolls her eyes at Jong In’s simple comment. “I mean…what do you think your life will be like ten years from now?”

                “…I’ll be on the road to pursue my happiness. Na Hee, you ask really stupid questions, you know.” Na Hee fights the temptation to punch Jong In. She clenches her fists and puts it on her lap. Jong In takes note of this action, but doesn’t let it slip. “For a nine year old, you sure are violent.”

                “For an eleven year old, you sure enjoy perturbing others.”