Ch.169169. A Story Only a Big Sister Can Tell

A story just between the two of us. Both Hwa Nabi and my sister seem to enjoy talking with me one-on-one. I don’t understand why they like it so much.

Is that how all women are? I’d like to compare, but I’d need to know other women for that. In my life, Hwa Nabi is the only woman I know well, so that’s that.

After muttering to myself, I straightened my back. Is this my first private meeting with my sister? We’ve only seen each other a few times, and even then, it was when the whole family was together. This must be the first time.

It feels awkward for no reason. My lips are dry from an inexplicable tension. My sister is still standing with one leg crossed, arms folded. She stares at me quietly, waiting, as if expecting an answer to the question she just asked.

“Sure, let’s… talk.”

The way she’s standing makes her look like she came to fight rather than talk, but I doubt she’d hit me. I don’t remember doing anything to deserve a beating, and my brother told me to call immediately if anything happened, so I should be fine.

Once I agreed, she unfolded her arms and slowly walked to my side. Her hand swings beside her thigh. While staring at the sight mindlessly, I noticed something unusual.

What’s that? In my sister’s right hand was something like a small, long plastic pipe.

“What’s that?”

“This? Ah… this?”

My sister, now close by, waved the pipe up and down. Just as I thought it looked familiar, she put the tip of the pipe in her mouth. Then, with a sound like “sssip,” she took a long drag.

-Whoosh. As she exhaled, grayish smoke scattered into the air. It had a sweet and fragrant smell. Maybe like cutting a lemon in half? I sniffed a few times before suddenly coming to my senses.

She said she wanted to talk, but what is she doing? That’s an e-cigarette. I’ve never tried one, but I’ve heard e-cigarettes have this unique scent unlike regular tobacco.

“That’s not good for you.”

“Huh? What?”

“That thing in your mouth, isn’t it an e-cigarette? You should quit, it’s bad for you.”

Oh, and don’t smoke around Nabi. I added that as an afterthought, and my sister took the pipe from her mouth, holding it in her hand as she laughed out loud.

“Wow, my little brother has grown up. Are you putting your girlfriend before your sister now?”

“I’m thinking of both of you.”

Smoking isn’t good for anyone, right? And the same goes for people who inhale secondhand smoke.

“Okay, Siwoo, I understand what you mean. But this is fine, so don’t worry.”

“You’re saying e-cigarettes are okay for your health?”

“No, of course not. Smoking is terrible for your health.”

“…?”

That makes no sense. Has she smoked so much that her brain is damaged? I unconsciously furrowed my brow.

Seeing my reaction, my sister laughed again. She laughed so heartily that I thought someone had turned on a comedy show in front of me.

“This isn’t a cigarette.”

“What?”

“I said, this isn’t a cigarette.”

It looks like a pipe, has a nice scent, and crucially, it emits smoke—but it’s not a cigarette?

Knowing I was looking at her with suspicious eyes, my sister held out the pipe she was holding.

“Here, check for yourself.”

“I don’t want cigarette smoke on my hands…”

“Come on, little brother. Are you going to disobey your sister?”

Using her seniority to pressure me is unfair. As the youngest in the family, I had no choice but to take it. Let’s see, if she’s right, then this isn’t a cigarette.

A thin, long pipe-shaped body with a mouthpiece at the end. A structure that produces smoke when you inhale and exhale. It looks exactly like an e-cigarette from any angle.

Upon closer inspection, I found the word ‘VITAPIPE’ engraved on the side. What could that mean? I’m not sure, but it’s probably the name of an e-cigarette manufacturer or brand.

“I’ve checked it.”

“Well, do you see it’s different now?”

“No, it looks like an e-cigarette to anyone.”

“You still don’t get it after looking? Hmm, maybe you’re too young…”

What does age have to do with identifying an e-cigarette? I was about to retort when my sister spoke first.

“Then try it yourself.”

“…You want me to smoke?”

“I told you it’s not a cigarette.”

“Then what is it?”

“Just try it and you’ll see. You’ll understand once you do.”

My sister was almost insisting, but I hesitated despite her urging. It wouldn’t be my first time smoking, but how should I put it? There’s a psychological resistance.

Plus, I’ve been told never to smoke around pregnant women. So I couldn’t help but hesitate.

“Are you sure it’s not a cigarette?”

“I told you it’s not.”

If she’s denying it that strongly, it must be true. But if by some chance it really is a cigarette, I won’t go near Hwa Nabi for a day.

Having made up my mind, I put the pipe in my mouth with a whatever attitude.

Sssip, whoosh. After blowing out the smoke with its sweet flavor filling my mouth and no bitter taste at all, I realized.

“Huh?”

There’s a faint menthol scent, but this really isn’t a cigarette. The proof is that I feel nothing. Even though e-cigarettes are less harsh than regular ones, you still feel something when you inhale. But I felt absolutely nothing.

