Cheonggukjang and a Lamborghini
After that, the campsite settled into a Korean-style barbecue party.
Freshly caught wild boar, grilled and paired with every kind of Korean food my family had brought from home.
Mom, despite the way she'd been sniping at first, seemed to take quite a liking to Tiffany. Apparently she liked that the girl was so quiet and well-mannered.
Mom, she's only quiet because she can't speak Korean. She's just sitting there listening.
"Think she'll be able to eat Korean food?"
"Hard to say. This is probably her first time."
Judging from our earlier conversation, that seemed likely.
"I brought the aged kimchi."
"......."
"Look at this yeast growing on it."
Shrrrup.
"I'm going to boil this into cheonggukjang. What do you think? Doesn't that sound delicious?"
"Junho's mother."
At that very moment, my savior appeared.
"Leave her be. She's not used to our food yet, so of course she'll struggle with it."
"...No, Father. Daughter-in-law?"
I answered in flustered panic. But instead of responding, Dad just clapped me on the shoulder and went back to grilling the meat.
The labor had split itself into two groups — the men grilling the pork, and the women preparing the side dishes. Stuck awkwardly in the middle of that divide, I stood frozen until Mom jabbed me in the ribs and taught me my place.
"Go play with the kids."
So instructed, I walked over to the children clustered around the table.
The older ones hadn't bothered to come; most of them were little ones. They were hanging on Tiffany's every word with rapt attention.
"Actually, pro wrestling is real."
"I-it is? Really, unni?!"
"That's right. Broken Wyatt truly is the leader of a doomsday cult. He dreams of conquering the whole world through our company."
"I'm scared......."
"Don't worry! I'll protect you!"
"They say Wyatt drinks the blood of young boys."
"Ugh, uhhhh......."
"And especially, he uses his followers to carry off naughty children who don't listen to their mothers."
There's no way they're falling for this.
"I-I listen to my mom!"
They fell for it?
"I always listen to my mom! ...Uh, um, Mom, I'm sorry! Waaaaaah!"
"Oh, oh no?"
She'd made a six-year-old cry. Tiffany shot to her feet in a panic and scooped the boy straight up into her arms.
"There, there. Good boy, okay? It's alriiight~. If Wyatt ever comes for you, a righteous god will appear and protect you."
"Sniff, hnngh...!"
"No more crying! Blow!"
"B-blow......."
"Nose! Snort!"
The little guy gave his nose a mighty blow into the sleeve Tiffany held out for him.
I let out a light laugh, which apparently made things worse — Tiffany shot me a look as she soothed the children, and finally turned to me.
"Come over here and help."
"...Righteous? Since when did I get saddled with that character?"
"Shh, the kids will hear."
"Oh, for crying out loud."
Standing there in bemusement, I hoisted up the Choi family's daughter, who was also sniffling a little herself, high into the air.
"There we go, you're all right. Even if the boogeyman comes out at night, Uncle's here."
And so I spent the time calming the kids down and playing along with them.
Children that age don't know that pro wrestling is staged. And just like Santa Claus, the convention was to let them stay in blissful ignorance until they reached a certain age — because there are parts of it you can only enjoy while you still believe.
If anything, the kids were even more enthralled by Tiffany's stories than by me.
"Shall I tell you another fun one? Silverback is so strong he can rip a tree out of the ground all by himself~."
"Whoa, really?"
"How do I get that big?"
"Eat lots of spinach, drink your milk, take your vitamins, and you'll grow up big and strong~."
She laughed merrily as she doled out her own brand of life lessons to the children. Seeing this side of her — so different from the colleague at the office or the woman I knew when it was just the two of us — felt oddly refreshing.
She's genuinely good with children.
Maybe it was a habit picked up from years in the industry, but either way, it was proof of a kind nature at her core.
Once the kids had gathered themselves around Tiffany like a planet around its sun, the parents at the reunion could relax and get on with the cooking. Tiffany kept them thoroughly entertained, even mimicking Sin using toys the children had brought along.
And then the food came out.
Mom made a point of setting her homemade cheonggukjang down right in front of Tiffany.
"Come on, everyone, eat up~. You eat lots too, our new daughter. Okay?"
"S-Sae-ah-ga?"
