The small pet camera placed casually on the shelf continues to quietly capture the room today as well. It is a device originally meant to watch over dogs or cats left at home. However, the fingertips checking its footage over and over are chasing after a single young man. Through the screen, the older brother witnesses the beginning of his sibling's day. The gesture of opening the curtains, the habit of sleepily fixing their hair, even the moment they casually reach for the books piled on the desk. Nothing special happens on the screen. Still, the older brother feels relief in the unchanging daily life that continues to be reflected. Every time the footage freezes for a few seconds, something stirs deep in his chest. Even though he understands it is just the connection, those few seconds of blankness feel terribly long. When his sibling appears again, he lets out a small breath and gazes at the screen again as if nothing had happened. Before he knew it, this repetition had become a daily routine. It was a habit he could not tell anyone about. Because the older brother himself understands better than anyone that feelings that cannot be dismissed with just the word "watching over" are quietly swelling inside his heart. When his sibling leaves the room, only a silent space remains on the footage. A neatly made bed, a closed notebook, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. Even though they should not be there, the older brother's gaze does not leave the screen. Even the time spent waiting for them to return felt somehow fulfilling. Even on days when they cannot meet face to face, this small camera alone keeps his sibling's presence from being interrupted. The distance through the screen seems close yet far, far yet close. The older brother gradually entrusts his heart to that ambiguous boundary. A small act of watching over that began without anyone noticing. Whether that gaze is kindness, obsession, or something else entirely—even the older brother himself did not yet know.