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If it hadn't been for Lauren, she surely would have spent the nights sobbing and trembling in fear in that empty house.
[Thank you….]
Jiyu bowed her head, repeatedly taking in wet breaths as if she were hiccuping, grateful for the kindness Lauren bestowed upon her without asking for anything in return.
As the two descended the stairs leading to the family floor and headed toward Daisy's room, Hunter, who happened to be walking out of the kitchen while drinking water, spat it out with a "pfft." He rubbed his eyes once and asked in a tone of sheer disbelief.
[Jewel Parker, why the hell are you in my house at this hour?]
Water droplets trickled down his chin. He was dressed in workout gear, as if he had been exercising until this time. He tracked Jiyu with his eyes while wiping the moisture from his chin with a towel.
As Lauren passed him, she pointed to the floor in a stern voice.
[Hunter Hamilton. Clean up the mess you made on the floor and go take a shower.]
[I'm asking why she's here at this hour!]
Ignoring Lauren's nagging, he glared at Jiyu, then paused and blinked.
Jiyu quickly lowered her head, but it was too late; he had already seen her red, swollen eyes and parched face.
[Wait, what's wrong with your face? What happened—]
Lauren cut Hunter off with a warning tone.
[Hunter, talk to me privately later.]
Leaving behind a bewildered Hunter, who stood frozen and looked back and forth between them, Lauren guided Jiyu to the guest room.
[Take a shower first and change into pajamas. I'll bring you a glass of warm milk in about thirty minutes.]
When Jiyu nodded, Lauren patted her shoulder and closed the door.
Lauren had called it a small guest room, but it was larger than Jiyu's own room. Elegant, classic floral wallpaper lined the walls, and a small desk sat opposite a daybed equipped with a trundle. Across from the wall-mounted TV, there was a two-person sofa and a coffee table.
She showered and changed into pajamas as Lauren had instructed. Standing under the showerhead, the tears wouldn't stop, as if her tear ducts had broken.
A sense of loss, longing, and anxiety—feelings she was experiencing for the first time in her life—shook her to her very core.
The image of Alan's final moments kept flashing before her eyes. His gently sparkling gaze, his coarse, graying stubble, and the tender voice that called her 'Libby-derby.'
She couldn't believe she would never see her father again. After stepping out of the shower, she wept silently, terrified that the sound might reach the next room.
Just then, there was a knock.
Having finished his shower and changed his clothes, Hunter paced in front of the guest room, brushing back the hair clinging to his forehead. After taking a deep breath, he raised his fist to knock, then hesitated.
His chest tightened as he recalled Jiyu's face from earlier.
Her small face had been a blotchy, ruined mess.
More than anything, what shook him was the fact that her eyes—usually so calm and serene it was almost annoying—looked as desperate as someone drowning.
'What am I supposed to say in a situation like this?'
Hunter rubbed his forehead in distress, chewing over the shocking news he had just heard from Lauren. It didn't feel real. Though they hadn't met often, Mr. Parker had been a kind and gentle man.
He was told that Jiyu was grieving deeply because her father had passed away suddenly. Thus, Lauren had pushed him to go in, hand her a glass of warm milk, and offer a word of comfort as a friend.
Hunter took another deep breath and lightly knocked on the door.
He heard the sound of someone dragging their feet toward him like a ghost, and then the door clicked open slightly. Startled to see him standing there, Jiyu gasped and stepped back.
Her wet eyes were reddish, and her nose was red too. She had been crying again.
Twinge.
A strange vibration resonated in his chest.
Hunter walked into the room and placed the mug of warm milk on the coffee table.
[My mom told me to give this to you.]
[Thank you.]
Her small voice was barely more than a whisper.
Twinge.
There it was again.
Hunter tilted his head in confusion as he turned to leave, then let out a long sigh and stopped. Jiyu flinched, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.
Ever since he had impulsively asked her to date him and been flatly rejected, he had consciously avoided Jiyu. If a girl hated him, he hated her back. He didn't want to admit that someone like Jewel Parker had dealt a significant blow to his confidence.
