The man's home was small but spotless, warm, and alive.
As soon as Han stepped inside, three girls came running to greet him.
One brought juice. Another brought dinner.
Han tried to refuse, but they insisted.
He ate shyly under their watchful eyes.
"Do you like it?" one asked.
He nodded. "It's delicious."
It really was.
They laughed, asked about his life, what he studied, how he knew their brother. The conversation was loud and full of light. Han didn't remember the last time he'd felt something like that — ordinary peace.
When he finished eating, Woo-young, the eldest, said, "Go shower. I'll prepare a bed for you."
He went. When he came back, she led him to Minsoo's room — the youngest. Everything was pink.
Han froze. "Noona, I can sleep on the couch."
She shook her head. "You're our guest. You will sleep here."
So he did. And for the first time in a long while, he smiled to himself before falling asleep.
But then the thought crept in —
What if Mr. Choi really kills Seungmin after I leave?
He hated that his heart still cared.
The next morning, Woo-young woke him up and told him to eat before leaving for university. Simji, the middle sister, came over with a first-aid kit.
"If you don't mind," she said gently, "can I treat your wounds?"
He hesitated, then nodded.
While she cleaned the cuts, she asked quietly, "What happened to you?"
Han answered flatly, "My father beat me."
Minsoo frowned. "What's wrong with fathers these days? You know, ours used to hit us too. Woo-young got it the worst."
Han looked up. "Where is he now?"
"In jail," Simji said. "Ten years. The neighbours called the police the night he broke Woo-young's arm."
Han nodded slowly. "Good. You deserve peace."
Simji smiled faintly. "At least until he's out again."
They didn't press him with more questions — and Han appreciated that. Maybe they understood that some pain doesn't need words.
When he was leaving, Minsoo called after him. "Han! Can you bring sugar back later? We're out."
He turned and smiled. "Yeah. I'll bring it."
For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could come back.
At university, Chaewon was still missing.
He pretended not to care, but the silence hurt more than he'd admit. So he came back home early.
At night, when everyone at the home had gone to sleep, Han lay on the pink bed and stared at the ceiling. The house was small, but it was full of laughter, warmth, and a kind of peace he'd almost forgotten existed.
He could hear Minsoo's soft snoring from the next room, the faint hum of a fan, Woo-young's voice scolding her brother for leaving the kitchen light on. Ordinary sounds. Safe sounds.
For the first time in weeks, Han felt human again.
But when he closed his eyes, Seungmin's face appeared. That tired smile. Those eyes that once looked only at him.
He turned away and pulled the blanket close.
"I'll forget you," he whispered, "even if it kills me."
Outside, the night was silent.
Inside, his heart wasn't.