We stepped out of the Mercedes. The house was even more intimidating up close. It was a masterpiece of modern architecture, all glass and dark, warm wood, with a garden so perfect it looked like a computer rendering.
Ji-hoon unlocked the front door and pushed it open, holding it for Ha-neul.
"I'm home!" he called out.
The response was... not a "welcome." From deep within the house, we heard a woman's voice, raised and furious.
"...absolutely not, Min-hyuk! I cannot believe you! It's hideous! And it's right in the foyer! Where are the flower arrangements for the committee meeting supposed to go?"
"Eun-sook, jagiya, calm down!" That was Mr. Lee's voice, sounding strained. "I thought it looked... distinguished! It's an antique!"
"It's a monstrosity! I want it gone!"
Ha-neul stopped in the entryway, closed her eyes, and let out a long, suffering sigh. Ji-hoon just shook his head, a "here-we-go-again" smile on his face. I shuffled in behind them, feeling like I was walking into a warzone.
The foyer opened up into a massive, two-story living area. And in the middle of it, standing on a Persian rug, was a life-sized, dark-wood, extremely ugly giraffe statue.
Mrs. Lee was standing in front of it, hands on her hips, looking murderous.
Mr. Lee was cowering behind it, pretending to inspect its wooden tail.
"Oh, you're home!" Mrs. Lee snapped, her head whipping around. Her anger, having found no purchase on the giraffe, instantly redirected.
"Ji-hoon-ah! Your old law books are still piled in the study! Am I your secretary? And you!" she aimed at Ha-neul. "Your room! I glanced in this morning! Is it a pigsty? Do you think I'm your personal maid? Do I just follow everyone around this house, cleaning up? This house doesn't run itself, you know!"
Ha-neul, who had been an ice princess of calm all day, suddenly looked like a normal, sulky teenager.
"Aish... eomma... it's just one of those days," she muttered, dropping her bag by the door.
"One of those days?" Mrs. Lee shot back. "I'll show you 'one of those days'..."
This was my cue. I was the ghost.
I just needed to take my backpack and evaporate.
I took a half-step toward the stairs.
"And you!" My blood froze. Mrs. Lee had zeroed in on me. I was trapped in her sights. She marched over and grabbed me by the strap of my backpack, pulling me to the center of the room. "Don't you move, San-gun." Her voice was low. Dangerous.
The "angry mom" was gone. This was worse – "angry host mom."
"I," she said, "just got off the phone. A thirty-minute phone call. With Yoo Jae-man." My mind went blank.
"Who?"
"Yoo Chae-rin's father," she seethed.
The air went dead silent. The argument about the giraffe was instantly forgotten. From behind the statue, Mr. Lee slowly peeked out. Ji-hoon, who had been taking off his suit jacket, paused. Ha-neul stopped sulking.
All three of them were looking at me. And... were they grateful? Mr. Lee actually gave me a small, subtle nod of thanks. Ji-hoon looked impressed. I'd done it. I'd taken the heat. I was a human shield.
"Do you have any idea," Mrs. Lee continued, her voice rising, "how humiliating that was? My first day as a host mother, and I am already apologizing because my student assaulted his daughter with a bowl of kimchi stew?"
"I... Eomeonim... it was an accident..."
"And then you called her filthy?!"
"I meant the stew! The nuance... my nuance is bad!"
"Aigoo, my head... I have a headache." She let go of my bag, rubbing her temples. "Dishes. You. For a week. Starting tonight. After we eat."
"A week? Eomeonim, that's..."
Ha-neul let out a sharp, surprised snort of laughter. THWACK. Mrs. Lee, took out something from a grocery bag, had pulled out a daepa—a long green onion—and whacked Ha-neul on the arm with it.
"And you! Laughing? Laundry. You. For a week. Go!"
"Aish! Arasseo, arasseo! (I got it, I got it!)" Ha-neul yelped, rubbing her arm and scrambling to grab her bag.
Just as the chaos reached its peak, Ji-hoon made his move.
He glided over to his mother, his expression full of smooth, practiced sympathy.
"Omma... you look so stressed," he said, his voice soft. He gently put his hands on her shoulders and started a firm massage. "You're working too hard." Mrs. Lee's anger deflated by half.
"Aigoo, my son... you're the only one who cares..."
"I was on my way home," Ji-hoon continued, "and I passed by that little tea shop you like in Samcheong-dong. So I bought you a box of your favorite wild-flower blend."
She melted.
"My good son... my perfect son..."
The storm had passed.
Mr. Lee crept out from behind the giraffe, straightening his tie. I was still standing in the middle of the room, completely dazed. I leaned over to Mr. Lee.
"What... what was that? Before we came in?" I whispered. Mr. Lee let out a quiet sigh.
"Ah... Eun-sook is hosting the neighborhood association meeting tomorrow evening. All the wives. It's very important." He gestured, with a pained expression, at the looming wooden statue. "And I... I bought that. It was on an online auction! A 19th-century tribal antique! I thought it would look... distinguished. In the foyer."
I stared at the giraffe. It looked like it had been carved with a chainsaw.
"She says it looks 'demonic' and 'blocks the light,'" Mr. Lee whispered, his voice full of misery. "She's been yelling for an hour. And she doesn't even know the price yet" He gave me a small, grateful pat on the shoulder. "But, ah... thank you for the kimchi stew thing. That was very good timing. You really saved me, San-gun."