Family Photo and a Troubling Memory

Kwon Yohan’s father reappeared after a significant pause.

“Things will improve from now on,” he stated gruffly, taking his seat. After ensuring the other family members, who had finished their meal, each had a cup of tea before them, he had the half-empty plates cleared and began to sip his own tea.

Everyone else was drinking black tea, but only lemon tea was placed before me. Its sweet and sour aroma, typical of what children might enjoy, held no appeal. I merely feigned sips, leaving it almost untouched.

Unlike the sporadic glimpses I’d caught through Kwon Yohan’s perspective, his family didn’t appear to be on particularly bad terms. Rather, a distinct distance permeated their interactions, making it difficult to categorize their relationship as either good or bad.

It seemed there were also some misunderstandings between them.

“Care is a given, of course, but his image management also needs to be impeccable. He’s destined to be the face of our company someday.”

‘So, that insane talk originated here.’

“That’s enough about that,” Kwon Yohan interjected. “I’m going to quit before the year is out anyway, so what’s the point?”

“Why would you quit? A perfectly fine job you’re already doing?”

I hastily rose from my seat. If this conversation hadn’t been resolved among the family, a negative conclusion here would be problematic. I also had no intention of listening to them argue.

“Are you leaving already?” Kang Seonyoung asked, forcing a gentle smile, though a vein had begun to throb in her neck.

“Not immediately,” I replied. “I just wanted to stop by my room first.”

“Your room? What for?”

Fortunately, they hadn’t emptied the room just because it wasn’t being used. I stated the pre-prepared reason for my visit.

“The company asked me to bring some childhood photos for an event. I’ll need to look through some albums.”

Kang Seonyoung’s eyes widened, and a puzzled expression crossed her face.

“Why would the albums be in your room?”

‘What is this now?’ I quickly stammered.

“I think I left them in my room after looking at them last time… Or did I?”

“I don’t know,” she mused. “Even if you did, wouldn’t Hyejin have put them back?”

Judging by the context of the conversation, ‘Hyejin’ seemed to refer to the housekeeper. It appeared the albums were not kept in Kwon Yohan’s room, but rather collected elsewhere.

My original goal was to visit Kwon Yohan’s room, where he had spent the most time, and while there, to search through albums for clues. However, with this turn of events, it was crucial to execute at least one of those naturally. ‘What should I do?’

Just as I was pondering, Kwon Yosep rose and tapped the table, an action clearly meant to draw attention.

“I’ll help you,” he stated.

His tone was frigid, devoid of even a hint of goodwill. It conveyed that he was speaking under duress, despite his clear reluctance. Normally, I would have refused, but now I had no choice.

“Yes, thank you,” I said.

Only Kang Seonyoung wore a satisfied expression.

‘But what exactly is he going to help with? I’m just looking for some photos.’

In any case, Kwon Yosep, who was about a hand-span taller than Kwon Yohan, strode ahead with wide, deliberate steps. He seemed to have no intention of waiting for me. I didn’t rush, slowly following behind him.

‘As long as I can see the back of his head, that’s enough. What does it matter if he’s a bit far? I had no intention of building any rapport with him from the start.’

The place we arrived at was a spacious room, designed like a gallery. Its high ceilings and bright lighting created an open, airy feel. Artworks and photographs were tastefully interspersed, blending harmoniously. What particularly caught my eye was a family portrait, seemingly taken about ten years ago.

A small, thin boy sat between his parents, while Kwon Yosep and Kwon Haeun stood behind the chairs. At first glance, it appeared to be a common composition, yet the arrangement gave me a strange feeling, as if I could discern their underlying relationships.

“How old do you need the photos to be?” Kwon Yosep sharply asked, pulling me from my reverie. His tone implied he wanted to get this over with quickly, without any dawdling.

“Just from when he was young will do.”

“I mean, *how young*? We need to find them here, don’t we?”

‘How many photos could there possibly be to warrant such annoyance?’ I was about to retort when my gaze shifted to where Kwon Yosep stood, forcing me to reconsider.

Silence.

A colossal bookshelf, packed wall-to-wall, dominated that space. Thick, large albums were neatly stacked, so numerous that counting them seemed daunting. It was no wonder he had offered to help; had I come alone, I would have been exhausted just trying to pull them out, let alone properly examine them.

“I… I don’t really know what age range to pick from,” I admitted. “So, let’s just pull out one from each period and look through them. That way, we’ll find something quickly.”

Kwon Yosep clicked his tongue softly and reached for an upper shelf.

“Stay still. You.”

Soon, about ten albums were neatly stacked on the floor. Despite his indifferent demeanor, he didn’t handle the items roughly enough to scratch them. Perhaps it was because his mother cherished them.

“This should be enough, right?” Kwon Yosep asked. Before my answer could even form, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. It seemed to be his way of indicating he had no intention of helping me choose the photos.

‘Well, it wouldn’t be meaningful if he looked at them anyway.’

I also settled down somewhat casually and opened an album.

Only a few photos immediately struck me as professionally taken. Most were likely captured by Kwon Yohan’s mother, driven by a clear determination to document every moment of her child’s life. Many of these pictures overlapped, naturally speeding up my page-turning.

