Minjun had been home for a few days—

granny’s warm meals,

Watching his mother’s moods shifting like storms,

Jaehee hiding behind her textbooks like they were shields.

He’d been visiting on and off for two years—quick weekends, rushed holidays.

Yet even now, he still felt like a guest in his own home.

[Minjun steps into the living room. Aunt Teena is visiting for the week.]

Minjun: Aunt… we need to talk.

Aunt: You arrive two days ago and already this tone? What is it now?

Minjun: It’s about Jaehee.

I want to take her with me. I’ll raise her myself.

Aunt: …Take her? Why?

You left us so suddenly back then.

How do I know you won’t leave her too?

Minjun: You know how things were when I was young.I’m not running anymore.And I’ll always be grateful you took care of Mom.

Aunt: I can take care of Jaehee too.

I’ll give her what she needs.

If anyone should take her, it’s me.

Minjun: Aunt… think about her future.

There’s nothing here for her.

You already have a big family to manage.

You love her, I know, but she deserves more.

Aunt: Minjun, enough.

She’s ten. She needs a woman’s guidance.

And I won’t let you use her in the name of your acting career.

(Minjun’s jaw tightens, but he forces himself to stay calm.)

Minjun: I just want her to live somewhere safe.

To grow up happy.

Is this chaos good for her?

A bipolar mother who hits her…

A grandmother with failing health…

And you who only visits and sends money?

Aunt: (angrily) That’s enough!

Don’t lecture me.

Just be a guest like you always are—and leave.

Minjun: …Please think about it again, Aunt.

[Little Jaehee has been standing near Granny, silently listening. Minjun kneels and pulls her into a hug.]

Minjun: Don’t worry, Jaehee-ya.

Oppa and Aunt are just talking.

We’ll play tomorrow, okay?

Jaehee: Where are you going?

Stay here…

Minjun: Oppa has urgent work.

I’ll come home late.

Eat well and sleep early, okay?

Jaehee: …Okay.

[Minjun leaves.]

Later that night…

[Aunt and Uncle talk quietly in their bedroom.]

Aunt: Minjun wants to take jaehee with him.

Uncle: Dohyun told me.

Teena… maybe you should let Jaehee go with him.

She’s bright.

He left long ago, yes…

but for the past two years, he’s been responsible.

Let him raise her.

We already have two kids.

Aunt: (voice softening) I… I know.

But after the trouble he caused…

How can I trust him now?

He left the country, vanished…

and suddenly wants to take his sister?

Uncle: But she loves him. You see it.

And Minjun loves her too.

He cared for Jaehee and even for Dohyun.

Let her chase a future beyond this town.

She deserves that chance.

(Aunt closes her eyes. The room falls silent, heavy with regret, fear… and hope.)

Next day

Aunt: Minjun-ah… I know you can provide for your sister.

But taking her with you and raising her alone… it’s not easy.

You’ll be busy all the time.

How will you manage Jaehee’s wellbeing? Her needs? Her morality?

Aunt: She’ll grow up… reach puberty…

There are things only a woman can teach her.

Can you handle all that without help?

You’re not even married yet.

What if you marry someone someday and Jaehee becomes a burden between you two?

Minjun, you’re only 25.

And she’s just 10 years old.

Minjun: Aunt… I’ve thought about all of this.

I’m not planning to marry for years.

Right now, all I want is to raise her well.

I don’t want Jaehee to go through what I went through.

She’s gifted. She’s special.

I won’t let her waste that.

I promise you… I’ll take care of her.

Aunt: Jaehee-ah…

Do you want to go with your oppa?

(Little Jaehee nods shyly.)

Aunt: Then… take care of her, Minjun.

She’s just like you, you know?

She won’t bother anyone.

Even if she wants something, she won’t ask—

just like you and your mother.

Minjun: I know, Aunt.

That’s why I want to protect her.

I don’t want her to grow up regretting that she didn’t have good parents.

[A few days later — at the airport]

(Aunt Teena is in tears, hugging little Jaehee tightly.

(Jaehee is excited — it’s her first time on a plane.)

Aunt: Jaehee-ah… call Aunt every day, okay?

Tell me what you’re doing, what you ate, everything.

And hit your brother if he does anything stupid, huh?

Jaehee: Aunt… I love you.

