NLFSD Chapter 95

Chapter 95

When snow began to fall and the cold wind nipped at the nose, people around the city began preparing for Christmas. Jiwoon, too, was busy preparing this year.

Having lost his parents very young, he had no childhood memories of decorating trees or going on family outings. Still, every Christmas morning he would wake to find a tiny gift at his bedside.

Small things — a notebook, a pencil, simple supplies — but to little Jiwoon they were treasures. Later, when living with his grandparents, every Christmas he would modestly decorate their home with a small plastic tree wrapped in a string of lights, and he would gift his grandparents thermal underclothes or socks bought with part‑time wages. The gifts were humble, but their joy made Jiwoon happiest.

But once he lost even them, Jiwoon deliberately avoided Christmas. Seeing families strolling hand‑in‑hand along decorated streets cut him to pieces. For years alone in his one‑room apartment, he forced himself to ignore the city’s lights and carols. He convinced himself, I’ll spend every holiday alone anyway, so it has nothing to do with me.

But those gloomy days were yesterday’s tale. This year, Christmas would be different — because Mango (the baby) and Taecheon were with him.

How should he decorate their home, what gift should he prepare? The questions made his head ache.

“Urgh…”

He had worried for days, but no idea satisfied. Sprawled on the sofa, his eyes landed on the AI Sookryeo‑Doongyi sitting on the table.

“Sookryeo‑Doongyi.”

[Yes. Please speak.]

The doll’s AI responded immediately, as always when he babbled at it.

“What’s a good Christmas gift?”

[Query: gifts. Searching for popular items.]

After a pause, the metallic voice reported:

[Top results — 1: Gloves. 2: Mufflers. 3: Department store gift certificates.]

“…Yeah, thanks.”

[Any further query?]

“No, forget it.”

Gloves, a muffler — unless it’s designer brand, they won’t impress Taecheon. And a gift certificate? Please. Jiwoon sighed heavily.

In fact, gloves had been his first thought. But the good ones cost a fortune. Sehwa Hotel Group’s salaries were said to be high, but that only applied to managers and above. For a third‑year Assistant, the wage wasn’t much to brag about.

“One pair of gloves costs half my monthly pay.”

Looking at options on his phone, he shook his head. Money itself wasn’t lacking — Taecheon had given him an unlimited black card to “use freely.”

But buying a gift with his card for him felt absurd. Jiwoon wanted this one to be truly from his own hand.

Still, budget constraints pressed ugly reality. And this couldn’t be a throwaway gift — it was their first Christmas together. It needed to be sincere, unique, one‑of‑a‑kind.

He sipped his herbal tea, then froze, staring at the mug in his hand.

This is it. I’ll make him a mug. My own handmade Jiwoon‑brand cup. He’ll use it at work every day, sip coffee and think of me.

His face bloomed with excitement.

“Sookryeo‑Doongyi! Search pottery workshops.”

[Yes. Searching.]

“I want to make a cup.”

[Result: One workshop near your address. Details available.]

“Yes, tell me.”

[Personalized gift class available. ‘Make Your Own Mug’ course, beginner‑friendly.]

“Book it. Dial them up.”

[Connecting…]

—“Hello, workshop speaking.”

“Hello, I’d like to join the Christmas gift mug class. Is there an opening?”

—“Yes, one slot left tomorrow. Shall I reserve?”

“Yes, please!”

Perfect timing. Tomorrow Taecheon would be away on a regional business trip all day.

Great alibi! He won’t suspect I vanished off making his gift.

Jiwoon chuckled mischievously.

Next morning, Taecheon left for work with Jiwoon on the doorstep.

“Sorry to be away all day, I’ll hurry back.”

“No, you’re the one with a long day. Be careful. Come home safe.”

“Stay warm in the house.”

He pressed a kiss to Jiwoon’s forehead; Jiwoon returned one to his lips.

“Odd. Even though I’ll see you tonight, I hate leaving you now.”

“Me too. Wish I could follow, but I’m on leave…”

“It’s the one time I resent your leave. When you return, I should appoint you my secretary.”

“Stop tempting me back to work already.”

Minutes of clinging at the door later, Taecheon finally walked out. Jiwoon watched him disappear, then pumped his fists.

Finally, today I’ll make his present! So excited!

He hummed as he donned the new coat, gloves, and muffler Taecheon had recently gifted him. Out the gate, the icy wind stung so hard he ducked inside a cab to the downtown workshop.

At the central intersection, a giant Christmas tree sparkled with dazzling illuminations. Carols blared, people paused to watch, couples cheered, children sang along.

Jiwoon, once embittered, now hummed with joy, swept by the festive spirit.

The studio was just down a side street by the department store. Inside, about ten students were already seated. The instructor welcomed him warmly.

“Welcome.”

“Hello. I’m Lee Jiwoon, I made a reservation.”

“Ah, for the mug! Sit here.”

At his place lay soft clay, sculpting tools, and a printed sheet, How to Make Your Own Cup. Jiwoon’s confidence surged.

Piece of cake. I’ll craft something like an Italian artisan, and blow Taecheon away.

Eyes blazing, he attacked the clay.

Thirty minutes later — despair. His clay kept collapsing, cracking, falling flat, while others’ bowls grew elegant. His looked like abstract art gone wrong.

“No, no, this isn’t it…”

“Stay calm, student,” the instructor soothed, hovering. But his shape barely improved.

Not only am I bad at painting… I’m bad at everything with my hands. Cooking, laundry — a disaster. Cursed hands indeed.

“Teacher, what about this one?”

After countless retries, he showed a final attempt.

“Well… yes. Um. I see.”

The instructor bit back words. With a hole gaping the bottom, it was impossible to praise.