“Cancer treatment, you say?”

Like a bolt from the blue, everyone momentarily froze in panic.

Even Ri-hyuk, who had pressed him so relentlessly, wore a stunned expression.

His normally pale face looked as white as blank paper now.

Ji-ho choked and kept coughing.

Jun-hyun gave an awkward smile and said,

“I told you. Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

“Has the surgery already taken place if it’s cancer?”

“It was done some time ago. Now the situation is a bit... ambiguous.”

“...What’s ambiguous?”

At Ri-hyuk’s question, Jun-hyun scratched his head.

“Let’s leave it at that for now. It’s better I talk to Biju directly. It’s not something I can casually discuss...”

Jun-hyun placed a bulky old smartphone on the table.

He pressed speed-dial 7, and Biju’s number appeared.

We all swallowed hard.

From the speakerphone came Biju’s refined voice.

– Hey, what’s up? Can’t find your drink?

“No, it’s just... you know.”

– You didn’t accidentally break something passing by, did you?

“I’m not always breaking things.”

– Good. I thought I’d have to pay for damages again like last time.

A clear laugh sounded.

Jun-hyun stared at the phone as if it were a ticking time bomb, then said,

“Hey, I’ve got something to say.”

– Something to say?

“I ran into Woo-joo hyung, Ri-hyuk hyung, and Ji-ho today at the café.”

– Huh? Why is everyone at the hospital? Did Ji-ho get hurt? Or Ri-hyuk? It couldn’t be Woo-joo hyung who got hurt.

What does that mean, it couldn’t be me?

“I heard Ji-ho sprained his ankle a bit.”

– What?!

For the first time his voice rose.

Immediately noisy sounds came from the other end.

Jun-hyun hurried to smooth things over.

“He said there’s no need to worry. If he rests one or two days, he’ll be fine.”

– Still. Is he okay?

“Yeah, he seems fine. They asked why we were at the hospital because they saw us there earlier. So I wondered if I could tell them...”

Silence reigned on the other side for a long while.

Jun-hyun’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

– Jun-hyun.

“Yeah?”

– You told them.

“Huh? No I didn’t.”

– ......

Just from his voice I felt as if Biju’s specter hovered before me—arms crossed, glaring at Jun-hyun, demanding a straight answer.

After a couple more nods of his throat, Jun-hyun’s lips parted.

“Sorry.”

– No wonder. Your tone was strange just now. So are we talking on speakerphone?

“Yeah.”

– ......

I cut in.

“Hi, Biju.”

– Oh, hellooo...

With a long sigh, Biju spoke.

– Jun-hyun, could you turn off the speakerphone for a moment?

“Why?”

– I want to talk to you privately. Switch to regular call.

“But I...”

– Right now.

As if flipping a switch to hell, Jun-hyun turned off the speaker and brought the handset to his ear. The volume was low, but a quiet, continuous voice came through.

It didn’t sound like good news.

Jun-hyun’s sideburns glistened with cold sweat, though they weren’t exercising.

“Uh, okay. Uh, uh, uh. No, what I wanted to say was... uh, right. Uh... that is, uh.”

Like a husband getting scolded by his wife, Jun-hyun stammered until finally ending the call.

“Phew, we’re saved.”

He wiped his face.

“What did he say?”

“He said that given the circumstances, he’ll let it go this time. He’ll talk to you and the others separately, and asked you to pick him up.”

“Pick him up?”

“He said he got lost.”

At that, the three of us all gasped in unison.

“Again?”

“Thanks for finding me.”

It was thirty minutes later when we found Biju.

He’d wandered far from the hospital. How he even got there was more astonishing.

As soon as he rejoined us at the lounge, he ran to Ji-ho.

“Ji-ho, I heard you hurt your leg. Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh... yes, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.”

Normally he’d have whimpered, but now he waved his hand. He couldn’t even meet Biju’s eyes.

His steps were hesitant.

I suddenly remembered our parents’ funeral when I was seven. The kindergarten friends who came looked just like this, unsure what to do, bursting into tears.

Still, he wouldn’t cry now.

