Ji Woong started, his pen slipping from his fingers and rolling onto the floor. Blinking, he tried to gather his scattered thoughts, aware that he had been caught in his absent-minded reverie. "I—uh," he stammered, cheeks coloring under the scrutiny.

Noah's expression softened imperceptibly as he turned away, allowing Ji Woong a moment's respite. "Anyone else?" he asked, shifting focus back to the eager hands.

As the lecture resumed, Noah's eyes discreetly swept back to Ji Woong, then to Jaehyun, who was diligently jotting down notes. The resemblance between the two—a certain set to their jaws, the way their hair fell—was subtle but undeniable to those who knew to look for it.

For a brief second, a shadow crossed Noah's face, a complex mixture of protectiveness and concern that only those who truly understood their relationship might decipher. Noah, the ever-watchful stepbrother, masked his personal feelings with professionalism, redirecting his attention to the intricacies of the brain.

Yet, throughout the remainder of the lecture, Noah's awareness remained divided, one part devoted to his teaching duties, the other silently keeping watch over the dynamic unfolding silently in the rows before him.

Whispers threaded through the classroom like tendrils of smoke, faint but persistent, as Noah sketched a diagram on the whiteboard. One student leaned over to another, her voice a conspiratorial murmur. "That's his brother, you know."

"Really?" The other student's eyes flickered between Jaehyun and Noah, seeking out the familial resemblance that lay beneath the surface.

"Stepbrother," the first clarified with a nod. "But Noah looks out for him. Just watch."

The lecture hall hummed with the sound of mental gears turning, notes being taken, and the occasional whisper that added to the undercurrent of curiosity. Noah, with practiced ease, wrapped up the complexities of neurological pathways into digestible summaries. He tapped the board with his marker for emphasis, concluding the lesson with a flourish.

"Remember, these connections in the brain are fundamental to understanding human behavior," he said, capping his marker with a definitive click. "Any questions before we wrap up for today?"

A brief silence followed, filled with shuffling papers and the clink of pens against desks. Satisfied, Noah nodded.

"Alright then. Don't forget, your research proposals are due next week. I expect groundbreaking ideas, people." His tone held a hint of humor, softening the academic rigor he so often projected.

He stepped away from the podium, his gaze sweeping the room one last time, lingering an extra moment on Jaehyun, who now looked up from his notes. With a small, almost imperceptible nod to his stepbrother, Noah collected his own materials and exited the lecture hall.


The students began to gather their belongings, the whispers growing louder now that the professor had left. Some glanced at Jaehyun with renewed interest, their minds spinning tales and rumors about the quiet student who shared a secret bond with their enigmatic professor.

Jaehyun's heart pounded as he sprinted down the corridor, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the walls. Up ahead, Noah's broad-shouldered silhouette moved with purpose, about to turn a corner and disappear from sight. Desperation laced Jaehyun's voice as he called out, "Hey Brother, wait. I need to talk to you."

Noah slowed but didn't stop, casting a glance over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. The harsh fluorescent lighting cast shadows on his face, accentuating the sharpness in his eyes that had always intimidated Jaehyun since childhood. "Make it quick, Jaehyun," Noah said without warmth, his tone indicating that this interruption was an inconvenience.

Jaehyun caught up to Noah, breathless from the chase. The hallway seemed to stretch out behind him, a testament to the urgency that had propelled his feet forward. Noah, however, exuded a calmness that was almost disconcerting, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his jeans.

"Look," Jaehyun began, wiping a bead of perspiration from his brow, "Mom and Dad... they want us to come over for dinner tonight." He watched Noah's face closely, searching for a sign of the brotherly bond he so desperately wanted to strengthen.

A pause hung in the air, loaded with years of tension and unspoken words. Finally, Noah's lips curved into a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Okay, I will come," he replied, his voice devoid of enthusiasm but not dismissive.

Jaehyun felt a flicker of hope at the response, wondering if the familial gathering might bridge the gap between them, even if just for an evening.

Jaehyun's footsteps echoed in the empty corridor as he made his way back to his hostel room. The conversation with Noah left him feeling a mixture of relief and residual tension, the familiar weight of their strained relationship pressing down on him like a heavy coat. He unlocked his door, the click of the mechanism sounding unusually loud in the quiet.

Inside, Jaehyun shed the invisible burden along with his shoes, leaving both by the door. His room was spartan, a reflection of his minimalist approach to life, every item serving a purpose, nothing superfluous. He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, allowing the exhaustion of the day to wash over him, he lay back on the mattress.

The ceiling above offered no answers, the bland expanse a blank canvas to his clouded mind. His eyes traced the faint outlines of paint brush strokes, long dried and forgotten. Here in this stillness, he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, the hope that tonight's dinner might be a turning point, a catalyst for something more than civility between himself and Noah.

As the digital numbers on his bedside clock transitioned to 6:30 pm, Jaehyun's reverie broke. With a deep breath, he pushed himself upright, his movements now deliberate. Standing, he smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt, an attempt to do the same with his unsettled emotions. He checked his reflection in the mirror, adjusted his hair, and with a last glance at the room, he ensured he had what he needed before stepping out.

