The initial phase of the barbecue passed in a blur of clashing chopsticks and sizzling fat. We ate aggressively, the crisp sea air expanding our appetites until the first massive wave of short ribs had completely vanished into our system.
As the rhythmic pace of the meal slowed down, the crackle of the embers filled the quiet space between us. Surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the genuine hospitality of the Jeju elders, my usual protective defenses loosened. I found myself opening up, sharing fragments of my life back in Smila.
"My grandmother back in Ukraine is exactly like Halmeoni," I said, a lopsided smile breaking through my fatigue. "In her mind, if she can see even a millimeter of your ribs, you are actively starving. She will continuously pile mashed potatoes and varenyky onto your plate until you physically cannot stand up from the table."
Grandma Lee let out a delighted, booming laugh, tossing another piece of meat onto my plate.
"A good grandmother is a global constant, San-gun! Food is love!"
"I miss them a lot," I admitted, looking out at the dark expanse of the ocean. "The distance is hard sometimes. But... staying in Korea has become something I truly treasure. And a massive aspect of why I feel so grounded here is because of my new family. Because of all of you."
The statement was entirely unscripted, coming straight from the unvarnished depths of my chest.
Across the fire pit, Mrs. Lee froze. Her anchor-sharp, professional mask completely shattered, and her intelligent eyes practically filled with a sudden, brilliant rush of tears. She quickly lowered her head, wiping her eyes with a delicate movement of her sleeve to preserve her composure.
Mr. Lee's expression softened into something profoundly paternal. He reached over, picked up his green glass, and held it high above the glowing coals.
"Let it be the first our toast!" Mr. Lee pronounced, his voice rich and steady. "For the family! Cheers!"
"Geonbae!" the table echoed.
We clinked our tiny glasses together and drank the first shot of soju. It was still an incredibly strange, surreal thing to be actively consuming alcohol alongside my foster parents, a high-ranking JBC news anchor and owner of the clinic at that! But at the same time, it felt remarkably familiar. There had to be some fundamental similarities between global cultures; after all, who better to teach a teenager about the legal boundaries and social responsibilities of alcohol than their own family?
'Well,' I thought, a sudden smirk catching my lips as I remembered the midnight Hongdae queue, 'Looks like the kids from the Golden Triangle have their own highly unauthorized ways of learning it on the sidewalk. At least over here it happens with sweet soju and not forty-degree Ukrainian horilka. Ha-ha-ha.'
The evening continued to roll forward like a heavy freight train.
"For the eternal friendship of Ukraine and Korea!"
...
"For love!"
...
"For peace!"
...
...
"For our shared ancestors!"
By the time the seventh toast echoed over the volcanic sand, I couldn't even remotely remember all the abstract things we had raised our glasses for. My cheeks were burning with a distinct, warm flush, and my vision carried that light, rhythmic buzzing sensation of being pleasantly tipsy.
But Lee Ha-neul... was already completely, utterly smashed.
The pink-pajama dictator, the flawless academic vice-president who could calculate complex trigonometric functions in her sleep, was currently slumped sideways against a heavy blanket cushion. Her glasses were crooked on the bridge of her nose, her eyes blinking in slow motion, and her tongue completely failing to execute clear sentences.
Everyone around the fire pit was laughing hysterically at her drunken collapse.
In fact, the entire adult contingent was visibly drunk too. It was a thoroughly bizarre realization for my Eastern European constitution. Back home, I only knew one specific person who could get thoroughly intoxicated faster than myself and my teenage peers—my infamous Uncle Vasyl, who regularly folded after three rounds of holiday spirits. To see fully grown Korean adults getting completely wiped out while I was sitting here merely feeling a gentle buzz was highly amusing.
'My genetics are absolutely no joke,' I cheered internally, feeling immensely proud of my liver's defensive line.
"Min-hyuk-ah," Mrs. Lee muttered tipsily, leaning her shoulder heavily against her husband. "You always have such terrible, uncoordinated habits. You're always tracking dirt through the foyer..."