“What? It really isn’t a cigarette?”

“I told you so. Have you been deceived your whole life?”

“Then if it’s not a cigarette, what is it?”

It looks exactly like an e-cigarette, but my sister, taking back the pipe, grinned.

“This? It’s a Vitastick.”

“Vitastick… that’s a smoking cessation aid. Does that mean you used to smoke?”

“Siwoo, if I had smoked, would Dad have let me? I was too scared of losing my allowance to even try it. I just use this because the smoke looks cool. Plus, it tastes good.”

I thought it was a real cigarette because she looked like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. More accurately, I should say e-cigarette, but that’s not important.

“Seriously…”

Who in the world uses a Vitastick for that reason? I was worried for nothing. I sighed deeply and shook my head. My sister snickered for a while, then moved closer to me.

“Are you less tense now?”

“…What tension?”

“Your face was so stiff. Weren’t you nervous because of me?”

“What do you mean, nervous…”

She’s eerily perceptive. The tension had dissipated while we were having this meaningless conversation, but I was indeed nervous. She had such an intimidating presence.

Feeling like she would see through me if we made eye contact, I turned my head away. My sister took another puff of her Vitastick, exhaled, and looked at the distant mountains.

“You have a plan, right?”

What is she talking about?

“What plan?”

“You said you’re going to marry her. You wouldn’t have said that without a plan.”

“Yeah, I do have one.”

Speaking of plans, I remember my brother saying something similar. Something about having two children to solve military service issues, and whether I could work under him in three years—he laid out a bunch of vague ideas he called a plan.

“Then, can I hear what your plan is?”

Thinking my brother’s plan was better than my vague one, I told her a slightly modified version of what I’d heard. My sister listened silently as if deeply contemplating, then slowly opened her mouth.

“It’s not a completely unreasonable plan. Did you come up with it yourself?”

“I thought of it with my brother.”

“Really? With oppa…”

When we were face to face, she called him “ya” or “you,” but now that he’s not here, she calls him “oppa.” Should I point it out? That would just be asking for trouble. I was tempted but forced myself to hold back.

“He never contacts me, but he made such plans with you? Honestly, it’s ridiculous…”

“…”

I thought they just had a bad relationship, but it seems that’s not the case. It’s not just that she’s upset because he doesn’t give her attention… there seems to be something more complex between them.

I was about to ask more details but stopped myself. Even if I dig deeper, there’s nothing I can do to help. Getting involved in their issues would only be troublesome.

So I just casually said:

“I’ll tell him to contact you more often.”

“…No thanks. Getting more calls from oppa would just be annoying.”

Despite her words, the corner of her mouth twitched. I really don’t understand my sister. Does she hate him or like him?

Looking at her now, she seems to like him, but when they talk in front of others, they look like sworn enemies, so it’s confusing.

“Anyway, if oppa said he’ll help, that’s reassuring. He’s always been good at teaching others.”

“Didn’t you also learn from him? Is that how you know?”

“…Who told you that? Did oppa tell you?”

I meant to agree with her, but she suddenly turned serious and grabbed my shoulder. I flinched and stepped back.

“What? Why are you acting like this?”

“I asked who told you. Was it oppa? Did he say he taught me?”

“No, Mom told me, not him.”

“How did that come up?”

“Huh? Well… just, you know, talking about this and that, it came up somehow. Why? Is there a problem?”

She doesn’t answer my question but contemplates with a serious face. What’s going on? Just as I was about to ask more, the rooftop door swung open.

“Oh, Siwoo. Sister, you were here?”

Hwa Nabi, with a new hairstyle, walked toward us. Instead of her usual straight hair that reached her lower back, she had her hair elegantly tied up. She was also wearing a flowing floral dress that she must have changed into.

She looks different like that. She’s beautiful as always, but she also looks pure, making my heart race.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“I just needed to talk with my sister for a bit. Sorry, what’s up?”

“Your mother says she has something to discuss.”

“Oh, really? I’ll go down soon.”

Just as I was about to move, Hwa Nabi shook her head. Wondering what was going on, I watched as she looked not at me but at my sister and added:

“No, not you, Siwoo. I mean your sister.”

“Huh? Me?”

“Yes, your mother was looking for you. She was angry asking why you weren’t answering your phone.”

My sister quickly took out her phone to check. As she tapped the screen with her finger, her face grew increasingly rigid with each tap.

“…I’ll go down first.”

With just those words, my sister walked, almost running, toward the rooftop door. In an instant, she was gone.

“She’s really fast.”

“She is. …By the way, Siwoo.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Don’t we have something to talk about too?”

What does she mean by “something to talk about”? When I questioned with just my eyes, Hwa Nabi smiled sweetly.

“I heard you said you don’t need a fiancée or anything like that.”

“…Wait, that’s—”

“I’d like to hear more about that in detail.”

“No, that’s…”

“So, do you have time now?”

“…”

I’m in real trouble now.