"That's right~. New daughter~."
Mom gave Tiffany's shoulder a few hearty pats and ladled out the cheonggukjang.
"Uh, Mom. It's fine. She'll eat the meat first and get to it late—"
"Um, Sin? It's all right."
"Huh?"
"This is food your mother made, isn't it? Then I'll have a taste."
"Will you be okay?"
"Yes. As long as nothing here smells like a rotting corpse, I'll try anything once."
"Well. That's this."
"......."
Tiffany froze solid.
But before long, unable to bear the expectant glow of Mom's gaze, she slowly picked up her spoon.
"This... is safe to eat, right?"
"...It just smells a bit funky. The taste itself is actually decent."
"What's it made of?"
"Beans."
"You've killed the beans."
So speaking with a petrified expression, Tiffany at last scooped up a heaping spoonful of cheonggukjang and put it in her mouth.
Chomp, chomp. Gulp.
And then, contrary to my expectations—
"It's not bad, actually?"
"R-really?"
"Yes, it's tastier than I expected. Please give my compliments to your mother."
I let out a sigh of relief and relayed it to Mom verbatim.
"She says it's delicious."
"Really? Oh my, how lovely—"
"...No. Wait. I'm sorry."
But the very moment Mom was about to be moved to tears, Tiffany sprang up from her seat and made a beeline for the restroom.
"......."
"......."
The Korean families turned around in bewilderment. And amid their stares, I realized just how hard Tiffany had worked for us.
One of the Korean aunties hollered:
"Kids these days, all they ever eat is hamburgers, pizza, and Coke!"
Yeah, that's just how they eat.
Still, after the cheonggukjang, there were no more dishes I'd call landmines(?).
Frankly, the aged kimchi and the cheonggukjang were the final bosses of the Korean food gauntlet; everything else was fairly mild. According to friends I'd known from other cultures, the three great walls of Korean cuisine were these: garlic, fermentation, and the visuals. Something about a red stew bubbling away in a furnace pot (the ttukbaegi) apparently came as quite a shock to them.
So I steered her away from those dishes as much as I could, keeping her plate loaded with meat, wraps, and vegetables instead.
Chomp, chomp. Tiffany ate heartily, and aside from that one incident, she seemed genuinely satisfied with the meal. She even smiled as she drained her glass of sujeonggwa for dessert.
"This was my first time with Korean food, and it was better than I imagined. Maybe I have a talent for it?"
"Want some cheonggukjang?"
"......."
Tiffany averted her eyes. Then she looked over at Mom, who was sulking in the distance.
"Is she very angry?"
"No way. If anything, she's probably feeling a little guilty."
"...Sin, how do I say 'thank you for the meal' in Korean?"
I taught her the phrase — jal meokseumnida. She murmured it over to herself a few times, then rose from her seat, walked over to Mom, and said exactly that.
Mom blinked blankly for a moment before breaking into a beaming smile and unleashing a machine-gun barrage of words at Tiffany.
"Oh my, I was so worried! What a relief! What a relief! It was good, wasn't it, our new daughter?"
"Mashisossuyo?"
"Yes, yes!"
Hearing her clumsy Korean, Mom laughed out loud and swept Tiffany up in a great bear hug.
And so the Korean barbecue party was drawing to a close on a thoroughly heartwarming note — when Father came over to my side.
"Junho."
"Yes, Father."
"Take this."
"...?"
What Dad handed me were several crisp hundred-dollar bills.
"Father? What's this for...?"
"When you get back, buy our new daughter a nice dress. Get her something good to eat, too."
"What?"
"She's a fine girl, that one."
"......."
For now I'd take it, and quietly deposit it back into my parents' account later.
Afterward.
I fled the Korean community with my "new daughter" (of sorts) and headed for Finland.
Meaning: the two of us had gone off to take a proper Finnish sauna.
The sky was slowly darkening around us. It made for a lovely atmosphere, but it also meant I was starting to worry about the walk back.
Should I call the caretaker?
The forest at night is more dangerous than by day. If we wanted to make it back to the cabin safely, that seemed the better option. Having settled on that, I surrendered myself to the Finnish sauna.