Some photos, despite having distinct recorded dates, appeared to have been taken at the same time. This was a consequence of Kwon Yohan spending such long periods in the hospital.

“Hmm…”

Just looking at them made me feel inexplicably stifled.

I idly flipped through the pages, stopping whenever a photo of him in regular clothes appeared. Although my reason for being there was fabricated, a genuine need might arise later, and if photos were to be released, vibrant, cute outfits would certainly be preferable to hospital gowns.

As I selected a few photos where his complexion looked relatively healthy and he appeared suitably cute, I found myself at the last album.

During this period, his condition must have been relatively stable, as the backgrounds were somewhat diverse. Occasionally, photos of Kwon Yosep and Kwon Haeun together also appeared. Their youthful faces suggested they were around middle school age. Ah, I could roughly pinpoint the time.

My constantly shifting gaze suddenly halted on one particular image.

It was a photograph of a broken glass vase, alongside a tear-streaked Kwon Yohan.

‘Yohan, are you okay? Are you hurt?’

A headache began to throb.

‘Mommy’s fine. We can just buy another vase. What matters is that you’re not hurt.’

A noise, like a corrupted audio file, dominated my mind.

‘Kwon Yosep! What were you doing instead of watching your brother? What if he’d gotten hurt?’

‘If you’re so worried, then *you* should stick by him all day, Mom. Why are you blaming me?’

‘I told you. Yohan isn’t like other kids.’

‘So, why should *I* have to bear that burden?’

Kwon Yohan, his face anxious, furtively watched the two. His complexion paled. Then, my vision blurred and went dark. A confusing hallucination passed, making it impossible to discern whose perspective I was witnessing.

‘Why are you looking at me like that? Are you going to cry and collapse again? Must be nice, having such an easy life. It’s so simple to turn innocent people into villains.’

Silence.

‘I didn’t say anything I shouldn’t have. You can’t do anything by yourself. Given that you’ll have to live your whole life relying on others, it would be best to stop thinking you can live as you please, with your head held high. I’m giving you advice. With good intentions.’

In the distorted scene, Kwon Yosep, appearing close to his current age, spoke. Faced with such cynical words, Kwon Yohan couldn’t even properly retort and left the room. His face, having suppressed tears, was flushed and blotchy.

*Pop.*

A sudden quiet descended, as if I had emerged from a thin, bubble-like membrane. The distant sense of reality returned, pressing down on my body.

*Thump-thump.* My heart pounded rapidly.

“Kwon Haeun really has a kind heart. To treat you like a younger sibling at all.”

The man’s voice snapped me back to reality. I looked up to see Kwon Yosep letting out a derisive chuckle, his demeanor unchanged from the fragments of memory.

“What do you mean?” I retorted, a sharp question escaping me reflexively.

“What do I mean? Exactly what I said. If you’ve picked them all, get up quickly. I need to tidy up.”

With a dismissive shove, as if clearing away an annoying object, my body swayed while still seated. I steadied myself on the soft, carpeted floor and sighed.

‘With a sibling like this, it would be a miracle if his self-esteem were intact.’

Affection deficit. A craving for recognition. The words Kwon Haeun had pinpointed now resonated with even greater clarity.

If that were the case, then everything must have gone awry from the moment he joined the group. My stomach churned, making it difficult to continue thinking.

‘I need to get out of here first.’

****

I don’t know how I managed to make it back to the dorm. I tried my best to act naturally, but I’m not sure if I succeeded. In my hand, as I arrived in the parking lot in Kwon Haeun’s car, was a blue envelope with a beautiful embossed pattern. Kwon Yohan’s mother had found it for me, saying the photos might get damaged if I carried them loosely.

“So, you won’t be back until after autumn?” Kwon Haeun asked.

“Yeah.”

“Mom will be nagging endlessly, saying she misses you.”

“…Why would she nag *you* about that?”

“Because you’re so lax with your calls.”

“Tell her to call me then.”

Kwon Haeun narrowed her eyes in response.

“Forget it. Just go upstairs.”

Dismissed from the car, I trudged towards the elevator.

Just then, a man with a familiar build caught my eye. Such a large person was common only within our dorm, and his hair, recently re-dyed with a subtle bluish tint, made him particularly unmistakable.

‘But what is he holding in his mouth?’

“Yoon Jihyuk, do you smoke?” I asked, approaching him.

His eyes widened, and a crunching sound came from his mouth.

“Of course not. I’m a singer, you know.”

‘Ah. A stick snack.’

“Want some? Seon was eating it, got full, and just gave it to me.”

“No, thanks. Why are you out here? Are you going somewhere?”

‘If he were going out, shouldn’t he have gone down to the first floor, not here? Then again, he has a car.’

“Going somewhere? I just came down because I thought Yohan was arriving.”

“How did you… Ah, the access card.”

Perhaps noticing my thoughts were lagging a beat, Yoon Jihyuk watched me with an observant gaze.

He casually stuffed the snack bag into his pocket and took another step closer to me. Then, he pressed both palms firmly against my cheeks. The sensation of my face being squished wasn’t particularly pleasant, and I was just about to tell him to let go.

“What’s wrong? Why is Yohan in a bad mood?”

He asked a question that felt oddly familiar. His voice was a mix of playfulness and concern.