Chapter 60

The way she immersed herself in anime characters was poignantly overwhelming.

My sister has never once blamed or been angry with me.

But deep down, her heart must have been boiling with resentment.

She must have hated me for monopolizing our parents’ attention.

Whenever I felt that way, I thought about how my sister would constantly remind herself not to hate the anime characters I was drawn to.

It’s heart-wrenching just to watch her like this.

How desperate must she be, relying on anime like that?

It’s admirable, and it makes me want to hold her close.

It makes me want to adore her.

I never told her that I watched the same anime she did.

Instead, I started mimicking the speech patterns of the anime characters.

Not excessively, but in a subtle way.

Like the younger sister, Tsukuyo, from the anime, I started referring to myself in the third person using my own name.

“Seol Yun is sad! Seol Yun is disappointed! Seol Yun is bored! Seol Yun’s points down by a hundred!” kind of thing.

I’ve never lived in Japan, so I don’t know, but at least in Korea, there’s no one who talks that way.

…Sister didn’t seem to catch on why I was acting this way.

I was waiting to see when she’d figure it out.

I had already known about the nature of her broadcasts.

I had a hunch, so I searched for her real name on all major broadcasting platforms—there it was.

Sister, how could you include your real name in your nickname so openly?

Do you really want to hide your identity? Are you silly?

Maybe you don’t want to hide it after all.

Because human actions and psychology do not always align perfectly, right?

Anyway, I decided to pretend I didn’t know and waited for her to tell me herself.

But before she even revealed the nature of her broadcasting, an incident like this happened.

The moment I saw the broadcast come on, I felt a sense of foreboding, and as soon as I saw the screen, I was out the door calling for a taxi.

Upon reaching her house, fortunately, no real harm was done yet.

When I turned off the broadcast and pulled her into a hug, she started vomiting almost immediately.

Sister, my chest isn’t a toilet.

I quickly took her to a real toilet, carefully removing her clothes so nothing got on her.

I needed to take care of her first, then worry about washing.

And as I gently stroked her back, I asked,

“Are you okay now?”

“Ugh.”

Is she okay?

I carelessly set the clothes I stripped off beside the sink, then undressed her further.

She had a thick knit sweater, a cosplay outfit, two tank tops—no wonder her stomach felt off.

Ah, I took too many clothes off.

I helped her put one back on.

After rinsing her mouth with water, I asked again.

“Are you okay now? Did you get it all out?”

“Sorry…”

I don’t need apologies, did you get everything out?

I restrained the urge to lecture her.

That wouldn’t be in line with my image.

‘Should I have her brush her teeth?’

Stomach acid lingering on the teeth can cause damage.

Though I rinsed her mouth with water, it might be better to have her brush her teeth.

But if I force her, she might vomit again, and that would be counterproductive.

“Sorry…”

She kept mumbling, so I hugged her once more.

“Instead of sorry, say thank you.”

As I whispered her favorite anime lines to her.

“Mommy…”

Is this what it feels like for a man who loves another woman but isn’t reciprocated?

I’m here taking care of her even as she’s vomiting, yet why does she call for her mother?

It’s so frustrating.

The person she should be calling for is right in front of her now.

Even if I were her mother, I wouldn’t have let her get into this state.

A pointless, baseless jealously welled up within me.

While hugging her tightly and stroking her head, I noticed she started to doze off.

She’s so light that even if she were unconscious, I could easily carry her.

But the fact that I didn’t have her brush her teeth keeps bothering me.

…Maybe for just a day, it’s fine?

I rinsed her mouth with water one more time, then took her to bed.

Fortunately, her clothes didn’t get dirty since I caught all her vomit.

If I had to shower her as well, things would have been more troublesome—consider it a stroke of luck.

I briefly washed her clothes to remove any residues before starting the laundry cycle and cleaned up the mini drinking party she held.

What kind of drinking party even consists of one bottle of alcohol and a bottle of cola?

Is cola supposed to be snacks?

Is this person really not insane?

Is she attempting self-harm by living such a reckless life?

I’ll have to give her a 30-minute lecture tomorrow.

Even if it means getting emotional to incite guilt.

While the washing machine was running, I checked online reactions out of boredom.

Useless people gossiping about watermelons.

It would be meaningless to get worked up.

