i miss the one i hate the most.
Baek-jeong sister!reader x Hong Woo-jin
genre: Angst with a happy ending. Like really, really angst. It really focus on your troubled relationship with Baek-jeong so if you are into family drama, go for it!
wc: 7k
warnings: extreme violence, fiancé!woo-jin, reader has a daughter, blood, coercion, mentions of death, swearing, attempted strangulation, almost major character death, a little surprise at the end (i wont spoil it)
synopsis: Your life was going really well. With Woo-jin as your future husband and also the father of your babygirl, you couldn't want anything different. However, everything changed when your brother called you with a infamous proposal.
a/n: my biggest reader insert so far, i loved writing this one so bad
taglist: @anothernerdsunny @shamidreamer @stargrillzz @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @jisoonnieslover @yhhhday @sanniegyu @alwayscamelot
It all started with a phone call.
The house was steeped in its usual quiet calm. Woo-jin was sitting in front of the TV, letting your daughter put makeup on him—a small ritual the two of them had silently agreed upon without ever saying it out loud. She was still too young to voice anything deeper than a request for her father's attention when he wasn't away at the gym, and Woo-jin understood perfectly how to read his little girl just through her actions.
It was the third time that week an unknown number had called you. Something inside you finally gave in, driven by an unwelcome curiosity. You had a vague idea of the trouble Woo-jin had gotten into with loan sharks in the past, and you knew this might be connected to that—but still, your urge to find out who was calling was stronger. Of course, you kept the constant harassment of those calls a secret. The last thing you wanted was for your fiancé to find out something suspicious was going on, especially with Gun-woo's final fight for a world title drawing near. The two of them had been completely focused on that for the past few weeks.
You stared at your phone screen one more time, then finally slid the button to answer the call. That was when your world changed.
"Hello?"
"Long time no see, dongsaeng."
That voice sent chills down your spine. Years had passed since you'd had any contact with him—with Im Baek-jeong, your older brother. You could almost feel him smirking on the other end of the line. You couldn't react, only respond with pure silence.
"Your life seems interesting now. Such a shame you didn't give me a heads-up about recent events." Your gaze instantly darted to your daughter and Woo-jin as you pressed the phone tighter against your ear. "You know how patient I can be with my little sister. I waited. But you still didn't say a word. I have to admit, I'm a bit disappointed."
"Oppa—" You turned away, moving out of the living room, panicked at the mere thought that Woo-jin might find out you were related to that monster.
"I'm not finished. Listen, what do you say to making things right? I have a small project. It's been evolving very well, but I feel that with your help, we could make it even better. You know you've always had a good eye for cinematography." It was true. That was your field now, but the idea of Baek-jeong undertaking any "project" didn't sound artistic in the slightest.
Again, you could only respond with silence. It was clearly a veiled threat.
"That said, this will take up a considerable amount of your time. I believe you'll need to get rid of any distractions."
Distractions. He could only mean… your family.
"I can't." You weren't sure where the courage to confront your brother came from—the words just slipped out.
"I don't think you understand, dongsaeng." His voice hardened. "You either come work for me, or I'll have to get rid of those distractions myself."
You felt like you were going to be sick. He was threatening even a small child. Your brother had truly managed to sink even lower.
"Oppa, please—"
"You have one week to leave your family. When you're ready, go to the Josun Palace hotel and identify yourself by your name. If you miss the deadline… I can't promise you'll like the outcome."
The line went dead.
[...]
That week passed strangely.
At times, things felt both too fast and too distant. The mornings when you woke up to your fiancé's good-morning kiss seemed to last only fractions of a second, and then he would disappear from your sight like a ghost impossible to catch. Yet the image of your daughter would paralyze you. When she looked at you with that tender, loving gaze, you felt the world around you freeze and your breath grow short. You knew Woo-jin might be able to handle you leaving—he was an adult, after all—but in that child's innocence, there wasn't a single shred of resilience to cope with a mother's absence.
But when it came to being a child, you felt like one in that moment.
At every opportunity, you tried to linger a little longer in Woo-jin's arms, to hold your little girl's hands just a few seconds more, even to stay a bit longer at Mrs. Yoon's café—where Gun-woo often showed up to help when the place was overwhelmed with customers. This was your family. Your world.
