First Day of School (Again)
So-young glared at her reflection in the hallway mirror—her tiny frame drowning in a stiff elementary school uniform, her backpack covered in bread-shaped erasers (a gift from Dae-ho, who thought they were hilarious).
"This is worse than the time I burned three batches of macarons in a row," she muttered, adjusting her too-big hair ribbon.
Jeong's mist swirled around her lunchbox—a fancy Han Family heirloom that looked wildly out of place next to the other kids' Pokémon bento boxes.
"Think of it as… undercover baking reconnaissance," he whispered.
"I'm nine," So-young hissed. "The only 'reconnaissance' I should be doing is figuring out who stole the last chocolate milk at lunch."
From the kitchen, Li Na cackled while packing her lunch—extra spicy tteboki and kimchi fried rice ("For psychological warfare") and a single perfect apricot twist ("For emotional manipulation").
On her way to school So-young was planning on how to stay low-key, given her stance as 3rd gen chaebol and me being an absolute goated author that's not going to happen.
Problem #1: Her teacher was Ms. Park—the same woman who'd scolded her for doodling bread diagrams instead of paying attention in her past life. (I mean I would have also doodled if it was history class.)
Problem #2: The class "food unit" involved cutting out paper vegetables—which So-young accidentally turned into a detailed 3D model of a bakery ("That's… impressive but concerning," Ms. Park said.)
Problem #3: The boy at the next desk was Kim Jihun—son of Moon & Son's CFO—currently bragging about his "fancy chef dad." (loser ahh behaviour)
"Your lunchbox is old-fashioned," Jihun sneered, eyeing her hanbok-wrapped meal.
So-young smiled sweetly. "Your face is old-fashioned." (Some habits die hard.)
Then—she "accidentally" knocked his store-bought juice box onto his lap.
Jeong's whisper: "Petty. I approve."
Lunchtime Warfare
At recess, Jihun rallied his friends: "Han So-young's family poisons people!"
The kids gasped.
So-young slowly unwrapped Li Na's kimchi fried rice and tteboki, letting the scent of fiery doom waft through the air. "My noona made this. Bet you can't eat even one bite."
Five minutes later:
Jihun was chugging milk straight from the carton ("MY MOUTH IS ON FIRE—")
Two kids cried "Tears of glory!"
The playground monitor confiscated the "suspiciously professional-grade" lunch
Li Na's text later:
"Got a warning letter from the school. Proud of you, demon child."
Back at the Han estate, Grandfather frowned at the "disciplinary notice" (So-young had forged his signature with historical accuracy).
"Fighting?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Defending the family honor," So-young corrected, shoveling honey butter chips into her mouth.
Li Na nodded solemnly. "The little gremlin has standards."
Dae-ho burst in, covered in glue. "I made a portrait of Uncle in art class! Look, he's a radish with legs!"
Grandfather's eye twitched. "...Why does it have fangs?"
Dae-ho, grinning: "Spicy radish."
That night, So-young struggled with third-grade math ("Why do I need to calculate train speeds? I own a bakery!").
Jeong materialized, peering at her worksheet. "Carry the one… to the afterlife."
A flour-dusted ghost hand scribbled the answers.
So-young squinted. "Did you just haunt my homework?"
Jeong's grin was wicked. "joon-ho always cheated on his algebra."