"Ah, Jae-man, Dok-woon! Welcome!" Mrs. Lee said, her "perfect host" smile snapping back into place. "Chae-rin-ah, Yuna, come in, come in! We're in the garden."
The Yoo family stepped out onto the lawn. Mr. Yoo(Dok-woon) looked powerful and severe. His wife looked like she was carved from expensive marble. Chae-rin, seeing me at the table, froze, her face tightening. Her little sister Yuna just hid behind her dress, staring at me.
"Please, sit," Mrs. Lee said, gesturing. "Min-hyuk is on his way. Stuck at the clinic, you know how it is."
Chae-rin was forced to sit at the same table.
She took a seat as far from me as possible, next to Myung-Dae, who didn't even look up from his phone.
Ha-neul, sensing the tension, simply focused on grabbing the best-looking pieces of hanwoo from the grill.
The adults immediately fell into their coded conversation. "...the school board meeting is next week, Jae-man," Mrs. Lee said to Mr. Yoo. "We must discuss the budget for the class events with other parents."
"Of course, Eun-sook," Mr. Yoo replied, his voice a low rumble. "But I'm more concerned about the... disciplinary standards. I heard there was an unfortunate incident yesterday." He looked right at Myung-Dae's plastered nose, then his cold eyes slid to me.
My face went hot. Mrs. Lee, sensing danger, quickly interjected. "San-gun, Mr. Yoo is on the board of directors at Kirin."
Mr. Yoo looked at me. "The scholarship student. From Ukraine."
"Yes, sir," I said, my voice small.
"And your family?"
Mrs. Yoo, Chae-rin's mother, asked. Her voice was light, but her eyes were sharp. "Are they in business?"
I suddenly felt very aware of my non-Prada t-shirt.
"Oh, uh, yes, ma'am. My family... well, we're not like... this." I gestured vaguely at the perfect garden. "My father, he owns two car service stations back in my hometown. And my mom... she's a customs worker."
There was a polite, loaded silence.
"Ah," Mr. Yoo said, nodding slowly. "A business owner. Very respectable."
"A customs worker?" Mrs. Lee said, her eyes lighting up with genuine interest. "How fascinating! She must have wonderful stories."
The mention of my dad suddenly made a lightbulb go off in my head. The gift. The horilka .
"Oh!" I suddenly exclaimed, standing up so fast my chair nearly tipped over. "My father! He prepared a gift! For Abeonim, but... for everyone. Please, excuse me!" I ran inside, leaving a table of baffled millionaires staring at my back.
I sprinted to my room, dug the glass bottle out of my carry-on, and ran back down. I held it up, a little out of breath.
"It's called horilka," I explained. "It's Ukrainian drink. It's a sign of respect to gift welcome the guests."
The mood at the table shifted. This was new. This was... authentic.
Ji-hoon leaned in, looking genuinely intrigued.
"Wow. That looks... serious."
Mr. Yoo let out a short laugh. "My kind of respect."
"Let's try it!" Mrs. Lee said, suddenly giddy. "We must honor San's father! Ji-hoon-ah, get the small glasses!"
A minute later, the adults were each holding a tiny shot glass filled with the clear liquid. The kids—Ha-neul, Myung-Dae, Chae-rin, and Yuna—watched, looking varying degrees of mortified and amused.
"Well," Mr. Yoo said, raising his glass. "To new neighbors."
They all toasted and took a sip. They braced. ...And then they didn't.
"Omo," Mr. Yoo said, his eyes wide. "That is... it's soft."
"It's clean," Ji-hoon agreed, looking at the glass in surprise. "Dangerously smooth for 40%."
"It... it has a slight taste of... honey?" Myung-Dae's mother offered, looking pleased.
Mrs. Lee, trying to be the perfect host, took a slightly-too-large sip. Her eyes went wide, a flush creeping up her neck.
"Aigoo! Oh, my. That... that warms the soul." She let out a laugh that was a little too loud. "Another small one?" Mr. Yoo suggested, already holding his glass out.
"Of course!" Mrs. Lee giggled, motioning for Ji-hoon to pour. "We must show our gratitude!"
Thirty minutes later, the stiff, polite chaebol summit was a distant memory.
"And then!" Mrs. Lee shrieked, laughing so hard she had to hold onto the table, "My husband... he says it looks... 'distinguished'! A giraffe! In my foyer!"
Mrs. Yoo, Chae-rin's mother, was wiping tears of laughter from her own eyes.
Myung-Dae's father was now in a heated, friendly debate with Ji-hoon about the L.A. Dodgers, while Myung-Dae's mother was describing her new Samcheong-dong cafe layout with her hands to a very giggly Mrs. Yoo.
"A giraffe! Jae-man, did you hear that? Min-hyuk bought her a giraffe!"
Mr. Yoo, his tie loosened, was leaning over, talking very seriously to me.
"The key, San-gun, is... diversification. You see, your father's car stations... that's a solid asset. But he needs to get into equities..."
I just nodded, completely baffled, as he explained stock options.
Ji-hoon took out a cigarette and shared it with Mr. Yoo.
Smell of cigarettes filled my nose as drunk Mr. Yoo spoke to me.
Across from me, Chae-rin looked like she wanted to be vaporized.
Her mother, the ice queen of the neighborhood, was giggling.
Myung-Dae was staring at the adults, his face a perfect mask of "what the hell is happening," which, I had to admit, was pretty funny.
And Ha-neul... Ha-neul hadn't moved. She was just quietly, methodically, and very happily, eating all the beef as if used to all of it, which made me think that this happened before...
It was into this scene—Mrs. Lee roaring with laughter, Mr. Yoo sloshing his (sixth) glass, Mrs. Yoo fanning herself—that Mr. Lee Min-hyuk finally arrived home.
He walked through the house and slid open the glass door to the garden, his tie still perfectly knotted, his briefcase in hand, a tired "I-just-finished-at-the-clinic" look on his face.
He stopped dead.
He looked at the empty bottle of horilka on the table.
He looked at his wife, who was now trying to demonstrate the giraffe's "demonic" pose.
He looked at his friend Yoo Jae-man explaining stock tips to his new 'foster' son. He looked at the mortified faces of the three richest teenagers in the neighborhood. "Yeobo? (Honey?)" he said, his voice weak. "...Aish, What the fuck is going on here?!"