"I understand, love," she said, moving around the room, carefully arranging the cushions on the sofa. "But you have to appreciate how much the orphanage means to him."

"But until the 20th? It's only the 9th today!" I protested, feeling a childlike frustration bubbling up inside me.

"Yes, until the 20th," she replied gently. "I've returned early, so talk to me. You've only had a new listener for four years." She puffed out her cheeks, her expression reminiscent of the adorable hamster I had known since childhood.

Antonella had indeed cut her stay short and returned unexpectedly. Despite many significant events still on her agenda, the urgent notification on her pager had compelled her to come back sooner. And the urgency was much more related to what I had to say.

"I just find it easier to talk to him these days. There's something magical in the way he makes anybody comfortable. I'm not saying that you make me uncomfortable, but Jimin's way is so therapeutic," I confessed, my eyes drifting towards the window.

"That's exactly his profession. Being a psychiatrist is to try to be therapeutic," she said, leaning back against the sofa and crossing her legs. "But come on, even your therapist needs therapy too. No wonder mental health issues are a taboo, but he has countless clients a day."

"Wait a minute, he said that his job barely makes his ends meet," I replied, frowning.

"Which one of you pays anything to make ends meet?" she retorted, a smirk playing on her lips. "I pay for everything. But that's just his way of saying that he's not going to shift because he likes me spending alone." She burst out laughing, the sound filling the room and partially roasting Jimin in the process.

"But if the topic is a taboo, how on Earth does he have countless clients?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Divorcees, criminals, juveniles, victims of SA, victims of domestic violence, widowers, and autistic children. They all seek Jimin. The thing you said, that he makes everything very comfortable, is exactly why he's in such demand. His shifts can last throughout the day," she explained, her tone softening as she spoke about him.

"How does he end up doing so much?" I asked, marveling at the dedication and compassion he must have.

"A passion to grow, a compassion to fight, a sentiment to heal, a deliberate urge to feel, an empathy for the pathetic, and a tireless search for a cure for himself," she said, her voice trailing off. There was a light in her eyes, a blend of respect and pity for the man she described.

I stared at the walls around us, feeling a pang of guilt. When had I become so selfish as to not care for his well-being? He doesn't just talk to people; he studies them. He creates an environment, molds himself to suit everyone. His approach is always to study the background, talk to the people in the background, watch, learn, understand whatever the solution is, and only then does he ever interact. He never sits in a chamber; he's a bystander in the crowd, but the sweetheart who bothers to care.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"It's alright, love," she said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I have assured him that I'll deal with whatever your situation is. I've dealt with it for over 20 years. I'm experienced in this field. So yes, he'll complete his stay there."

"You know, Noona, I can't tell you everything," I mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"Why not, hmm?" she asked, her eyebrow raised as she settled onto the sofa, leaning forward slightly.

"Because, because there are certain... men's things that, you know, that is not, um, that is bad manners to tell a woman," I stammered, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

"As if either you or Jimin are manly enough," she retorted, smirking. She picked up a cushion and tossed it playfully at me.

"What!" I grew slightly offended, catching the cushion and throwing it back. "My sister's taunts definitely offend me."

"And what 'men's things'," she mimicked with air quotes and a dramatic eye roll, "can't you tell me?"

"Right, I forgot you're not a woman. That moustache of yours is firmer than anyone else's," I shot back, smirking.

"Oh, really?" she laughed, reaching up to pretend to stroke an imaginary moustache. "At least it means I have more character than you!"

I laughed, shaking my head. "Character, sure. If that's what you call it."

"And what do you call it, hmm? A lack of grooming?" she teased, nudging me with her elbow.

"You just don't understand the complexities of manhood, Noona," I said, puffing out my chest dramatically.

"Complexities? Like forgetting to take out the trash or leaving dirty socks everywhere?" she quipped, rolling her eyes again.

"Hey, those are strategic placements," I countered, grinning. "You never know when you might need a spare sock."

"Strategic, my foot," she laughed, shoving me lightly. "More like laziness."

"Laziness? I prefer to think of it as conserving energy for more important things," I said, winking at her.

"Important things like avoiding responsibilities?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly," I replied, laughing. "See, you do get it!"

She shook her head, chuckling. "I guess some things never change, huh?"

"Some things never do," I agreed, smiling at her. "But it's good to have you back, Noona. Even if you do have the world's most impressive mustache."

"And it's good to be back," she said, her eyes softening. "Even if you are a walking disaster."

We both laughed, the familiar banter and playful teasing bringing a warmth to the room. It was moments like these that made the bond between us so special.

"Anyways, quit the chase and settle down. I've got some homemade chips from the orphanage. Let's have them," she said, plopping down on the sofa and patting the space beside her.

"Chips? Why didn't you tell me that before?" I asked, my eyes lighting up at the mention of one of my favorite snacks.

"Uh, I'll not give them to you until you settle your manhood stuff. What's so important that you paged me to get back?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning back with an expectant look.

