If I had known for a single second that I was hauling a literal commercial alcohol stash past three faculty members and onto a official school tour bus, I would have flatly and violently refused.
Which was precisely why Lee Ha-neul hadn't uttered a single word to me about it.
She wasn't stupid enough to risk getting caught carrying her own contraband when she had a 190-centimeter, unsuspecting Ukrainian pack mule walking right beside her. And as I stared at the mountain of green bottles resting inside the leather bag, a deep, sudden suspicion ignited in my mind.
Ji-hoon.
San was sure that neither Mr. Lee(he doubted on his case, but still declined the idea) nor Mrs. Lee would buy this much for Ha-neul.
'Mr. Lee... wouldn't he?'
I scanned the room.
'Nah, no way! After all, Mr. Lee is not like my father!'
There was zero chance Ha-neul procured this much alcohol on her own without her brother acting as the primary logistical supplier. The whole grand scheme had his fingerprints all over it.
A girl sitting on the couch next to Ha-neul leaned over, whispered something in her ear, and pointed directly at me.
Ha-neul looked up, spotted me standing by the table, and dramatically rolled her eyes in deep annoyance.
'Oh, so that's how we're playing this?'
Maintaining cold, unbroken eye contact with Ha-neul across the living room, I stepped straight up to her leather bag. I reached down, grabbed a cold can of Cass beer, cracked the tab with a loud POP, and downed the entire thing in one long, continuous chug without taking a single breath.
Ha-neul's jaw twitched.
I set the empty can down, picked up a plastic jug of Makgeolli, twisted off the cap, and took three massive, heavy gulps, still locking eyes with her. Then, my hand reached for a frosted glass bottle of green Soju.
That was the tipping point.
Ha-neul snapped into motion, pushing herself off the couch and marching straight across the carpet toward me.
"Hey," she demanded, stopping right in front of me as I popped the metal cap. "What on earth are you doing, brother?"
I tipped the green bottle back and finished the entire spirit in one smooth, burning sequence. The alcohol hit my stomach like a hot grenade. I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve, looked down at her flushed face, and grunted in my deepest voice:
"I'm older than you. You should call me 'Oppa.'"
The entire living room seemed to freeze for a microsecond.
The moment the word left my mouth, my brain short-circuited in horror.
'Aish! Language nuances again! Why did I just demand my host sister call me 'Oppa' like some arrogant male lead from a romance kdrama?!'
Ha-neul stared at me, her eyes wide, before a sudden, loud burst of laughter exploded from her lips.
"Oppa?!" she wheezed, clutching her stomach. "Ha-ha-ha! Wow, Mountain, the alcohol is hitting you instantly! Look, if you're trying to take revenge or annoy me for not telling you about the bag by drinking all our stock... don't bother. We have three more stashes in the back bedrooms. I'm just genuinely worried about your liver."
I tilted my chin up, adopting my most arrogant, unyielding Ukrainian stance.
"You have no idea what I'm capable of."
Ha-neul chuckled softly, reaching up to give my broad shoulder two patronizing, motherly pats.
"Of course, of course. Whatever you say, 'Oppa.' By the way... Jin-hyun, Jun-seo, and Leo are upstairs somewhere on the second floor. In twenty minutes we're starting the main group party games down here, so don't wander off too far."
She turned on her heel and gave me a casual, dismissive wave over her shoulder.
I narrowed my eyes, mockingly imitating her exact waving motion behind her back, before reaching into the bag to grab another fresh can of beer.
I popped the beer tab and shuffled toward the central staircase. Glancing across the crowded ground floor, I spotted Cheong Bo-min already deeply integrated into a lively conversation circle near the kitchen island, so I decided not to interrupt him.
I climbed the wooden stairs to the second floor. The upper hallway was lined with students leaning casually against the carved wooden railings, sipping from paper cups, chatting, and enjoying the view of the living room below. I strolled down the long corridor, peeking through the half-open bedroom doors, occasionally muttering a quick "Ah, sorry, wrong room" whenever I stumbled upon... private conversations.
At the absolute end of the hall, I reached a heavy double door that stood wide open, revealing a vast, carpeted master bedroom flooded with warm light.
Inside, a large circle of guys was sitting on floor cushions. Right in the middle of them sat a student named Pil-yun from Class 2-A, holding a brightly colored, cheap plastic toy trumpet he had somehow acquired.
Sitting directly across from him in the circle were Park Jun-seo, Park Jin-hyun, Han Leo.
The moment Jin-hyun spotted my broad frame hovering in the doorway, his silver eyes lit up in instant delight. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed me by the jacket arm, and forcibly dragged me down into the empty space beside him in the circle.
"Mountain!" Jin-hyun grinned. "You arrived just in time!"
Jun-seo, looking exceptionally sharp even while holding a paper cup of cider, adjusted his collar and smoothly explained the rules.
"We are playing the Pitch Identification Game. Pil-yun plays a single note on that plastic trumpet, and whoever's turn it is has to accurately guess the musical pitch. If you guess wrong, you take a shot. If you guess correctly, you get to nominate whoever you want in the circle to drink."
I took a slow sip of my beer, nodding happily.
The rapid-fire combination of beer, Makgeolli, and Soju from downstairs was already humming comfortably behind my ears, making my head feel light and pleasantly numb.
I was entirely down for whatever chaos lay ahead.
"Let's go!" I grinned, settling onto my cushion.
The game resumed at high velocity.
Jun-seo was utterly terrifying.
With his flawless absolute pitch, the Student Council President was a walking, talking musical synthesizer. No matter how horribly Pil-yun blew into that cheap toy trumpet, Jun-seo identified every single micro-tone instantly—F-sharp, B-flat, A-minor—never missing a single guess.
I, on the other hand, was a complete and utter disaster. My musical synthesizer was broken and... failed to parse the squeaking plastic noises, forcing me to take a penalty drink roughly one out of every three turns.
Fortunately for my liver, the rest of the guys in the circle didn't target me at all. Whenever anyone else guessed a note correctly, they almost exclusively used their power to nominate either themselves, Pil-yun, or Jun-seo to drink. There was an obvious, unspoken collective mission among the group to see if they could successfully break Jun-seo's legendary, ironclad sober composure.
I had no idea what specific beef these guys had with the Student Council President, but watching Jun-seo politely accept penalty shot after penalty shot while maintaining his perfect posture was the most entertaining thing I had witnessed all week. I was having the time of my life.
SLAM.
The bedroom door swung wider, and a girl from Class 2-A—one of Ha-neul's friends—leaned into the room, holding a wireless microphone.
"Hey, guys!" she called out over the noise. "Are you coming downstairs for the main party games? Ha-neul is about to start!"
The entire room of guys erupted into a loud, unison roar, scrambling to their feet.
"OF COURSE WE ARE!"