All this time, you had lied about having no relatives, about having nothing—so they became your everything. But now, your lie was beginning to demand answers.
Your strange behavior soon caught Woo-jin's attention, but you brushed it off. At least, for now. Saturday was when you would lay your cards on the table. As much as you could simply disappear, you felt that would be worse. He would search for you like a madman, and Baek-jeong would certainly not take that kindly. You could already imagine what your brother would do: leave your daughter without both parents.
When the fateful day arrived, you had already packed your things. Woo-jin came home late, as he usually did on Saturdays—after all, it was the day he pushed Gun-woo harder in training, reinforcing all the highs and lows from the week.
You were sitting on the living room sofa, staring at the TV as if something important was playing, but it was off. Beside you stood a suitcase and a large handbag. All your clothes were packed inside—everything you needed to disappear as promised.
Woo-jin stepped into the apartment as he always did casually, taking off his shoes before entering and slipping into his slippers, careful not to make the slightest noise that might wake your daughter. The smile on his face faded the moment he saw you, and the gym bag slipped from his shoulder, landing with a louder thud than intended.
Before he could say anything, you were faster.
"We need to talk."
Woo-jin slowly walked toward you and stopped nearby. His gaze kept flicking to your belongings as he processed what it all might mean.
"Yeah," he said finally, pulling his eyes away from the suitcase and bag. "What the hell are you doing, jagiya?"
"I'm moving in with someone else," you said flatly. The message would be completely misunderstood, even though you weren't exactly lying. Woo-jin tried to interrupt, but you chose to rip the bandaid off all at once. "I'm in love with another man."
The room fell silent for a few seconds as Woo-jin tasted something bitter in his mouth. Even so, he couldn't just accept it. There was too much at stake.
"I don't believe this. No, there's no way." He shifted restlessly. "What's the real reason? There has to be another reason."
Baek-jeong. You wanted to scream Baek-jeong.
"This is the reason. I can't keep living this double life anymore. It's too exhausting."
"Jagiya, we made love this week!" His voice rose, barely holding back. His tone alternated between a whisper and the beginning of a shout. "You looked me in the eyes, telling me you loved me the whole time. How am I supposed to believe something like this?"
You remembered, of course. You remembered his hand intertwined with yours, giving you a sense of security, admiring your fingers as if he'd never known anything different. The way his eyes shone gently in the near-darkness, how they refused to break contact. The way he showed himself physically vulnerable and in love in all those small ways.
"I wanted you to have one last good memory." It was such a low thing to say, but just thinking of your brother, you couldn't help yourself. "You were good to me all this time. I felt you deserved at least that much."
Woo-jin brought one hand to his hair and gripped it. It wasn't anger. It was something else, something deeper.
"I was so good to you that you sleep with me while lying that you love me? Just to leave a few days later like it's nothing? That's what you call being good to me?" He wasn't usually this harsh, but you deserved it. The more he tried to understand you, the more you kept spitting insults at his heart.
Silence.
"Answer me, damn it! What did this guy do that I didn't?"
He threatened to kill you and our daughter, you thought.
"Answer me!" Woo-jin repeated, and you saw—he wasn't angry. He was desperate.
"He's better than you! He's more financially stable, he's home more than you are, and he doesn't have a troubled past like yours!" You screamed back, rising from the sofa in reaction. You saw the exact moment Woo-jin broke.
You broke him.
Woo-jin simply froze, as if he'd been stabbed one more time—only this time, he wouldn't recover. Every insecurity he had came crashing down on his shoulders all at once, and you wondered where such cruelty had come from inside you. Maybe you really were Baek-jeong's sister.
"Minji-ya…" Your fiancé—now ex—finally spoke after the blow. "Who gets her?"
Minji, your little one sleeping in her room… You wanted to vomit just thinking about leaving her behind.
"You do. I don't want anything more to do with anything of yours."
Stop saying that—she's our daughter, not a "thing," you screamed silently.
