Donghwa just grins, dropping his hand. "They're probably in the kitchen. Or the garden. You have to be loud to be heard over the ghosts."
I barely have time to process his shouting before the house answers back.
Somewhere on the second floor, double doors are thrown open with a force that rattles the chandelier above my head. It sounds like a prison break.
"DONGHWA-YA!"
I snap my head up just in time to see two figures materialize at the top of the grand staircase. They’re women, both tall, both striking, and both possessing the exact same sharp, feline eyes as the man standing next to me. But unlike Donghwa, who moves with a sort of lethal, slow-motion grace, these two are vibrating with kinetic energy.
They shriek. In unison. It’s a sound that defies the laws of acoustics in a house this expensive.
"Oh god," Donghwa mutters. He glances at me, rolling his eyes so hard I see the whites, and mouths two words:Brace yourself.
Before I can ask what I’m bracing for, the thunder starts.
They come pounding down the stairs—not walking, not gliding like elegant heiresses, but actuallypoundingdown the steps in a tornado of expensive fabric and flailing limbs. It’s a stampede. A very coordinated, very loud stampede.
"He’s alive!" one of them screams.
"Get him!" the other yells.
Donghwa doesn't even try to run. He just sighs, bracing his legs like he’s preparing for a rugby tackle, which turns out to be the correct strategy because a second later, the Wonder Twins collide with him at full speed.
"Oof—hey! Watch the ribs!" Donghwa grunts as he’s engulfed.
It’s a mauling. There’s no other word for it. The stoic, terrifyingly cool freshman who makes Alphas cross the street to avoid him is currently being manhandled by two women in matching silk loungewear. They’re everywhere at once—pinching his cheeks, ruffling his hair until it stands up on end, yanking at his henley to check if he’s been eating.
"Look at you! You look skinny!" one of them cries, grabbing a handful of his bicep and shaking it. "Are you eating? Is he eating? He looks pale."
"He’s always pale, Dohwa, he’s a vampire," the other one retorts, smacking Donghwa’s shoulder hard enough to echo. "Why didn't you call first? Mom’s been pacing for an hour!"
"I just walked in the door!" Donghwa snarls, trying to bat their hands away like he’s fighting off a swarm of bees. He wriggles between them, looking genuinely harassed. "Get off! Stop pinching me! I’m not five!"
"Then stop acting like a brat and visit more!" the first one—Dohwa, I assume—counters, grabbing his face in both hands and squishing his cheeks together until his lips pucker like a fish. "We wouldn't have to fuss if we saw your ugly face more than twice a semester!"
"I don't visit because you dothis!" Donghwa gripes, his voice distorted by the cheek-squishing. He finally manages to pry her hands off, shoving them away with a scowl that would usually terrify people but just makes these two laugh. "Every time! It’s like being attacked by raptors. Can I have five seconds of peace? Just five?"
The sisters scoff in perfect synchronization. It’s terrifying.
"Can you believe this guy?" The second sister turns to the first, crossing her arms. "We change his diapers, we teach him how to walk, and this is the thanks we get? 'Get off me, Noona.' The disrespect."
"Ungrateful," the first agrees, shaking her head. "Is that any way to speak to your big sisters? After we defended you when Dad found out about the motorcycle?"
I’m standing there, clutching the strap of my overnight bag, completely paralyzed. My brain is trying to reconcile the image of the "Intellectual Elite" family I had in my head—sipping tea in silence, discussing philosophy—with this chaotic mosh pit. My own house is quieter than this during a funeral. My mother would have an aneurysm if I sprinted down the stairs.
I must make a sound, or maybe I just shift my weight, because suddenly the chaotic energy in the room halts.
The sister on the left whips her head around. Her eyes, dark and sharp just like Donghwa’s, lock onto me. Her expression shifts instantly from feral sibling aggression to bright, predatory curiosity.
"Oh," she says, her eyebrows shooting up. A slow, delighted smile spreads across her face. "Hello."
The other sister spins around, following her gaze. "Ooh. And who isthis?"
Donghwa finally manages to peel the human octopus act off his body, shoving the sister on his left away by the forehead. He takes a step back, smoothing down his rumpled henley with an air of long-suffering dignity that is completely ruined by the fact that his hair is now sticking up in three different directions.
He clears his throat, gesturing vaguely in my direction with a hand that still looks like he’s ready to fend off another attack.
"Stop mauling me," he grumbles. "You’re scaring the guest. Sihwan these two harpies are my sisters, Dohwa and Dohwi. This is Sihwan."
