Me and Mr. Jeon stood there frozen like two mannequins in a haunted zara store watching Grandpa Jeon show his teeth.
And no, not in the terrifying, 'vampire about to bite you' way.
He was… chuckling.
Yes. Chuckling.
Excuse me, what?
Grandpa Jeon? Mr. "I fought in three wars before breakfast" Jeon? Mr. "My eyebrows are so sharp they could cut steel" Jeon?
CHUCKLING?
My brain immediately threw up warning signs.
He's gone nuts.
That's the only explanation
"Have a seat, Miss Kim," Grandpa Jeon said, pointing at the chair right in front of him also known as the first seat on the gigantic mafia-style dining table.
You know, the one that screams "victim of the family interrogation."
I almost fainted on the spot.
Polite Grandpa Jeon? No. No. No. Something was wrong. I felt like one of those horror movie characters who get invited in politely before being sacrificed to the demon king.
I swear, I almost fainted. My knees were plotting betrayal.