Honestly, Woo-jin seemed incapable of being surprised anymore, so he didn't argue. Seeing that he had no more questions for you, and not wanting to prolong this torture any longer, you slipped your ring off your finger and placed it on the living room table. He watched the act as if in slow motion. Then you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, pulled your suitcase, and walked out of the apartment without looking back even once.
The absence of the ring around your finger already felt strange.
[...]
Josun Palace was as luxurious as you had seen in the photos.
The architecture was elegant, with high ceilings and lavish lighting. Just by looking at the kind of people wandering around the lobby, you understood perfectly that this place was not for you—not in the slightest. Elegant dresses, suits, designer handbags. It didn't match the ordinary clothes you had grabbed from the closet in a hurry.
Running away from a perfect life didn't exactly involve preparation.
You approached one of the receptionists, trying not to show a worn-out expression, only something casual—like someone with money to pay for a room. She looked at you with a hint of disdain, but it was her job to serve you regardless.
"How may I help you?"
"I have a reservation." The receptionist looked at you with curiosity for the first time.
"Name?"
You sighed and gave your name. There was no turning back now.
The woman in front of you changed her expression as if she'd seen a ghost. Now it was certain your brother was staying there. There would be no other reason for her to react like that.
"P-Penthouse," she said as she handed you a key card to access the floor.
You took the card and said nothing else, heading for the elevator. A few staff members offered to carry your luggage, but when they saw your destination, they occasionally made up an excuse, saying they had remembered a request from another guest.
As the elevator rose, you watched the numbers light up on each floor anxiously until finally the doors opened.
If the lobby was luxurious, the penthouse was unparalleled. You could almost breathe the money in every small detail, and you knew that if your brother was staying there, it was clearly not through legal means. Even so, this was no time to hesitate, so you pressed the card against the sensor of the massive doors, and they opened with a beep.
The scene before you was horrifying.
Blood, blood everywhere. Your brother was sitting casually with some men around him while others covered what appeared to be a body. His hands were bruised, clearly from beating that man. Your urge to vomit from that night seemed to accumulate more and more in your stomach, yet now was not the time to show any kind of surprise. This was Baek-jeong. What else did you expect?
"Dongsaeng." He smiled at you, stretching a little further on the leather sofa. Your entrance, plus the fact that Baek-jeong had called you his sister, was enough to draw everyone's attention. Even a man who seemed extremely focused on his laptop immediately lifted his eyes from it. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me."
Your hand tightened around the large shoulder bag. Just the sight of him disgusted you, but you held your feelings in check.
"Allen will walk you through all the details of the project." The man with the laptop on his lap gave a brief bow of his head as if you were someone important. "Ah, don't worry about the mess. My men are taking care of it. If I'd known you would arrive now, I would have hurried those useless idiots."
The mess… the body of whoever that person was on the floor. You tried not to stare, but Baek-jeong noticed.
"Don't worry about him, dongsaeng. He was just some nobody. He would have ended up like this eventually anyway."
You nodded on autopilot. Not because you agreed, but because you knew that body could have been yours, or your ex's, or your daughter's. It could have been anyone you knew, anyone you cared about. And now you had to behave.
That unfortunately meant closing your eyes to your brother's brutality.
[...]
Eventually, you were introduced to your new hell, the place you would now be part of: the IKFC, an illegal betting league for morbid fights.
Allen gave you all the details, more excited than any normal person should have been. His distorted eyes gleamed as he described the Bitcoin earnings from recent fights and his and Baek-jeong's ideas for the ones to come.
Your role was to handle the cameras, ensure the best angles, do whatever was necessary to attract more bettors. That meant watching and re-watching people being destroyed over and over again, whether in person or while editing the footage.
You vividly remember the first fight you witnessed, still in disbelief that there really was a group of people devoted to something so sick. You were provided with state-of-the-art equipment, better than anything you had ever used in your life.
Behind the camera, using the illusion of having a lens between you and the ring, you watched everything, almost as if you could distance yourself from the feeling of brutality and treat it like any other extreme violence movie. That escape mechanism worked for a while, until your brother proposed a death match. Allen wasn't fazed, so you quickly understood that this wasn't the first time they had tried something so gruesome.
