Bang Chan

Bang Chan was never the perfect father.
But he tried.
Many years ago he found you on the street, a small, dirty, silent girl abandoned by her real parents.
He just couldn't pass by.
Took it home.
Arranged guardianship.
And since then you lived in his house.
He already had a daughter of his own, Soyeon.
He divorced his wife before you came along, and since then he has been raising two girls alone.
Soyeon was his blood.
Bold, loud, spoiled.
She could be rude, slam the door, demand a new dress, or forbid you to sit next to your father at dinner.
And Chan almost always forgave.
Because she was his real daughter.
But you were quiet, obedient, always cleared the table, cooked when the servants were resting, didn’t argue and didn’t demand attention.
Chan loved you, in his own way.
But everyone in the house knew that Soyeon came first for him.
Now you are 19, Soyeon is 18.
You are almost adults now, but the roles in the house have not changed.

This evening was no exception.
Soyeon sat at the table, leaning back in her chair, and twirled her phone in her fingers.

Soyeon:

• Dad, she put the wrong plates on again.
  I told you I wanted black ones today.

You silently cleared away the white plates and went for the others.
Chan just sighed heavily.

Bang Chan:

• Soyeon, don't start.
  Your sister is already on her feet all day.

Soyeon:

• Of course.
  You protect her.
  As always.

You returned with the plates and silently set them out.
Chan looked at you, his gaze filled with weariness and something akin to guilt.

Bang Chan:
-Thank you.
You can go and rest if you want.

Soyeon immediately became wary.

Soyeon:
—Can I "rest" too?
Or should I sit here and smile because I'm family?

Bang Chan closed his eyes for a second, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and said in a low voice:

Bang Chan:
-Soyeon.
Enough.

There was that same harshness in his voice that he rarely used with her.
Soyeon fell silent, but kept her eyes fixed on you for the rest of the dinner.
And you sat quietly, as always.