After three years, I received a call from my sister again.

“Yunjae, Dad… passed away… aren’t you coming?”

I didn’t even feel like crying. After all, he wasn’t really my father. I returned to my childhood home on a hot summer day. And my sister, whom I saw for the first time in so long, was still as delicate and beautiful as ever. I know I have to hide these feelings no matter what. But it’s not as easy as I wish it were.

“I’m sorry, Yunjae… I’m sorry for being your sister… someone as filthy as me.”