The evening air was cool against his skin as he locked his door behind him, the fading light casting elongated shadows across the ground. It was time to face the family dynamic once again, a familiar battlefront where old wounds often resurfaced. Still, he held onto the slender thread of optimism that perhaps this night would be different—that perhaps they could all sit at the same table and simply be a family. Energized by this thought, he strode towards his parents' house, ready for whatever the evening might hold.

The quaint warmth of his childhood home embraced Jaehyun as he stepped through the threshold. A nostalgic concoction of scents—polished wood, simmering food, and a faint trace of jasmine from the garden—filled his senses. The familiar sounds of home hummed in the background; the ticking of the grandfather clock by the foyer, the muffled laughter emanating from the living room.

"Jaehyun!" His mother's voice cut through the soft din as she emerged from the heart of the house, her arms opened wide in anticipation. Her smile was a beacon, drawing him into the safe harbor of her embrace. "My sweetheart is here," she cooed, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. Her eyes, bright with unspoken emotions, scanned his face as if trying to memorize any changes time might have etched since their last meeting. "It's been a very long time since I saw you."

He could feel the sincerity in her words, the genuine delight that filled the lines around her eyes. It was these moments, raw and unguarded, that reminded Jaehyun why he braved the undercurrents of tension that awaited at family gatherings. Here, in the affectionate welcome of his mother, lay the foundation of his resolve.

Jaehyun stepped further into the warm, lamplit living room, the soft carpet hushing his footsteps. His mother's gaze was a comforting tether pulling him from the doorway's edge as she repeated her tender endearment with a slight chuckle at her own redundancy.

"Ah, my honey is here," she said, her voice dancing with affection and an undercurrent of nostalgia. "It's been a very long time since to saw you."

The repetition was a familiar quirk, her excitement sometimes tripping over her words like a child skipping rope. Jaehyun couldn't help but let a small smile touch the corners of his lips, his heart softening in the glow of her presence.

"Yeah," he replied simply, allowing the word to carry the weight of all his unspoken feelings. The affirmation was a gentle acknowledgment of their prolonged separation and a silent promise to savor the precious hours of reunion.

The clink of utensils and the soft murmur of conversation greeted Jaehyun as he entered the dining area, a space where the vintage wallpaper bore witness to decades of family history. His gaze instinctively swept across the room, coming to rest on Noah, who had already secured his place at the head of the table beside their father. The older sibling's posture was relaxed, an elbow resting on the polished wood, head tilted in attentive conversation.

Noah's early arrival wasn't a surprise; punctuality was a point of pride for him, another unspoken contest in their sibling rivalry. Jaehyun took in the scene—their father's hand gesturing expansively as he spoke, Noah nodding along—and felt a twinge of something like envy. It was a familiar tableau, one that cast him once more as the perennial latecomer in his own family narrative.

"Jaehyun!" The voice of his father cut through his introspection, rich with warmth and the gravitas that had always commanded Jaehyun's respect. "Long time no see, how are you doing with your studies?"

At the question, Jaehyun straightened his shoulders, the internal machinations of his mind shifting gears to present the version of himself that his father expected: the diligent student, the ambitious son. He readied his response, each word mentally polished before it could reach his lips.

"Good," Jaehyun replied, his voice steady as he navigated the undercurrents of expectation. "Just fine."

A moment's pause hung in the air, a silent acknowledgement of the brevity of his response before Noah, ever the mediator, extended an olive branch in the form of simple courtesy.

"Please have a seat, Jaehyun," Noah said, gesturing to the empty chair beside him with a casual wave of his hand.

Jaehyun moved toward the offered place, the subtle tension between the lines of his shoulders easing fractionally at the inclusive gesture. He settled into the chair, its familiar creak a testament to the countless meals shared and conversations held around the solid oak table. Noah's invitation, simple as it was, served as a tacit bridge over the chasm of their complex brotherhood, allowing Jaehyun a temporary respite from the constant pressure to prove himself.

Jaehyun felt the chair's wood beneath him, a gentle reminder of family dinners past and the intricate web of relations that held them together. He traced his fingers along the grain, his thoughts drifting to the years stacked behind him like the pages of an unread book. Since he was five, life had dealt him a reshuffled hand – the death of his father, followed by his mother's swift remarriage.

He glanced covertly at Noah, whose profile was etched against the soft light filtering through the dining room curtains. Four years his senior, Noah carried an air of cool distance that had been there since their first uneasy meeting. Jaehyun remembered the scowl on Noah's face, the dismissive flick of his eyes that had made five-year-old Jaehyun shrink back in confused hurt. The years had done little to warm Noah's demeanor towards him.

A clinking sound brought Jaehyun back from his reverie. His mother, with her ever-warm smile, stepped into the dining room carrying the final touches for their meal. "Dinner table is ready," she announced, her voice imbued with the same inviting warmth that filled the house with the scent of roasted chicken and baked bread.

The call to gather pulled Jaehyun from the depths of his musings, offering a different kind of sustenance – one that promised, if not familial closeness, then at least the comfort of tradition.