Yeon was seven years old when his life changed forever.
It began on a day that should have felt ordinary. The sun was bright, the sky was clear, and the warm wind carried the smell of dry grass. But for Yeon, nothing about this day was ordinary.
He sat at the back of a wooden wagon, his wrists tied with coarse rope that bit into his skin whenever the wheels jolted over a rock. The wagon creaked loudly as it rolled down the dirt road, bouncing so hard his teeth almost rattled.
He didn't cry. Not because he wasn't scared nor he was terrified but because he had learned long ago that crying didn't help.
In his seven years of life, Yeon had discovered one truth: the world didn't care about his pain.
The wagon smelled of dust and sweat. Beside him sat other children—boys and girls, some older, some younger. None of them spoke. Their faces were pale, their eyes empty, like broken dolls.
Yeon stared at the floorboards and let his mind wander. He thought about the day his foster parents sold him.
"You'll have a better life this way," his foster mother had said, her voice sharp and cold.
Better life? Was being sold to strangers a better life?
No. The truth was simple: they didn't want him anymore.
Yeon always knew he wasn't their real son. They didn't have to say it but he could feel it in the way they treated him. They fed him last, gave him the oldest clothes, and spoke to him only when necessary. And now, they had proven it by trading him away for a handful of coins.
Yeon didn't hate them. He didn't even feel sad anymore. He was just… tired.
There was only one thing they couldn't take from him.
His luck.
Though whether it was good luck or bad luck, he still couldn't tell.
The wagon slowed, then stopped with a loud creak. The driver shouted something Yeon couldn't hear clearly. The door opened, and a tall man with a scar across his cheek barked, "Out! All of you!"
The children moved slowly, their steps weak from hunger. Yeon followed, the hot sun burning his skin as he stepped onto the dry, cracked ground.
They were in a clearing off the main road. Several other wagons were parked in a line, each carrying more slaves. The air was thick with dust, and the smell of unwashed bodies clung to everything.
Yeon stood in line with the others, his head lowered.
This was his life now—bought and sold like an animal.
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The sound of hooves broke the silence.
Yeon looked up slightly and saw a carriage approaching. It wasn't like the rough wagons he had ridden in. This one was elegant—painted a deep blue, with silver lines curling along the edges like vines. The horses pulling it were pure white, their manes so clean they almost shone under the sun.
The carriage stopped near the center of the clearing. The door opened, and a woman stepped out.
She was beautiful in a way Yeon had never seen before. Her long dress was pale blue silk, shimmering like water in the sunlight. Her dark hair was tied neatly, and her skin looked smooth like porcelain. Her face was calm, her expression unreadable.
Behind her stood a tall man in armor, a sword hanging at his waist. He looked dangerous—the kind of man who could kill without hesitation.
The woman's eyes swept across the group of slaves. When she spoke, her voice was soft but clear.
"I am looking for a boy. Around ten years old."
The armored man repeated her words to the broker in a deeper tone.
The broker scratched his chin, then looked over the children. His eyes stopped on Yeon.
Yeon froze.
He wasn't ten. He was only seven—but small and thin enough that most people didn't know his exact age.
"This one," the broker said, grabbing Yeon by the arm and pulling him forward. "Nine years old. Close enough."
Yeon stumbled and nearly fell. The guard's sharp eyes studied him, then turned back to the woman and gave a small nod.
The woman looked at Yeon for a long moment. Her gaze wasn't cruel, but it wasn't warm either. It was calm, like she was thinking about something only she understood.
Finally, she spoke.
"He will do."
Just like that, it was decided.
Yeon didn't know if this was good luck or bad luck. But it was luck all the same.
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The inside of the carriage was quiet and soft—a completely different world from the dusty clearing outside. The seats were cushioned, the floor polished. It even smelled faintly of flowers.
Yeon sat on a small stool near the corner, his hands still tied, his body tense.
The woman sat across from him, her posture straight, her hands resting gracefully on her lap. She didn't look at him at first, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside the window.
The silence stretched on. Yeon kept his head down. His breathing sounded too loud in his own ears, and he tried to make it quieter.
Finally, the woman spoke.
"What is your name?"
Yeon hesitated. "…Yeon."
The woman repeated it softly, as if tasting the sound. "Yeon." She nodded slightly, but said nothing more.
The silence returned.
Yeon's stomach growled quietly, and heat rushed to his cheeks. He was hungry, but he didn't dare ask for food.
Through the window, the world passed by—green hills, tall trees, and distant mountains. It was beautiful, but Yeon couldn't enjoy it. His mind was a storm of questions he couldn't ask.
Who was this woman? Why did she choose him? What would happen to him?
Hours passed before the carriage finally slowed.
Yeon peeked outside and froze.
They were entering a large estate, bigger than anything he had ever seen.
Tall stone walls surrounded the grounds, and beyond them were manicured gardens filled with flowers. A grand house stood at the center—its roof gleaming in the sunset, its windows glowing with warm light.
Yeon's breath caught in his throat.
Was this… going to be his new home?
He didn't know.
And that uncertainty scared him more than anything.
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The carriage came to a smooth stop.
Yeon's body tensed as the door opened. The air outside was cooler now, carrying the faint smell of flowers and freshly cut grass.
The noblewoman stepped out first, her long dress brushing against the polished steps. The armored guard followed. Then a man in a servant's uniform appeared and helped Yeon down from the carriage.
