When Jiyu arrived at the apartment, she let out a deep sigh far too weary for a child her age. She had no idea why Hunter had told her to come to the treehouse, but she had a feeling it was going to be something troublesome.
Whenever Hunter wanted something, he pestered her relentlessly until she gave in.
‘It would be better to meet in the penthouse.’
Ever since Hunter’s younger sister Daisy was born the previous year, Jiyu had stopped dreading visits to his home quite so much. She had always wanted a little sister, and Daisy, toddling around with the sweet scent of milk still clinging to her, was impossibly adorable.
Whenever Jiyu went over for a playdate, she would find some excuse to slip into Daisy’s room. After playing with the baby, who had only recently learned to walk, she would return to the playroom just before it was time to go home and choose a few books to borrow.
Hunter rarely cared whether she came or went, except when he wanted her to read to him.
“Ah, does he want me to read another book…?”
Jiyu muttered to herself as she reluctantly set her schoolbag down on the bench by the entrance.
Hunter could read on his own now. Even so, he still frequently shoved a book into her hands and ordered her to read it aloud. He seemed to think she was some kind of audiobook.
She had once tried to complain discreetly to Aejeong about how irritating it was, only to be scolded instead.
“Kid, nothing in this world is free. You get to read every book in that house because of him, so think of it as payment and read whatever he asks you to. What is so difficult about that?”
What made it even more aggravating was that once Jiyu reluctantly began reading, worn down by his threats and coaxing, Hunter only half listened while hanging upside down from the monkey bars or occupying himself with something else.
It felt as though she were reading to an empty room. Yet whenever she glanced at him and stopped, he would drop the tennis balls he had been juggling and glare at her fiercely.
“Keep reading until I tell you to stop.”
During their last playdate, he had made her read three chapters of a fantasy novel inspired by Greek mythology until her voice went hoarse.
Did he want her to continue from where they had left off?
She could not understand why he refused to read books by himself when he was perfectly capable of doing so. At first, she had wondered whether he was simply stupid, but after seeing him during their math tutoring sessions, she knew that was not the case.
Giving up on trying to understand him, Jiyu tugged at Soon-ye’s sleeve with a resigned expression.
“Deaconess, I’m going to the treehouse for a little while.”
“Now?”
Soon-ye looked down at her, surprise showing in her wrinkled eyes.
“Yes. Hunter told me earlier to come by. He probably wants me to read to him again.”
“Hunter did? All right, all right. Go on, then. I’ll prepare a snack while you’re gone.”
Soon-ye already knew that anything involving Hunter was automatically approved in this household.
“Yes. I’ll be back!”
Jiyu hurried down the hallway, pushed open the heavy iron door leading to the courtyard, and stepped outside.
The afternoon sun fell at an angle across the elegantly curved bronze benches surrounding the stone fountain in the garden. Both had stood watch over the courtyard since the apartment building was constructed in the 1920s.
The treehouse stood on one side of the courtyard, raised high enough for an adult to stand beneath it. Most of the building’s residents were elderly, so there were few children. Outsiders were not permitted into the inner courtyard either. As a result, the place was practically Hunter and Jiyu’s private playground.
Beneath the treehouse’s tall supporting posts lay a rectangular sandbox. The yellow shovel Hunter had used when he was little and a half-broken blue plastic bucket were still partly buried in the sand.
A curved slide shaped like an elephant’s trunk ran from the side of the treehouse to the ground. Nearby, a round tire swing hung from a beam extending from the roof, swaying gently in the breeze.
Hunter walked quickly, while Jiyu had deliberately taken her time, so he should have arrived long ago.
Sure enough, a steady thump, thump echoed from inside, like a ball striking wooden planks.
Hunter always carried tennis balls in his pockets or bag, and she did not need to look to know that he was passing the time by bouncing one against the wall. But the rhythm was uneven, strangely restless.
Jiyu stopped in front of the ladder, drew a deep breath, and hesitated.
She wanted to know why he had called her there. At the same time, she did not want to know at all, whatever the reason might be.
Today, however, curiosity won over caution.
