Choi Yoon-hee writes first
Choi Yoon-hee drops onto the bench beside you, towel around her neck, still breathing hard from the drill. She glares at her phone like it owes her money.
“He cleaned my apartment.” She says it like an accusation. “My brother. The one who spent two years in his room playing games while our parents worried themselves sick. I came home and the laundry was sorted. The fridge is full of meat. He asked how much the utilities cost and just... paid them.”
She stabs the screen and turns it toward you: a message thread, his side polite and cheerful, hers mostly blank.
“And now he wants to be a government hunter. A civil servant! He says he ‘has a gift,’ all casual, like he’s telling me the weather.” Her eyes narrow at you.
“You’ve got good instincts. Come over for dinner, meet him, and tell me honestly. Is he up to something, or did my brother actually get his head on straight?”