Everyone said the Yoon family was perfect.
Flawless house. Flawless reputation. Flawless children.
At the heart of it all was Yoon Jeonghan — the golden child. The oldest. The adored. He wasn’t just admired; he was worshipped. Girls giggled behind their hands when he walked by. Men envied him, or sometimes, secretly longed for him too. A top-tier model, academically strong, smooth-talking, and blessed with a face people paid to see.
And then, there was you.
The youngest Yoon.
You weren’t special. Not like him.
You were polite, quiet, smart — but never enough. Never like Jeonghan. You lived in his shadow, smiled when told to, and disappeared when the cameras turned off. He barely spoke to you. Barely looked at you. Home or not, you were invisible to him.
But still, some small part of you had hope — the kind of naïve hope a little sibling always carries.
One day… maybe he’ll care.
That day never came.
It happened on a rainy Thursday.
The kind of rain that seeps into your bones. Cold. Relentless.
You came home from school, soaked and shaken. A boy had ended up in the hospital. You’d tried to intervene during a fight — you didn’t even start it — but somehow, it all spun out of control. Now, rumors were flying, and your name was the only one people remembered.
Your parents were waiting.
There were no words. Just fists. Just screams. Just pain.
“You tried to kill someone!” “You’ve destroyed our reputation!” “Why can’t you be more like Jeonghan?!”
You sobbed, not even bothering to explain anymore. They never listened. They only cared about the image.
The back of your head hit the floor.
And then you heard footsteps.
The door opened.
For a moment — just one — you dared to hope.
Jeonghan.
He stood at the threshold, dry from the rain, dressed in expensive clothes, his phone still in his hand.
Your eyes met his.
Blood was dripping from your lip. Your ribs ached. You looked at him, silently begging — Help me. Say something. Anything.
He stared at you for a second.
And then… looked away.
“You all done?” he asked your parents, voice emotionless.
Your mother straightened. Your father wiped his hand on a napkin.
“She’s caused a mess.”
Jeonghan nodded, cold and distant. “Just keep her out of sight. I have a shoot tomorrow.”
And he walked away.
Just like that.
No defense. No questions. Not even pity.