"Uh, so, you know, erm..." I fumbled, feeling the weight of her gaze.

"What erm?" she prompted, raising an eyebrow.

"Ehem," I faked a cough, trying to buy myself some time.

She snarled her teeth like those monkeys in the zoo and then mockingly replicated my fake cough in a maniacal fashion, almost doubling over in exaggerated laughter. I couldn't tell if she was coughing or just making fun of me.

"Do you desire the chips or not?" she inquired, her laughter tapering off into a teasing grin.

"Alright, alright. So, should I commence with the paramount discovery or the lesser significant event?" I queried, settling beside her.

"You always uncover something new. Begin with the calamity you orchestrated," she responded, shaking her head in mock exasperation.

"It wasn't a calamity, Noona!" I protested, feeling slightly defensive.

"Then out with it, you nincompoop," she said, rolling her eyes and giving me a playful shove.

I inhaled deeply, attempting to organize my thoughts. "Alright, here goes," I began, rubbing the back of my neck nervously. "So, there's been this... revelation. Something I've unearthed recently that I believe you ought to know."

"Well, spit it out," she urged, her tone a blend of curiosity and impatience.

"Okay, so you're already aware of those dreams I've been having, the ones that feel like echoes of another life?" I started, scrutinizing her expression.

She nodded, her demeanor turning serious. "Yes, you've mentioned them since childhood. What about them?"

"I've been delving into them, trying to comprehend their significance. And I think they might actually be memories. Not mere dreams," I elucidated, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Memories? From when?"

"That's the enigma," I continued, leaning forward. "I believe they might be from a past life. Or something akin to that. It sounds ludicrous, I know, but I've unearthed some compelling evidence."

She stared at me, absorbing my words. "That's... a lot to process," she finally said. "But why page me for this? Couldn't it wait?"

"Well, there's more," I said, hesitating. "These memories-they're intertwined with someone we both know."

"Who?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Y/n," I replied, observing her reaction closely. "Remember, when we were younger, I had never seen Mai before. I only started envisioning Mai's face after I met her."

"And?" She sat back, a contemplative look on her face.

"And on that practical exam day, when all my canvases were aligned, I began describing all the characters I had painted. They all belonged to my dreams."

"Yes, you had Mai, the lieutenant, the American general, Sweetie and her parents, correct?"

"Correct. And Ju Gyeong. When I reached the canvas of Mai's daughter, my world shifted."

Her curiosity was tinged with concern, urging me to elucidate further.

"Do you know who else is Ju Gyeong?"

"Who?"

"Y/n's mother."

She froze in her tracks. She had definitely known about Y/n's family. They had been friends for almost eight years now.

"Right, I'd forgotten that. But what about it?"

"Noona, Mai is real. The Ju Gyeong I painted is Y/n's mother. They both existed. Which means-"

"That the lieutenant existed," she finished my sentence.

"Exactly! And there's a photograph of Y/n's mother with Mai, Aein, Hyung, and a baby, presumably Aein's daughter."

"A tangible photograph? Concrete evidence of their existence?"

"Yes! Now, do you grasp the urgency? Everything that seemed like a 'me issue' can be deduced to a living person's memories."

"Once upon a time living person. Your lieutenant died in the war, right?"

"Obviously, once upon a time. Otherwise, I wouldn't exist. But you're overlooking the most critical detail."

"What?"

"That Mai is Y/n's grandmother!" Antonella's eyes widened to their peak. She let out a gasp, a complete chaotic shock. Exactly this is how I wanted to react four days ago but I ended up having a whirlpool in me.

"That's... Wow. Alright, I can understand why you'd want to discuss this. But what about the 'lesser important deed'?" she inquired, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"Well," I began, a sheepish grin spreading across my face, "this is what I meant with the men things. I'm still hesitant to tell you."

She groaned, shaking her head with an amused smile. "Typical. But at least you didn't burn anything down, right?"

"No, just caused you to be the sole holder of the bishop certification," I confessed, laughing.

"Oh that, Y/n has already told me about your night with her. Come on, my little fool, Y/n and I are besties. I only encouraged you to confess your love because I knew she felt the same," she sighed, pulling out a bag of chips and handing it to me. "Here, you deserve these after that confession."

"Why does everyone know everything except me! I feel slighted not to be the first to reveal things."

"She also mentioned that you were quite impressive despite being a virgin. You have no right to be angry. After all, I had to endure an erotic recounting of my brother's night with my best friend. My ears have borne witness to a blasphemy!"

I accepted the chips gratefully, a warm feeling spreading through my chest. "Thanks, Noona. You're the best."

"Don't mention it," she said, ruffling my hair affectionately. "And I never took a vow of celibacy. I just never found the right choice like you, or the wrong circumstances like Jimin."

"I'll do my best," I promised, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Do best? For what?" she asked, tilting her head in amusement.