Recording a person dying was not something you expected to experience in your life. Especially as the recorded man begged for his life, claiming he had a little daughter. Adik Belov. That would be a name you wouldn't forget.
You remember crying a little when his head was practically crushed. Your brother fought with you because your voice came through in the background and you had centered the camera too much on the floor instead of on him.
You spent the next dawn after that day fixing the mistakes in the recording while avoiding the thought that somewhere there was a little girl waiting for a father who would never come home.
[...]
"We should try this new champion."
You were editing an old video, adjusting the details to make it more "pleasing" to viewers. Your brother had ordered you to change all the previous formats because he liked your work, and for the past week, that was what you had focused on doing. Something inside you had switched off, and watching men reduced to blood only brought you apathy.
The conversation continued while you were distracted by your work.
"Kim Gun-woo, right? We made a good chunk of money off the guy who lost to him. Imagine how much we could make if we bring him in."
You knocked over a glass that was next to you the moment you heard that name. Your eyes widened. The room fell silent at your reaction.
Baek-jeong cracked a small smile, feigning curiosity. "What's wrong, dongsaeng? Something to add? Maybe a different lighting setup?"
You stood up with a determination you didn't know you had, leaving the laptop on the sofa and stopping in front of your brother. Everyone gulped, but Baek-jeong liked it. Only you could try to speak to him that way, only to fail miserably. He liked watching you try, liked making you feel how powerless you were in the dynamic between you two.
"Gun-woo-ya is out of the question."
"And who do you think you—" Baek-jeong silenced one of his partners with a wave of his hand.
"And why would he be out of the question?" Your brother continued. He knew exactly why you were desperate.
"You… You told me you wouldn't go after my family!" Your fists clenched in pure panic.
"I believe he doesn't exactly count as your family, dongsaeng. And I don't recall any promise either. Maybe you've mistaken your role here for false expectations."
"Then promise me! Promise me right now!" You no longer cared about the eyes watching your pathetic desperation or the way you grabbed your brother's forearm, feeling your skin burn from the act. Just imagining Gun-woo suffering the same fate as Adik hurt. "I'll do anything!"
"Nothing you do will make up for the amount of money I'll make from this." He finally answered, smiling at you. "And well, I need to make sure my potential investor is very satisfied."
Gun-woo… Gun-woo was in your brother's sights. If he was in your brother's sights, then Woo-jin would certainly get involved too. And Mrs. Yoon. And little Minji. Slowly, your worst nightmare was coming true.
And there was no alarm clock to wake you up.
[...]
In the days that followed, there wasn't a single moment when Gun-woo wasn't mentioned.
Baek-jeong was excited about the idea of fighting him. Just thinking about proving himself better than the current super middleweight world champion did things to his ego, since he had never accepted his defeat in the Olympics he had participated in.
You didn't forget that time—him climbing the podium to receive his hard-earned bronze medal. Regardless of the result, you felt immense pride in him, even though you knew your brother had never handled the idea of his placement well, and that it had culminated in an assault that drove him out of the sports world forever.
It all sounded almost like fiction. It was a distant time when you were still part of his life. When you still cheered for him. When you still… liked being his sister.
Knowing of your attachment to Gun-woo, he didn't let you leave his side for practically a single second, forcing you to watch the constant threats he made toward the boxer. However, when he thought you shouldn't have access to what the group was going to do—confidential information or violent operations—he forced you to lock yourself in your room in a twisted attempt to protect you. Maybe so you wouldn't know too much, or maybe so you wouldn't open your mouth.
That continued for a few days.
Until, due to one of Baek-jeong's subordinates' carelessness, the news that Woo-jin had been beaten reached your ears. It was a brief slip, a moment when they thought your door was closed, but your ear fit perfectly into the crack.
That finally woke you up. Your brother wasn't going to play by the rules he had set with you. In fact, he had taken you hostage inside his game without even giving you a turn where you could make your move.
You were just there, defenseless.
While the man you loved most was getting hurt amid all of this. While the man you loved most was suffering, thinking you only felt disgust for him and for the daughter you had conceived with such care. While the man you loved most might even die without knowing that you couldn't stand the idea of having broken his heart.
You wanted to call the police immediately.