Bye-bye.

Aunt: Minjun-ah…

If anything goes wrong, bring her back home.

Please keep your eyes on her 24/7, okay?

You know how things are in the States.

**Minjun: **I will, Aunt.

And please… take care of yourself.

Don’t overwork.

And don’t hesitate to ask me if you need money.

Bye, Aunt.

(She whispered goodbye the way people do when they’re afraid their voice might break if they speak any louder.)

Adult Jaehee: That’s how I ended up in the States when I was ten.

Eleven years have passed since then — eleven years of learning, messing up, growing, getting scolded by my brother… a lot.

Me and Minjun have a twelve-year age gap. Our dad remarried before I was even born, and anything between him and Mom was already broken long before that. He was never the responsible type. Since Minjun was two, Aunt Teena had been the one supporting us financially.

There came a point when my brother couldn’t handle things at home anymore. Mom’s bipolar disorder got worse after Grandpa passed away — I wasn’t even born then — and she began tearing the house apart almost every day. Our home became a battlefield. Granny cried all the time.

Minjun was Grandpa’s favourite — the straight-A kid, the quiet achiever. Aunt Teena’s only anger was that he couldn’t finish college. Instead, he ran away from the country and somehow built a life in the U.S., becoming a working actor. Not a big star back then, but steady enough to support himself… and me. He managed to pay our bills in America and send money back home.

Six months after arriving in the U.S., I enrolled in a school near our apartment. Our neighbour, Dina — a singer with a warm laugh — helped me learn English. And even though I was just ten, I picked up the language completely in six months.

But here’s the funny part:

I dropped out of school after only three months.

One of my teachers noticed I was good at math and pushed me into a competition— a problem-solving contest. I was the only middle schooler; the rest were high school students. I didn’t finish the question in time, but I didn’t stop trying either. I kept scribbling answers with my tiny hands, standing on a chair because I couldn’t reach the board properly. Minjun rushed there despite having 3–5 gigs that day, cheering loudly like an embarrassing parent.

Everyone in that room cheered when I finally solved it.

Among them was Professor Daniel, a respected academic who once taught today’s wealthiest man in the world — Evon Chapman.

Later, Professor Daniel called Evon:

Prof Daniel: “Evon, I saw a kid today. She reminded me of you at that age. Ten years old, yet she solved a question even college students struggle with. Kids these days will outsmart us sooner than we think.”

Evon: “Professor, there are institutions that train gifted kids aggressively. She might be one of them. But yes… it’s impressive.”

Prof Daniel: “She came to the U.S. only seven months ago. She learned English in six months. Trust me — meet this child once. You’ll know.”

It was the 4th of July — the whole country was dressed in fireworks.

My brother finally had a day off, so he took me to the parade. His friends joked with me, stole bites of my ice cream, and told me I’d go to jail if I didn’t dance. I laughed the whole day.

When we finally reached home, a car was waiting outside.

Evon and Professor Daniel.

They had almost left.

Minjun invited them inside politely. I ran to the kitchen, poured water into cups, and handed it to them with both hands.

Evon: “So you’re the little genius I’ve been hearing about?”

Prof Daniel: “Minjun, this is Evon Chapman — one of my former students.”

Minjun: “It’s an honour, Mr. Chapman. Congratulations on your new company.”

Evon: “Thank you. Actually, we’re here to talk about your sister. I’m building a private learning team for my children — specialists who help them master their talents. Schools these days are more for networking than learning. I want to offer your sister a place, but only if she passes our preliminary test. It’s a full-time program, so she’ll have to leave school.”

Minjun: “Will there be any credientials? Something she can use outside your company?”

Evon: “No. This is strictly for my children and those I hand-pick. But… if she passes, she can secure a high-paying job later in our company.”

Minjun: “She’s ten. Can she handle it? And if she doesn’t, her academic life is ruined.”

Prof Daniel: “The math problem she solved wasn’t a basic one. Even college students from top institutes failed at it. I believe she’ll ace this. Some opportunities come only once. Sometimes you sacrifice one path to open another.”

Minjun: “…I need time to think.”

Evon: “Take your time. But let her appear for the preliminary test in two days.”

Minjun: “Why choose her? You said this was for your children.”

Prof Daniel: “Because I recommended her.”

