Hwawoon had been frail since birth and rarely left his quarters, doted on by their mother and the maids.
That made him seem softer, more delicate—but beneath that, he was strong-willed, spirited, and often just as mischievous as she was.
She still remembered the day she first heard about him.
She was only five, but she climbed over the wall to see him for herself—and Woon had greeted her with a soft smile, completely unfazed, as if he’d been waiting for her all along.
「So you’re my younger sister,」 he’d said.
「And why am I the younger one?」 she’d snapped back.
Hwawoon insisted that he was the ‘older’ brother, despite being born mere moments apart, and never let it go.
Eventually, she gave in and let him be the ‘older one’—but only when people were watching.
Whenever she got bold, he’d pinch her cheek hard and remind her who was older.
He looked gentle, soft-spoken. But he wasn’t easily pushed around. He was stubborn, rarely gave in, and sometimes—even bolder than she was.