"Yah, Eun-sook-ah!" Mr. Lee laughed, his lopsided smile completely loose as his tongue accidentally slipped the master ledger. "I am a coordinated specialist! If I were clumsy, would San-ah and I have managed to get that million-won antique vase!"
I instantly went rigid, my tipsy warmth vanishing under a cold wave of panic.
'Abeonim! You absolute traitor!' I screamed internally, covering my face with my hands as Mrs. Lee's head snapped up with a dangerous, terrifying glint of sober fury.
Before the domestic explosion could detonate, Ji-hoon smoothly pivoted the conversation toward the absolute danger zone: relationships.
"Speaking of secrets," Ji-hoon chuckled, his eyes narrowing as he stared across the fire directly at my burning cheeks. "What about Eun-jun's cousin? The idol trainee?"
Grandfather Kim blinked through his drink, pointing a weathered finger. "Oh? Eun-jun-ssi? Ji-hoon-ah, when was the last time you actually brought your friends or classmates down to the estate? You should come more often!"
Ji-hoon entirely ignored the old man, his lopsided prosecutor smirk widening as he locked his target onto my soul.
"So... San-ssi. Tell the family... have you kissed her already?"
My brain completely blue-screened. The image of Sora's lips cutting off my explanation under the blue club strobes flashed in my mind in high-definition.
I instantly vaulted off the blanket, standing up to my full, massive height.
"I... I think it is highly impolite to keep the table waiting!" I blurted out, my voice jumping an octave as I scrambled for a tactical retreat strategy. "Look at Ha-neul, she is already entirely sleeping! I will better carry her up to the main house before the ocean draft ruins her health!"
"Ah, right, right," Mr. Lee muttered, entirely missing my panic. "One more polite drink for the road, son!"
I quickly downed one final, administrative shot of soju to satisfy the etiquette, then stepped over to the slumped vice-president. I bent my knees, expertly hauling her limp form onto my broad back in a standard, high-textbook piggyback ride.
The walk up the volcanic stone stairs toward the cottages was quiet, the roar of the beach bonfires fading into the distance. I saw some houses still with lights on. After all the celebrations weren't only happening on the beaches!
Ha-neul was a dead weight on my shoulders, her chin resting clumsily against my jacket sleeve.
At least she wasn't actively creating any physical problems. Or rather, she had gotten thoroughly drunk much faster than her tongue could manufacture insults. But as we reached the halfway point of the cliff path, she let out a low, gravelly murmur against my neck.
"...Jun-seo-ah..." she whispered, her voice completely slurred. She paused, shifting her weight before letting out a soft, heavy sigh. "...Myung-dae... those absolute... idiots..."
I froze on the steps, my eyes widening in the darkness.
'Um... okay..? She must be smashed, lol.'
I shook my head, dismissing the gossips I came up with, and carefully carried her through the front door of the quiet cottage. I slid her down onto her floor mattress, not bothering to attempt the awkward hazard of undressing her. I simply unclasped her crooked glasses, set them on the desk, and pulled the thick traditional winter blanket securely up to her chin.
I stood there in the quiet room, staring down at her peaceful, sleeping face.
Suddenly, my internal, chaotic teenage intrusive thoughts completely won the executive vote. I pulled out my phone and snapped a high-resolution photo of the legendary vice-president entirely knocked out. Then, for the sake of comparative data, I carefully picked up her thick-rimmed glasses, balanced them back onto her sleeping nose, and took a secondary picture.
I looked at the digital screen.
'Hm,' I realized, a faint, objective smile catching my lips. 'She really is a model indeed. Her bone structure is flawless. How many times have I internally complained about the fact that I am continuously surrounded by such ridiculously beautiful people in this country? She's genuinely cute even when she's sleeping like a log.'
I slid the phone back into my pocket, the quiet hum of the house settling over my chest. A sudden, heavy, and intensely poignant feeling began to expand behind my ribs.