“Didn’t you tell me Ji-ho hurt his leg?”

Jun-hyun whispered in my ear.

Ji-ho’s gait was normal now—no limping like before.

“He’s too shocked. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s walking.”

Jun-hyun strode forward and supported Ji-ho.

I heard the maknae whisper “thank you, hyung.”

Ri-hyuk was supposed to support him—where was he?

Looking around, I spotted someone else walking with eyes fixed on the ground just like Ji-ho.

It was oddly fascinating to see someone move like his exact opposite.

Biju leaned close to his brothers and whispered,

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I was afraid it’d feel like a burden.”

“Why would that be a burden?”

“You’re all busy with practice. I didn’t want to bring it up and make things awkward. I hate that you’d tiptoe around me.”

“Well... you get that look all the time anyway.”

Biju’s eyes slid to mine. I nodded.

“Just like that.”

A small laugh slipped from his lips.

It was meant as a joke to lighten the mood—and it worked.

Biju looked relieved.

“Thanks for treating me like normal. If even hyung had acted differently, I’d have felt suffocated.”

“I went through something similar. Otherwise I’d be no different from them.”

“Something similar?”

“I told you before. When I was in elementary school, my grandmother had cancer surgery.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t say “I know how you feel” or anything. As someone who experienced it, I knew what response was right.

Just treat him normally.

No hesitating, no pitying looks, no unnecessary comforting words.

“He’s okay now, right?”

“Of course. It’s been over ten years. Cancer can be fierce, but it doesn’t usually last that long.”

Biju smiled again.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I used to think like you—that cancer couldn’t last that long.”

A fleeting bitterness passed across his face.

“But it did.”

Before entering the room, Biju gathered us to explain the situation.

His sibling’s name is Min-jun.

He’s ten—almost eighteen years younger.

They first discovered the illness when Min-jun was about five.

I don’t know the exact medical term. His explanation was too overwhelming to follow.

What I do know is that even after surgery, he suffered continuously.

For five years he couldn’t attend kindergarten or school and was sometimes hospitalized.

“A few days ago his fever spiked and he was admitted again. Jun-hyun’s always known, so he came with me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“No need to apologize. That was reasonable.”

Ri-hyuk swallowed and spoke, and Ji-ho nodded vigorously beside him.

Biju smiled and grabbed the door handle.

“Don’t just pat my head. I hate that the most.”

With a click the door opened.

A humid scent of the humidifier and the hospital room appeared: a middle-aged couple in chairs and a little kid reading in bed.

“Mom, I’m here.”

The couple rose awkwardly to greet us.

Biju said we’d come to visit.

“Welcome. It’s the first time meeting your friends.”

His father had a calm demeanor and gentle speech like a professor. He’d been a university professor once, they said. He and Biju looked so alike I thought if you gave Biju his glasses and aged him thirty years, it would be identical.

“Do you like fruit? I peeled apples.”

His mother’s voice was lively—one of those people whose presence alone brings a smile.

When we each took a slice, she called to the child reading.

“Min-jun, your friends are here.”

“Just let me finish this page.”

A clear, ringing voice. If not in patient clothes he’d look like a wise little monk.

Min-jun closed his science book at lightning speed.

“Jun-hyun hyung, did you bring ice cream?”

“Of course.”

Jun-hyun grinned and pulled treats from a bag. The child’s face lit up the room.

Then Min-jun looked at us and exclaimed,

“You’re the hyungs from the show. Right?”

“Yes.”

Biju tapped his own cheek proudly. Min-jun bowed.

“Hello.”

Biju introduced us.

“This is Woo-joo hyung. He made our song.”

“Nice name. I really like you, Woo-joo hyung.”

“I like you too.”

I smiled and Min-jun reached out his hand. I was puzzled, then realized he wanted a handshake.

He was so cute I shook his hand.

“This is Ri-hyuk hyung. He’s the best singer in the group.”

“Hello.”

Ri-hyuk smiled awkwardly as he shook.

“This is Ji-ho hyung.”

“Ji-ho?”

