My Mom is Awesome (2)
“D-Do-young's mom. Is Si-young doing well?”
“Of course. I'm right there taking care of her. She's perfectly healthy, in great shape, and her competition results have been excellent.”
“I-I see. Where's the next international tournament again?”
“It's in Milan, Italy. She's already excited about sightseeing at the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Even though it's not in Milan. Hehe.”
“Y-Yeah, our little maknae is just too cute...! Why'd you leave such an adorable daughter all alone? It'd be nice if she came home for a break once in a while. At this rate, Do-young's gonna forget what Si-young even looks like.”
I really had forgotten. Well, not exactly—I'd never actually met her face-to-face except in family photos, so it wasn't like I could forget something I barely knew.
“I suggested it, but she turned me down. Said she'd rather stay put this time.”
“Huh...? Why? Did something happen?”
“Oh, you know how it is. Second year of middle school—that's prime age for kids to want some independence from Mom. She finally gets some freedom without all my nagging and lectures. Why would she pass that up? She's probably out hanging with friends, maybe even wandering around Shinjuku right now.”
Mom and Dad were chatting about my little sister studying abroad for kendo. Her name was Si-young. Following that naming pattern, my brother in the military must be Re-young.
Heh, Ledo-si. What a riot, heh.
“...Why the sudden laugh?”
“Nothing, just... nothing.”
Hey, at least it wasn't straight-up do-re-mi. With our family name Ban, if her name had been Mi-young, it'd be pretty intimidating these days.
“I don't wanna be that nagging auntie telling her to focus only on practice and tournaments every day. Sometimes you gotta give kids real freedom when they need a break.”
“You know freedom's that important for her, so why don't you...”
“What was that, honey?”
“Nothing.”
“Feels like the steering wheel keeps veering off course.”
“Sorry. Just let me make it to work on Monday.”
Even just hearing Dad's voice over the phone, he tucked tail immediately. And here I was, getting that voice drilled straight into my ear with no barriers—the kendo dojo master and certified 5th dan instructor Ban Do-che had somehow turned into Do Ha-min MK. II.
Hmm, so that's how she tames him.
“Wh-what...?”
I'd just discovered the world's finest teaching aid.
......
About ten minutes into the drive, we arrived at the restaurant Mom had mentioned.
“Whoa, is a single-story tiled building allowed to be this huge?”
“I-Isn't this place super expensive...?”
“It's an old family favorite. Going on ten years now, I think.”
The location, the old-school elegant vibe inside, and the prices that made your eyes bulge just looking at them. No way this was just some spot to grab a quick bite.
Do Ha-min had his mouth hanging open from the moment we walked in, staring up at the ceiling way above his head despite it being a single story. Not that I blamed him—I'd only been to places like this once a year, tops, for the boss's birthday company dinner or something. Not exactly the kind of spot you could hit on a corporate slave's salary.
“Welcome to Unagi Mochi, your eel specialty house. Ah, Jun-sook sensei!”
“It's been a while.”
“It really has. How have you been?”
“Ho ho, doing great, thanks. Today I've brought my daughter and her friend along.”
“Ah, so she takes after you. Your daughter is a total beauty, just like her mom.”
Looks like this place was a longtime favorite of our family—or more precisely, Mom and Dad's.
“I reserved for three this morning, but could we change it to four?”
“Ah, yes, of course. For you, Jun-sook sensei? Right this way, we'll seat you at a prepared table.”
“Hehe, thank you.”
She'd already made the reservation that morning. Thinking back to Dad picking her up at the airport bright and early, she must've booked lunch the second she landed in Korea. Meaning Dad never had a choice to begin with.
“We'll set it up for four, so please have a seat and wait just a moment.”
“H-Ha-min! Mind if the dojo master sits next to you...?”
“Ah, sure. That's fine.”
“Thanks, really. Take the window seat. I'll sit out here.”
“Ah, got it.”
“...”
“Got a problem, Mom?”
I asked politely, but I already knew.
“No. Better to sit across from Ha-min than some old geezer, right?”
