The ride home was quiet, a stark contrast to the absolute chaos of the day. "So, San-ssi," Ji-hoon said, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
"Any... international incidents?"
"No, hyeongnim," I said.
"Just... got assigned a partner for the festival." Ha-neul let out an explosive snort from the passenger seat.
"He got paired with Yoo Chae-rin." Ji-hoon, the professional prosecutor, actually swerved the tiniest bit.
He burst out laughing.
"No. Really? Chae-rin? Aigoo, this kid... I like you more and more, San. You're a magnet for drama."
I protested inwardly, sinking into the plush leather.
When we pulled into the driveway, I knew something was happening. The perfectly manicured back garden was being transformed. A long, elegant table was set up on the lawn, draped in a white tablecloth. Catering assistants were placing flower arrangements. And Mrs. Lee was in full "general" mode, on her phone, pacing by a massive, high-tech barbecue grill.
"I don't care if it's an antique, Min-hyuk!" she was yelling into her phone. "It's a demonic giraffe, and it was in my foyer! The Yoo family is arriving in twenty minutes! You'd better not be late!" She hung up with a furious tap.
Ha-neul, who had been dragging her feet, suddenly froze. She sniffed the air. Her eyes, usually so calm, went wide.
"Is that... hanwoo?" she whispered. She dropped her school bag on the driveway and sprinted into the garden.
"Omma! You're grilling hanwoo (premium Korean beef)!"
"Kids you're back! Ha-neul-ah, go change! Now!" Mrs. Lee snapped, pointing a pair of tongs at her. "Our neighbors are coming for dinner!"
"Neighbors?" I asked, my blood running cold as I followed Ha-neul. "Yes, the Yoo family and the Lee family are coming over for a... 'casual' barbecue," Mrs. Lee said, her voice tight with stress.
I looked at the elaborate flower arrangements and the linen napkins. There was nothing "casual" about this. This was a summit.
I knew what I had to do.
I ran up to my room, threw on a clean shirt, and ran back down. I also tied my relatively long hair in a bun.
Mrs. Lee was trying to carry a heavy stack of porcelain plates while also directing the caterer.
"Eomeonim," I said, stepping in front of her. "Let me."
She looked up, surprised, her hair slightly frazzled.
"Oh... San-gun. Thank you." She handed me the heavy stack, her expression softening. "Aigoo, you're a good son. Just... on the main table. Quickly! They'll be here any minute!"
I spent the next ten minutes being the most helpful human shield in history, shuttling silverware and glasses from the kitchen to the garden. Ji-hoon had given me a grateful "you-saved-us" look before disappearing to "take a work call".
Just as I set the last wine glass down, a polite, electronic chime echoed from the front of the house. The intercom.
"They're here!" Mrs. Lee yelped, fanning the grill, which was now smoking aggressively. "Ha-neul! Get the gate!"
"But Omma," Ha-neul whined from her strategic position by the grill, already holding a pair of tongs, "the beef is perfect right now! I'm guarding it!"
"Ji-hoon!"
"Work call, Omma!" Ji-hoon's voice echoed faintly from his study window. I sighed.
"I'll get it, Eomeonim!"
"Aigoo, thank you, San!"
I wiped my hands on my jeans and walked to the front door, tapping the screen on the video intercom.
"Hello?" The screen flickered on. I was looking at three faces. Two were unknown: a man and a woman in their late forties, both impeccably dressed, both with the same sharp, cold eyes.
They radiated an aura of intimidating wealth. And standing just behind them, looking like he'd rather be literally anywhere else on Earth, his hands shoved in his pockets and the white plaster stark on his nose, was Lee Myung-Dae.