The idea was stupid, you knew. In a situation where your environment was surrounded by illegal activity, it's not like you could be helped with a simple police intervention. You would need much more than that, and you couldn't prove any of this was happening. There was another more obvious reason: you had been deprived of your cell phone from the exact moment you entered that penthouse.
Everything had been thought out in the smallest details. Baek-jeong knew you well enough to know that at some point you would try to back out once you realized the kind of situation you were getting into. He had ensured in every way that you had no other choice.
But you would act. At the right moment. Somehow.
[...]
Eventually, after countless attempts, threats, and provocations, Baek-jeong finally managed to convince Gun-woo to accept his fight proposal.
The venue was an empty space as usual, the ring set up at the last minute by a team of people your brother had found God knows where. They could be just workers, or they could be yet another group of people complicit in that horror show, and it made you nervous. As you watched the ring being finalized in the smallest details, your mind was already racing: this was your golden opportunity. And perhaps your only one.
For a long time, you had stayed away from anyone close to you and from any opportunity for help. No, it would be better to say you had been kept away by Baek-jeong's false talk that this was compensation for spending so many years apart from the family. Something like "for old times' sake."
But now, things were different. You could have contact, even minimal, with Gun-woo.
In the midst of organizing the big event, you took the opportunity to disappear into the flow of people. The few who had noticed you were leaving the camera aside received a rough speech from you that women on their periods was something sacred, and you'd strangle anyone who didn't let you go to the bathroom. Your threat seemed to work, because no one said anything more, and generally speaking, you had never caused any trouble for the IKFC, so there was no reason to expect anything different now.
The only one who could suspect your changed behavior was your brother, but he was busy arranging some details before the big event. Finally, luck was turning your way.
After Gun-woo's arrival was announced, he was directed to an empty room to change and prepare. At the entrance, there were two guards. You cursed under your breath—maybe it wouldn't be as easy as you had thought. There was one last card you had avoided using until now, something only Baek-jeong knew. And well, it was time to finally use it.
"Im-ssi?" One of the men guarding the door looked at you as you approached. Your appearance was unexpected. "What's wrong? Do you need something?"
You took a deep breath. It had been a long time since you'd done something like this. You had even sworn to yourself that you would never use this skill again after seeing the monster your brother had become by acquiring it.
The other guard was about to ask you something equally curious when you struck him with a single punch to the stomach. Even with the difference in size and strength, your precision in hitting that spot had been enough, and the man fell unconscious.
Eyes wide, the other man—the one who had initially spoken to you—froze. He was torn between what he had just witnessed and what he should do. Hurting his boss's sister didn't sound good, but making sure Gun-woo didn't escape so that the fight could happen without problems was his job.
"I just want to talk to him," you finally said, pointing toward the door. The hand you had used to throw that fateful punch hurt a little, but you ignored it. "I'm not going to try anything that will hurt your work. But if you don't want to do it willingly…" Your gaze now focused on the fallen body between you. "Unfortunately, I won't have a choice."
For the first time in a long time, you stopped being seen as prey and started being seen as a predator. And then, reluctantly, he let you pass.
When you entered, Gun-woo was sitting on a bench with his back to you. His clothes were tossed carelessly on the floor next to him, and he seemed to be putting on his shorts for the fight. For that brief minute, you didn't care that you were seeing your friend—almost a brother—in his underwear. Just the sight of him so close was enough to ignore that detail.
You couldn't hold back your emotion and ran toward him, ready to hug him from behind, but Gun-woo's reflexes could never be underestimated—he quickly turned and elbowed you in the face, anticipating an ambush.
You staggered back from the blow, feeling a little blood trickle from your nose.
That was when he saw you, and the world stopped.
Gun-woo's eyes widened, and his breath seemed to fail. After the night you had left home, everyone had lost contact with you. Even he, your best friend, had been unable to exchange a single message with you. That had felt strange to him. It would have made sense given what you had told Woo-jin—that you didn't want to communicate with your ex—but Gun-woo had never done anything to you to justify that distance between you two.
Now, as the pieces fell into place—the people caught in Baek-jeong's web of threats, that damned IKFC, the fact that he had been forced here after reaching his limit… your disappearance was the cherry on top.
