“A week exactly before I heard about Haram moving in.
After my adoptive father was discharged, I spent every day clutching my head, drowning in dread.
‘Why the hell did I end up inside a crazy novel? And as the crazy guy’s brother, at that?’
‘Oo.’
‘So it’s a dream after all…? No, where on earth does a dream last a year? And everything feels way too real.’
‘Baa.’
‘Ha, I really don’t get it. I thought I’d finally get to coast in this life, and then—what is this…’
‘Ow.’
‘Why do you keep “ow-ow”-ing? Shut it, you future criminal!’
I looked down coldly into the cradle at Seolheon Baek… no, Wooheon Baek, surrounded by all sorts of flashy mobiles. Obviously I only said it after making sure no one was near the nursery.
‘This brat is really… going to be a future kidnapper-jailer-stalker-sex-crime-psychopath?’
I remembered the internet calling that type of guy a “mad top,” or was it “obsessive mad top,” some slang like that.
A baby brother who had looked so cute and adorable right after birth now seemed horrific.
Not just a little brother—the obsessive one. The mad top.
‘I mean, objectively, he is ridiculously pretty.’
No. No. Don’t be fooled by his face.
He’s not an angel; he’s the devil’s own!
Then an old internet meme I’d seen once popped into my head.
[Before you stands a newborn baby who is Hitler! What do you do with the newborn?]
[Save → upvote! Handle it swiftly → downvote!]
[Upvote 124 / Downvote 3,281]
Of course the majority said they’d take the extreme option themselves.
But if you were actually put in that situation…
“Haaaaaah.”
How could you not agonize like this.
“Eh-oo.”
“You look carefree, don’t you? Like you don’t care what I’m going through.”
For someone who can’t talk, he sure “talked” a lot.
Anytime I muttered to myself, he’d babble back like that.
“Whew, quick bathroom break.”
“Uu…”
The moment I started to move, he suddenly scrunched up his face.
He looked like he’d burst into tears any second.
“Every time I’m out of your sight, you start to cry. What is your deal?”
“Uu…”
“Tied to you like this, I can’t even go anywhere in peace… Don’t tell me you’re trying to get revenge on me for what the trashy older brother did?”
“Uu—uu!”
“Don’t cry. You’ll wake your dad.”
I glanced toward the living room, where my adoptive father had crashed asleep on the sofa.
Right then, this brat suddenly wriggled like he was going to climb out of the cradle.
“Hey! What if you fall and get—hurt…”
I barely caught the slipping baby and wrapped him up, and my words trailed off.
…What exactly do I want to do with this kid?
“Should I leave this house?”
No matter how much my body rebelled at living under the same roof as a maniac, it’s not like I can throw out a little one who can’t even talk.
At the very least, before I leave I should press my adoptive parents hard about character education, and if I ever meet Haram again, I should warn him again and again about this kid…
“Huh?”
He squeezed my finger tight.
Pretty strong grip for a baby.
“Let go.”
“…”
“I said, let go.”
He didn’t answer; he just stared at me with dark blue eyes.
Catching the noonday sun, those eyes shifted back to a watery blue. They looked like the clear stream running through a high mountain… as if to say he, too, was nothing but an innocent, guileless child.
‘…What the hell.’
In the novel, this child is the trash who sexually abused an Omega named Haram.
But at the same time…
He’s also the child my tearful adoptive parents struggled so hard to have.
They’re the same person, yet one thing is different.
“Are you Wooheon Baek, or Seolheon Baek?”
That one thing is the name I gave him.
“…”
“Don’t ignore me. Answer.”
I knew it was an impossible demand for a newborn, but the novel’s bastard kept flashing up and I couldn’t help but glare.
“So when are you letting go of my finger?”
“…”
“You little punk. Ignoring me?”
Looks like the standoff will be long today, too.
“Let’s see who wins—you or me.”
“I think Geonho is avoiding Seolheon, isn’t he?”
“You felt that too?”
“Yeah. Even when I tell him to hold the baby, he flatly refuses. He claims he’s scared he’ll hold the baby wrong and make him uncomfortable, but…”
Yeonhee Baek let out a long sigh and pressed her forehead.
Jaeseo Park wore the same troubled look. The birth had gone smoothly despite their fertility issues, but the fatigue still showed on his face.
“Maybe it’s because he’s adopted—he feels lonely.”
They often sent Geonho into the nursery under the excuse of housework, but he couldn’t last ten minutes before getting restless.
They could feel how uncomfortable and awkward he was, and that made them uneasy too.
“This won’t do. I should find an adoptive family community and get counseling—!”
“Honey! Come here.”
Just then Jaeseo peeked into the room and called softly.
“Look.”
“…!”
Yeonhee looked inside, started in surprise, and then smiled.
“Hehe, maybe we worried for nothing.”
