A tear slowly welled up from the corner of Kei’s eye. He still stared at the ceiling, not bothering to wipe it away. Kei felt that even moving just one more fingertip would cause him to shatter into pieces.
"Crying again?"
Kim Sora’s voice came from beside the bed. Kei was slightly startled; he hadn’t known how long she had been standing there.
Sora set the bowl of hot porridge on the small table beside the bed, then leaned down to look at him. Her expression was helpless, but the corner of her lips curled up slightly as if trying to ease the heavy atmosphere in the room.
"Do you cry even while sleeping? If my grandmother knew, she’d definitely scold you."
Kei didn’t answer.
Sora sighed, took a tissue, and gently wiped the tears from his face. Her movements were very careful, without excessive pity, nor did she force him to cheer up immediately.
She simply wiped away the tears lingering on his cheeks.
"Alright. Don’t cry anymore."
Sora said softly.
"She asked me to come take care of you. If you keep crying like this, I won’t know how to explain it to her."
Kei blinked slightly.
His throat was dry and raw. He wanted to say so many things, but after nearly a month of barely communicating with anyone, his voice was left with only a weak, hoarse rasp.
"You... are the old lady’s granddaughter?"
Sora paused. She looked at Kei for a moment, then smiled.
"Yeah. I’m Kim Sora, granddaughter of Kim Hye Ji."
She pulled the chair beside the bed and sat down, gazing at Kei gently as if looking at someone who was falling apart.
"And you’re Kim Kei, the child my grandmother took in, right?"
Kei nodded slightly. He no longer bothered to protest being treated like a child; his face, now thinner, looked even smaller, making him no different from a malnourished kid.
"She... never told me she still had family."
"She didn’t like troubling others."
Sora said, her voice softening, her eyes filled with memories of the deceased.
"My grandmother was like that. No matter what happened, she endured it herself and handled it herself. If she hadn’t taken the initiative to call my father that time, we probably wouldn’t have known she’d been living alone in Dong-San city for so long."
Kei looked at the bowl of porridge beside him.
Steam rose, carrying the faint scent of rice and minced meat. The aroma made his stomach tighten slightly, but he still didn’t move.
"The old lady... what did she tell you?"
"When she called, she only said she was dying." Sora answered very frankly.
Kei was silent.
Sora looked out the window, where daylight was slowly creeping through the curtains.
"She said she didn’t have much time left. But what worried her most wasn’t her own death."
She turned back to look at Kei.
"She was worried that after she left, you’d have no one by your side."
Kei’s hand resting on the blanket tightened slightly.
"She said you’re a very good child. So good that it broke her heart, because a child like you shouldn’t have to learn how to live alone, and she didn’t need you to learn that either."
Kei lowered his head.
He didn’t want to cry anymore, but his eyes stung.
"She also said... if possible, she wanted me to come here and help you keep living. No need to do anything too big. Just don’t leave you alone in this house."
"Living alone is very lonely, Kei."
Sora picked up the bowl of porridge and stirred it gently with a spoon. There was one thing she didn’t say: when she opened the front door and saw Kei, Sora felt as if she could see the loneliness slowly devouring him.
"So, I came here."
She said with a smile.
Kei looked at her, and in a hoarse voice asked a question that suddenly popped into his mind:
"How long will you stay?"
"Not sure yet."
Sora scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew on it gently, then held it in front of him, staring at Kei with sparkling eyes as if urging a child to open his mouth and eat.
"Maybe a very long time."
Kei looked at the spoonful of porridge in front of him and didn’t immediately open his mouth. Sora didn’t rush him either; she just waited patiently.
After a moment, Kei slowly sat up. His body was so weak that even a simple movement made his back and shoulders ache,Sora immediately reached out to support his back.
"Easy now, your body is very weak right now, Kei."
Kei took the bowl of porridge, but his trembling hands couldn’t hold it steady. Seeing this, Sora held the bowl for him.
"Let me."
"No need... I can eat on my own."
Kei said shyly. How could he let a girl feed him? He wasn’t a child.
"Yeah, I know."
Sora nodded, not arguing with Kei. She gently took the bowl of porridge from his hands and began scooping up spoonfuls.
"But today, let me help a little."
Kei stared at her for a long time. For some reason, that simple sentence made his chest ache. Perhaps because he had heard similar words from Grandma Kim before.
Let Grandma do this, you just stand there.
Don’t push yourself too hard, Kei...
Eat a little more, you’re too skinny!
Those were words so ordinary that Kei had never thought he would miss them this much.
Sora brought the spoon to his lips, and Kei slowly ate.
The porridge was a bit bland, soft and unexpectedly warm. It wasn’t exceptionally delicious, but the heat spreading down to his stomach made his body feel, for the first time in a long while, that he was still alive.
Sora watched him finish the first spoonful, then smiled.
"See? Eating is better than lying there hungry and crying."
Kei lowered his head and asked softly:
"Do you hate me?"
Sora was taken aback. She asked curiously:
"Why would I hate you?"
Kei’s hand gripped the blanket tightly. He felt like he was bothering people who had nothing to do with him.
"Because I made Grandma worry."
Kei murmured in a very soft voice.
"You didn’t make her worry."
Sora said.
"You’re the one who made her feel like she could still love someone."
Kei looked up, his dark eyes wide, staring intently at Sora, listening carefully to every single word she spoke.
"She once told my father that since she picked you up, this house finally felt like a real home. So, Kei, you’re not a burden to her. You’re her family."
Kei’s eyes turned red.
He tried to turn his face away, but tears still fell onto the back of his hand.
Sora didn’t wipe them away right away. She just set the bowl down, sat quietly beside him, and let him cry.
This time, Kei could no longer hide the pain. He hunched over, shoulders trembling. The sobs he had suppressed for a whole month finally burst out of his throat.
Sora sat silently beside him, her hand gently resting on his back. She didn’t tell him to be strong, nor did she tell him not to cry. She just stayed there with Kei, just like her final promise to Grandma Kim.
After Grandma left, Kei wouldn’t have to be alone.
Outside the window, the first sunlight of the new day fell upon the old rooftop.
And in the small room, Kei cried while clutching Sora’s sleeve tightly, as if letting go would make the person in front of him disappear just like Grandma Kim.