The man in front of you grabbed you by the arms in clear desperation, ignoring how he was practically undressed. The situation screamed louder.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Gun-woo stopped at the sight of blood dripping from your nose, and he quickly connected the dots to the elbow he had thrown in self-defense. "Sorry, I didn't—"
"Gun-woo-ya." Your gaze was firm. "That doesn't matter now. I'm fine. Listen, I don't have much time." The boxer nodded, choosing silence. "I didn't leave because I wanted to. Baek-jeong threatened me."
That made sense. You were close to him, so it made sense that he would have kidnapped you. But the order of events didn't fit. You had disappeared long before Baek-jeong showed any interest in fighting him or any mention of the IKFC.
"So that's why you and hyung…?"
You sighed.
"I would never leave him on my own. I…" You told yourself to be brief, but your anguish was stronger. "And Minji-ya?"
"We're taking good care of her. Don't worry about that now. But we should tell hyung that—"
"No." Your tone was firm in a way you wished it could always be. It was obvious you were dying to explain the whole situation to the man you loved most. "No, if he finds out, he'll act impulsively. You know him better than I do. And I already heard what they did to him. I can't deal with that anymore." Tears tried to escape your control, but you were stronger. "I need a favor."
Gun-woo fell silent, ready for anything within his capacity.
"I'm going… I'm going to record the damn video of your fight today. You don't have to understand right now. But I'm going to leave a message somewhere in it. Enough for the police to track us. It'll be almost imperceptible. That's all I can tell you for now. So go there. Fight. Give your best."
That didn't make sense. It couldn't. Did that mean you were with them?
You read Gun-woo's expression easily.
"Yes, I work for the IKFC." You said as you walked toward the door, your back to him. You refused to look into those gentle eyes—you didn't want to cry or give him time to question you. Because what he had for you were questions. Your gaze noticed the metal pieces lying uselessly in front of him. Of course he felt repulsed by them. "You should wear them. They don't care about fair boxing around here."
And then you left, wondering if your best friend probably felt some contempt for you for going along with all of this.
[...]
The outcome of Gun-woo's fight was already expected.
You recorded everything with your body trembling. You wanted to enter into the ring and stop that madness. Gun-woo had managed to defeat the first man, but your brother showed not a shred of mercy, even smiling at you in some frames. Your friend's screams echoed through the empty venue, and Allen just fidgeted excitedly with his laptop, clearly satisfied with the earnings that fight was bringing in. It was at that exact moment that you added the location in the corner of the screen. Tiny numbers. You prayed someone would notice.
You had to endure. No matter how painful, no matter how much blood was spilled… No matter that you saw Gun-woo dragging himself through something that was no longer a fight but a massacre. Damn it, why do I have such a cursed brother? You bit your lower lip and only made it worse when you tasted a faint hint of iron. Your anger was so big you hadn't noticed until that moment.
Baek-jeong finally knocked Gun-woo out.
It was over, you thought. Time to turn off the camera and take a deep breath. Eventually, it would all end. You would be found, and this nightmare would end. You would go back to Woo-jin and Minji. But the story wasn't that simple.
Your brother stomped so hard on Gun-woo's shoulder that just from the sound, you were certain he had broken it. That wasn't part of the plan… It was supposed to be a normal fight. That's what the group had planned. Had you misunderstood? But when you looked to the side, Allen looked equally surprised, and both of you held your breath.
"I've waited so long for this. You rejected my invitation so many times. Honestly, I imagined it would be a more interesting matchup." Baek-jeong said, crouching down to the height of Gun-woo's destroyed body. Gun-woo just looked back with a mix of anger and weakness.
Maybe he would have had a chance if he had listened to you and put on the metal guards—everything would have been different.
"But look at you. A world champion, so pathetic." Your brother said as he lifted Gun-woo's face off the floor by his hair to look at him with disgust. "The level has really dropped in the time I've been away." Baek-jeong landed a hard punch to his nose to break that too, and easily succeeded. "I'll make sure this doesn't happen again. The world should belong only to the strong."
