《tw-2》1 Ghost

They put on new clothes, and I got new clothes too. They wore new shoes, and I wore new shoes as well. We moved to a new place; they went out to work, while I stayed home to clean and do laundry. We lived together, helped each other, trusted one another, and cared for each other deeply. Even though we share no blood relation, they treated me as if I were their biological younger brother. I truly, deeply love them... my two brothers.

Jangjun and Youngtaek—there couldn’t possibly be better elder brothers in the world than them.

We have endured the hardest and happiest times together. From the very beginning until now, they have never let go of my hand. As someone who never experienced familial love in my birth family, I came to understand the meaning of love through their warm grip.

Love. Why do I mention love?

In the past, I found the concept of love ridiculous and meaningless. Love wasn’t money, nor energy; it was invisible, untouchable, and lacked any tangible proof. To me, it was a fabrication, a false attitude born of human self-satisfaction, a tool used to gain attention or to demand reciprocation. It was merely a game of manipulation and control. In short, love was non-existent, and non-existence meant nothing.

But that was because, at the time, I had no love in my life. I refused to even try to understand it. I had grown accustomed to days devoid of emotion and had no expectations. Yet, during my time with Jangjun and Youngtaek, I finally came to realize what love truly is.

Love is a form of perception.

It’s the hand extended to help me when I fall. It’s the unsolicited support I receive when I didn’t even ask for help. It’s wiping food off my mouth, brushing dust off my clothes, buying me new toys, making me laugh when I’m down, and draping a jacket over me when I’m shivering. It’s remembering my likes and dislikes, knowing what I’m good at and what I struggle with, caring about me more than I care about myself, and understanding me better than I understand myself. They’re like superheroes—with an extraordinary sense of insight. I think this is what love is. I once thought there was no evidence for love, but all of this is the proof of its existence.

At one point, I wondered if they treated me so well because they expected me to repay them doubly in the future. But what could I possibly offer in return when they excelled at everything? Sell my organs for money? When I voiced this thought, they were shocked. Then, they laughed and said, “We just want you to be okay.” Even though I looked down on myself, thinking their affection was a waste, they still loved me. How meaningless.

And so, I cried.

In this world that I had cursed countless times, someone actually loved me.

They poured their hearts into me, and if I didn’t reciprocate that love, wouldn’t it truly be meaningless?

Thus, I began wanting to do something for them in return. I wanted to prove that I could help them too. That’s why I became the eldest among the children in the orphanage. Even though I’m only 14, which isn’t that old, I am the oldest in an orphanage with thirty young children. As the elder brother, I take care of everything concerning my younger siblings.

Jangjun and Youngtaek are amazing with children. Even though they’re sometimes away from the orphanage for work, whenever they return, the children light up as if they’re seeing their beloved fathers. Their age never creates a barrier. They’d change out of their suits into casual clothes to picnic on the grass, play soccer, or share stories with the kids. At first, I couldn’t believe they grew up in an orphanage themselves, but seeing this, how could I doubt it? Jangjun and Youngtaek truly love children.

So much so that even though the old orphanage was rundown, they insisted on investing their earnings into rebuilding it, transforming it into the largest and finest orphanage in town. I couldn’t have imagined that such a dilapidated place could become a facility as impressive as a prestigious academy.

The new orphanage is four stories high, just like the old one, but the building area is twice as large. Its exterior resembles a noble’s castle, though with a simpler, more refined style. The sign above the main gate, Golden Child, is intricately engraved on a golden plaque, gleaming like a polished mirror. Inside, the creaky wooden floors have been replaced with black-and-white checkered tiles resembling a chessboard. The smooth, off-white paneled walls and Ionic columns throughout give the space a museum-like elegance. The vast interior allows children to play hopscotch or tag in the lobby on rainy days. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm glow, and the girls often twirl under its light as if attending a ball.

The left-hand hallway on the first floor leads to the dining hall—the largest I’ve ever seen. The long dining table stretches so far it seems to vanish into the distance. On one side, it faces the wall, while the other overlooks a series of tall, pointed floor-to-ceiling windows, five in total. During sunny mornings, we draw the curtains to soften the light, though the boys prefer to open the windows and dash out to the grassy plains after breakfast.

