No Strings Attached

INTRO

"Did I... do something wrong?" she whispered.

It worked instantly.

"Oh, no, no," Mrs. Baek rushed to say, stepping away from the boy and toward the bed again. "You didn't do anything wrong, darling."

The girl blinked up at her, innocent confusion painted neatly across her face.

A nurse placed a gentle hand on her arm. "Sweetheart, you're safe. No one is upset with you."

She nodded, just once—quiet, obedient.

The boy, still hovering at the door, stared at her like she was a puzzle piece that suddenly appeared in the wrong box.

He took one hesitant step inside.

"Can she... stay with us?" he asked.

Mrs. Baek froze.

The doctors paused.

Even the girl's fingers stilled against the blanket.

It wasn't a request a child usually made—not with that tone. He didn't sound scared or jealous. He sounded... drawn. Like something about her pulled his focus without his consent.

Mrs. Baek knelt beside him. "Yeseong, sweetheart, we don't know anything about her yet."

He kept staring at the girl.

The girl finally lifted her eyes again to meet his.
Nothing sharp.
Nothing dangerous.
Just soft curiosity.

"Hi," she murmured.

He blinked, startled by the simple word.

Mrs. Baek exhaled shakily and stood, smoothing her hair back.

"We should speak to the chairman," one doctor suggested. "The social services department will want to know—"

"We'll handle it privately," Mrs. Baek cut in quickly.

The room went quiet.
That wasn't a suggestion—it was an order.

She looked back at the girl on the bed, something almost maternal flickering beneath the fear.

"Don't worry," she said gently. "We won't let anything happen to you."

The girl didn't respond.

But her eyes lowered again, lashes hiding the way she was already studying every adult in the room, memorizing their movements, their weaknesses, their positions around her bed.

And when Mrs. Baek finally added, voice soft and certain—

"You'll come home with us once you're stable."

—the girl didn't smile.

She simply nodded once, small and obedient, like a child who didn't understand the weight of those words.

But inside, she had already decided:

If the boy lived here,
then this house
was exactly where she needed to be.

The doctors' whispers faded as they stepped into the hallway, still shaking their heads.

"They look alike..." one murmured again, almost to himself.

Mrs. Baek lingered briefly, brushing a hand over Yerin's hair. "Let's give her some rest," she said quietly, glancing at the clock. Nearly nine o'clock.

The nurses returned one last time. They moved with practiced efficiency, checking the IV, re-taping her bandages, smoothing the blanket over her thin frame. Every motion was gentle, careful. They whispered soft reassurances to a girl who didn't respond. When they finished, they left, closing the door behind them with the faintest click.