“Yeah, Ji-ho hyung.”

“Oh.”

He pulled his hand back. He rubbed his palm on his sleeve—if he wiped sweat, that was it.

We laughed, and Ji-ho looked bewildered at Biju.

“How did you tell them about me, Biju hyung?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“.......”

“Just a little?”

Biju hesitated, then laughed.

Then he told his sibling,

“Min-jun, you should shake Ji-ho hyung’s hand too.”

“Okay.”

Grumbling, Min-jun held out his hand.

“Stop complaining about meals and be nice to my hyung.”

While Ji-ho blinked like a statue, everyone else burst out laughing.

“How can his eyelashes be so long and his face so pretty? Here, eat.”

“Thank you.”

Biju’s mother offered me a fork. I smiled, eating the sixth slice.

“When Bi-yeon came home after the year-end evaluation, she couldn’t stop praising you. My younger one and the new trainee are amazing. I was really impressed watching the video.”

“Thank you.”

“Biju raves about you on visits or phone calls. Today Woo-joo hyung did this, thanks to him everything’s going well...”

“Mom, ah, please.”

Biju interrupted and fed his mother an apple slice.

“When you first appeared on the show, what did I say?”

“Mom, have another slice.”

“You... always interrupt me like Bi-yeon.”

“Mom, please...”

A smile touched her lips.

It was amusing to see Biju in his usual “motherly” role being on the receiving end.

“Anyway.”

Biju’s mother took my hand.

“Please continue to take care of my child. I trust only you, Woo-joo.”

“I will, with all my effort.”

“He looks so kind, but his stubbornness is something else. He’s just like his father...”

“Honey, have an apple.”

This time his father fed her a slice.

His mother chattered like a girl, and the father-daughter pair’s coordinated efforts to stop her were endearing.

It wasn’t the hospital-visitor family I’d imagined.

But that didn’t mean Min-jun looked healthy. His expression was bright, but his complexion was poor.

Pale, almost as if his lips had the violet tint from “Rain Shower.”

His mother spoke.

“His fever’s gone down now. Last night it was raging so high we called the doctor in the middle of the night—he screamed and the doctor didn’t come right away...”

“University hospitals are like that.”

I chatted with his mother as I watched Min-jun.

He and three hyungs were playing a board game on the bed.

Like Monopoly or something, except they were «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» all losing.

It looked like they were letting him win, but Ri-hyuk frowned alone.

He must be genuinely trying—his displeasure at the dice was obvious.

Ji-ho seemed much more at ease than before, even laughing occasionally.

And Jun-hyun watched Min-jun with a smile, sometimes patting him gently—a side of Jun-hyun I’d never seen before.

“You and Min-jun are really close.”

I said, and his father replied,

“Whenever Biju comes, Jun-hyun always comes along. He even stays up nights with us when we’re struggling. He’s like family.”

The way his father looked at Jun-hyun was the same as Jun-hyun looked at Min-jun.

Min-jun returned that look in spades.

The little boy cracked up whenever Jun-hyun made kid jokes or playful antics.

His eyes shone brightly.

“That Lego model was from Jun-hyun too.”

“What? Oh.”

On the bedside stand was a LEGO set—a scene from a superhero movie.

So that was what Jun-hyun tucked into his bag this morning.

Finally the mystery felt solved.

But one question remained.

If Min-jun’s been battling cancer for five years, why had Biju’s behavior grown strange only recently?

“Biju.”

I was about to speak when we heard a childish cheer from the game.

Min-jun must have won.

He raised a tiny trophy in triumph with a radiant smile.

“Min-jun seems especially happy today.”

Following Biju’s gaze, I looked at the ten-year-old.

A child who’d fought cancer since age five.

Smaller than peers, hairless from chemo, unable to go to school or kindergarten—now, in that moment, reveling in simple joy.

“Hyung, did you want to ask something?”

“Nothing.”

I shook my head, not wanting to ruin the moment.

His mother called to her flushed youngest son.

“Min-jun, are you happy your friends came?”

“Yes!”

The child beamed.

“I wish today would never end.”