Yeon blinked.
The world before him was nothing like the dusty clearing he had left behind.
The estate stretched wide and grand. A cobblestone path ran through a garden filled with flowers of every color. Water sparkled in a fountain at the center, and lanterns glowed softly as the evening shadows grew longer.
The house itself was enormous—three stories high, with walls of white stone and tall windows that reflected the orange light of the setting sun. The roof gleamed like polished metal.
Yeon felt small. So small.
He had never seen anything like this. Not even in his dreams.
A line of servants stood near the entrance, bowing as the noblewoman passed. They didn't even glance at Yeon. Or if they did, they hid it well.
Yeon kept his head down and followed quietly. His worn sandals made soft scuffing sounds against the stone steps.
When they entered the house, warmth wrapped around him. The air smelled clean, like flowers and something sweet he couldn't name. The floor shone so brightly he could see his own reflection, though it looked strange—his small face, messy black hair, and dirt-streaked cheeks staring back at him in a place he didn't belong.
The noblewoman walked with a calm grace through the wide halls. Paintings of forests and mountains hung on the walls. Candles burned in silver stands, their flames steady and bright.
Yeon followed, his rope-bound hands held close to his chest. Every step echoed, making him feel like an intruder.
Finally, they stopped in front of a door. It was painted white, with gold patterns curling like vines across its surface. The noblewoman opened it and stepped inside.
Yeon hesitated, then followed.
And froze.
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The room was bright and warm, filled with soft colors. Curtains fluttered gently by the open window. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with books and toys. A thick rug covered the floor, and scattered across it were wooden animals, cloth dolls, and colorful blocks.
But none of that mattered compared to the little girl sitting in the middle of the room.
She couldn't have been more than four years old. Her hair was golden and soft, catching the light like sunlight on water. Her eyes were a bright, vivid green—so bright they almost glowed. She wore a simple white dress and held a small stuffed animal in her arms.
When she saw the noblewoman, her face lit up.
"Mother!"
Her voice was clear and cheerful, like a bell.
The noblewoman's calm expression softened as she knelt and opened her arms. The girl ran into them, laughing, her tiny feet tapping against the rug.
The noblewoman hugged her gently, smoothing her golden hair. "Aeris," she said softly.
Yeon blinked.
Aeris.
Like the wind spirit from the old stories.
The girl Aeris—pulled back and looked up at her mother with bright eyes. "You're back! You were gone so long!"
"I had to take care of something," the noblewoman said. Her voice was warm now, so different from the calm tone she used outside.
Aeris nodded, then noticed Yeon. Her head tilted slightly as her green eyes studied him.
"Who's that?" she asked, pointing at him with her tiny finger.
Yeon stiffened under her gaze. He didn't know what to do. Should he bow? Speak? Say nothing?
The noblewoman stood and looked at Yeon. For a long moment, the room was silent except for the faint flutter of curtains in the breeze.
Finally, she spoke.
"Aeris," she said gently, "this is Yeon."
The little girl blinked. "Yeon?"
"Yes." The noblewoman turned to him now, her calm eyes meeting his. "From today onward, he will live with us."
Yeon's breath caught. Live… with them?
He didn't have time to think before Aeris grinned. A big, bright grin that made her look like a little ball of sunshine.
"Hi, Yeon!" she said, waving both hands.
Yeon hesitated. His throat felt tight. "…Hi."
His voice was so small he barely heard it himself.
Aeris giggled and ran toward him. Yeon tensed as she stopped right in front of him, tilting her head back to look up at his face. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, not fear, not disgust—just pure, innocent curiosity.
"You're really tall," she said matter-of-factly. "Are you gonna stay here forever?"
Yeon froze. The question stabbed into his chest. Forever? He didn't even know if he'd stay until tomorrow.
Before he could answer, the noblewoman spoke.
"Yes," she said softly, but firmly. "He will stay. Because from now on…"
Her eyes locked on Yeon's.
"…he is your big brother."
Yeon's heart stopped.
Big… brother?
The noblewoman stepped closer, her voice calm but heavy with meaning.
"Yeon," she said, "you will protect her. No matter what. That is your role. That is your duty. From this day forward, you are Aeris's older brother."
Yeon stared at her, his mind blank.
Brother? Him?
He didn't understand. He didn't deserve it. He was a slave, a boy nobody wanted. How could he be… family?
But then he looked down at Aeris. She was still smiling—bright, innocent, completely trusting. Like the word "brother" meant something wonderful to her.
For the first time in years, Yeon felt something warm flicker inside him.
Not fear. Not anger. Something else.
Hope.
He swallowed hard and nodded slowly. "…I… understand."
The noblewoman's eyes softened just a little. "Good."
Aeris clapped her hands. "Yay! I always wanted a big brother!"
Yeon blinked at her, speechless. He didn't know how to respond.
But as Aeris grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her toys with a laugh, Yeon felt something strange.
For the first time since that terrible day when his foster parents gave him away…
He didn't feel alone.
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That night, as Yeon lay in a soft bed for the first time in his life, he stared at the ceiling and whispered to himself:
"Big brother… huh?"
The words felt strange on his tongue.
But deep in his heart, he made a silent promise.
No matter what, he would protect her.
Because for once, his luck had given him something worth keeping.