That evening. Pyeongchang-dong estate. 7:30 PM.
Soorin walked through the front door and was immediately hit with the smell of home cooking.
Her mother's cooking specifically. Which meant comfort food and probably way too much of it.
"I'm home!"
"Kitchen!" Calista called back.
Soorin found her mother at the stove—or rather, at what looked like a command center disguised as a cooking space. The kitchen was all gleaming marble and state-of-the-art appliances. A smart induction cooktop that could be controlled via tablet. A ventilation system so advanced it was basically silent.
And in the middle of it all, her mother, wearing an apron that said "World's Best Introverted Mom" that Soorin had bought her as a joke three years ago.
The contrast was hilarious.
Calista was stirring something in a pot, humming along to music playing from hidden speakers.
"Soorin-ah, perfect timing! I'm almost done."