The ladder creaked as she placed one foot on the first rung. The sound of the bouncing ball stopped at once.
She climbed slowly, ducked her head, and stepped inside the treehouse. Back in second grade, she had not needed to lower her head at the entrance. She must have grown again.
The courtyard outside was dazzlingly bright, but the inside of the treehouse was dim. She blinked several times, waiting for her eyes to adjust.
There was a toy kitchen, a miniature table-and-chair set, and a small sofa. Everything was familiar, yet Hunter looked strangely out of place, sprawled across the sofa in a lazy slouch.
He often climbed onto the roof of the treehouse to play, but he almost never came inside. He always complained that it was cramped and boring.
“Ju Parker. What took you so long?”
Hunter demanded roughly, without so much as a greeting.
Jiyu wrinkled her nose.
Ju Parker.
Hunter knew perfectly well how to pronounce Jiyu now, yet he still called her that, as though saying her full name required too much effort.
Whenever he did, she could not help hearing his voice from long ago echo in her head.
“Ju Parker. I really hate you.”
She had told him several times to use her English name, Olivia, instead, but he never listened.
Skipping any greeting of her own, Jiyu went straight to the point.
“Why did you call me?”
She packed as much resentment and irritation into that one sentence as she could manage.
The words, Don’t act like you know me in front of the other children like you did earlier, rose to the tip of her tongue, but she forced them back down.
It was not because she lacked the courage to say them. She had known Hunter since they were both too young to remember, so speaking to him was not particularly difficult.
However, in the books Jiyu read, children who said things like that were almost always the mean girls who bullied the protagonist. And the child on the receiving end was usually deeply hurt.
Jiyu did not want to behave like a mean girl.
‘Even if I did say it, that self-centered Hunter Hamilton probably wouldn’t care.’
Self-centered was a word she had recently learned from a book. The moment she saw it, Hunter had immediately come to mind.
The only person capable of upsetting Hunter Hamilton, who always seemed to get everything he wanted, was Hunter Hamilton himself.
Jiyu pulled out one of the little chairs from the play table and dragged it as far from Hunter as possible before sitting down.
The sofa Hunter occupied, one arm stretched across the backrest, was usually Jiyu’s designated seat. He knew that perfectly well, yet he had sprawled across the entire thing.
That irritated her too.
“There’s a tournament on Saturday.”
Hunter blurted it out without warning.
“…”
Jiyu blinked at him, still wearing a sulky expression.
Since the previous year, Hunter had been entering regional under-twelve junior tournaments twice a month. Lauren had invited Aejeong and Jiyu to attend twice, and they had gone both times.
There was nothing unusual about him having another tournament.
“There’s a tournament!”
He repeated himself impatiently.
Only then did Jiyu slowly open her mouth.
“…So?”
“Come.”
“Where?”
Hunter clenched his teeth and forced the answer out.
“To the tournament.”
His vivid blue eyes, bright enough to seem almost luminous even in the dim interior, shot toward her like laser beams.
Jiyu stared at him, opening and closing her mouth before finally frowning.
“Did you really make me come all the way to the treehouse just to tell me that?”
Hunter had first been handed a tennis racket at the age of four by his father, Gerard Hamilton.
Tennis was a traditional sport in the Hamilton family, and Gerard himself had captained Alton School’s varsity tennis team during his student years.
Hunter attended a tennis academy on Randalls Island twice a week after school. At the age of eight, he had been invited to join its elite player group.
He had been unbearably proud after receiving the offer.
Jiyu had tilted her head, unable to understand what was so extraordinary about it that he had practically bounced around with joy.
The moment the Hamilton family realized Hunter had genuine talent for tennis, they moved quickly and began supporting him in earnest.
The Hamilton residence occupied three floors, the lowest of which was called the basement. It contained the staff quarters, where the household employees known collectively as “the help” lived, along with a wine cellar, storage rooms, and a spacious gym.
The previous summer, extensive construction had begun to enlarge the gym and add an indoor tennis court. The work was completed in December.
Hunter received private coaching on that court and practiced with state-of-the-art ball machines. There was even a separate fitness room fitted with equipment that would have made professional players envious.