The elderly gentleman onstage switched on the microphone. A sharp “zing” rang from the old-fashioned device, vibrating against their eardrums and seeming to scatter upward, setting the crystals of the chandeliers trembling.
“One, two, three. Microphone test.”
The elderly gentleman then introduced himself as Walter Pembroke. Standing perfectly straight, he cut an imposing figure in a jet-black tuxedo that contrasted sharply with his snow-white hair, fine as freshly spun silk.
For the past forty years, he had taught Cotillion Class to the children of New York’s upper class. The manners, etiquette, and social dances he instructed them in differed little from those taught to nineteenth-century aristocratic children before their debut into society.
New York’s twenty-first-century elite rigorously educated their children in the customs and rituals of a bygone age, traditions that should have vanished with the passing millennium, as though preparing them to make their debut in nineteenth-century European high society.
“I taught ballroom dancing and etiquette to the parents of many of the young gentlemen and ladies gathered here today as well.”
He swept his gaze around the hall and raised his chin with a proud smile.
“Over there, we have Miss Reed’s mother, Rebecca Green, and Miss Cabot’s mother, Lorraine Collins. And let me see… Mr. Lafayette’s father, Andre de Lafayette, and Mr. Hamilton’s father, Gerard Hamilton. Whenever I see the familiar faces of my former students seated in the mezzanine rather than down here among you, I find myself deeply moved.”
Walter raised one arm and pointed toward Hunter.
“Before we begin the lesson, a brief word. When a lady enters a room or arrives at the table, a gentleman should rise, as Mr. Hamilton did, and remain standing until she has taken her seat.”
This time, he gestured toward the assistant facilitator seated nearby.
“Ladies should sit upright with proper posture. Like Miss Megan Fairchild here, keep your knees together from the knees down to the ankles, then cross your ankles. Under no circumstances should you sit with your knees apart. Remain mindful of your posture at all times, until proper deportment becomes second nature.”
Jiyu imitated Megan’s elegant pose, pressing her knees together and crossing her ankles.
“Now it is time to introduce yourselves and greet the person seated beside you. Traditionally, etiquette dictated that the lady introduce herself first, followed by the gentleman. In modern society, however, the order is no longer considered important. Here in Cotillion Class, we will nevertheless observe the traditional custom. When greeting one another, make brief eye contact and shake hands. Your grip should be neither excessively firm nor unpleasantly weak. Now, watch carefully and then practise with the person beside you.”
Walter exchanged introductions with Megan, then allowed the children time to greet their partners.
Jiyu squeezed her eyes shut before opening them again. It would have been far easier if she had been seated beside someone she did not know.
She had only just begun turning hesitantly toward Hunter when Rex tapped her lightly on the shoulder.
“Do it with me first.”
If she greeted Rex first, Hunter, seated at the very end of the row, would be left without a partner. Would that be all right? Jiyu hesitated and started to glance back, but Rex gave her no time to think.
“Don’t look anywhere else. Hurry up and introduce yourself.”
“Um… My name is Olivia Parker. It’s nice to meet you.”
Jiyu mumbled the words, biting her lip. Pretending to meet someone she already knew so well for the first time felt unbearably awkward.
For some reason, however, Rex looked excessively pleased.
“Hello. My name is Alexander Blahblahblah de Lafayette. It’s nice to meet you.”
He grinned mischievously and took her hand.
“You’re supposed to look the other person in the eyes when you shake hands, Liv. Didn’t you hear Mr. Pembroke?”
Jiyu quickly raised her gaze. Rex regarded her playfully.
“Want me to show you how I can switch my eye colors?”
When they were little, he had convinced her that crossing his eyes made the colors change places. Since he was the only person she knew with heterochromia, she had believed him despite her suspicions.
A few days later, she had told Hunter about it. He had silently continued reading his book for a moment before clutching his stomach and bursting into laughter.
“Ju Parker has finally become an idiot.”
In the next instant, Rex crossed his eyes and pulled a ridiculous face.
Caught completely off guard, Jiyu burst out laughing.
Suddenly, Hunter’s hand shot forward and tore hers from Rex’s grasp.
“It’s my turn.”
Rex raised one eyebrow and gave her a meaningful look, as though to say, See?
