Half awake, he felt his feet aching from having slept with his shoes on the entire night. He jolted up with a small exclamation, pulled the shoes off, and hurled them onto the floor. After a while, when the soreness faded enough for him to move, he got up and tidied the bed. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, changed his clothes, and glanced at the clock. It was 5:31 a.m.
"Ahh… I fell asleep without even changing," he muttered with a laugh at himself. "And I didn't even eat anything…" he murmured.
He took a small notebook from his pocket along with a pen and began planning his entire day. After nearly an hour of thinking, he decided to visit the hospital.
Just like every day, he wanted to see his father before going anywhere. But the office was empty. Worry rose inside him immediately, only for his elder brother to appear.
"What happened to Father?" he asked.
"He took a day off," his brother replied
"Is he alright?"
"Yes. Don't worry. I'm here."
Egemed hesitated, then asked softly, "Do you like city life more than home brother?"
"Of course. You can have anything you want here. Home is boring," his brother answered with a smirk.
"Is that so? Don't you want to see Mother and Heryl? You haven't visited even once this month."
"What does that have to do with me? I'm working. I'm taking care of this company for all of us. Can't you see that?"
Seeing that his brother didn't want to talk about family, he simply smiled and said, "I see."
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at university every day?"
"I just want to explore the city and the libraries." Egemed calmly replied
"I hope you're not wasting time just because you were given everything you asked for. Some of us actually have to work to get paid."
"If Father hears you speak like that, he won't be happy," he said gently. "That's not true, brother. I know Father trusts you. You're the eldest—you will take over the company someday."
"Don't act like you know everything." his brother frustrated
"Did Father ever mistreat you? Or is it just that you misjudge your own thoughts?" Egemed lower his head
After a short silence
"Look," he continued softly, "I don't want to quarrel. But don't misjudge Father's kindness or his responsibility. He has done enough for us. And look at how people treat you because you're like a boss now."
He reached over and hugged his brother's shoulder lightly, trying to calm the tension.
"Hmph…" his brother turned his head away from Egemed
"That expression was cute," he laughed.
"Since Father isn't here, here's your lunch box."
He handed it over.
"…Thanks."
"That's my big brother. I'm leaving, Boss."
He gave a playful salute, smirked, and walked away.
Watching him go, his brother couldn't help but smile. "Take care. I'll come home next week."
His older brother had always been stiff and rigid. Their conversations often began with harsh remarks. Egemed was treated unfairly at times simply because he was gentler and more humble. The jealousy came from how warmly he treated their parents—something the elder one misunderstood as acting for attention.
But Egemed never behaved kindly because he wanted anything in return. He loved them. He saw their pain. His brother never noticed any of it, choosing instead to blame the family for things that had nothing to do with them. Since the day he was asked to work in the company, he had stopped returning home, choosing city life and independence instead, always hiding behind excuses that he was "busy," always resenting their father for reasons that weren't real.
And still, none of this made him judge his brother. He accepted him as he was, showing kindness, gentle humour, and soft honesty—hoping to heal things little by little, without harshness.
Later, Egemed sighed quietly. "I'm running out of money…"
The thought troubled him. He had used what his father gave him to roam the city.
"If only I had my own job. I wouldn't feel guilty using my own earnings… But Father's money… that's from hard work. Even if I'm his son, I can't take advantage of his kindness. What a life."
He reached the hospital. The entire day he moved from one hospital to another, watching how life unfolded. For about twenty minutes at each place, he sat outside facing the entrance, observing staff recording patient names, nurses rushing by, ambulances arriving and leaving.
Then he would walk in without hesitation and sit among the patients, comforting them.
If someone didn't have enough money, he would quietly help—never asking for it back.
At one hospital, he saw a man in his late thirties standing outside, trembling. His clothes were muddy, his face pale, and his legs shaking as if he could collapse.
He approached him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What happened? Do you need me to carry you inside?" he asked softly.
The man stared at him in disbelief.
Why would someone so neatly dressed touch me?
People usually shoved me away, calling me dirty.
Sensing the thought, he smiled warmly.
"It's alright. I'm here to help. Did you get your name recorded inside?"
The man shook his head.
He guided him toward the entrance, but a staff member stopped them.
"We can't let intruders like him in. He comes every week without money."
He looked at the man's hollow, frightened eyes and said calmly, "It's fine. He's with me. I will pay."
The staff hesitated, then stepped aside, embarrassed.
Inside, he helped him sit.
"What happened to you?" he asked.
"I've been sick for a long time… and whenever it happens, I shake like this," the man whispered.
"You've never gotten medicine?"
The man broke down, tears spilling.
"I have a wife and two children. She is unwell, and I work day and night so they can survive. I have only thirty-four rupees and some coins in my pocket. I come here every time my sickness attacks, but they never let me in."
He listened quietly, patting the man's shoulder.
"Don't cry, sir… perhaps thank God I arrived today."
The man continued through tears, "I wish they would give me one small pill… just one… anything. The pain feels like dying. I crawl here every time, and they still shove me aside. Maybe they'll care only when I'm dead."
Hearing this, sadness filled Egemed's heart. He looked around the hospital, seeing clearly the difference between how the rich and poor were treated. It hurt him, but he knew he couldn't change it instantly.
When the man was finally called into the doctor's room, he went with him, unwilling to leave him alone. He waited through the checkup and paid for everything.
Before they separated, the man hugged him tightly, crying in gratitude.
"With a gentle smile, he said, "Please take this money… buy something for your wife and children. And get well soon."
"No… you've done enough," the man whispered. "I don't know how to repay you."
"You don't have to repay anything. Just consider it a blessing. And if we ever meet again, I'll still help if I can." He smiled and bowed lightly.
"Thank you… thank you so much."
Afterwards, he walked alone.
"Egemed heart ache... mumbling; I've seen so much today… another day, another pain. I hope the world won't stay this cruel forever. If I had to sacrifice myself for their peace, I would. But even Jesus did… and the world stayed the same."
He looked up at the sky.
"If only people could see beyond appearances… maybe the world would change."