Chapter 1: Four Days left
*Chapter 1: 💥Four Days Left💥*
The envelope lay on the chipped kitchen table like it didn’t belong there. It was too clean, too official, for the cramped one-room apartment that smelled of instant noodles and damp concrete.
Shin Ye-jin stared at it, her hands folded under the table to hide the tremor.
“Open it,” Shin Woo-jin said. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, but his eyes were too bright to match the casual posture. “Go on. It’s got your name on it too, in a way.”
Ye-jin exhaled. She reached forward, fingers brushing the edge of the paper. _Champions Military Academy. Admission Confirmed. Cadet Shin Woo-jin._
The words blurred for a second.
He’d done it. After nine years of night shifts, of unpaid overtime, of skipping meals so she could eat, Woo-jin had pulled it off.
“See?” He grinned, sliding the envelope back toward her and ruffling her hair like she was still ten. “Told you I’d make it, Ye-jin. Four days, and I’m in. Then you’re done working. No more 2 AM shifts for you.”
Ye-jin forced a smile. “You’re sure about this? It’s brutal in there.”
“Details.” He waved it off. “I’m twenty-two, Ye-jin. If I can’t handle it now, when will I?”
That was Woo-jin. Always confident. Always carrying the weight so she didn’t have to.
She glanced at him properly now. He looked older than his years. The past nine years had carved lines into his face that shouldn’t have been there. His shoulders were broad from hauling boxes at the warehouse, his knuckles scarred from stepping between her and debt collectors twice.
When their parents died in the car accident nine years ago, he was thirteen and she was thirteen and one minute. One minute older, and he’d treated it like a lifetime of responsibility ever since.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said, catching her expression. “I’m not dead yet.”
Ye-jin swallowed. “You’re tired, Woo-jin. You haven’t slept properly in a week.”
“Last week of freedom. Let me enjoy it.” He pushed himself off the counter and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “We did it, Ye-jin. No more scraping by. No more ‘Shin kids’ charity cases. I’m going to be a cadet. And you—you can finally go to university like you wanted.”
University. That had been her dream before everything fell apart. Literature, she’d told their mother. She wanted to write stories that made people feel less alone.
Now it felt like a dream from someone else’s life.
“I’m happy for you,” she said, and meant it. Most of it.
Woo-jin pulled back, studying her. “You’re lying. I can tell.”
“I’m just… worried.”
“About what? The academy? I’m an adult, Ye-jin. I’ve been handling adult problems since I was thirteen.”
“No,” Ye-jin said quietly. “About after.”
His smile faded a fraction. “After?”
“What if you get hurt? What if it’s too much? You’ve been running on empty for nine years.”
Woo-jin went quiet. Then he reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture so gentle it made her chest ache.
“I’m doing this for you,” he said. “So you don’t have to. So you can stop worrying. So you can be Ye-jin again, not just my little sister.”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
That night, she lay awake on the thin mattress they shared, listening to his steady breathing. The admission letter was folded carefully on the desk, next to the savings book with barely enough for the first semester’s fees.
Four days.
Four days until he left. Four days until she could stop pretending she wasn’t terrified.
—
The fourth day came fast.
Woo-jin was humming as he packed his single duffel bag. He’d bought a second-hand uniform jacket from a thrift shop and spent the entire morning ironing out the creases like it was a medal.
Ye-jin stood in the doorway, watching him.
“You’ll write, right?” she asked.
“Every week,” he promised. “And I’ll call when I can. The academy has payphones.”
She nodded. Her throat felt tight.
He slung the bag over his shoulder and grinned. “Alright. Wish me luck, Cadet Shin.”
Ye-jin managed a shaky smile. “Luck. Don’t die on me.”
He laughed. “I’m not that easy to kill.”
They walked to the bus stop together. The morning air was cold, but the sun was out, and for a moment it felt normal. Like they were just siblings seeing each other off, not about to split apart for the first time in their lives.
Woo-jin got on the bus. He waved through the window, his grin wide and real.
Ye-jin waved back.
The bus pulled away.
She stood there for a long time, watching it disappear down the street, her hands clenched at her sides.
—
The call came at 6:47 PM.
Ye-jin was at the convenience store, scanning expired snacks with numb fingers, when her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
She answered without thinking.
“Is this Shin Ye-jin?” A man’s voice, clipped and professional.
“Yes?”
“This is Seoul General Hospital. We’re calling regarding Shin Woo-jin. He was in an accident. You need to come immediately.”
The world went quiet.
“What?” The word came out wrong, high and thin.
“There was a traffic collision. Your brother is in critical condition. Please come now.”
Ye-jin didn’t remember hanging up. She didn’t remember dropping her apron or running out of the store, the manager shouting after her. All she knew was the hospital’s address and the fact that her legs were moving before her brain caught up.
The ER smelled of antiseptic and blood.
A nurse stopped her in the hallway. “Family of Shin Woo-jin?”
“Yes. I’m his sister.”
The nurse’s face softened. That was worse.
“He didn’t make it,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
The words didn’t register at first. They were too big, too wrong.
“No,” Ye-jin said. “No, that’s not—he was on the bus. He was fine.”
“There was a truck. It ran a red light. He died on impact.”
Died.
Past tense. Final.
Ye-jin felt the floor tilt. Someone caught her before she hit it.
She didn’t cry. She couldn’t. It was like her body had decided that if she started, she’d never stop.
They let her see him.
Woo-jin looked peaceful, like he was sleeping. The bruising on his forehead was the only sign something had gone wrong. His hand was cold when she held it.
“Ironed your jacket,” she whispered. “You were so proud of it.”
No answer.
For hours, she sat there. The hospital staff came and went, speaking in hushed tones. Someone asked about funeral arrangements. Someone asked if there was other family.
There wasn’t. Just her.
At 2 AM, alone in the empty visiting room, she opened his bag.
Inside was the admission letter, folded neatly. And under it, a note in his messy handwriting.
_Ye-jin,
If you’re reading this, I probably forgot to tell you in person. I’m scared too. But I know we can do this. You’re stronger than you think.
Finish what I started. For both of us.
*Woo-jin*
Ye-jin read it three times.
Then she closed her eyes and made a promise to a dead man.
“I’ll finish it,” she said to the empty room. “I’ll get into Champions Military Academy. I’ll graduate for both of us. Rest, hyung. I’ll handle the rest.”
Outside, the city was silent.
Inside, Shin Ye-jin started planning how to become her brother.
