"Take this! And this, you little brat!"
The woman's harsh voice echoed across the back garden—a place that should have been filled with the scent of flowers and soft earth, yet on this day it felt more like a silent stage witnessing something it wished it could turn away from. The trees stood still, their leaves barely moving, as if even the wind hesitated to pass through.
She struck the small boy again.
He didn't cry… didn't even flinch.
It was as if his body had long grown used to pain—so used to it that it no longer reached him.
The woman snapped angrily:
"Why?! Didn't I tell you to clean the garden? Are you ignoring me?"
The boy whispered, trembling:
"I… I'm sorry…"
She scoffed:
"Sorry? Is that the only word you know? Move! The guests will be here soon!"
"Y-yes…" he murmured.
Only a few steps away, four children watched.
Three of them snickered, enjoying the scene far too much for their age.
But the oldest—Sao Baek—wore a completely different expression. His eyes were clouded with something between discomfort and quiet disapproval.
The woman walked toward him, and with a sudden change of tone—sweet, gentle, almost rehearsed—she said:
"Sao Baek, dear, go get ready to welcome the guests. As the young master, you must look presentable. Understood?"
He answered with cold politeness:
"Yes, Mother."
She left with the younger children trailing behind her. Their giggles faded slowly, though the youngest girl couldn't resist glancing back and whispering mockingly:
"Look at him… crawling like a turtle."
Sao Baek heard her, stopped, and turned slightly.
He saw the boy again.
A small figure standing alone in the quiet garden—hair messy, clothes dirtied, breath uneven. He was trying to wipe the blood from his cheek, but it looked less like he was cleaning his face and more like he was trying to erase the day itself.
Sao Baek walked toward him.
Startled, the boy stuttered:
"I… I'm sorry!"
Sao Baek shook his head.
"I didn't ask you to apologize."
The boy—Sao Hyeon—could only stare back, unsure whether to speak or stay silent.
For a moment, something flickered in Sao Baek's eyes—hesitation, regret, or perhaps a feeling he had kept buried for too long.
Then, in a voice far softer than before, he said:
"Brother… Sao Hyeon. Please… don't die."
He turned around and walked away.
Sao Hyeon stood alone in the empty garden, surrounded by wilting flowers and fallen leaves. The air felt cold against his skin, but inside his chest everything was burning with confusion. He looked at the ground… then at the path where his brother had disappeared.
He couldn't form a single word.
But one question echoed inside him louder than anything else:
"What… have I done?"