Hunter couldn't understand Jiyu.
'Why the hell does she hate me? Is she crazy? I'm Hunter Hamilton.'
But he couldn't ask her that openly.
He didn't want to seem like he was pathetically clinging to her.
However, this was a separate situation.
He had learned that one should exercise basic humanity even toward an enemy on a battlefield. No matter how much he disliked her, it was only right to fulfill his duty as a human being in a situation like this.
Jiyu lowered her head and rubbed her eyes with her hand.
Hunter frowned.
Her eyes already looked raw; was it okay to rub them that hard?
He felt a tiny flicker of worry, fearing her paper-thin skin might peel off.
[Mr. Parker... I mean, your father's... I sincerely hope he rests in peace. Goodnight.]
The moment their eyes met as Jiyu slowly lifted her head, her face contorted. With a sharp intake of breath, she covered her face with both hands and began to sob.
Without realizing it, he stepped closer to her. He truly hated seeing her cry.
[Stop crying.]
Hunter was slightly taken aback by the bluntness of his own voice.
[…I'm sorry.]
What on earth was she sorry for? In a situation like this.
It was a tiny whisper that wouldn't be heard unless one listened closely. But he was familiar with her voice. That was why he understood everything, even the sounds others couldn't make out.
[Don't say you're sorry, you idiot.]
The words burst out of him.
Damn it.
He wanted to comfort her more gracefully, but it wasn't working out.
[O-okay.]
Her shoulders trembled thinly as she answered through her sobs. Tears leaked through her fingers, tracing long paths down the backs of her hands.
Twinge.
His heart contracted and shriveled all at once.
What is this?
His chest tightened as if he had sprinted at full speed without any warm-up. He felt stifled and angry, but it was agonizing because he didn't know why.
He just wanted Jiyu to stop crying.
[Stop crying already!]
Hunter snapped, roughly grabbing her arm and pulling her toward him. Then, he hugged her tightly. He didn't know how to comfort someone in a situation like this. But he knew from experience that when Daisy cried, hugging her usually made her stop quickly.
She stiffened her entire body in shock, and for a moment, the sobbing stopped, before she took several sorrowful breaths.
Is she finally stopping?
[Hunter….]
Muttering his name, she collapsed against him and began to sob. The chest of his T-shirt, stiff from his shock, became hot and soaked with her tears.
Twinge.
Is this not it? Why is she crying more?
Hunter closed his eyes tight and then opened them, awkwardly patting Jiyu's back.
[Hah, this is driving me crazy. I told you to stop crying….]
But held in the arms of the enemy-like Hunter, Jiyu could not stop her tears for a long time.
✾ ✾ ✾
The events of the week following Alan's death remained in Jiyu's memory in fragmented, vague forms, like the morning after a nightmare.
His death was introduced across various news outlets under the title of a 'scoop.' The autopsy revealed the cause of death as natural causes due to heart failure, but opinions were divided on whether it was homicide or suicide.
Alan's name, though he had been nothing more than a manager in the accounting department, was mentioned alongside the names of the primary Ponzi scheme fraudsters.
Alan's cousin, Jeremy, came up from Florida to help Ae-jeong, whose English was poor, with the death registration and funeral arrangements.
Fearing that reporters might follow and cause a scene, Alan was cremated at Green Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn without a funeral.
No matter how much Jiyu pleaded, Ae-jeong prevented her from seeing his face until the very end.
“Remember your father as he was when he was alive. Alan… would want that too.”
Alan, who had weighed 180 pounds, became a mere 4 pounds of ash, contained in a small ceramic urn and handed over by Ae-jeong.
Ae-jeong, who had held back her tears in front of Jiyu for the entire week, finally broke down. She clung to Alan's urn and wept so desperately that it was frightening, as if she might faint. Ae-jeong, who had been recklessly bold and looked far younger and more energetic than her age, aged ten years in a matter of days.
Having sent Alan away, the mother and daughter returned to the apartment on Fifth Avenue. The time had come to clear out their first home.
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