Baek-jeong let go of Gun-woo's hair and stood up, circling the champion's body as he struggled to breathe. Your friend had no time to recover, and it was becoming crueler and crueler. Even crueler than Adik's death. Crueler than anything you had ever watched. Your brother stopped near Gun-woo's neck and placed his foot on it. You immediately understood: he intended to kill him by breaking his neck.
You lost control and abandoned the camera in such desperate speed that it fell to the floor, continuing to record—but now only the floor of the ring where Gun-woo writhed in agony. The tiny message you had placed in the recording was still present.
In desperation, you entered into the ring. That was when you pulled Baek-jeong off Gun-woo. Gun-woo tried to look at you, but only managed to spit blood, his body curling further into a fetal position.
"Stop, you're going to kill him!" You screamed at your brother. Despite the troubled relationship between you two, you still had the effect of stunning him for a few brief seconds, like a ghost from the past. That gave you enough time to crouch down and check on Gun-woo's condition. Then you whispered to him. "I sent it… Please, hold on."
You had no time before Baek-jeong kicked you, sending your side into the iron bars of the ring. It hit so hard that you spat blood.
"You were doing so well, dongsaeng." Despite being beaten, that didn't lessen the surprise on Gun-woo's face when he heard the honorific. "All this time, you were doing everything so right. I thought we could get along again. Like old times."
You stood up with difficulty, leaning your body against the bars.
"You don't care about old times. You haven't for years. All because of that damned bronze medal." Baek-jeong's eyes blazed with a fury he hadn't shown even during his fight against Gun-woo. You had touched a very intimate wound, something he hadn't gotten over and probably never would.
"You've always been like this." Now he walked slowly toward you, almost as if savoring your weakness in front of someone so much larger than you, someone so much powerful. "Always wanting me to get used to being a failure. To get used to less when I could be more. I am so much more. So much more than that pathetic guy you knew."
"I never stopped knowing my brother.''
That was when his hand went brutally around your neck, lifting you off the ground. Your legs fought back, trying to kick him anywhere to break free.
"Then maybe you never really knew me, dongsaeng." His hand tightened around your neck, and you felt the air slowly stop coming in. It was a tight squeeze, but also controlled. He didn't want you to go that quickly. No. He wanted to watch you struggle because there was no greater adrenaline rush than seeing someone desperately trying to live. "I was born to be a winner, and if you think I settle for anything less, then you really don't share the same blood as me."
The constriction grew stronger, and you were already struggling to breathe. There was so much hatred in his eyes… So much hatred for you. But deep down, you wanted to believe that hatred wasn't directed at you personally. Maybe it was because you reminded him of how much he wanted to be more, of what he couldn't accept about his own perfectionism. Maybe he hated looking at you and remembering that you had once shared moments of love. Maybe he hated looking at you and remembering that bronze medal he had thrown away because he couldn't accept less.
Maybe he hated hating you.
"Oppa… You've always been a winner." You said, eyes full of tears. Now there was no pride left, no time left. If he wanted you gone, at least let you disappear with your own truth.
For a moment, Baek-jeong just stared at you. The grip loosened subtly. It was as if he had been touched—perhaps by the same happy memories the two of you had once shared together. But it was a glimpse of a good ending. And your brother was already too lost to see happy endings after everything he had done.
He brought his second hand to your neck, and this time, he unloaded all his frustration at once.
You could hear Gun-woo's screams as he dragged himself across the floor toward the two of you, desperate to grab Baek-jeong by the legs. But his voice was getting farther away. Everything seemed farther and farther away. And you wondered if you had done everything possible to be a good sister.
The last thing you heard was a gunshot, followed by a grunt, and sirens. But among that wave of sounds, a male voice… a familiar one too.
Then everything went dark.
[...]
When you woke up, your eyes first met an unfamiliar white ceiling. You heard a rhythmic beeping—a heart rate monitor—and around you was an oxygen mask along with a needle in your arm through which you seemed to be receiving medicine and nutrients. You were alive. You were alive. Alive. That information wouldn't properly sink in no matter how many times you repeated it. You knew there was a chance your coordinate plan would work, but you never imagined it would grant you a miracle.
