THE LEAVE

Cooking was an art.

Little Namjoon realized this when he helped his parents in the kitchen, eagerly handing them spices, spatulas, or pot lids whenever they asked. Though his contributions were small, he tackled each task with cheerful enthusiasm, knowing it was all he could manage.

Everyone else knew this too-especially after the iconic incident.

One dreadful day, Namjoon took it upon himself to make coffee for the family and friends who had come over. What he didn't realize was that he'd forgotten to turn off the stove, nearly suffocating them all in a cloud of carbon monoxide.

Thankfully, modern technology had since replaced Moka pots with electric coffee makers, a change that allowed him to fuel himself with caffeine a decade later without risking his loved ones.

But this morning, it seemed his energy had drained faster than ever as he cleaned up the mess Eunha and Minji had created.

The smell of burnt toast still lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of dish soap. His body screamed for rest, longing to slip back under the covers and pretend this morning's chaos was just another bad dream. Sadly, reality demanded otherwise, and he still had to check on Eunha and Minji, hoping to prevent them from scratching each other's faces like wild cats.

He wondered how their incoherent, senseless bickerings always ended up so intense. Maybe it was one of those frustrating mysteries of siblings and cousins no one could unravel. Either way, he didn't have time to waste pondering.

Tossing his empty mug into the washbasin, he trudged upstairs, his legs feeling like lead. He was barely twelve feet away from Minji's room when he saw Eunha slipping out, looking mildly irritated.

"Hey," Namjoon called, startling her.

"Oh, hey!" she replied with a quick smile. "Finished cleaning up downstairs?"

"Yeah," he said. "How's Minji? Doing any better?"

"All cool and freshened up. I ordered miso soup for him and chicken noodle soup for us. Thought it'd be nice after the morning we had."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

Eunha shifted her weight, humming softly, the weariness in her eyes evident. "Yep. I'm gonna go shower. You should too, Joon. How about we have the soup together in your room after?"

"Sure thing." Namjoon nodded, stifling a yawn as he mirrored her stretch. "Tired" didn't begin to cover how he felt. Between the workload he'd shouldered over the past two years and the chaos of this morning, he was completely drained, both mentally and physically.

But he knew he had to keep pushing through until he could finally rest. He wished that day would come soon. For now, though, he settled for a long, warm bath and the thought of a comforting meal afterward. Leaving for Seoul could wait until late afternoon.

Growing up, Namjoon had learned a few hard truths: good things didn't last, time was never on his side, and he'd have to keep running, always one step behind.

After his brief but rejuvenating bath and a late breakfast at 1:58 PM, he found himself back at it, packing luggage and doing one last set of checks. Meanwhile, Eunha lounged on his bed, humming thoughtfully.

"What's with you, Sherlock?" he asked her.

"Joon," she murmured, and he responded with a hum.

Turning to look at him, she voiced a doubt that had clearly been nagging at her. "Are you sure you enrolled us in the right university and rented a good apartment nearby?"

Namjoon threw his hands up, accidentally zipping his finger in the process. A muffled yell of Eunha's name escaped his mouth as he sucked on his throbbing finger, inspecting the angry red marks the zipper had left.

"Do you need a band-aid?" she asked, concern flooding her voice.

Namjoon shook his head. "I might be clumsy, but I'm not forgetful," he assured, addressing her earlier worry. "Now, if you're done being completely useless, help me get these suitcases to the car."

Eunha pouted but helped, her expression turning eager as he handed her the car keys-a rare treat.

"So, what's the Seoul University cafeteria like?" she pestered him, unleashing a barrage of questions. "Is it really bigger, like they say? Do they serve croissants? Is it more of a country-food kind of place or junk food central?"

Namjoon huffed, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself. "Looked decent in the pictures. Though I'll be sure to warn them to stock up since my little sister, with the appetite of a bear straight out of the Ulsan Zoo, is joining."

Eunha halted, crossing her arms with mock indignation. "Joon! It's rude to joke about the place we both come from."

He shot back, "I was born in Ilsan."

"A zoo is a zoo," she retorted. "Ilsan or Ulsan-doesn't matter."

"You little-"

Before he could finish, she squealed, skipping ahead before he could retort further, leaving him to shake his head with an amused, weary smile.

"Watch your steps on the stairs!"

Her laughter echoed back, joined by the heavy thudding of her feet, only for silence to fall abruptly. Frowning, Namjoon followed her trail, soon spotting her hasty exit from the house.

Something seemed off. But then, a movement caught his eye. A woman-her back to him-sat on the living room couch, her stance somehow familiar.

"I thought I'd have the house to myself once you two were gone," Hae Ji quipped, sipping her herbal tea. "I see that's not the case."

Namjoon hesitated, uncomfortable. "We were just about to leave," he said, gesturing at the suitcase beside him.

Hae Ji nodded dismissively. "Well, I suppose that'll work. After all, I've put up with your unbearable sister for two years. What harm could two more minutes do?" She laughed, a hard edge to her voice.

Namjoon tried to smile, but it felt strained. He'd always understood Eunha's dislike of Hae Ji, but her disdain for Eunha felt confusing and oddly intense. And then she revealed the reason.

"She was nothing but trouble," she sneered. "Caused all my anti-aging wrinkles, a burden to manage. Always a brat, never following my instructions, picking petty fights with Minji. It's a relief she's finally out of my hair."

"That's enough," Namjoon snapped, his protective instinct flaring. "I know she can be difficult, and your dislike has always been obvious. But she is not a burden-and certainly not to you. I would have taken her with me if I could have. And don't forget, this house belongs to her. So I'd watch your words if I were you."

Hae Ji laughed again, her tone almost maniacal. "Oh, so you've got a tongue now, Namjoon. I thought only your sister was raised that way by Hyejun."

Namjoon clenched his jaw. "Don't talk about my father that way," he warned. "He was kind enough to ignore the schemes you fed his younger brother to turn against him. But I won't. I saw how you and Uncle undermined his business over the years. Consider this an open warning-stop your malpractice now. Minji won't appreciate seeing his parents behind bars."

Namjoon couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment toward his father for not dealing with them more firmly when he had the chance. But then, Hyejun had loved his little brother deeply. Years ago, when his brother had turned up at his doorstep, destitute after his business in Seoul went under, Hyejun had welcomed him with open arms. He even gave him a job at his new Daegu branch and let him stay with his family.

It hadn't taken long, though, for Namjoon to see through their deceit. And now, as he stared down Hae Ji, he regretted every second he'd left Eunha alone here. He could only imagine what she'd endured these past two years.

With a grim promise to himself, Namjoon walked out the door, vowing to never let Eunha face such treatment alone again.