Tonight was a rare deviation from the kitchen counter routine.
Instead of the usual marble island, we were seated around a circular table at an incredibly high-end, softly lit restaurant in Gangnam. Mr. and Mrs. Lee had picked Ha-neul and me straight up from the Kirin gates right after the final bell, giving us zero time to shed our navy blue uniforms.
The table was overflowing with premium cuts of meat sizzling on a central grill, but I was too mentally preoccupied with the corporate smuggling contract I had signed with Min-ah to fully enjoy the marbled beef.
"So, San-gun," Mr. Lee said, using his gold-rimmed chopsticks to drop a perfectly grilled piece of beef onto my rice bowl. "Maid mentioned you've been turning your room into a late-night library. How is the progress?"
I swallowed hard, glancing at the pink-pajama dictator sitting beside me.
"My results in math are actually getting better, Abeonim. The quadratic functions are starting to look like numbers instead of abstract hieroglyphs."
Mrs. Lee smiled.
Ha-neul immediately tilted her nose high into the air, a smug, aristocratic smirk catching her lips.
"I expected no less," she huffed, looking down at her side dish. "After all, a pupil's success is a direct reflection of the genius of the tutor."
Sitting on her other side, Ji-hoon leaned over and playfully poked her arm.
"Careful, Ha-neul-ah," he teased, a lazy smirk on his face. "If you tilt your nose any higher, you're going to punch a hole right through the restaurant ceiling."
"Oppa!" she snapped, swatted his hand away.
Mr. Lee chuckled, turning his attention to his daughter.
"And what about your own ledger, Ha-neul-ah? How are the final preparations for the Mathematics National Olympiad coming along? How is the Kirin team holding up?"
"Everything is moving smoothly," Ha-neul answered, her tone shifting to that clinical, highly organized register she used for academics. "Luckily, Mrs. Smith pulled some administrative strings to coordinate the regional sessions. She made it possible for the other participants of our Olympic team to commute straight to the Kirin campus for weekend seminars. It saves me an immense amount of transport time."
She sighed, her expression falling slightly.
"But... because of the schedule, I've had to miss almost most of the recent events at the Calligraphy club, unfortunately. And I'll probably have to cancel my private piano tutor sessions for about a week before and after the nationals to preserve my cognitive energy."
'I definitely chose the wrong club to join. Many clubs have extracurricular activities, like the Technologies club, when they made benches for the neighbourhood... or K-pop Dance Club which invited famous dancers and idols for their trainings sometimes!'
I watched her quietly chew her rice. For the first time, the sheer, dizzying scale of her existence became clear to me. I was finally seeing exactly how Lee Ha-neul managed to seamlessly fuse her intense mathematical passion with the demanding, high-status arts curriculum of Kirin. She was juggling classical music, traditional arts, and national-level science tracks simultaneously.
She isn't a demon who can stop time, I realized with a wave of genuine respect.
She's just thoroughly used to the pressure.
I leaned slightly closer to her across the table, a malicious, brotherly spark igniting in my brain. "Well, Miss Clever," I whispered loudly, a sharp smirk on my face. "With all that big-brain focus on the Olympiad, you'd better start focusing on your English grades too. You wouldn't want the 'sloth' of the family out-ranking you on the global modules, would you?"
Ha-neul's jaw dropped. Her face turned a violent, indignant red. Completely losing her cool in front of the elite clientele, she slammed her chopsticks onto the table and shrieked at the top of her lungs: "YAH!"
The entire dining room went dead silent. Heads turned from three different tables, wealthy guests staring in shock at the screaming Kirin student.
Ha-neul instantly froze. Realizing she had just thoroughly shattered the high-end etiquette, she rapidly suppressed her emotions, bowing frantically to the surrounding tables.
"Jwe-song-hamnida... I am so sorry," she muttered, her face burning with pure, unadulterated mortification as she slid back down into her chair.
Ji-hoon practically choked on his drink, letting out a loud, barking laugh that echoed through our alcove. He pointed a finger at me, thoroughly delighted.
"San-ah! You are a real brother! You've already perfectly figured out exactly how to tease her to the point of a public meltdown. Seriously, maybe you should give me some lessons!"
Across the table, Mrs. Lee only smiled quietly, her warm eyes shining behind her designer frames as she watched the sibling bickering. For a woman whose face was plastered across national news media, this messy, loud table was clearly her true sanctuary.
"Let's settle down and eat," Mrs. Lee said, her calm voice anchoring the table. "And don't forget, children—tomorrow morning, we are traveling. Do not make any social plans for the weekend. We are all going to Jeju Island."
My chopsticks froze halfway to my mouth. "Jeju?"
"Yes," Mrs. Lee nodded, her expression softening. "You will finally be meeting your host grandparents, San-gun. At least from my side of the family. We were supposed to go last weekend, but JBC had an absolute urgency with the evening coverage, and Ji-hoon was buried chest-deep in that high-profile trial case involving the celebrity drugging scandal."
"The corporate defense was complex," Ji-hoon muttered, rubbing his temples.
"So we postponed it for this weekend," Mrs. Lee finished, pouring a cup of barley tea. "The seaside air will do everyone some good."
Jeju Island, my brain spun. A detached family estate. Traditional grandparents.
This was my best, and possibly only, window of opportunity.
I carefully set my chopsticks down, swallowed the lump of fear in my throat, and forced the most polite, "Global Ambassador" smile I could muster.
"Eomeonim," I said, pitching my voice to its most respectful, deep register.
Mrs. Lee paused, rising her head from her soup bowl. She tilted her head slightly to the side, her intelligent, anchor-sharp eyes locking onto mine, silently waiting for the pitch.
I squeezed my hands tightly under the table.
"I... I have one very little request, and I was wondering if you could help me with something regarding the JBC headquarters."