CHAPTER 65
By the night of their exhibition, the two brothers had planned every detail with meticulous care.
Noeul had taken it upon himself to exceed expectations, transforming the exhibition into a memorable experience for every visitor.
One table offered carefully selected food and drinks, while another displayed complimentary prints of Ji-Woo’s paintings for guests to take home.
The gallery walls displayed a wide range of Ji-Woo’s work: abstract landscapes washed in shades of blue and green, portraits that seemed to whisper secrets, and still lifes that captured the essence of everyday objects with astonishing precision.
Only one wall had been dedicated to Noeul’s paintings, just as he had requested.
It was lined with portraits of his twin brother and his closest friend, each canvas telling a different story, each revealing a different emotion.
Gong laughing. Haneul lost in thought. The two of them together.
Moments preserved in paint that no longer existed anywhere else.
The gallery buzzed with admiration as visitors found themselves drawn to the bold brushstrokes, intricate details, and raw emotion in both brothers’ work.
“Good evening, everyone, and thank you all for being here tonight. My brother and I are truly honored that you’ve joined us for the opening of our first exhibition.”
Ji-Woo’s voice carried through the gallery as he welcomed the guests and introduced his work.
When it was Noeul’s turn, he spoke softly and without embellishment.
“Where do I even begin?” He glanced toward the wall behind him.
“These paintings are a reflection of the world as I’ve lived it alongside my twin brother, Gong, and my closest friend, Haneul.
The emptiness their loss left behind will always weigh on my heart.
But they were more than the way they died.
They lived. They laughed. They annoyed me. They made me happy.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“I wanted to remember that too.” He drew a quiet breath.
Jun and Ms. Lee entered the gallery shortly after the brothers had finished their presentation.
Jun was dressed in a modern designer cream suit, while Ms. Lee looked radiant in traditional white attire.
Together, they wandered through the exhibition, admiring the artwork.
Ms. Lee eagerly purchased two of Ji-Woo’s paintings, delighted to have discovered such an extraordinary young talent.
Then she approached the final wall.
Her steps slowed.
A sigh escaped her lips. “Haneul?”
Jun stopped beside her.
Ms. Lee moved closer to the first portrait. “How…?”
Her eyes traveled across the familiar features of her youngest son. The expression. The slight curve of his lips. Even the softness in his eyes had been captured with painful familiarity.
She turned to Jun in astonishment, searching his face for an explanation.
“The artist created these paintings to honor your son,” Jun said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“The artist?” she whispered. “Who?”
Her eyes wandered across the wall, searching for the artist’s information.
Then they stopped.
Another face.
One she knew all too well.
“Gong?”
Jun said nothing.
Ms. Lee stared at the portrait. Then at Haneul. Then back at Gong.
“…Noeul?”
Her voice barely existed. She turned to Jun and gently took hold of his hand.
“Jun… is he the artist?”
Ms. Lee gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Jun? Am I right? These are Noeul’s paintings?”
Jun bit his lower lip and drew a slow, steadying breath. “Only this wall.” He looked toward Haneul’s portrait. “He wanted to honor your son.”
Her entire body trembled. “Honor?”
She lingered on the word.
“What does he know about honor?”
Jun remained silent.
“When exactly did he honor my son?” she continued, her voice dropping until only Jun could hear her. “While his brother was raping him…and he stood by in silence?”
Years of grief and bitterness had hardened the accusation until it sounded almost rehearsed.
Jun held her gaze. “He didn’t know.”
Ms. Lee went still. “What?”
“Noeul didn’t know what Gong had done to Haneul.”
Her fingers loosened around Jun’s hand. “No.”
“Chung-Hee told me himself. Noeul was completely innocent in that. He had no idea.”
“No.”
This time, the word came more firmly.
Jun didn’t argue. He let her absorb it.
“He only discovered the truth after accidentally reading Haneul’s suicide note,” he continued carefully. “Chung-Hee found him on the floor afterward, crying. Ask your son. He’ll confirm everything I’ve told you.”
The world around her seemed to fade. The conversations, the laughter, the clinking glasses, all of it dissolved into meaningless noise.
Ms. Lee stared at Haneul’s portrait. “How is that possible?” she whispered. “How could he never have known?”
“Think about the Noeul you knew.”
Her eyes shifted toward Jun.
“Do you really believe that boy could have known Haneul was being raped and done nothing?”
Ms. Lee opened her mouth, but no answer came.
He looked toward Gong’s portrait.
“Chung-Hee also told me that Noeul suffered abuse at his brother’s hands.”
Ms. Lee lowered her head. For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she asked, “Was I so terribly wrong about him?” Her voice broke. “Did I spend all these years blaming an innocent man, Jun?”
Ms. Lee turned back toward the paintings. Memories came without permission. Noeul eating at their table. Noeul laughing with Haneul. Noeul bowing politely whenever he entered her home. The boy who had once felt so familiar that she barely considered him a guest.
Then came other memories.
Her accusations. Her anger. The things she had said to him. The things she had allowed herself to believe because hatred had been easier to carry than uncertainty.
Her hand rose slowly to her mouth. “I need to leave.”
He quietly escorted her home. Neither spoke much during the drive. When they reached her apartment, Ms. Lee sat down without removing her coat. Jun remained near the door.
“Ms. Lee…give yourself time to process this.”
She stared ahead. “I blamed him.”
Jun said nothing.
“I hated that boy.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
Jun stepped closer. “You were grieving. But that doesn’t mean everything you did because of that grief was right.”
Ms. Lee finally looked at him. There was no accusation in his expression. Only sadness.
“You can’t change what happened,” Jun continued. “But you can decide what you do after learning the truth.”
He stepped toward the door before stopping. There was one more thing she needed to know.
“Oh…Ms. Lee.” His expression grew solemn. “Noeul tried to take his own life last year.”
Her face drained of color. “What?”
“Chung-Hee saved him.”
Ms. Lee stared at him.
Jun hesitated. What came next was harder.
“Your son believed Noeul was partly responsible for Haneul’s death. Then he developed feelings for him. I think those two things became tangled together until he couldn’t separate love from grief, guilt, anger, or punishment.”
“Jun…”
“After they returned to Korea, Chung-Hee took a lot of that pain out on Noeul.”
Ms. Lee’s breathing changed. “I saw what he did.”
“You saw some of it,” Jun said. “He controlled where Noeul lived, his work, his money. He hurt him.”
Silence.
“And recently, it became much worse.”
Ms. Lee’s eyes widened.
Jun couldn’t bring himself to give her details. But he wouldn’t protect Chung-Hee with a lie either.
“Bad enough that Noeul had to be taken away from him.”
Ms. Lee covered her mouth. “No…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Did my son…?” Tears filled her eyes.
“He needs help,” Jun said quietly. “But Noeul cannot be the person responsible for saving him. Not after what happened.”
Jun bowed. “If you decide to speak to Noeul, please remember that.” His hand settled on the door. “He doesn’t owe Chung-Hee forgiveness. He doesn’t owe any of us anything.”
Jun looked back at her one last time.
“But there are things Chung-Hee still has that belong to him. His passport. His identification. His money.”
Understanding slowly entered Ms. Lee’s expression. Jun didn’t tell her what to do.
He didn’t need to.
“Good night, Ms. Lee.”
The door closed quietly behind him. She remained alone in the silence.