The restaurant was glowing with a warmth that had nothing to do with the heaters. Uncle Dohyun had pushed three of the large center tables together, covering them with a red linen cloth. The scent of samgyeopsal (grilled pork belly) and spicy kimchi-jjim filled the air, creating an atmosphere that felt more like a wedding feast than a casual dinner.
I arrived with the "children" in tow. Harin and Doyoon were still practically attached at the hip, looking like they were floating on a cloud of teenage hormones.
"We're here," I announced, my voice a flat contrast to the chaos.
Danoh emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. The moment she saw me, her eyes brightened, and the "Ice Prince" armor I'd worn all afternoon in the cafe simply evaporated.
"You made it!" she laughed, coming over to take my coat. She whispered in my ear, "Did you survive the strawberry cake incident?"
"Barely," I muttered. "I've lost approximately 40% of my patience."
"Aigoo, look at these two!" Uncle Dohyun came out, beaming at Harin and Doyoon. "The little athlete and the sharpest girl in Seoul! Sit, sit! The meat is almost ready."
Just then, the bell chimed again. Hyuk-hyung and Minah walked in, looking like they had stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine.
The table was set. The participants were present. The "Great Jeon-Park Family Integration" was officially online.
The dinner was a logistical nightmare for someone who preferred quiet, organized data.
To my left, Hyuk-hyung was meticulously grilling meat for Minah, explaining the chemical process of the Maillard reaction like a true Jeon. Across from me, Doyoon was trying to feed Harin a lettuce wrap that was way too big for her mouth, resulting in a hilarious struggle that ended with Harin laughing so hard she almost fell off her chair.
"Doyoon-ah, you're going to choke her!" Hyuk-hyung scolded, though he was smiling.
"I've got it, Hyung! It's all about the trajectory!" Doyoon shouted back.
I looked at Danoh. She was sitting next to me, her hand resting on my thigh under the table—a secret anchor in the middle of the storm. She looked so happy, her face flushed from the heat of the grill and the joy of seeing everyone together.
"Uncle," Doyoon said suddenly, standing up with his glass of soda. "I have an announcement!"
The table went quiet. Harin grabbed his sleeve, looking embarrassed. "Doyoon, sit down."
"No! I have to say it!" Doyoon cleared his throat, looking at Uncle Dohyun with profound seriousness. "Sir, thank you for the food. And thank you for raising the best Noona in the world. Because of her, I met Harin. And because of Harin... I've decided to study harder! I'm going to get into SNU next year so I can be near everyone!"
Harin hid her face in her hands. "He's so embarrassing."
"I think it's sweet," Minah said, clinking her glass against Hyuk's.
"I think it's a miracle," I added dryly. "If he actually starts studying, I'll have to rewrite my theory on human behavior."
"Oh, shut up, Oppa!" Harin snapped, throwing a piece of lettuce at me.
I caught it mid-air. "Assaulting your elder? That's a penalty, Harin-ya."
Uncle Dohyun stood up, his eyes misty as he looked at all of us. "You know... for a long time, it was just me and Danoh in this restaurant. It was quiet. Too quiet. But looking at all of you... this is what a home is supposed to look like. A bit of noise, a lot of bickering, and people who look after one another."
He raised his glass. "To the kids! And to the brothers who finally brought some life into this place!"
"To the kids!" we all echoed.
As the night went on, the bickering continued. Hyuk and I argued about whose girlfriend was more talented (it was a draw), Doyoon and Harin planned a "double date" that I immediately vetoed, and Minah and Danoh shared secrets about the Jeon brothers that I'm sure will be used against us in the future.
When it was time to leave, I helped Danoh clear the last of the plates. The others were already outside, the sound of Doyoon's laughter echoing down the street.
"You okay, Hanbin-ah?" Danoh asked, leaning her head on my shoulder.
I looked around the messy restaurant. The system wasn't quiet anymore. It was loud, cluttered, and full of unpredictable variables. It was exactly the kind of environment I used to hate.
But as I pulled Danoh into a hug, feeling her heart beat against mine, I realized that I didn't want the silence back. The "Ice Prince" had been deleted, and in his place was someone who finally understood that life wasn't about the absence of noise—it was about who you shared the music with.
"I'm perfect," I said.
And for the first time in five years, the data backed it up.