“Well, Dad's face is a bit more handsome.”
“It's fine, go on in. Mom the old lady will sit in front of Dad.”
Watching Dad subtly avoid Mom's glare, Mom and I took the left chairs, while Do Ha-min and Dad sat on the right.
“Tea for the table.”
The server quickly set up Do Ha-min's spot, then brought teacups and a teapot, placing them on our table.
“Alright then.”
“Ah, Mom. I got it.”
“Oh...? Sure.”
“Hang on, I'll help too.”
“Then you pour the water, model student, and I'll handle the chopsticks and wet towels.”
“Ah, okay.”
I grabbed the teapot the server had brought and poured tea into each cup, setting them in front of everyone. It was pure reflex—divvying up water glasses, cups, and towels like second nature from my office worker days.
“Here, model student. Yours. Careful, it's hot.”
“Th-thanks.”
Do Ha-min took the cup from me and sipped it down like his throat was parched. Sitting at the same table as the main heroine's parents in a place this fancy? No wonder he was tense and thirsty.
“Don't mix mine up this time?”
“Pfft...! Cough! Cough! Why bring that up now... cough!”
“H-Ha-min! You okay?”
“Cough, y-yeah... I'm fine. Just went down the wrong pipe.”
But watching him blow on the hot tea and sip it so carefully... my prankster side just kicked in.
Heh, next time I'll float a tea leaf in it so it doesn't happen again.
“...Do-young.”
A deep, resonant voice like a gong tolling. Mom, sitting right next to me, fixed me with a piercing glare.
“If that tea had been any hotter, it could've been serious.”
“Ahaha, the model student's reaction was just too funny, I couldn't help it... Won't do it with hot drinks next time.”
If she'd yelled like Dad, I'd have just jumped and gotten over it. But that icy voice and sharp gaze froze even the great Ban Do-young solid, tail tucked.
“Good. You should cherish your friends. Lesson learned.”
“If you really care, can't you just teach me not to do it at all...?”
“A little teasing keeps friendships lively. Right, Do-young's dad?”
“...Yes.”
Dad nodded quietly. I was tempted to drop my spoon under the table to check the vibe down there, but since this was an all-ages webtoon, I held back.
“By the way. Do-young, you poured the tea with your right hand just now.”
“...Yeah? So what? Does right hand mean bad luck or something? Never heard that etiquette rule.”
“...No. It's fine. Doesn't matter which hand. Just asking.”
“What, boring.”
Mom's response felt oddly lukewarm. I wanted to ask why she cared, but then—
“Hitsumabushi special, served. Shall we portion it starting from the inside?”
“Ah, thank you. Put the meatiest ones in front of the kids' dad and her friend.”
“Of course.”
“Why 'of course'?”
My eyes were glued to the massive spread now covering our table.
“Ha-min, you said you've only had eel once before, right?”
“Y-Yes... b-but not ones this big...”
Perfectly arranged side dishes, fluffy steamed rice glistening with shine, topped with sizzling brown grilled eel radiating a rich sauce aroma. The Maillard scent wafting from the charred sauce. Tiny fireworks of eel fat and juices sparking and popping fiercely over my rice bowl right now.
“Whoa, this'd even make my lost appetite stand at attention.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.”
No resurrection for my dead taste buds just yet, but my appetite was surging anyway. Back in my old world, this wasn't something you grabbed easily.
“Here, Do-young's dad.”
Mom picked up the eel from her own rice and piled it onto Dad's.
She was the one who'd suggested this place, but somehow all her eel had ended up on Dad's plate.
“What? Why isn't Mom eating any eel?”
“Mom doesn't like seafood.”
“...Huh?”
“Alright, dig in?”
Mom, having given all her eel to Dad, started on her sauce-soaked rice alone.
“Ah, so that's how it's done. Lesson learned, master.”
“Huh...?”
“Here, model student.”
I took half the eel from my plate and plopped it onto Do Ha-min's.
“Why me...”
“An investment for the future.”