Heat packed the narrow wooden room to the rafters. Sweat beaded on my forehead. Tiffany, sitting right beside me, had her eyes closed as she savored it too. Our shoulders brushed lightly.
"Want me to call the caretaker when we head back?"
"Hm? Why?"
"It gets dangerous at night."
"You can't take down a wild boar?"
"...I'd need a gun for that."
And you call that a person.
"I was a little surprised, honestly. You're not quite the image your father must have imagined."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Is it genetic?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, you've still got a good frame. And you're quite tall."
Is that so?
Come to think of it, maybe. As I tilted my head and looked her over, Tiffany poked the tip of my nose.
"You got your looks from your mother."
"...Sorry about earlier. You're the first person I've ever introduced to my parents."
"It's fine. I was caught off guard, but I could feel the affection coming my way, so it was far more enjoyable than I expected."
"Was it?"
"Yes. As you know, my father is quite the opposite."
Tiffany smiled bitterly.
"My mother was always off busy with her other businesses too, so she was hardly ever home."
"My parents were opposites as well."
"Maybe that's why it felt so novel — someone showering me with affection just because I was family, the moment we met."
"Did we already get married?"
"Oh, honestly...! That's just what I meant, all right?! Honestly! And you're the one who kept saying 'Sae-ah-ga'!"
Tiffany pronounced "sae-ah-ga" with the most spectacular American accent imaginable.
Somehow, it put me at ease. And I realized, quite certainly, that my family was a harmonious one. My parents got along well, and they'd kept up close ties with all the neighbors. The only source of worry was me — and seeing Tiffany at my side seemed to reassure them, which I was grateful for. Parents that age all want the same thing: the moment a son is fully grown, he should hurry up, get married, and start a family.
Not yet, though.
The reason was simple. We still had work to do.
And then I remembered — at the barbecue party, Tiffany had briefly stepped away to take a phone call.
"Who was the call from?"
"Business."
"What kind?"
"...Well, good news."
Wearing a smile, Tiffany brought up an intriguing topic from amid the heat.
"Do you remember Snoop-Duck?"
"Of course. He's my friend."
"That friend of yours seems to be quite fond of you. He's inviting you to his birthday party this time around."
"Oh?"
"And here's one more surprising thing — the party venue is right next to my house."
"Malibu?"
"Yes. Snoop-Duck keeps a villa he uses often out there too."
"Come to think of it, that's only natural. His hometown is Los Angeles."
Within the hip-hop scene — broadly divided into South, West, and East — Snoop-Duck belonged to the West Coast. And setting those regional labels aside, he was a titan whose name was carved deep into the history of the scene itself. His career was astonishingly long, too; he'd be rapping until the day he died of old age.
In pro wrestling terms, he was about on the level of the Casket-Taker, maybe.
Now that's interesting.
An invitation from Snoop-Duck, no less. I wondered if this party might be a chance to build a deeper connection with him — he was destined to remain a celebrity with towering prestige in American high society for years to come.
And more importantly, he's connected to pro wrestling too.
He never showed much open fondness for the sport himself, but the connection ran deep on another front: one of Snoop-Duck's relatives would debut in the future as a WWF pro wrestler. That link had brought Snoop-Duck into WWF's orbit, and he'd appeared at events like Wrestle Imperium on occasion.
Which means I can more or less guess why he invited me.......
Just as I was sinking into thought, Tiffany spoke up beside me.
"What are you thinking about?"
"If it's a birthday party, his family will be there, right?"
"W-well. Usually the press gets invited too, so wouldn't the family party be a separate affair?"
"I'd bet at least one family member shows up to this one."
Unlike Tiffany, who tilted her head in doubt, I answered with confidence.
It looked like I'd be staying in Los Angeles a few more days.
And so, in the days that remained, I waited out Snoop-Duck's birthday at my parents' house in L.A.
Tiffany returned to her own estate, saying she had matters left to handle, and in the meantime I spent the time with my parents. And that time — it was far, far more grueling than any vague imagining I'd had.
Mom, in her own way. Dad, in his own way. Each of them burned with curiosity about the Tiffany they'd met at the campsite. Mom especially, wanting to carve out time to talk with me, kept assigning me chores and then shadowing me around the house — peppering me with questions the entire time I ran the vacuum.
"How old is she again?"
