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After three years, I received a call from my sister again.
“Yunjae, Dad… passed away… aren’t you coming?”
I didn’t even feel like crying.
After all, he wasn’t really my father.
I returned to my childhood home on a hot summer day.
And my sister, whom I saw for the first time in so long, was still as delicate and beautiful as ever.
I know I have to hide these feelings no matter what.
But it’s not as easy as I wish it were.
“I’m sorry, Yunjae…
I’m sorry for being your sister… someone as filthy as me.”
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