On the right side of the first floor are the library and classrooms. The classroom, where I teach the children, has a theater-like layout with seats arranged in ascending circular rows. The library rivals any town library, boasting a rich collection that spans history, science, art, encyclopedias, novels, newspapers, and comics. One section is furnished with cozy sofas and cushions, complete with a television where everyone gathers after dinner to watch programs together.

The second floor is home to the children’s dormitories, including my own. There are three large rooms, each housing ten beds, and I share a room with some of the kids.

The third floor is off-limits to children, as it houses the staff quarters, including Jangjun and Youngtaek’s offices. While kids aren’t allowed upstairs to avoid disturbing the adults, I’m an exception as their trusted helper. Occasionally, they invite me into their offices, granting me a sense of closeness and privilege that I deeply cherish.

Jangjun’s office reflects his disciplined nature, with workout equipment like dumbbells neatly placed near his bed. Despite his meticulousness, he amusingly uses strawberry-flavored children’s toothpaste, a detail I love teasing him about. On the other hand, Youngtaek’s room is perpetually cluttered with books, letters, and snacks scattered everywhere. Yet, he somehow maintains a comforting warmth.

I really want to stay in the orphanage for the rest of my life.

»

I’ve always been more stable than most kids, so I perform well in both learning and taking care of my younger siblings. Because of this, adults naturally trust and rely on me. Whenever any of my siblings have issues with relationships or their emotions, adults often ask for my help. Because of this, the children really like me. It seems that if I try hard enough to love others, I can be just like Jangjun and Youngtaek!

One day, when all the children were taking their afternoon nap, I went to their office while Jangjun and Youngtaek were both there. Lately, I’ve been doing my homework in the office. Looking up, I’d see Jangjun and Youngtaek working seriously, and it would make me feel motivated, like I was striving just like them. After finishing my homework, I usually read a book until the children woke up, but for some reason today I didn’t feel like reading, so I started looking around the office.

Then I noticed a photo frame on a shelf with a small potted plant and decorative items. I reached for it and looked at it closely. The photo was a group picture of all the staff and children neatly standing in front of the orphanage. Everyone was smiling brightly. I remembered where I stood when the picture was taken. That’s right, Jangjun and Youngtaek were in the center of the back row, and I stood in front of them. I was smiling happily too.

I recognized everyone and could name all of them. Even though one day my younger siblings would be adopted and leave the orphanage, I’d always remember them and continue to love them as I do now.

Noticing dust on the top of the photo, I tried to wipe it off with my shirt sleeve. After rubbing the glass a few times, I realized the dust was trapped between the photo and the glass. So, I flipped the frame over, removed the small corner fastenings, and took off the back stand to place it on the shelf. As I tilted the photo, it accidentally fell to the floor. I bent down to pick it up, and that’s when I noticed the top of the photo had been folded. The group shot was intact, but the sharp corner of the orphanage building had been bent back, apparently to fit the size of the frame.

When I flattened the folded part, I saw a blurry white silhouette in front of the small round window on the fourth floor.

A strong, cold shiver ran from my spine to my head.

What is this? A ghost?!

Jangjun and Youngtaek didn’t notice anything unusual. I bit my lip, quietly and shakily placing the photo back in the frame and locking it in place. After returning it to its spot, I ran out of the office, down the stairs, and rushed out the front door of the orphanage. I backed up a bit and immediately looked up at the round window on the fourth floor. As expected, there was nothing there. No figure. The color reflected in the window wasn’t white, but a deep gray. So, what was that thing in the photo? Was it really… a ghost?!

No… That’s impossible. I don’t believe in ghosts or anything that doesn’t have scientific evidence! I kept telling myself that, but why couldn’t I stop trembling? The reason was clear—I saw it. The white silhouette in the photo, with the face unclear but the figure outlined in white—

I kept the secret of the photo in the office, filled with fear, for an entire week. I kept wondering what kind of place the orphanage was built on, if there was something in the land’s past. Back when Jangjun and Youngtaek were in the old orphanage… I kept thinking about how to bring it up. I was afraid to hear an even harder truth to accept, but maybe, if there was a reasonable explanation, this nameless fear could disappear. So, I decided to ask.