Jiyu stared at Hunter in surprise.
He ground out the words through clenched teeth.
“Introduce yourself.”
She swallowed hard and cleared her throat.
“Ah, hello. My—my name is Olivia Jiyu Parker. It’s nice… nice to meet you.”
After stumbling awkwardly through the introduction, she glanced at him with nervous eyes.
A strange emotion rippled through his vivid blue gaze. It looked like anger—or perhaps confusion. The moment their eyes met, he quickly lowered his gaze as though attempting to conceal it.
When Hunter looked up again, his stare was almost a glare. He stubbornly raised his chin and extended one hand toward her with an air of arrogance.
When she merely stared at it, he clicked his tongue and seized her hand himself.
“Hunter Han Hamilton.”
That was the entirety of his introduction.
Jiyu’s gaze darted around as she tried to avoid his piercing stare, her fingers twitching helplessly within his grasp. Hunter was squeezing her hand with the same force he used to grip a tennis racket. Her fingers were going numb from the lack of circulation.
“…It hurts, Hunter.”
He flinched as though startled and released her at once.
Jiyu sighed inwardly.
Precisely which part of that was supposed to suggest he liked her?
She turned her head slightly toward Rex and silently mouthed,
‘You were wrong.’
Rex merely grinned from ear to ear, his face angelic and his mismatched eyes positively devilish.
He said nothing.
***
Hunter was in a foul mood.
For some time now, Rex and Jiyu had been pressed close together, whispering secrets into each other’s ears, and the sight wounded his pride.
They were no longer little children. Why were they still putting their heads together and giggling over such childish nonsense?
A thick, unpleasant sensation simmered and bubbled in the pit of his stomach.
Both of them irritated him beyond endurance.
Jiyu had always been like that, even when they were younger.
Whenever Rex came over, she would creep out of the library, where she normally hid like a little mouse, and hover around the ninja course despite never showing the slightest interest in it at any other time. She would even throw her head back and laugh like an idiot at Rex’s pathetic jokes.
That was when Hunter had first noticed it.
Whenever Jiyu laughed, a peculiar dimple appeared at the corner of her mouth.
The realization that she had been hiding something like that on her face, only to show it to Rex first, filled him with bitter resentment.
Rex, too, had tried to compete with him in everything since they were children.
“Hunter, you’re one-quarter Korean, right? I’m three-eighths Korean. That means no matter how hard you try, you’ll never beat me at Korean. Ever.”
During a Korean dictation test, Rex had correctly answered seven questions out of ten and bragged obnoxiously in front of Hunter, who had answered five.
Meanwhile, Ju Parker, who had scored a perfect ten, remained quietly in her seat.
“Liv, how much are you?”
Rex asked Jiyu.
The fact that he alone called her by the nickname ‘Liv’ irritated Hunter as well.
Since when had the two of them become close enough for that?
“Huh? How much what?”
“How much Korean?”
“Oh… I’m half Korean.”
Rex’s face fell as he struggled to calculate the fractions in his head. Hunter snorted, but then Jiyu unnecessarily inserted herself into the conversation.
“But Rex, you speak Korean much better than I do.”
“You’re better at reading and writing than I am.”
“That’s only because I like reading books…”
Jiyu blushed and smiled shyly.
She could not possibly have looked more infuriating.
‘Why are you smiling? What was so funny about that?’
Hunter was so angry that night that he could not sleep.
He tossed and turned until dawn before reluctantly admitting the truth: his Korean was slightly behind theirs.
Not far behind.
Only slightly.
Barely at all, really.
Rex’s father, Andre de Lafayette, was a linguistic genius who spoke seven languages. Perhaps Rex had inherited at least a trace of that talent, because he, too, possessed an exceptional aptitude for acquiring languages.
Moreover, he spent several months of every summer vacation at his maternal grandmother’s home in Korea. As a result, although his reading and writing remained somewhat lacking, he spoke Korean with almost native fluency.
Jiyu had somehow learned to read, write, and speak the language because that fussy woman, whose English was poor, spoke to her exclusively in Korean.
From that day onward, Hunter studied Korean day and night in order to catch up with them.
Aside from tennis, he had never worked so hard at anything in his life.
As his Korean improved with each passing day, he felt immensely satisfied.