Glitter, Glam, and Gutter Games

Chapter 1
Deck the Halls (With Disaster)



Maids scurried with trays and decorations, their faces tight with concentration as Madam Oh barked orders, her sharp voice cutting through the faint strains of piano music coming from the parlor. The smell of roasted chestnuts and honeyed yakgwa wafted from the kitchen, but the comforting aroma was lost on her.
"No, no, no! The poinsettias go there, not next to the tree! And where are the embossed place cards? How are people supposed to know where to sit without them?"
A young maid hurried in, clutching a stack of cards as if her life depended on it. Madam Oh grimaced. "It's like I'm the only person in this house who realizes tomorrow night is vital."
Across the room, Oh Dae-hee lounged in an armchair, completely unperturbed by the frenzy. Dressed in a fluorescent red tracksuit that clashed with the estate’s refined decor, he flipped through the business section of a newspaper. One socked foot rested on the ottoman, his audacity fully on display.
“It’s just dinner,” he said, his tone suggesting he found the entire production absurd. “They come for the food, not the flowers.”
Madam Oh turned to him with a withering glare. “It’s not just dinner. It’s the dinner. The Hwangs, the Parks, the Minister of Culture—everyone who is anyone will be here. This is our chance to show them what class looks like.”
Ji-eun, her teenage daughter, sprawled on the couch, texting with one hand and half-listening. She glanced up just long enough to smirk at her uncle. “Uncle, you’re so festive. That suit screams ‘holiday spirit’—or midlife crisis.”
“Ji-eun!” Madam Oh snapped, her patience already fraying. “If you’re unable to assist, at least wear something appropriate."
“Come on, Mom. They’re not here to see me—they’re here to measure our gold napkin rings and judge the tree topper.” Ji-eun tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She knew most of these guests wouldn’t recognize her even if they passed her on the street.
Madam Oh’s jaw tightened as she looked at her daughter. “Ji-eun, get up off that couch and help. You are not a guest.”
Before Ji-eun could retort, Dae-hee raised his mug. “Ji-eun, bring me some hot water. You’re young, full of energy.”
Ji-eun raised an eyebrow at him. “Hot water?” she repeated. “Do you know what else has steam? The kettle.”
Madam Oh closed her eyes briefly, as if summoning strength. “Dae-hee, must you always test the limits?”
“What? Families share everything,” he gestured broadly. “Sofas, cookies, cheese...”
“Why are you really here?”
“I told you: we’re family,” he said, reclining further. “And besides, this place is better than my landlord banging on my door at midnight.” He grinned. “When I said peaceful, I meant bearable—until you started grumbling about the tree.”
Ji-eun snorted. “A smart landlord would’ve kicked you out ages ago.”
Madam Oh frowned, her patience stretched to its limit. “Fine. But you are not to come out during the dinner tomorrow. I don’t want you embarrassing us.”
“Embarrass? Me? I’m the life of the party.”
“More like the death of it,” Ji-eun’s older brother Tae-woo said as he entered the room. At twenty, Tae-woo exuded a quiet confidence, his sharp suit contrasting with Dae-hee’s garish tracksuit. He took a seat, watching his uncle with veiled amusement.
“Not sure, Mom, a man in a neon tracksuit serving hors d’oeuvres could start a new trend.” Ji-eun said.
“You see? Even the kids get it.”
Before Madam Oh could respond, a maid approached, trembling slightly. “Madam, the tree topper is missing.”
Madam Oh’s voice shot up an octave. “The Austrian star? The hand-painted one? Find it! That star belongs on the tree, not in a box!”
Ji-eun pulled a Pikachu keychain from her hoodie pocket. “Mom, the tree doesn’t need a Swarovski star. It needs character.”
“Don’t you dare!”
Ji-eun ignored her, dangling the yellow figure near the tree with a mischievous grin. “Doesn’t it bring the touch?”
The tension in the room snapped as Dae-hee leapt up, pulling out mismatched earrings from his pocket. “Wait! This shrub needs my touch.”
Tae-woo’s hands shot up. “Uncle, no!”
Too late. Dae-hee climbed onto a footstool, teetering precariously. “This is how it’s done, amateurs.”
“Finally, some real entertainment.” Ji-eun crossed her arms and watched.
The stool wobbled, “See? Perfect placem—Sh–t!” and with a yelp, Dae-hee fell, dragging the tree down with him.
Ornaments exploded like fireworks. One bauble launched into Madam Oh’s teacup, splashing her dress. Ji-eun ducked as another zipped past her head. A plastic snow globe spun through the air, cracking against the wall before plunging into the fish tank with a mighty splash. Glitter swirled in the water as the fish darted in panic.
“The fish are—!” Tae-woo began, only to trip over a strand of Christmas lights and crash into the butler, sending a tray of mulled wine flying.
Head Maid Kim Soon-ja came rushing in, just in time to see the mayhem. In her hurry, she stepped in a puddle of water. It sent her sliding across the floor. With a high-pitched scream—WHAM— headfirst she went crashing into the already toppled tree.
Everyone scrambled to get back on their feet. Madam Oh stared at the wreckage, her hands trembling at her sides. “Imported crystal, Austrian craftsmanship, my tree… ruined.”
From beneath tinsel, Dae-hee grinned, holding up the Pikachu keychain. “At least this little guy survived.”
Ji-eun burst into laughter, while Madam Oh’s face turned an alarming shade of red. The maids scrambled to right the tree, but the damage was done.
“Ji-eun, go to your room. Now.”
Ji-eun still chuckling went strolling past her. “Gladly.”
“This dinner… had better be perfect.”
“Tone it down, Ji-eun. You’ll cause her death,” Tae-woo said wiping wine off his face.