Taking a deep breath, you sat up. How much time had passed? That caught the attention of a nurse who was checking a gurney near yours. She cheerfully went to contact the doctor responsible for your case, and soon a middle-aged man with glasses and slightly gray hair, holding a clipboard, stood before you.
"You were lucky, Im-ssi," the doctor said calmly, then gave a gentle smile. "A little longer, and the two of you wouldn't have made it."
You found it strange that he mentioned two people. Your mind automatically associated that with Gun-woo.
"Is Kim Gun-woo also in this hospital?"
The doctor nodded, but there was something else in the older man's eyes. "But I'm not talking about you and him."
You furrowed your brows in confusion. Maybe the gunshot you had heard had hit Baek-jeong—maybe he was in bad shape too?
The older man, seeing the confusion on your face, detached a paper from the clipboard he was carrying and placed it near your eyes. You held it with both hands, your fingers trembling as you read the words. Pregnancy result: positive.
"It's still early. About three weeks, but it was already detectable on the test."
That was your limit.
Even nearly dying at your own brother's hands hadn't hurt as much as holding that piece of paper. The words were too heavy, and you couldn't take it anymore—you started crying desperately. The doctor and nurse exchanged surprised looks. When you couldn't stop and were sobbing, the woman quickly brought you a glass of water.
That intense night three weeks ago when you made love to Woo-jin because you knew it would be the last time, and the argument days later about how you didn't want anything more from him, didn't want Minji anymore, how your earlier life was unbearable—it was all there inside your womb as a precious punishment. How could you carry a piece of the man you loved so much, knowing you had destroyed his heart so coldly? Knowing you had abandoned a child behind?
And now another was coming. It would look at you. And always remind you of how detestable you could be to those who mattered most.
As reality slowly sank in, you stopped crying. This would be a burden to carry alone. The sedative and the privacy you were given also helped you feel more grounded. Again, you felt alone in the world. Now more than ever, your brother had made it clear that you could never be anything to each other, your parents were no longer alive, and you had destroyed your own family.
That was when the door to the room burst open, slamming loudly.
"Ajeossi, you can't just barge in like that!"
"Jagiya!"
You felt your breath stop. That voice was his. Woo-jin.
Your eyes followed the direction of the shout, but before you could say anything—anything at all—the trainer practically jumped on you, pulling you into a tight hug.
"Jagiya… Jagiya…" Woo-jin kept murmuring the pet name, squeezing you tighter and tighter. His arms trembled around your body. When he finally gave you a moment to breathe, you saw that he was crying.
You were lost for a moment. How many more times would you make that man fall apart for you? And those tears… what did they mean exactly? Why had he hugged you so tightly? And why did it feel so good, so right?
You opened your mouth, but no words came out.
"Gun-woo-ya told me everything," he said, placing his warm hands on your shoulders, not taking his eyes off you for a single second—as if afraid your image would dissolve. "I mean, he didn't tell me everything. He told me only what he understood that night. But he said you were threatened into going and that that bastard is your brother. I should have realized sooner. I should have…"
"Woo-jin—" you tried to begin, but he didn't let you, continuing to throw words everywhere.
"I should have gone after you that night. You were acting so strange. And Minji-ya… you would never do that to her. No matter what happened between us, you would never leave our little girl behind like that."
Then your instinct—now doubly maternal—was faster.
"How is she?"
"She's fine. Eomma is taking care of her. Please, don't worry so much about us right now. You just woke up after being unconscious for days."
"I don't have that kind of time to waste. I have important things. I… Woo-jin, I need to tell you—"
Then he gave you a warm smile.
"I already know."
Your heart raced. Even without having said it out loud, your ex—now yours again—was looking at you with the same tenderness he had looked at you when you announced your first pregnancy, when you had looked at the test together, anxious.
"Look, none of what I said was true… I never meant—"
"I know that too."
You found yourself unable to say anything else in the face of such unconditional love. Then Woo-jin hugged you again. Now without tears, without sadness, without despair. You allowed yourself to hug him back, pouring into him all the trauma of the past weeks—and perhaps even years. Because now he knew you were Im Baek-jeong's sister, but he also knew that he loved you anyway.
