"Daughter, you know you have to take off your shoes before boarding the plane, right?"

"Don’t try to trick me! I know that joke is outdated!"

Dad teased Yoon as we approached the boarding gate.

Yoon scoffed and confidently stepped onto the plane.

"Excuse me, ma’am? You’ll need to take these slippers with you..."

Yoon’s face turned red as the flight attendant handed her a pair of slippers.

"What? But I’m sure we didn’t have to take off our shoes on the plane before..."

Dad chuckled and placed a hand on her head as she sulked.

"That’s only for short-haul flights, like to Jeju or Japan."

"Long-haul flights like this one provide slippers," I added, offering another piece of random trivia.

"You could’ve told me that earlier..."

Yoon’s embarrassed expression made Dad and the surrounding passengers smile even more.

"Mom, why didn’t you take your shoes off?"

"...I thought it was a joke too."

And just like that, the "shoe incident" aboard the plane came to an end.

We continued down the aisle, passing economy, business class, and finally reaching first class.

"...Ms. Lee, didn’t you spend way too much money on this?"

"Believe it or not, I’m just a silver spoon," she replied with a smug grin.

Her version of a "silver spoon" was clearly different from mine.

"What kind of silver spoon flies first class?"

"This kind," she said, walking past with her nose in the air.

First class was sparsely populated, with only a few seats—and all of them belonged to us.

"Oppa, I’m taking the window seat!"

Yoon plopped down by the window, and I took the seat next to her. Mom and Dad settled into the seats beside us.

Ms. Lee sat directly behind me.

"Lee Ha-Eun, I heard you’re afraid of flying?"

"Who said that? I’m not scared at all."

In truth, my legs were trembling slightly.

What if there’s a 1-in-11-million chance of a plane crash today?

Once we boarded, my nerves wouldn’t let up.

"The odds of winning the lottery are 1 in 8.15 million. Lots of people win first place in the lottery, so how can anyone trust that the slightly higher odds of a plane crash won’t happen?"

"...You’re scarier for calculating that," Ms. Lee said, giving me an incredulous look.

"Let’s say you survive the 1-in-11-million odds. What if you end up in an accident with 1-in-10,000 odds afterward? And what if that happens today?"

"At that point, getting struck by lightning on a clear day seems more realistic."

"That’s rare too, but not impossible. Statistically, the global chance of being struck by lightning is 1 in a million. Factoring in variables, it’s actually harder than winning the lottery."

"I thought you hated math."

Ms. Lee stared at me with a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

She wasn’t wrong—I did hate math. But random trivia? That was a different story.

I shrugged and closed my eyes. It would take a long time to get to the U.S.

However, my attempt to sleep was interrupted by Yoon.

"Oppa, where in the U.S. are we going?"

"Grand Rapids, Michigan. Why?"

"You never told me where we were traveling."

Oh, right. I forgot to mention that.

She asked how long the trip would take.

"It’s about 13 to 14 hours to Chicago. Then another hour from there to Grand Rapids International Airport."

"Wow, that’s a long time..."

"Add in layovers and waiting times, and it could be up to 20 hours total."

"Oh no..."

Looking defeated, Yoon turned on her phone and started watching YouTube.

Hey, that’s my YouTube channel.

She was watching a recording of Do-Won-Hyang. Yoon really liked that particular painting.

I was considering reworking Do-Won-Hyang into a masterpiece someday.

Of course, I couldn’t touch the original; it was already complete.

If anything, I’d start on a blank canvas.

Checking my phone, I saw we had about five minutes before takeoff.

I switched it to airplane mode and decided to try napping.

But my plan was foiled once again.

"Haha! I didn’t expect to see you here, Lee Ha-Eun."

"...Mr. Hong Jin-Hoo? What are you doing here?"

"Ahem, is it so strange for me to be here? You’re traveling with Ms. Lee, aren’t you?"

That wasn’t the issue—what was he doing on this plane?

"Why didn’t you say you were coming earlier? We could’ve traveled together."

"I didn’t know I’d run into you either. If Ms. Lee hadn’t reached out, I would’ve taken a different flight."

I tilted my head back to look at Ms. Lee.

"Since Mr. Hong was already going, I thought it’d be better for everyone to travel together."

She avoided my gaze, looking sheepish.

"I wasn’t complaining, just curious how you two know each other."

"Oh, didn’t you know? Ms. Lee used to be quite famous herself."

"Really? That’s unexpected."

"Care to repeat that?"

Ignoring her playful glare, I stood and shook Mr. Hong’s hand.

I wasn’t thrilled about the surprise, but it was nice to see a familiar face.

After greeting my family, Mr. Hong took the seat beside Ms. Lee and asked,

"I heard you’ve been helping Ye-Hwa quite a bit."

"Oh, that? She asked for advice for the national competition, so I helped here and there. But it was actually Ha-Eun who insisted on helping her, not me."

"Ha-Eun did?"

Both of them turned their attention to me.

"What are you looking at?" I said, waving dismissively.

"I just helped a fellow art student. She’s the art department’s representative, after all."

"I thought you were the representative? And didn’t you rank first in the entire school this time?"

Mr. Hong raised an eyebrow.

"That’s just because my skills are out of the ordinary. On average, Ye-Hwa is the true representative."

Mr. Hong and Ms. Lee exchanged glances, clearly unsure how to respond.

"I’m not wrong," I said flatly.

"You make a valid point, but it’s still infuriating. Stop hanging out with Ye-Hwa."

"What hanging out? We barely talk."

Ms. Lee cut in, steering the conversation back to the competition.

"Everyone’s looking forward to Ye-Hwa’s work at the Drawing Korea exhibition. It’s probably because the national competition is next week."

"They’re likely eyeing her piece for the exhibition. While it won’t match Do-Won-Hyang or Ho-Sung, it’ll still be a great painting."

Mr. Hong smiled softly, his pride in his daughter evident.

"She’s called ‘God’s Hand,’ after all. At this rate, she could create a masterpiece within a year."

Curious, I asked, "Are masterpieces that hard to create?"

The question silenced both of them.

After a moment, Ms. Lee spoke up.

"You’re not seriously asking that, are you?"

"I am. How long does it take you two to complete one?"

"Well, I haven’t made one yet, but it’d take me at least two years," Ms. Lee admitted.

"And Mr. Hong?"

"If I really focus, about a year."

I smirked internally.

Winning this prize is going to be a breeze.

The plane began to taxi, and soon, we were airborne.

Fourteen hours to Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport (ORD).

I looked forward to the in-flight meal.