Evon: “And the professor never recommends someone unless he sees real potential.”

Later that night, after Evon and Professor Daniel left, Minjun stepped out onto the balcony with his phone. The summer air was warm, but his voice sounded tight.

Aunt Teena didn’t even let him finish explaining.

Aunt:

“Minjun-ah, absolutely not. I don’t accept this.”

Her voice cracked with worry.

“What if Jaehee wants to return to Korea someday? She needs proper academic certificates. You can’t gamble with her future. People change, situations change — you can’t trust anyone fully. Don’t risk your sister’s life on promises.”

Minjun rubbed his forehead, staring out at the dim streetlights.

Minjun: “…Hmm. Okay, Aunt. I understand.”

He sighed.

“But… let’s at least let her take the test. It’s in two days. We’ll decide after that.”

It was test day.

The company had arranged our transport, and the building looked even bigger than I imagined. My brother held my hand tightly the whole way, terrified I might get lost in that huge place. Professor Daniel told us to meet on the 7th floor, so we waited in the lobby, surrounded by people in suits, badges, and tablets.

A tall woman in a sharp business suit walked out and guided us toward the testing room.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt like some kind of experiment rat instead of a candidate.

They checked my IQ, gave me aptitude and reasoning questions, then another test with complicated equations. After that, wires were placed on my head for monitoring.

I was scared—so scared that they allowed my brother to sit next to me the entire time.

When it finally ended, we were told the results would be ready in two hours. To keep us occupied, they gave us a tour of the space facility.

It was the first time I had ever seen rockets in real life.

They were massive—so tall I couldn’t even see the top without bending backward. Rocket scientists walked around discussing engines and launch sequences, and everything looked straight out of a movie. The launch pads, the assembly areas, the control rooms—everything felt too big, too incredible. I kept walking until my legs hurt.

Those two hours became some of the most unforgettable moments of my life.

Even my brother looked like a ten-year-old again, his eyes sparkling as he stared at the rockets.

We grabbed some snacks afterward, and I ended up playing with a few of the scientists. My brother, who came here fully prepared to reject their offer, suddenly looked uncertain and conflicted.

Soon, Professor Daniel and Evon returned with my results. They had discussed everything with other professionals and looked impressed.

Evon smiled at me first.

Evon: “She made a lot of silly mistakes… but even then, these results are impressive for a 10-year-old. Now I understand why Professor Daniel referred her. She’s a prodigy. Don’t waste her potential in regular school. Let me handle her education. I promise—she will become a great scientist. The future will value skill over academic background.”

Minjun’s eyes shook a little.

Minjun: “But… what if she wants to work somewhere else in the future? Or move back to Korea? Won’t it be hard without a normal academic record?”

Evon: “She won’t just study here. We will also train her. She’ll work with real scientists once she reaches the right stage. She’ll have knowledge far beyond a school curriculum.”

Professor Daniel added softly:

“This is life-changing for Jaehee. Think carefully, Minjun.”

My brother signed the contract.

He even received a stipend for me. But he decided not to tell our aunt that I dropped out of school.

Time passed. Both of us became busy with our lives. My brother got assigned to a major project, and I excelled in my academics.

.

.

.

Three Years Later

By thirteen, I had gotten used to being teased as “the kid” among researchers. I became close to Evon too—he often dropped me home after late classes and even let me sit in on discussions about rocket updates. Slowly, I began to understand everything.

Around that time, my brother decided to start an entertainment company in Korea. We flew to Korea for a week, signed a contract with his close friend, Park Rumi, and named the company Wibe Entertainment.

My stipend money let me bring souvenirs home, but I couldn’t admit I earned it myself.

My aunt was shocked to see me after three years—taller, sharper, more mature. My brother still didn’t tell her I had dropped out of school.

We stayed three days before returning to the US.

A few months later, Wibe Entertainment began recruiting trainees for their first boy group. After several rounds of auditions and training in Korea, seven members were chosen. They eventually flew to the US for intensive training.

The final lineup:

Park Jaemin — Center / Main Vocal

Choi Minchae — Lead Dancer / Lead Vocal

Kim Rowoon — Visual

Lee Seojun — Main Rapper

Han Haemin — Vocalist

Kang Riwon — Leader

Jung Yunho — Maknae