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Jiwoo was the best brother-like friend I ever had. We spent most of our school years together—though I have to admit, I never actually called him “brother,” no matter how many times he insisted on it. Honestly, he might just cry if I ever did.

He had light brown eyes that always looked warm, and soft black hair that somehow stayed neat no matter what. His smile? Constant. Like he was happy 24/7. He was polite to everyone, especially elders.

He was close to his grandmother. I used to tease him, calling him grandma’s boy, even though I secretly envied that bond.

My own parents were always away on business trips—barely home, barely calling.

But Brother Jiwoo always made sure I never ate alone. His family was warm and welcoming. 

He lost his parents ten years ago, and for fifteen years he lived alone, working part-time jobs to pay his school fees and feed himself. I always wondered how someone who’d gone through so much could still be so kind—to me, to strangers, to everyone.

I often asked him how he stayed so kind despite everything. He’d just give me that same warm smile and say, "Being kind costs nothing." No real answer—just that.

He always brushed it off, I tried to support him as best I could. When he joined the army, he just patted my shoulders and said, "Hana, study well, I'm going on a trip." As if I wouldn’t notice.

Brother Jiwoo wasn’t always that military-strong guy with lean muscles. Back in our school days, he used to get bullied by a bunch of blockhead classmates. They’d call him names like “poor” or “orphan” and laugh at his worn-out shoes and clothes. Most days, he came to class bruised and covered in bandages.

I still remember catching him on the school rooftop once, sitting alone. I poked him in the back, and he twitched like a startled kid. His face was covered in cuts and bruises. I looked at him, dead serious. “What happened, Jiwoo? Did they bully you again?”

He just smiled and said, “It’s fine. They’ll stop eventually.”

But they didn’t. Not for two whole years. And he always stopped me from doing anything about it. Maybe he was worried I’d cause trouble… not that I’m scary or anything, I’m just a boxer with a flawless record—zero wins, zero losses.

I couldn’t stand watching him take it anymore, so I did what any good sister would: I complained to the teacher. After that, the bullying stopped.

From then on, I told him to call me his guardian.

Ahemm! But he never did, well it was more than enough to thank me instead of the usual thing he did. Today I finally met him after years it was fun, even though it was a short conversation I had missed that old time vibes.

Tomorrow we would be finally going out to hang around, I can't wait to irritate my Smiley Brother hehe. Thought I don't know if that dumbass would really come.

I am graduating next month I hope brother Jiwoo would be their to watch me graduate I would be happy if he turns up I should ask him tomorrow.

I stretched my back and went towards my kitchen, unwashed dishes at the sink "ohh man I wish someone can wash all my freaking dishes" 

Raising my thumbs towards the dishes " Don't worry " 

I am actually going mad, I trudged and filled my bottle, and sat on the sofa what a soft thud, I slowly reached out for my pillow slightly touching it few itches I stretch my arms as mush I could eventually gave in and got up and slammed it on the sofa following up with myself. 

I hope Brother Jiwoo arrives tomorrow I have lot of stories to tell him. "Ehh! Whether report always incorrect well whatever"