Would adults fighting seriously with elementary school kids over nothing not be seen as strange?

These people’s minds have all stopped growing at elementary-school level, disabled by their limited perceptions.

It achieves nothing more than wasting your own energy, arguing with pests like cockroaches.

They keep chirping nonsense. Why engage in conversations like that?

…Can I poison them all?

After checking that my sister was sleeping soundly, I took a taxi to the 24-hour mart, since convenience stores nearby would most likely not carry what I needed.

I came to buy hangover soup ingredients.

Isn’t delivery easier, you ask?

Do you know how much sugar and salt they add to delivery foods?

The fact that outside food tastes better is essentially exchanging your life for taste; better think it through carefully.

I returned to her house and prepared Hwangtae Hangjeongguk.

Wait, isn’t this human the type that survives only on the bento I subscribed for?

That was my conclusion after checking her fridge and trash.

What a hopeless sister.

I should have been providing two meals a day instead of just one.

I’m a fool to have thought she could take care of one meal herself.

I need to quickly devise a proper strategy.

Since I already showered before leaving my home,

I only cleaned dirt off my feet, combed my hair, and washed my face lightly.

Then, I changed into pajamas and laid down next to my sister.

Reaching out, I touched her belly.

Too soft.

She obviously hasn’t exercised at all.

Every time we’re supposed to work out together, I can sense her not getting any fitter, which is strange for a beginner.

Beginners usually improve rapidly.

How isolated is she living like this? You dumb hikikomori.

“Even I can depend on you, Sister. Age means nothing; why are you fixated on something so trivial?”

South Koreans are truly bizarre.

Someone who’s dumb will stay dumb for a hundred years.

Someone who’s smart will remain smart even for ten.

You’ll have clever kids as well as trashy adults.

So why are people fixated solely on age?

Sister, you should just let go and cuddle me for comfort.

When not drunk, she never does it.

She simply refuses to acknowledge that she has unmet affectionate needs, like a child.

That refusal is what makes her childlike.

Only physically matured.

Most middle school students are taller than her when passing by, and she gets irritated.

When does winter break end?

I haven’t been to a Korean school in a long time; I can’t recall.

I held her tightly, falling asleep.

Let her not have lonely dreams.

Because I’m here beside her.

The memory loss made me want to die.

What do I do about this huge accident?

Why did I broadcast while pretending, you crazy girl?

Maybe I should explain on the live stream, flash my flat chest and say, “Surprise! This is a cliff!” because I’ve already fallen off the edge.

Now wherever I go, I only see abysses.

Is there anyone who will lend me a time machine?

Suddenly, I remembered a police officer who knew about my broadcasts.

Excuse me, does pretending to have large breasts and scamming donations qualify as fraud?

“Feels warm.”

There was the sensation of a large meat pocket on my back.

It was Seol Yun, using me as her dakimakura and cuddling me in her sleep.

How did this kid know to come block my broadcasting mishap?

“Did daddy send you?”

Yes. Daddy knows about my broadcasts and might have sent Seol Yun.

I hadn’t told Seol Yun about my broadcasts yet, but now it came out this way.

Trying to sneak away, I realized Seol Yun’s eyes were already open.

“Did you sleep well, Sister?”

“I have no face to show. I have committed a sin deserving of death.”

“Say thank you instead of sorry, didn’t I tell you?”

Pfft.

Her kiss on my forehead probably means she sees me as a seven-year-old child.

…Looking at the sorry state of my house, I have no words.

She might just be immature enough to drink.

“I made hangover soup. I’ll warm it up.”

“…”

Seol Yun has an enormous chest.

What does it imply?

It means she produces a lot of female hormones.

Studies suggest that the more female hormones one produces, the rounder and kinder one becomes in personality.

Do I sense a gap in our humanity?

“No! Fight it! The desire to fight is the core of manhood!”

Then, does my competitive gaming passion and my fixation on ranking in games come from my hormones?

Is that why my chest doesn’t grow?

Absolutely not out of pity.

I’m just making a cold analysis of the presented phenomena, no misinterpretation please.

I tried imagining myself as Seol Yun—feminine, kind, and gentle.

I feel nauseous.

Yes, this version of me is still better.

…But I must stop troubling my younger sibling.