"I'll take a quick shower," Lexi announced, heading straight to her room and dragging our bags along with her. I followed her gesture, feeling the anticipation of freshening up after the journey.

"Do you need help in the kitchen, Halmoenim?" I asked, grabbing a handful of the rice cake crisps she handed me.

"No need, darling. The food is cooking; dinner will be ready in about thirty-five minutes," Halmoeni replied with a warm smile.

"I missed your cooking so much," I admitted, rubbing my tummy contentedly.

Grandma Kang chuckled affectionately. "You're still the same. Some things never change."

Feeling a bit bashful, I smiled. Halmoeni returned to the kitchen to check on the meal, and I wandered around the familiar living room, taking in the comforting ambience of home. The living room was small yet cosy, filled with the warmth that only Grandma Kang's home could exude. Photos of Lexi and me adorned the walls, evoking a wave of nostalgia as I glanced at them. The room's light beige walls were adorned with delicate flowers painted on the ceiling, a testament to Grandpa Kang's skilful hand as a painter. He had turned his hobby into an expertise before he passed away last year, leaving a void in our hearts.

"You were so mischievous when you were little," a voice behind me remarked, startling me out of my reverie.

"You scared me," I laughed nervously, playfully slapping Lexi on the arm.

Lexi grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Ah, those were the days, causing trouble with you."

As we reminisced about our childhood antics, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness mingled with fond memories of Grandpa Kang. His presence lingered in every corner of the house, a comforting reminder of his warmth and welcoming nature. 

"Do you remember this one?" I asked, pointing to the photo frame in the top corner of the room.

"Of course, how can I forget that?" Lexi replied with hearty laughter. 

The photo captured a moment from 2012 when we were planning a trip to Busan, my native birthplace where my parents are buried. That day, I remembered feeling more than just sadness—I was overwhelmed by a deep sense of sorrow. Alexia's parents had accompanied us on the trip.

"I remember running away with tears streaming down my face the moment we arrived at the cemetery," I continued, my voice softening with the memory. 

"I hid inside an old truck near a tree. Everyone searched for me for two hours, and the police finally found me, asleep from exhaustion after unknowingly eating wild berries. Thankfully, I wasn't poisoned."

Lexi shook her head, her laughter fading into a sympathetic smile.

 "You were always so adventurous, even in moments like that."

I chuckled, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief that the incident had ended safely. Looking at the photo, I was reminded of the emotional journey we had both travelled together, finding solace and strength in each other's company.

"Dinner is ready," Halmoenim called out from across the kitchen.

 Lexi and I eagerly helped her set the table, the aroma of the food wafting through the air, making our mouths water. Halmoenim had prepared a feast fit for a special occasion: Miyeok-guk, a Korean speciality often enjoyed on significant days, spicy Ddeok, Bossam, and Samgyeopsal.

"It looks incredible, gamshamnida Halmoenim," I said with a grateful bow to her.

"Enjoy it, but save some room for dessert," she replied with a smile.

"We always have room for dessert," Lexi chimed in, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Dinner was a peaceful affair, filled with light conversation about what we had been up to and how life was treating us. The warmth of Halmoenim's cooking and her loving presence made the meal not just nourishing for the body, but comforting for the soul. After dinner, Lexi and I helped Grandma Kang clean up while she set up chairs outside. It was still early, only 19:00. I returned fifteen minutes later in my pyjamas.

"Here, I made your favourite Yakgwa," Grandma Kang said, pointing to the plate in front of us. 

We settled down in front of the yard. The sky was darkening, and a slight chill hung in the air.

"Sian, when will you leave tomorrow?" Grandma Kang asked gently.

"I just received the email," I replied, scrolling through my Gmail. 

"It's scheduled for 20:00 tomorrow, and the dress code is red and black," I added hesitantly.

"And?" Alexia prompted, noticing my expression.

"I have a speech to prepare," I admitted nervously.

Lexi placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You'll do great. Just like you always do."

Grandma Kang nodded understandingly. 

"Halmoenim, do you know who approved her paper?" Lexi asked, barely containing her excitement.

"Who?" Grandma Kang asked curiously, munching on her cookie.

"The Jay Park!" Lexi nearly screamed, causing her Yakgwa to fly from her hand and onto the ground. I burst into laughter, unable to contain myself. Soon, we were both laughing until our faces turned red.

