“Amazing, isn’t it?”

Si Woo jerked slightly then turned to face the owner of that voice. He felt himself freeze before turning his face back toward the room where his brother was sitting at the piano, his fingers perfectly arched as he practiced Chopin's Fantaisie-Impromptu in C♯ minor.

He rarely ever saw his brother practice despite hearing the chords reverberating loudly throughout the house, the sounds screaming in his ears.

“Quite skilled and at only thirteen years old,” his uncle said in a soft voice.

Si Woo blinked, his head still turned in toward the room. He could see only the profile of his brother's face, his expression serious, concentrated. Si Woo felt himself begin to fidget. His attention now torn between the boy in the room, whose music and elegant form begged his attention and the man behind him.

What did this man want? Though he had only visited less than a half dozen times in the years Si Woo could remember, he hardly ever recalled this man talking to him directly.

He heard his uncle step toward him. Despite himself, Si Woo felt his shoulders tense. He hated to admit it but this man was intimidating.

“I remember that you used to play as well. You were quite skilled yourself if I recall correctly.”

Si Woo turned to face him. He was only a few inches away now, close enough for Si Woo to make out the design on the buttons of his coat.

He took a small step back, one that he prayed was not too noticeable. He then silently cursed himself for feeling like a coward.

“You look a lot like him,” his uncle said in his low, caressing voice.

Si Woo opened his mouth, as though he was unable to stop himself from asking, but then caught himself and shut it again.

The man smiled, a charming affable smile.

Si Woo felt his eyes widen. Why was he speaking to him? It unnerved him. But despite that, he wanted to know. Who could he possibly look like?

“Who?”

And the man’s smile widened as he reached out to grasp Si Woo’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Your father,” he said after a moment. “You could be his twin.”

Si Woo jerked away, more at his words than his touch. This man was lying to him, he looked nothing like his father. His father was well known to be an attractive, even beautiful, man, it was a feature his mother bemoaned regularly.

“You think I am lying?” his uncle said with a small smile but he released him nonetheless. “I knew him when he was young. He was bewitching then. I’ve noticed that you have lost quite a bit of weight since I last saw you and the difference is striking, you looked very similar to your father. Only a few more pounds and you will be breaking hearts, just like he did.”

Si Woo turned his head slightly. He felt a strange conflicting mixture of emotions. He was the first, this man he barely knew and yet was so closely tied to his family, he was the first to take notice of all the effort he had put in. He complimented him. He saw him.

But a few more pounds? He had thought that he was where he should have been. True, he didn’t look like what he thought he would but the numbers had put him in what they claimed was the healthy range. Though he did not feel it. Instead, he felt ravenous, tired, weary.

“I’m… I’m nothing like him,” Si Woo said because he knew it was true. He didn’t know his father very much, the man rarely came home but what he did know of him, he knew that they were not alike.

His uncle smiled and for a moment Si Woo was captivated. Just like the rest of his family, his uncle was well regarded for his looks and though he was older, age barely made itself known on his face. “Why do you reject what I say so strongly?” he continued, folding his arms across his chest and leaning languidly against the doorway.

Si Woo could still hear the chords of Chopin's Fantaisie continue to ring behind him.

“Because of your mother? From what I can see, she is quite cold and cruel to you. So why does her opinion matter so much? She dislikes your father, doesn’t she? And yet she craves his attention. My sister is a sad soul who has simply deteriorated in her grief.”

Si Woo froze. No adult had ever spoken to him like this. Such a cold truth. Despite his opinions of his mother, he had never dared to think of her in that light. And yet, everything this man said aligned with everything he believed to be true.

“She is sick,” his uncle said gently. “Do not take her words to heart.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, straightening up as he glared at the man. “You’ve never talked to me before.”

In the distance he heard the jagged interruption of a missed chord.

His uncle cocked his head and the gaze he used to peer at him seemed almost youthful. “Ah, did you think I was ignoring you on purpose? It was simply that I had no reason to speak with someone so young.”

Si Woo blinked and briefly thought on their past interactions. He didn’t recall precisely but at the very least his uncle had not favored his brother. And he supposed it made sense. He was fourteen now, not so young, his head filled with difficult thoughts, thoughts he could barely handle.

“I couldn’t help but wonder,” his uncle went on to say after a moment's silence. “If perhaps living here is difficult for you, Si Woo.”

The beginnings of Chopin's Fantaisie-Impromptu in C♯ minor began again behind him. Smoother this time, effortless.

“No one listens to you here. Your father is never home. Your mother is a burden. It must be difficult to be compared to your brother daily. Do you not wish to leave? You are old enough to make a decision. I can provide you with an alternative.”

Si Woo stared at the man for a long moment.

In the near distance, Fantaisie fell into the second section. Dreamlike, melodious. So contrasting, so different from the beginning. Harmonic.

This man he barely knew was offering him a way out of his wretched existence, but he felt something uncomfortable unfurl within the pits of his stomach. It felt wrong.

He was not comfortable.

“I’ve already spoken to your mother about you living with me,” the man continued and Si Woo looked up and met his eyes. For a brief moment, he wondered what exactly the man would say. Surely, his mother would disagree, after all, despite her words, he was still her son. He had lived with her for all these years. He still thought of her as mom. So she must still think of him as her son...

“And she agreed. She thinks it might be good for you to leave this place for a while and come and live with me in the States.”

Si Woo felt himself grow cold. He then let out a small laugh, turning away and ignoring his uncle. Of course, what had he expected? His mother did not care for him, she never did. He had deluded himself in that fraction of a second, a hope that should have died a long time ago rearing its ugly, unwanted head.

Fast and tumultuous, the music behind him seemed to mirror his thoughts as the piece once again returned to its beginnings.

He hated her. Hated her. Hated her.

And yet… “No,” he heard himself saying. “I don’t want to.”

He pushed past the man even as he heard the clinking of heels against the marble floors.

Her voice. His mother’s voice rang out behind him, “Si Hwan-ah, beautiful, beautiful. You make me proud, my son.”