Sunday morning in Seoul felt suspiciously peaceful. Back home, Sundays meant blaring church speakers, my aunt shouting for me to iron her wrapper, and someone killing a chicken in the backyard. Here, the only sound was birds and the occasional hum of a car outside.
I was still buried in my strawberry-colored blankets when there was a knock on my door.
"Daniella, breakfast," my father called.
I groaned dramatically. "Is it in bed? If not, tell breakfast to come back later."
Five minutes later, I shuffled into the dining room, hair standing in all directions, wearing the oversized t-shirt I'd stolen from my cousin years ago. Everyone was already seated: Dad, Stepmom, Min-jun (looking like he'd rather be in another galaxy), and the twins, who waved like I was a celebrity.
The table was full of food: rice porridge, kimchi, some golden pancakes, eggs, and a pot of something steaming.
Stepmom smiled at me. "Eat, eat," she said warmly, gesturing at the spread.
I sat between the twins, because I already knew that was where the fun was.
Halfway through breakfast, my father cleared his throat. "Daniella, tomorrow you'll start school. Min-jun will take you."
I froze mid-bite. "School, keh? As in tomorrow? I just landed."
"Yes," Dad said. "Better to start quickly. The semester is already at it's peak. If you start early, you'll be able to catch up. Min-jun goes there too, so you won't be alone."
I turned to my older stepbrother. He looked like he'd been asked to donate both kidneys.
"Dad," Min-jun said flatly, his english mingling with Korean accent. "I'm not a babysitter."
My eyebrows shot up. "Babysitter? Nwanne m nwoke, biko, don't insult yourself. I don't need escort. I can find my way, even if it's by befriending the nearest grandma and following her to the bus stop."
He frowned. "Then do that."
I slammed my spoon down like I was in a Nollywood courtroom drama. "Gị n'onwe gị echi bụ onye nzuzu!"
Everyone blinked.
"What?" Min-jun said staring at me like I had grown a second head.
"It means, 'You yourself tomorrow will be the fool.'" I smirked. "I'm telling you in advance, so you can prepare your spirit."
Dad's chopsticks paused in midair. Stepmom's eyes widened slightly.
The twins were grinning like hyenas. "Say it again!" Joon-ho begged.
I sat up straighter, enjoying my moment. "Gị n'onwe gị echi bụ onye nzuzu!" I repeated, loud and proud.
Joon-sung clapped. "Teach us! Teach us!"
"Do. Not. Teach your brothers Igbo insult." My father said quickly.
Min-jun stared at me, clearly deciding whether to respond or to pretend I didn't exist.
"Relax, guy," I said sweetly. "You don't have to like me. But from tomorrow, when we walk into that school, just know, na me be main character. You're just my sidekick."
The twins almost fell off their chairs laughing.
My father finally found his voice. "Daniella…"
"Yes, sir?" I replied, as innocently as a choir member.
"You will… be respectful. And please don't antagonize your brother."
"I am being respectful," I said, scooping another spoon of rice porridge. "I even said he should prepare his spirit. Is that not thoughtful?"
The twins raised their hands for high-fives. I gave them both one, grinning like a queen addressing her loyal subjects.
Min-jun muttered something in Korean that I was pretty sure wasn't "welcome to the family." but wetin concern me.