'What exactly is this metric?' I questioned myself, staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling. 'Am I genuinely getting deeply attached to this family?'
A wave of quiet sadness hit my throat.
It's been almost two month since I arrived to Seoul.
It was an upsetting realization. The time flew and the countdown of my exchange visa was constantly ticking in the background, yet the mere thought of eventually packing my baggage, boarding a flight at Incheon, and leaving this messy, loud, and protective household behind was already becoming difficult to contemplate without a genuine ache in my heart.
I leaned against the doorframe, looking back out toward the dark Jeju Sea.
When exactly did I get so thoroughly attached to them?
I stepped out of Ha-neul's room, sliding the wooden door shut with a soft click. The hallway was quiet, lit only by the pale moonlight reflecting off the polished floorboards.
My brain was still buzzing slightly from the seven rounds of soju, and my limbs felt like lead weights.
I pulled out my phone and opened our Lee family group chat. I attached the photo I'd just taken of Ha-neul—the one where she was completely knocked out, snoring softly with her glasses slightly crooked on her nose—and typed out a quick message.
San[11:39 PM]: [Image Attached]
San[11:39 PM]: "I managed to haul the vice-president up the cliff safely. Our sleeping beauty is already completely out. I'm also thoroughly exhausted, so I'm going straight to bed. Good night, everyone!"
I staggered into my designated guest room and locked the door. In the adjacent bathroom, I spent two minutes aggressively brushing my teeth, staring blankly at my reflection in the mirror until the minty foam cleared the lingering taste of charred short ribs and alcohol.
When I spat into the sink, my eyes drifted toward the shower stall. I stared at the chrome shower head for five long seconds.
"Nope," I decided, wiping my mouth with a towel. "Absolutely not. Taking a second full shower within a three-hour window was an unacceptable waste of my remaining cognitive and physical energy. The Kimjang harvest had already drained my battery, and the soju had officially shut down the operating system."
I walked back into the bedroom and rapidly stripped off my heavy sweater and jeans, tossing them onto a nearby chair.
As the cool air hit my skin, I let out a long, satisfied sigh. Jeju Island turned out to be remarkably warmer than the freezing, sub-zero tundra of Seoul. Down here, the maritime breeze kept the climate surprisingly mild. Because the room felt so warm and tipsy-hot, I realized I could freely sleep in just my underwear and my thick wool socks.
It was, without a doubt, the most comfortable known to man.
I stretched my arms over my head, chuckling softly to myself. To be completely honest, it wasn't like I did things any differently back in my room in Seoul—ha-ha. If I legally could go around the entire house in just my boxers without running face-first into the hyper-vigilant radar of a high-profile JBC news anchor or a strict corporate prosecutor, I would absolutely do it every single day.
I dove under the thick, crisp traditional quilt, the cool linen instantly soothing my burning skin. I pulled the blanket up to my chest, letting my head sink deep into the plush pillow. My eyelids were already drooping, the heavy rhythm of the ocean waves outside the window acting like a natural lullaby.
Bzzt.
The screen of my Samsung phone illuminated the dark ceiling. I lazily reached over, squinting through the blue light to check the lock screen.
It was a message notification from Mr. Lee.
Abeonim[11:58 PM]: "Okay, San-ah. You did a great job carrying her up. You can go to sleep now, we'll figure it out down here. Jalja-yo!"
I stared at the text, a sudden, sleepy smirk catching the corner of my lips. 'We'll figure it out' definitely meant Mr. Lee was currently on the beach, using every single ounce of his dental-CEO diplomacy to survive Mrs. Lee's terrifying, tipsy interrogation about the million-won antique vase he had accidentally confessed to buying.
"Good luck, Abeonim," I muttered to the dark, empty room, tossing the phone onto the nightstand.
Did I forget something?
"Wuaahh~" I yawned.
Who cares.
I rolled onto my side, tucking the heavy blanket securely around my shoulders.