On the broad floor bed, half-sitting, Geonho had dozed off—with his finger caught in Seolheon’s grip through the rails of the cradle.
They were breathing evenly, in almost the same rhythm.
“They’re holding hands so tight.”
Maybe he’d flailed around trying to pry free and then fallen asleep.
Imagining it, the couple burst into laughter.
“They look like real brothers.”
“Yeah. Maybe a hundred times more than my own.”
“Sis…”
“Sorry. I promised not to talk about the Baek family anymore.”
A wry shade crossed Yeonhee’s face.
“I hope they learn there are things more important than that thin thread called blood.”
“Let’s trust our Geonho. He’ll get along with Seolheon.”
“Right. We’ll believe it. He’s a smart kid…”
And then Yeonhee remembered—
A beautiful woman with the same ebony-black hair and gray eyes as Geonho.
“Just like when Jiyoung trusted me and left Geonho in my care.”
Ping—an alert chimed.
“Jaeseo. One moment.”
Leaving Jaeseo glued to the door, Yeonhee stepped away, opened her phone carefully, and checked the message.
[Sender: Father]
“Looks like I couldn’t hide everything after all…”
Clicking her tongue at the unwelcome name, she opened it.
“I heard there was good news for Jaeseo.”
“I already knew the room number, but I didn’t bother dropping by—so you know.”
Her teeth clenched on their own as she read.
Wasn’t he the one who used to shout that an Omega who couldn’t even have a child was half a man? And now he plays nice, calling him “son-in-law.”
“You can’t cut ties with your family forever, Yeonhee.”
Mind your own business.
She was about to type that when another alert popped.
“How’s Lee Jiyoung’s brat doing?”
Yeonhee’s face went visibly pale.
Her father wasn’t only interested in Seolheon—now he was eyeing Geonho too.
A very bad sign.
About a week into my standoff with the baby—whether he’s Seolheon Baek or Wooheon Baek—
The golden-haired baby angel showed up at our door, holding a rice-cake platter as big as his face.
“When you found Haram the other day, he acted so grown-up. However did you raise him to be that smart?”
“Hahaha! Geonho was born that way! We just fed him well and put him to bed, and he grew up like that on his own.”
“My goodness.”
“We were worried there aren’t many kids his age in the complex, so we’re so glad Haram came.”
“So are we. I hope Geonho and Haram become good friends.”
While the laughter of stay-at-home dads drifted from the living room, Haram tugged and tugged at my collar.
“Hyung!”
“…”
“Hyung, what should we play!”
“…”
“Geonho hyung?”
In the end, Haram learned my name.
Not from me—my adoptive parents blurted it to his family.
“Damn it, I forgot again! Haram and Wooheon were childhood playmates!”
Then, when Haram hit middle school, he moved away, and they reunited in their twenties—that was chapter one.
But that he’d be my next-door neighbor? I had no idea. Was that ever mentioned? I’m pathetic for forgetting most of the setup…!
“Hyung! Why are you ignoring me!”
So that means the Geonho Baek who’s my body now already knew Haram.
It was an unavoidable meeting anyway, huh.
“I’m going to lose my mind…”
“Lose your mind? What’s ‘loseyourmind’?”
“Nothing.”
“Hyung keeps talking to himself. Boring.”
Since I kept spacing out, Haram switched targets.
“I’m going to play with him, not with Geonho hyung.”
“Hey, wait…!”
He headed for a certain cradle. Inside it was—
“Baby. I’m a hyung too. Say ‘Haram hyung!’”
—an infant with black hair and blue eyes.
A criminal seedling (one month old) who would someday do this and that to Haram himself.
“Geonho hyung, can’t he talk?”
“He’s a one-month-old.”
“Then how big until he talks?”
“I dunno. I wish he’d never talk in his whole life.”
My honest feelings slipped out before I knew it, and Haram tilted his head.
“Why? Hyung doesn’t want to play with him?”
‘Is that even a question.’
For the past month, I’ve dodged Seolheon like mad and racked my brain for ways—any ways—not to get caught up in something so tragic and horrific.
But what’s the point of scheming when the world itself is hell-bent on mashing Haram and Wooheon together to cook up a catastrophe.
“I want to play with Geonho hyung, and him, the three of us.”
Don’t say insane things, Haram! If you knew what’s going to happen to you…
‘Ah, damn—wait. I think there was a three-person scene too.’
So this is what the curse of knowledge feels like. My brain kept filling with a clammy shade of red.
…No. Stop thinking, Geonho Baek. We agreed not to imagine the novel’s sordid scenes with kids.
“Hyung. You really won’t play?”
“I’ve got stuff to think about.”
Just as I refused him again—
“Hyung. Do you hate your little brother?”
“…What?”
The out-of-nowhere question speared me in the chest.
“Since earlier, Hyung keeps trying not to look at Seolheon.”