"Hyeong… did someone die in this orphanage?"

I’m sure my question sounded strange and imprecise, but I didn’t know how else to ask. If I directly mentioned ghosts, I was afraid that Jangjun and Youngtaek would say something to reassure me, but it wouldn’t be the truth.

Upon hearing the question, the two of them raised their eyebrows and looked at each other. Youngtaek crouched down and looked at me. He patted my head and asked, "Why do you ask?"

"Because… because I feel like there’s something strange in the orphanage, and I want to know if something happened here..." My unease was obvious, and it was a true reflection of my feelings. When Jangjun and Youngtaek saw that I was really scared, they began trying to comfort me.

"Although we can’t guarantee what happened when the old orphanage was built, or if anything strange happened before we came here, I can tell you that nothing has happened since we arrived. We’ve never seen anything strange," Jangjun smiled and picked me up, letting me rest my head on his left shoulder. I hugged his neck anxiously, feeling him pat my back with his large hand.

"By the way, Gamum, what exactly did you see?" Youngtaek gently brushed my bangs and asked.

"Umm..." I bit my lip and said in a small voice, "A white… white shadow…"

"A white shadow?" Jangjun asked, and Youngtaek continued, "Where did you see it?"

"On the… on the fourth floor..." I lifted my head from Jangjun’s shoulder and anxiously looked at both of them, shouting, "In the round window on the fourth floor! It was there! I saw it—"

I stopped myself, realizing what I had just said. But more than that, I noticed that after I said those words, Jangjun and Youngtaek looked at me with sharp, terrifying gazes, as if wild beasts were eyeing their prey. I had never seen them look at me like that before. But in the blink of an eye, their expressions softened with pity and concern. The hostility I’d seen earlier was probably just a momentary misunderstanding caused by their tense emotions.

"Gamum, what you probably saw was the curtains," Jangjun smiled helplessly, "There are curtains there, so it might have been the wind moving them."

"Wind…?" I repeated slowly in confusion.

"Yeah, sometimes we open the windows for ventilation," Youngtaek said, ruffling my hair.

"How about it, are you feeling better now?" Jangjun pinched my cheek and asked, showing me a smile, "There’s no ghost here, and there’s nothing that will hurt you, so don’t worry." After saying that, he hugged me again.

"If you’re still scared, you can sleep with me tonight?" Youngtaek smiled.

"Your room’s so messy, how are we going to sleep? If anything, you should sleep with me," Jangjun retorted.

"I cleaned up! I cleaned it last week, okay!" Youngtaek argued back, clearly displeased. The two of them were bickering just like they used to when we lived together, fighting over cleaning. It reminded me that my younger siblings often argued like this too, and the sight made me laugh, causing my fear to dissipate.

"Gamum, go change into your pajamas and come upstairs. Then you can decide who you want to sleep with," Jangjun let me down.

"Choose me! If you choose me, I’ve got tons of candy for you!" Youngtaek quickly said.

"Look at you, eating candy before bed. Are you trying to give him cavities?" Jangjun frowned.

"I’ll brush my teeth after eating, it’s fine!" Youngtaek glared at Jangjun and waved at me, "Hurry up and change into your pajamas!"

"Okay!" I nodded with a smile and left the office with light steps.

I went back to my room on the second floor after walking downstairs, planning to wait until my younger siblings finished their baths before going to wash up myself. I took out my clean pajamas from the wardrobe and placed them on the bed before sitting down, swinging my legs. This was the first time I’d slept in the office since I came to the new orphanage! It was also the first time Jangjun and Youngtaek invited me to sleep in their room. After all, I’m 14 now. I couldn’t always act spoiled. But Jangjun and Youngtaek, in order to comfort me, gave me a privilege that no one else had, and I couldn’t help but smile.

It was just the curtains after all. I must have been overthinking it, just wind and the curtains…

I stopped swinging my legs, and a cold shiver ran through me again, as if I had plunged into cold water. I felt a cold sweat on my back, and my hands started trembling again.

...But, in a place where there’s no way to reach the fourth floor, how did the window get opened?

──TBC.