Thursday, January 31st, 2015
Cars—ranging from luxury German sedans to rare custom sports cars—lined the wide, private driveway, dropping off a sea of impeccably dressed guests under the bright archway lights near Lee's family mansion.
Over a hundred people filled the grounds, creating a buzzing atmosphere of high-society excitement and noblesse.
Because our family lived in the exact same exclusive neighborhood circle, we were among the very first guests to reach the grand entrance. Standing near the massive double oak gates, personally welcoming every arriving party, were Myung-dae and his parents.
The greeting ceremony began instantly.
Myung-dae gave a polite, measured bow to Mr. Lee, while Mr. Lee stepped forward to share a firm, warm handshake with Lee Taek-young, Myung-dae's father.
I stepped up to Myung-dae, offering a firm handshake of my own. Leaning in just enough so only he could hear, I nudged him playfully.
"Look at you... surprisingly elegant tonight, Myung-dae-ya."
Myung-dae's jaw clenched.
He forced a stiff, practiced host smile onto his face, his eyes narrowing into dark slits as he muttered through gritted teeth:
"I'm going to kill you."
I couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle.
I offered a respectful bow to Mr. and Mrs. Lee...
'Wait,' my brain suddenly stumbled as I bowed. 'Who should I actually call Mr. and Mrs. Lee now? Both my host family and Myung-dae's family carries the same surname!' I quickly resolved the internal linguistic dilemma: 'I'll just stick to calling my host parents Abeonim and Eommonim. It's infinitely more natural and avoids total confusion.'
The family gift exchange commenced.
Abeonim stepped forward first, presenting Myung-dae's mother with a velvet box containing a rare, antique piece of historical jewelry. Abeonim actually hesitated for a microsecond as he held it out, his inner collector clearly suffering at the thought of letting it go, until Eommonim gave him a subtle, sharp nudge in the ribs with her elbow.
He instantly released his grip, smiling brightly.
Next was Eommonim's turn.
She handed Mr. Lee a sleek, wrapped package—an unreleased, advance-edition culinary book by the legendary celebrity chef Baek Jong-won, complete with a personal, handwritten signature on the title page!
The moment Mr. Lee unwrapped the cover, his eyes lit up like Christmas candles.
It was instantly obvious that the head of the Lee household was either an avid secret home chef or a massive fanboy of Chef Baek.
"And now..." I stepped forward, pulling a square, metallic-wrapped gift from my coat, "for you, Myung-dae."
I handed him the gift: a physical copy of recently-released EXO's winter special EP, "Sing for You".
Myung-dae took the square album, his eyes rolling dramatically.
His expression clearly screamed: A generic K-pop CD? Really, Mountain?
He flipped the album over... and froze.
His eyes widened in utter, absolute shock as his gaze locked onto the silver ink strokes covering the glossy sleeve. Distinct, authentic signatures were scrawled across the cover—not just from the current nine active members of EXO, but signed by all ten members of the era!
Technically, the group was operating as nine members now, but thanks to one of Ji-hoon's incredibly grateful clients, I had managed to pull off an impossible miracle and acquire an authentic ten-signature edition.
Myung-dae's eyes practically jumped out of his head. His gaze darted frantically from the silver signatures up to my face, then back to the album, his mouth slightly agape in pure, unadulterated disbelief.
That reaction was worth every single lie, favor, and favor-call I made this week! Absolute priceless gold!
Mrs. Lee reached over and patted Myung-dae's shoulder gently, smiling.
"Son... don't you think you should say something?"
Myung-dae snapped out of his daze.
He straightened his back, lowered his head into a deep, genuine bow, and looked me straight in the eye.
"Thank you, San-ah," Myung-dae said, his voice surprisingly soft and entirely devoid of sarcasm. "Thank you."
A warm, radiant smile broke across my face. Hearing a genuine, polite "thank you" from Myung-dae felt like winning a championship trophy.
Beside me, Ha-neul let out a soft, skeptical scoff, but Eommonim immediately shot her a sharp "strict mother" glare, forcing Ha-neul to instantly snap into perfect posture.
Then came our turn to receive the host family's return gifts.
Stationed just inside the grand foyer were three professional event staff managing a literal mountain of stacked gift boxes. They passed four wrapped packages to Myung-dae and his parents, who handed them to us one by one.
Abeonim received the largest, heaviest box—presumably containing some heavy antique artifact that Eommonim would inevitably banish to the attic or the storage room the second we got home. Eommonim received a delicate, miniature velvet box. Ha-neul and I were handed sleek, medium-sized luxury packages. I felt a bit awkward receiving such an expensive gift from Myung-dae's hands, but I accepted it with a polite bow and a quiet thanks.
We couldn't linger any longer.
The queue of arriving guests behind us was growing exponentially, stretching down the front driveway. If every party spent more than two minutes chatting at the door, everyone would end up ringing in 2016 while standing in line on the porch.
We moved past the main foyer into the expansive grounds.
The entire front and side yard of the estate had been converted into a gigantic, heated tent-pavilion. Inside the structure, the temperature was comfortably warm, the air filled with the rich aroma of catered cuisine and champagne.
The pavilion housed over twenty numbered dining tables surrounding a full-scale professional mini-stage, complete with an enormous LED backdrop screen and a complete live performance setup—guitars, amplifiers, a grand piano, and a custom drum kit.
I had already heard through the neighborhood grapevine that tonight's live entertainment lineup included Sunmi and JYP himself. Looking at the crystal chandeliers hanging from the tent ceiling, the uniform team of professional bartenders, and the sheer scale of the catering operation, I didn't even want to attempt calculating the staggering number of zeroes Myung-dae's family had paid for this single evening.
The tent seamlessly connected to the ground floor of the main mansion, allowing guests to freely wander inside to access the luxury lounge suites, photo booths, and rest areas.
Clearly, this event wasn't just a friendly neighborhood gathering—it was a major corporate networking platform for the Lee business empire. They needed to project absolute power, luxury, and hospitality to their high-society partners.
After placing our family gifts at Table No. 4, Ha-neul and I decided to leave the adults to their wine and wander around the pavilion together.
By exactly eleven o'clock, the last of the guests had filtered through the main entrance. The venue was packed to maximum capacity, buzzing with electric anticipation.
The arrival of 2016 was precisely two hours away.