American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

She drove onto Fifth Avenue and pulled up directly in front of the Chanel flagship store.

As she pushed the door open, two sales associates who had been talking in low voices looked at her—and at the 911 that had just parked behind her.

"I’d like to see that one," she said, pointing to a bag in the glass case. "Could you take it out for me?"

"Of course. Please have a seat over here."

The associate gave her a perfectly measured smile, brought Jin Heon a glass of sparkling water, then put on a pair of gloves and personally lifted the bag out of the glass case for her.

Jin Heon casually ran a hand over it.

The leather was high-quality, the stitching was neat, and the metal clasp didn’t have the slightest scratch.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on what made the bag so special. She wasn’t the type who grew up surrounded by luxury goods, nor was she as passionate about them as Jessica.

But when she saw the price on the tag, she felt a sense of calm.

"I’ll take it," she said. "Card."

The associate smiled and turned to ring up the sale.

While waiting for the card to be processed, Jin Heon noticed another customer, a white woman in her early thirties wearing Lululemon, staring at her.

She seemed to have noticed Jin Heon’s swift purchase, her gaze flicking back and forth between Jin Heon and the bag.

Jin Heon recognized that look. She interpreted it as the resentment of ’Why can you buy that without a second thought while I have to stand here hesitating?’

Jin Heon had thought she might feel some sort of satisfaction, but when that look actually fell on her, she felt nothing at all.

The knot in her chest remained.

She entered her PIN, took the shopping bag from the associate, and walked out of Chanel.

The winter sun on Fifth Avenue was faint, casting no warmth on her face.

She casually tossed the shopping bag onto the passenger seat of the 911, got back into the driver’s seat, and closed the door.

Her fingers rested on the steering wheel. Suddenly, she didn’t know where to go.

’Is this what I wanted? Chasing after beautiful bags and the envy of others? Apparently not.’

She drove aimlessly around Manhattan a couple of times. Before she knew it, the 911 was parked on a quiet street in the Upper East Side.

’Here again.’

Jin Heon stared through the car window at the French-style villa.

There were no flowers in the winter yard, and the ivy on the wrought-iron gate had withered to yellowed vines.

But through the floor-to-ceiling windows, she could still see the warm, orange glow from inside. The neatly trimmed portico and the polished brass house number stood silently in the cold Upper East Side air.

Unlike the last time she was here, today she held 10 million USD worth of shares. If her boss, Li Wei, won the Super Bowl and the valuation continued to rise, her 1% stake would be worth the asking price of this very house.

Theoretically, she was closer to that door than ever before—so close that it would only take four years and a little bit of luck.

But sitting here today, she felt for the first time that the door was very far away.

It wasn’t a distance measured in money, but in something else.

An image suddenly appeared in her mind: she buys the house, moves in, and lives alone in this spacious, quiet place with its hardwood floors and Persian rugs.

Then one day, her phone rings again.

A call from her mother.

"Heon, your father is... again..."

Jin Heon closed her eyes.

’What would I do then? Transfer another 5,000? Or 10,000? Or, seeing my new house, would my father demand 500,000? A million?’

She thought she had come so far, but when she looked back, she realized she had never left that small, three-story house.

She didn’t hate her father—hating an alcoholic was a waste of energy, as pointless as hating a thunderstorm.

What she hated was her own inability to be more ruthless. Why did she give him that 5,000 USD?

She knew perfectly well that the money would just fuel her father’s gambling. He’d cause a scene, her mother would give in, he’d gamble, he’d lose, he’d drink, he’d get violent, he’d apologize, things would be quiet for a few days, and then he’d start all over again.

Jin Heon rested her forehead against the steering wheel and closed her eyes again.

’I can’t go on like this... but what am I supposed to do?’

Her phone lit up again.

Thinking it was her mother again, she picked it up and looked.

It was Li Wei.

"Good afternoon, Boss," Jin Heon said, taking a deep breath and adjusting her tone. "What can I do for you? Or are you hoping your COO will give you a pep talk?"

"Hey, Heon," Li Wei’s voice came through, sounding like he was flipping through some documents. "Are you free right now? I have a couple of small things to ask of you."

"Go ahead."

"Well, the first one isn’t really a favor... I left the tickets for the box suite at the conference championship game in the usual spot by my entryway. If you and your friends want to watch the game live, just come by my place and grab them."

"Okay, thank you, Boss."

"Second, I ordered a suit from the Dolores boutique, and it’s ready. Do you know the place? It’s on Madison Avenue in the Upper East Side. If you have time, could you pick it up for me? My coach has me tied up these couple of days, so I really can’t get away."

Jin Heon opened her mouth, the word "Okay" already on the tip of her tongue.

But today, it felt much heavier than usual.

Maybe it was because her back ached from sleeping in the car last night, or maybe she had been thinking too much in front of that villa, or maybe she was just fucking about to break down.

"Umm..." she paused for less than half a second. "Boss, do you need it today?"