Steam was still rising from freshly emptied tea mugs as Mrs. Lee began clearing the porcelain plates from the dining table.
"Oh, by the way," Mrs. Lee remarked casually, sliding a tray of leftover side dishes into the refrigerator, "we received the official invitation this morning. We're celebrating New Year's Eve at the Lee family house this year."
I paused, my chopstick hovering mid-air.
"The Lee's?" I asked, a bit confused. "Wait... aren't you the Lee family?"
Mrs. Lee let out a bright, musical chuckle, shaking her head.
"No, no, San-ssi! Lee Myung-dae's family! Myung-dae's parents are organizing the entire event this time."
"Ah," I nodded, sipping my warm tea. "So... we're going?"
"Of course we are!" Mrs. Lee answered, reorganizing the shelves inside the fridge. "It's their turn to host the neighborhood holiday rotation. Last year it was Mr. Chen's turn, and honestly, it was a bit dull. He's so old-fashioned and conservative. He insisted on a strict 1920s jazz-style dress code, and we had to sit through four hours of classical vinyl records."
Ha-neul, who was quietly wiping down the marble countertop with a damp cloth, didn't even look up as she chimed in.
"Couldn't agree more. It was agonizing."
I leaned back in my chair, suddenly curious about the mechanics of this high-society neighborhood tradition.
"Oh, and when will it be our turn to host?"
Mrs. Lee stopped for a second, a glass jar held in her hand as she shrugged her shoulders thoughtfully.
"Probably... 2019? Or maybe 2020? I'm not entirely sure. The neighborhood council usually rotates the hosting duties by picking an odd-numbered house first, then an even-numbered house, continuing down the list. But yes, I presume our family's turn will land around then."
She closed the refrigerator door with a soft thud and turned around, leaning against the counter with a warm, maternal smile.
"So, we'll need to choose proper presents for them," Mrs. Lee continued, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Since they are hosting the New Year's Eve party, we'll be bringing family gifts—and we'll receive theirs in return. San-ssi, since you're a close friend of Myung-dae now, your personal task will be to pick out a special gift for him."
"Me?" I blinked.
"Yes! It doesn't have to be done today specifically, but it's been so long since we all went shopping together as a family. I decided today is the perfect day! Luckily, our Ji-hoon was kind enough to ask for a few days off from his law firm."
From the adjacent living room, Ji-hoon's annoyed, long-suffering voice instantly boomed across the floorboards.
"Yah, Omma! It wasn't me asking for time off! Senior Young-il was literally begging me to take a break so I would leave something for them!"
"Well, that only means your chef is worried about you!" Mrs. Lee yelled back cheerfully toward the living room. She then leaned in closer to me, lowering her voice to a proud, stage-whisper. "Our Ji-hoon is so ridiculously hard-working, San-ssi. Do you know his successful case-closure rate is almost eighty-five percent already?!"
"YAH! OMMA, STOP!" Ji-hoon yelled from the couch, burying his red face in a sofa pillow.
Mrs. Lee burst into delighted laughter, waving a hand.
"Anyway! Besides gift shopping, I also decided it's time to renew your winter wardrobe a little, San-ssi."
"Wait, Mrs. Lee, no, really, my clothes are completely fine—" I started protesting, raising my hands in defense, but my words were utterly useless.
Within twenty minutes, despite my best verbal resistance, I was smoothly maneuvered, bundled into a heavy coat, and packed into the backseat of the family sedan alongside Ji-hoon and Ha-neul.
Ji-hoon drove us straight to one of the most sprawling, high-end commercial shopping centers in downtown Seoul.
And just like that... the three-hour absolute torture of Oleksandr Motuzenko officially began.
I was dragged from one luxury boutique to another like a giant mannequin. Mrs. Lee and Ha-neul hovered around me like ruthless fashion directors, holding up endless racks of designer wool coats, tailored trousers, silk scarves, and premium knit sweaters. I was forced in and out of fitting rooms at least thirty times, ducking my head under low doorframes, holding my arms out while Mrs. Lee adjusted lapels, and enduring Ha-neul's critical, head-tilted evaluations.
"Too dark," Ha-neul would declare.
"Try the beige camel coat!" Mrs. Lee would order, handing me three more hangers.
Ji-hoon just sat on the boutique velvet waiting couches, sipping complimentary espresso and shooting me deeply sympathetic, helpless glances every time I emerged from behind the fitting curtain looking like a stressed-out runway model.
By the time we reached the central atrium two hours in, my legs felt like lead, my shoulders were sore from pulling heavy wool coats on and off, and my soul was crying out for mercy.
Shopping for high-society New Year's presents was infinitely more exhausting than any morning fitness drill Ms. Choi could ever throw at me.