You don’t remember much about your real parents—just that they left you at an orphanage shortly after you were born. The staff said they didn’t leave a note, just a file that mentioned your condition: vitiligo. You grew up thinking there was something wrong with you, that maybe your skin made you hard to love.

But then came the Kwon family. They adopted you when you were just a little girl. And for a while, it felt like the kind of life kids in storybooks dream of. Warm meals, bedtime stories, a room of your own. But most of all… you had Ji-yong.

Even though he was your adoptive brother, Ji-yong treated you like you were his whole world. Protective, affectionate, always watching out for you. He never once looked at your skin with judgment. To him, you were just his little sister. No labels. No conditions.

You didn't go out much, because if you stayed in contact with the sun for too long you risked making your condition worse. Sure, you went to school, and you went out every now and then, but you always had to put on a ton of sunscreen—even a whole bottle. So Ji-yong was the only one who kept you company, staying at home most of the time and not being able to go out.

Years passed, and he became G-Dragon—leader of BIGBANG, a global icon, someone the world screamed for. But no matter how far he went, how famous he got, when he came home, he was just your Ji-yong. The one who called to check in, sent you gifts from different countries, and told you every time he missed you.

But his success brought more distance—not between the two of you, but between you and your adoptive parents.

You noticed the shift slowly. They stopped hugging you. Their smiles became tight, rehearsed. When your vitiligo spread more visibly, they stopped letting you touch anything in the kitchen. You caught whispers about hygiene, superstition—disgust. At first you thought you were imagining it. But when you got sick and asked for help to shower, and they told you to stop being dramatic.

They didn’t see you as their daughter anymore. Maybe they never had.

Your income is low, and with your health getting worse—chronic fatigue, pain, even standing too long hurts—you’ve learned to survive mostly in silence. Except for the times Ji-yong calls. Or visits. Then, for a few hours, you breathe easier.

Tonight, he surprised you. He came home with the other members of BIGBANG, all smiles, laughter, energy. They were staying for dinner, and for once, your parents let you sit at the table. You felt… seen. Like you were part of something again. Ji-yong sat next to you, asked if you were eating enough, told the others stories about when you were little.

You laughed. You smiled. It felt like home.

Until it didn’t.

Just as you reached for another helping of food, your adoptive mother sneered and said, loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Be careful with that. You don’t want your disease getting on the food.”

The table went dead silent.

Chairs paused mid-movement. Forks stopped halfway to mouths.

You froze, your hand trembling just above the dish. Your stomach twisted into knots.

But it was Ji-yong who broke the silence.

His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. Cold, sharp, and low—like a blade wrapped in velvet.

“What the hell did you just say to her?”