"Grandma Kang, I think Alexia needs to marry Jay Park," I managed to say between giggles.

"We'll have to go to Busan for that," Grandma Kang teased, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Hey, stop it," Lexi protested, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"You're crazily in love with him, please behave yourself tomorrow," I said with a deadpan expression.

"I'm not a kid," Lexi retorted, sticking her tongue out.

"Yes, you are," I replied, poking her forehead with my finger before darting across the yard. The night air was filled with our laughter and playful giggles, a carefree moment amidst the anticipation and excitement of the upcoming gala.

We talked for about an hour before retiring to our respective rooms.

"Why do you like Jay Park?" I asked suddenly.

"I don't love him, I just... like him," Lexi replied, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever, it's the same feeling," I teased with a snort.

Lexi paused for a moment, her expression softening. 

"Jay Park kept me company through his music when I was struggling with my parents' separation from me. His voice, his experiences... they kept me going. I'm grateful to him," she admitted in a small voice.

"It's okay," I said gently, reaching out to hug her. 

Lexi's vulnerability touched me, reminding me of how music could be a lifeline during difficult times. In that quiet moment, I understood a deeper layer of Lexi's connection to Jay Park, and I silently appreciated the solace he had unknowingly provided her. As Lexi and I sat together, her confession hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the ways music could weave itself into the fabric of our lives. I held her close, feeling the weight of her emotions and the strength it took for her to share them.

"Thank you for telling me," I whispered, my voice filled with sincerity. 

"I didn't realize how much he meant to you."

Lexi nodded, her arms tightening around me.

 "Sometimes, music is the only thing that makes sense when nothing else does."

We stayed like that for a while, finding comfort in each other's presence and the shared understanding of our individual struggles. Eventually, we parted ways to our rooms, each lost in our thoughts but feeling a renewed closeness from our conversation. As I sat down to prepare my speech, my mind drew a blank. I reached for one of Kim Ryu's books, hoping inspiration would strike from his profound words. I recalled the coffee shop conversation about his mysterious return to town, shrouded in secrecy. Despite his local fame, there were no  photos of him online, leading to speculation about his elusive nature. I couldn't help but wonder if he deliberately hid his identity, akin to a mob boss in the movies.

Lost in thought, my mind wandered back to my encounter with the stranger. His enigmatic eyes, piercing yet filled with a hidden depth, had left a lasting impression on me. A strange fluttering in my heart prompted a question that slipped out loud in my mind: "Who are you?" The question echoed in my thoughts, unanswered but lingering with a sense of intrigue. I set the book aside, realizing I needed to focus on my speech. Tomorrow's gala was approaching fast, and I couldn't afford to be distracted by mysterious strangers or elusive authors. With renewed determination, I began to jot down ideas, drawing from my experiences and aspirations, ready to craft a speech that would hopefully inspire and resonate with the audience.

Scribbling on my writing pad, I felt dissatisfied with every attempt. I tore the paper away in frustration and let it fall to the ground. Glancing at my final research paper, I reflected on its theme: how Artificial Intelligence could enhance social etiquette in the corporate world. This innovative approach triggered resistance from traditional business circles, resulting in its rejection for the past two years.

Yet, alongside my frustration, I felt a profound sense of gratitude towards Jay Park for finally accepting my research. His support had been a turning point, validating my ideas and offering a platform to showcase them. Despite the challenges, I knew this topic was my passion—a belief in the transformative power of technology to improve human interactions. As I gathered my thoughts, I resolved to channel this passion into my speech. It wasn't just about presenting ideas; it was about advocating for change and inspiring others to embrace innovation. 

With renewed determination, I started afresh, determined to craft a speech that would not only meet expectations but also make a meaningful impact at tomorrow's gala. What felt like hours later, I finally completed my speech. I stretched my neck, massaged my shoulders, and turned off the light before slipping into my cosy bed. The room was filled with the soothing scent of wild lavender from a candle Grandma Kang had lit earlier.

As I settled in, my eyes grew heavy with exhaustion. The weight of the upcoming gala and the culmination of months of preparation finally caught up with me. Despite the lingering nerves, the comforting aroma and the warmth of Grandma Kang's home wrapped around me like a blanket, easing me into a peaceful slumber.

Tomorrow would be a big day, but for now, I allowed myself to rest, trusting that I had done my best to prepare for what lay ahead.