"Twenty-two, I think."
"Goodness, you're twenty-six, Junho, so four years apart! Perfect! Pick a date and get that wedding up and running!"
"Mom, we're not thinking about that yet, because of work."
"Oh, please! Your father and I were busy too! Working every single day!"
"...Then how did you two get married?"
"Because you came along! That's when we did it!"
"......."
"You do it too! You've got your father's strength, always running around doing your rassling — why not put it to use?!"
"Dad, what am I even supposed to say to that......."
"Junho."
At that moment, Dad called me out to the yard, where he was splitting firewood. Once I'd escaped Mom's clutches and stepped outside, he handed me a hatchet.
"Try it."
"With this?"
Isn't it a little small? As I eyed it doubtfully, Dad showed me how it was done. He brought the hatchet down. The wood died. The end.
"Like that."
"......."
Taking the hatchet back from him, I set to work on the firewood myself. Crack, crack. Perhaps thanks to all the conditioning I'd put my body through, the wood split more or less in a single stroke. Besides, I'd done this plenty as a kid for pocket money, so I still knew the knack.
But no matter what I did, I came nowhere near the sheer, wood-slaughtering power of my father.......
Is it the special forces background?
The man was still absurdly strong. Good exercise, actually. Not bad at all. With that thought, I deliberately sharpened my focus and kept splitting wood — and before long, someone tapped me on the shoulder.
"Hm?"
"What do you think of this?"
Dad held something out. I wondered what on earth he'd been up to while leaving the firewood to me — it was a small wooden carving, sized to fit snugly in his enormous palm. He seemed to be making a fish. The shape was surprisingly plump and full-bodied.
"It's beautiful. Where on earth did you learn to carve?"
"Carved Buddhas in the army."
"There seems to be a deep story behind that which I am not equipped to understand."
"It's the first time I've picked up a carving knife since I was discharged."
"Why? Is it a gift for Mom?"
"This carp is a symbol of Dasan."
"...?"
"When it's finished, take it with you."
"Sorry?"
I asked him to repeat himself, baffled, but he just kept carving the carp without answering. It didn't seem like a second attempt would get me anywhere either, so I let it go and went back to splitting wood.
It looks like.......
My parents being at ease was a good thing, but it seemed they'd now spawned an entirely new set of expectations. Still, the mood in the house had improved dramatically compared to before. Dad hummed old Korean songs he loved all day long, and Mom said her prayers every morning.
...And I learned that the object of those prayers was Samshin Halmoni, the grandmother goddess of Korean mythology who granted children to families.
So when Tiffany finally called, I thought, finally, liberation.
"Sin, I'm on my way now. I should be there within ten minutes."
"Tonight, then?"
"Yes. Once I get there, we get our 'equipment' ready and head out."
"Equipment?"
"Party formalwear, of course. Something dashing, James Bond style, again."
Something to look forward to. I hardly ever had occasion to dress like that, so I was genuinely a little excited about it.
After hanging up, I slipped out of the house, dodging my parents' gazes.
Best to just quietly slip in, grab the clothes, change, and come back out.
Once Tiffany arrived, there was bound to be another commotion in the neighborhood otherwise. This little corner of Koreatown was quiet, and most people were resting at home by this hour. I looked up at the moon hanging in the sky as I waited for Tiffany.
Come to think of it, I never asked what she'd be driving.
I thought about calling her back, then figured it didn't matter and let it go. Surely no human being would drive that obscenely expensive Lamborghini Murciélago all the way here from Malibu.......
VROOOOOOOOOM!
There it is.
A bellowing, bull-like exhaust note. The moment that sound tore through the quiet street, I knew every plan I'd made had just been blown to pieces.
The supercar halted in front of the house, flaunting its majesty for all it was worth. And from the many houses lining the street, people began stepping out one by one to stare at our home.
Naturally, that included my own parents, who had been inside the house.
"Wh-what on earth, Junho?! What IS that noise?!"
"What is that thing?"
"It's, it's a company car."
"Company? The place you work?"
"Something like that."
I tried my best to smooth things over, but it was beyond impossible. The moment Mom laid eyes on Tiffany stepping out of the car, she looked ready to book the wedding hall by tomorrow morning.