The sibling’s watching their mother’s frayed composure teeter on the edge. Ji-eun turned her sharp gaze toward him.
“Then why not help, Mr. Perfect?” she said with just the right amount of sting.
Tae-woo waved a hand at her. “Why spoil your party? I wouldn’t dream of it. Uncle’s ‘artistry’ can’t be matched.” He nodded toward Dae-hee, whose tracksuit seemed to glow even brighter under the tree.
Ji-eun rolled her eyes and flopped back onto the couch, her movements exaggerated for maximum disdain. Her foot swung out, pushing against the coffee table with just enough force. It sent the centerpiece, a decorative snow globe wobbling then rolling off its pedestal. Her eyes followed it until it neared the edge.
“Ji-eun!” Madam Oh covered her face with her hands.
Ji-eun reacted just in time, grabbing the snow globe before it toppled to the floor. But in her haste, her elbow struck a ceramic lamp. The shattering crash that followed echoed through the room, silencing even the distant strains of the pianist in the parlor.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Was this... expensive?”
Madam Oh peeked through her fingers. “That belonged to my grandmother!”
“Well, looks like Grandma’s lamp just became an artifact.”
Chairman Han Byung-chul entered at that moment, a teacup in hand and his robe flowing behind him. His gaze swept over the destruction—but his face remained impassive.
Madam Oh’s lips tightened into a thin line as her gaze bore into her daughter. Ji-eun could feel the weight of her mother’s somewhat restrained anger from across the room.
“What the hell is going on here?” Chairman Han asked, as he inspected the room.
Madam Oh’s finger shot out, pointing directly at Ji-eun. “Your daughter! If this keeps up, our dinner guests will be dining amid the ruins of the Han family.”
Ji-eun shrugged, her tone casual. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Tae-woo fought back a laugh, but a sharp glare from his mother turned his amusement into a poorly disguised cough.
“As for dinner,” Chairman Han began, as he blew on his steaming teacup, “who has agreed to come?”
Before Madam Oh could answer, the doorbell rang, its chime grand and theatrical. A servant entered moments later.
“Madam,” the servant looked uncomfortable. Her eyes shifted to the envelope in hand, as though it might explode, “this is from the Minister’s office.”
Madam Oh snatched the envelope from the servant and opened it with her sharp nails. Her eyes scanned the contents, and with each line, her lips grew thinner. “He’s not coming?”
“Who?” Chairman Han asked, looking up from his tea.
“The Minister of Culture!” she shouted. “He is the guest of honor, and without him, the dinner loses its purpose!”
Ji-eun snorted. “Because nothing says Christmas spirit like sucking up to a politician.”
“Shut up, Ji-eun!” Madam Oh snapped, her fingers flying over her phone as she typed furiously. “Can I contact the Ambassador?” Her hand froze. “No he is in Busan. What about the film director? Or—” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the note again. “Last-minute cancellation. Who does he think he is?”
Chairman Han sipped his tea, unbothered by the storm brewing around him. “Seems like a pattern.”
Madam Oh’s glare could have melted steel. “This is no laughing matter, Byung-chul. Do you know what this will do to our reputation?”
He set his cup down. “Then cancel the dinner. Save yourself the trouble.”
She spun to face him, her expression incredulous. “Cancel? What are you talking about?”
“Better than scrambling for a replacement.”
She looked at him as though he’d suggested selling the estate. “We have to, with someone else.”
“Who?” Ji-eun asked with disbelief. “Another politician? A celebrity? Hey, what about the mailman?”
Madam Oh ignored her, tapping her fingers against her temple. Moments later, inspiration struck lighting up her face. “A commoner!” she announced. “The perfect symbol of goodwill. Just what is needed to salvage this disaster.”
Ji-eun almost fell off the couch laughing. “A commoner? Wow, we’re really breaking out the medieval vocabulary tonight. What’s next? Knights and jesters? Or a banner that says ‘Welcome, Peasants’?”
Chairman Han’s expression darkened. “A stranger? In this house? Soo-jin, I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Dae-hee, sensing opportunity, leaned forward, grinning. “If you’re looking for someone ‘lower class,’ I’m right here. Lovable, relatable, and already part of the family.”
“Except for the creditors,” Tae-woo muttered under his breath.
“Tae-woo you’re not helping,” Madam Oh snapped before turning back to Dae-hee. “And you are far from what we need.”
“Forget him!” Dae-hee said hopping over to the couch and draping an arm around Ji-eun’s shoulders. “Picture the headlines: ‘Han Family Opens Doors to the Less Fortunate.’ It’s genius!”
“Not as genius as you getting a job,” Ji-eun said, shoving his arm off her shoulder.
“Soon-ja,” Madam Oh shouted, “find me the perfect guest by morning. Someone who looks humble but won’t embarrass us.”
The maid hesitated, clutching her dish towel like a lifeline. “Yes, Madam. But from where?”
“Wherever!” Madam Oh declared. “The market, the train station—just find someone who fits the part. And hurry!”
Dae-hee chuckled, jumping back into the armchair. “This is going to be a complete shambles.” He looked over at Tae-woo with a slight smirk on his face. “By the way, how is that business deal of yours? Still able to hold off the loan sharks?”
Tae-woo’s jaw clenched but he didn’t rise to it. Instead, he reached for an imaginary itch on his chest. “I don’t see how that concerns you.”
Ji-eun’s arms waved in the air. “So, now we are kidnapping people and bringing them back to our hideout? Is this dinner or some kind of reality show?”
Soon-ja hesitated, glancing at Chairman Han who shrugged his expression unreadable.
At that moment everything blurred. Intrigued, Ji-eun sat watching her mother giving Soon-ja direction. A last minute ‘commoner’ guest? This dinner was going to be a bigger disaster than the tree and Ji-eun was looking forward to seeing it burn.