Song Yuqi's Guide to Being a Demigod | yuyeon

PART I - I receive a weird dream

I woke up at 7am with Susan's alarm screaming through the room. Although the noise came from her alarm clock, I was the one who had to get up and turn it off or it would be ringing forever on the repeat mode. She never wakes up on the first one. In fact, she says she only sets the first one up for me. She needs the third one to go on for her to truly wake up, because only then she gets annoyed enough to get up and turn it off and get ready for the day.

It was the first of September, first day of our Senior year in high school. I was excited — Susan not so much.

I passed by her bed and went straight to the bathroom to get ready. Took a quick shower (which is a must for me because showers are my absolute favorite), brushed my teeth and tried to make my hair look not so messy, which seemed to be impossible today. The curls were everywhere! After that, I put the uniform on and went down the stairs.

"Good morning, Yuri," Uncle Kim sang in the moment he heard my steps getting closer. Sneaking on that man is just impossible.

Uncle Kim's name is Kimho, but we call him as it is. He's the only brother of Susan's mom, Helen, who was mom's best friend since they were like, three years old. (Yes, that's it, Susan and I aren't even blood-related, but we've shared a room for longer than some kids' lives. Weird, right?)

I don't remember much about that time, to be honest. I was only six and it was ten years ago. What I do know is that apparently I was making a lot of trouble, getting kicked out of schools and stuff, bringing problems home, and my mother had just had a pair of twins with her new-ugh-husband, so it was a lot for her to deal with. Helen offered to take care of me until things cooled down and I'm here ever since.

Mother sends me a letter or so every month, not that I pay much attention to it 'cause that woman can suck it. I only continue to write back to her because that's what Aunt Helen would've wanted.

Exactly, would've. She died last year, breast cancer. Susan never recovered. Which is why Uncle Kim takes care of us now.

He's not bad in the whole parenting thing, he's just not our comfort female figure, which we really need sometimes, mainly during that cursed time of the month or when Susan and I fight with each other. But Uncle Kim tries a lot and we appreciate it. Like, Helen was a lawyer and she had saved some good money, but cancer treatment is expensive in the USA and most of the savings are gone. Uncle Kim supports us now. He's a professional chef and works for a rich family as a private cook. It fits perfectly because neither Susan nor I know how to fry an egg.

And that brings us to breakfast.

I entered the kitchen to find Uncle Kim finishing the pancakes. He was dressed for work already and had his home-cooking apron on. As I passed by him, he touched the top of my head, making — as if he needed to — a mess of my hair.

"Morning, kiddo," he insisted.

"Good morning, Uncle Kim," I resonated with funny irony, finally answering his wish. "What's to eat?"

"For you, scrambled eggs, avocado toast and pancakes," he said, and put the plates in front of me when I sat down.

"Thank you."

"You're welcomed."

"What's for Sue?" I asked.

He doesn't usually make us different food, except the protein part because Susan is a vegetarian and I am not, so it's always meat for me and tofu or something for her. But Susan was suffering with cramps last night and since Uncle Kim got home late from work, I figured he would make her something special.

It might sound like a miraculous thing, but it's so true: His food cures. Like, I mean it. I had pneumonia once and he made me some chicken broth and I got better the day after. Bizarre, right?