American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

Few cars drove by on the street, just the occasional taxi and nothing else.

Less than two meters in front of her, the 911 was parked on the roadside, its engine still running, the exhaust pipe emitting a low hum.

Even though the car had powerful heating and comfortable seats, Jin Heon preferred to squat by the road in the cold wind rather than get inside to eat.

If she dropped so much as a crumb and angered her boss, he might think she was a sloppy employee who didn’t take care of his things. That would be a disastrous misstep over something so trivial.

Shivering, she swallowed the last bite of her sandwich while staring intently at a restaurant across the street. Its facade was extremely low-key, with no eye-catching signs.

It was a two-star Michelin restaurant that perennially required reservations three months in advance.

Jin Heon hadn’t gone back to school or home today, nor was she just wandering around. She was waiting for a takeout food box from the restaurant across the street.

As an ambitious PR professional, she had learned through a secret tip that the Korean-American editor-in-chief of Vogue North America was from a remote seaside town in southern South Korea. Coincidentally, the head chef of the Michelin restaurant across the street was from the same hometown.

To get her foot in the door, Jin Heon had gone to great lengths.

Not only did she spend what was, in her eyes, an enormous sum of her own money, but she had also spent the past week waiting for the chef to get off work late every night. She made the trip five times, showering him with praise and even playing the "hometown card" to appeal to their shared roots. Only then did she finally win over the stubborn, old-fashioned chef.

He had agreed to make an exception on this special Christmas Day and prepare a custom meal for her to take out, one with the authentic taste of their hometown.

「Ten minutes later」

The restaurant door finally opened. Jin Heon shot to her feet, but a wave of dizziness washed over her. She stumbled across the street and carefully took an exquisitely packaged, piano-lacquered food box from the assistant chef’s hands. It was still warm.

Clutching it like a sacred imperial seal, she scurried over to the 911, opened the door, and gently secured the food box on the passenger seat, even using her own scarf to cushion it.

With the roar of its boxer-6 engine, the 911 weaved through the Christmas Eve traffic like a ghost, finally coming to a smooth stop in front of a high-end apartment building on the Upper East Side.

Cradling the food box, she got out of the car and called the editor-in-chief’s assistant.

Before long, the editor-in-chief herself—a sharp, stern, Korean-American woman of about forty—actually came down in person.

She looked at Jin Heon, whose nose and fingers were red from the cold wind, her breath forming white puffs in the air. A hint of displeasure flickered in her eyes.

"It’s after hours, and on a Christmas holiday at that," she said bluntly. "Miss Jin, whatever it is can wait until we’re back in the office."

"Editor-in-Chief Choi, Merry Christmas."

Jin Heon completely ignored the editor’s cold expression, maintaining her smile as she presented the warm food box. "I know you’ve lived in New York for years and have tried every delicacy imaginable. This was custom-made for you by Chef Li from that Michelin restaurant. He’s from the same hometown as you and specifically used the most authentic local methods to prepare the soup base."

Hearing this, Editor-in-Chief Choi’s previously indifferent gaze wavered. She walked over and took the food box.

She opened it for a peek. Even through the packaging, there was no mistaking the nostalgic aroma of home, a scent she hadn’t smelled since childhood.

When she looked up at Jin Heon again, her expression had changed.

"Miss Jin, I admit, I can’t refuse this," she said after a pause. "Going to such lengths, driving all this way to deliver it in the cold... You’re doing this to build connections for your boss, Li Wei, aren’t you? You want me to introduce him to the executives at the LVMH Group’s early spring launch event?"

Exposed so directly, Jin Heon’s smile didn’t show the slightest hint of embarrassment.

"You’re as perceptive as ever, Editor-in-Chief Choi," she said, nodding candidly in open admission. "My boss’s commercial value is absolutely worthy of a top-tier luxury position. But even the finest thoroughbred needs a discerning judge like you to introduce him. This gift is both a token of our sincerity and my personal attempt to get a foot in the door."

Behind her straightforward words was an earnestness that was impossible to reject.

Editor-in-Chief Choi had seen too many fake smiles from white colleagues, received countless diamond-encrusted watches from celebrities, and been gifted haute couture jewelry from brands. But in this moment, she had to admit, she was moved by the young woman standing before her.

"You’re a clever and ambitious one, Jin Heon," she said, her form of address changing for the third time. She turned to walk toward the main door, then paused. "Next Wednesday, 2 PM. Bring Li Wei’s business data to my office. You’ll have fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Editor-in-Chief Choi! Merry Christmas!"

Overjoyed, Jin Heon bowed a full ninety degrees and watched until the door closed.

It wasn’t until she was back in the warm cabin of the 911 that she finally collapsed into the seat and let out a long, deep sigh.

’Shit...’ she muttered under her breath while rubbing her frozen fingers. ’Chef Li is a total vampire. That one meal cost me over 1,000 USD! Aaaah! Ugh!’

But complaints aside, she felt like she was flying.

Editor-in-Chief Choi was deeply connected in the fashion world. If Jin Heon could really establish a relationship with her and land her boss an endorsement deal worth tens of millions of USD, it followed that her own 1% commission would be several hundred thousand USD.

Her heart pounded at the thought of hundreds of thousands of USD.

Rubbing her hands together, she started the car and slowly drove the 911 away from the Upper East Side apartment building, where every inch of land was worth gold.

As was her habit, she went to look at the French-style villa that haunted her dreams.

Under the interplay of night and streetlights, she once again parked by the roadside to gaze at it for a while.

The last time she came, she had been on foot and had to take a taxi to go eat.

But this time, she was driving a 911—even if it didn’t belong to her.

A couple of days ago, she had mustered the courage to ask about the listing price of villas in this neighborhood.

A cool 15 million USD.

Jin Heon herself was shocked when she heard the number. It was a 50% increase from the price she had inquired about a few years ago. ’Damn New York, how can housing prices rise so fast? Faster than the wrinkles on my least favorite neighbor’s face!’

Even in New York, a city teeming with millionaires, this was considered an exceptionally expensive property.

For the current Jin Heon, it was still an astronomical figure. Based on her current 1% PR commission, even if she secured a top-tier endorsement deal worth over 50 million USD and earned a pre-tax commission of 500,000 USD, the amount left after hefty taxes would only be enough to cover the villa’s high annual property taxes and maintenance fees. It wouldn’t even be close to covering a fraction of the minimum 20% down payment.

But Jin Heon wasn’t discouraged. Instead, she felt an unprecedented, fervent drive burning in her chest.

’Nothing is impossible...’ she murmured to herself. ’Ten years, twenty years... one day, I’ll definitely be able to buy it with my own two hands.’

After gazing a while longer, Jin Heon felt the exhaustion vanish from her face.

She took out her phone and called Li Wei.

"Boss! I’m done on my end!" As soon as the call connected, Jin Heon’s voice brimmed with irrepressible energy. "Where should we meet now?"

"Come to Masa at Columbus Circle," Li Wei said. "I’ve already made a reservation."

「Half an hour later.」

Li Wei was seated at an exceptionally private table in the restaurant when a travel-worn Jin Heon arrived.

"Boss." Jin Heon greeted him respectfully and sat down opposite him.

"How’s your holiday been?" Li Wei asked casually, pushing a menu across the table toward her.

"Very productive," Jin Heon said, taking a small sip of the tea a server had brought her. "I just met with a senior figure in the industry. Um... I’d say it went quite smoothly."

"Let’s order first. The seafood and beef here are both excellent," Li Wei said. "Regarding the sports drink, we have the offline production line with Coca-Cola secured. Do you have any plans for the distribution channels and packaging?"