LOVE:ZERO

The Hamilton Residence was the penthouse on the top floor of Jiyu’s apartment building.

The elevator to the penthouse was tucked away in a secluded corner of the lobby, away from the main elevator.

“I’m finally getting to ride this elevator!”

Ae-Jeong pushed the button and the heavy doors slid open.

“Let’s go in, Jiyu.”

The doors closed behind them as they stepped inside the elevator, which was about half the size of the large central elevator.

The buttons on the wall were labeled, from top to bottom, PH, 16, 15, and finally L, for lobby.

Without hesitation, Ae-Jeong pressed the PH button. But the lights didn’t come on.

“What, is it broken?”

She pressed the button firmly, and suddenly the door opened again.

It was Mike, the concierge manager, dressed in a neat uniform, motioning for them to come out with a panicked look on his face.

“This elevator is for the penthouse only, please use the central elevator if you need to go anywhere.”

A flustered Ae-Jeong stammered in English with a heavy Korean accent.

“Uh… Jiyu, no, Olivia and Hunter, play date in Hunter’s penthouse!”

Mike’s gaze dropped to Jiyu, who was half-hidden by the hem of Ae-Jeong’s skirt, and then back up again, as she said in a gruff voice, “I’m sorry, sir.”

“I have to go through a confirmation procedure over the intercom, so please come out.”

A determined-looking Mike blocked the closing elevator doors with his hand, extending his other arm out. Ae-Jeong tugged on Jiyu’s hand and grumbled in Korean.

“This guy is only unkind to people who live on the first floor. Is he discriminating against us because we rent, or does he look down on Asians because he’s white?”

Jiyu glanced up at Mike’s face. His brow furrowed as if he picked up on the nuances of an unfamiliar foreign language, and he started to walk away.

“Follow me.”

They followed Mike to the concierge desk, and just as he was about to pick up the intercom handset and dial into the penthouse, one of the apartment’s residents approached and asked if there was a grocery delivery.

Glancing at her, Mike nonchalantly put down the intercom he was holding and turned to face her, not having the heart to let it go.

Ae-Jeong tapped her fingers on the desk.

“Excuse me, I Am Here First!”

The concierge manager didn’t even look at her, but held up his index finger as if to say wait.

Red-faced, Ae-Jeong opened her mouth to snap at him, but then let out a sigh that was a mixture of frustration and anger.

She had learned to keep her temper in check because she knew that in this country, yelling and screaming that she didn’t get her way would only get her sued, not the results she wanted.

Besides, this kind of discrimination was nothing new to her.

“You’re lucky you’re half white, Jiyu. I wish your hair was a lighter shade of blonde.”

She clicked her tongue again, annoyed, as she ran her fingers through Jiyu’s shiny ash-brown hair.

Ae-Jeong’s words were half right and half wrong.

Racism was openly present. But Mike, whom she considered white, was technically Hispanic, and he was not immune to discrimination.

His commanding tone was a result of his crude English, which he hadn’t learned to refine.

A rushed, hurried demeanor, as was her habit in Korea.

Unaware that these things made him seem rude, he attributed most unkindness to racism.

Only after handing over the box of groceries she’d left for him, with a friendly face that could have drained his liver and gallbladder, Mike picked up the intercom again with a sullen look on his face.

He gestured with his chin at Jiyu.

“Name?*

Jiyu lowered her eyes and hid behind the skirt of her dress, and she answered for him.

“Olivia Parker.”

After announcing over the intercom that a guest had arrived in the lobby for a play date with Hunter, Mike put down the receiver and nodded.

“You may go upstairs now.”

Without a word of thanks, Ae-Jeong turned and grabbed Jiyu’s wrist, walking to the penthouse’s private elevator.

The sound of high heels clicking again echoed through the lobby in protest.

She stepped back into the private elevator and pressed the PH button, and this time it lit up.

“Ohhh, it’s finally moving!”

Ae-Jeong squeezed Jiyu’s hand so tightly that Jiyu looked up to tell her it hurt, then shut up, intimidated by her mother’s nervous, intimidating aura.

Her hands were sweaty as she clasped mine.

We stopped at the top floor and the door hissed open.

There was one more door before the automatic one.

Taking a deep breath, Ae-Jeong pushed it open without hesitation.

Jiyu was led by Ae-Jeong’s hand and stepped into the Hamilton Residence for the first time.

The elevator connected to a spacious entrance corridor called the gallery.

Atop a round antique table in the center of the room was a neoclassical marble bust.

A classic crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the bust.

On the wall with wood wainscoting moldings hung a large oil painting in a classic Gilt frame.

Depicting a scene from the American Revolutionary War, it featured a man in a dark navy blue military frock coat.

Affection’s eyes darted around, then settled on the painting.

“Huh? I’ve seen him around a lot. Where have I seen him before?”

Jiyu looked up, too. Ae-Jeong let go of her hand and dug around in her purse, pulling out a bill from her wallet.

“Oh my, Jiyu, look at this, it’s a ten-dollar bill, it looks just like the man in the picture, doesn’t it?”

She waved the ten-dollar bill in front of her eyes. Jiyu nodded dryly.

“Wow, I guess it’s true what they say about big families in history textbooks. This must be the richest house I’ve ever been to in my life.”

As Ae-Jeong leans in for a closer look, exclaiming in admiration, she hears a shuffling sound coming from the hallway to her right.

The footsteps of a relatively lightweight person running up and down, followed by the calm footsteps of an adult.

“Hunter Hamilton! How many times have I told you that you can’t play ball in the hallway? Put it down!”

Ae-Jeong quickly stuffed the bills into her bag and lifted Jiyu’s chin.

The corners of her mouth quirked upward like a witch’s as if to say, “Copy that.”

Every time she smiled like that with her bright red lips, Jiyu was a little scared of her mom.

“Smile, Jiyu!”

Jiyu did as she was told, pulling up the corners of her mouth and glancing down the hallway.

Her heart fluttered in her chest for no reason.

‘What if a terrible monster jumps out of there?’

A few days ago, she had read a picture book called “The Land of Monsters” and suddenly felt terrified.

As usual, she tries to hide behind Ae’s skirt, but Jiyu’s mother, sensing her mood, tugs on her skirt and pushes her forward.

The footsteps grew closer, and instead of a horned monster, a boy with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes rolled down the hall.

Jiyu’s mouth dropped open.

She recognized the face from preschool.

His name was Hunter. He was the tallest kid in Kensington Preschool. He was also the outlaw of the playground.

Anyone who bumped into him would fall to the ground and the kids would scurry away from him.

When he spotted Jiyu, his blue eyes flashed and he threw the fluorescent yellow ball as hard as he could at her, then called out half a beat too late.

“Catch!”

Jiyu stood dumbfounded, blinking, and the hard tennis ball flew right into the middle of her forehead.

Jiyu’s neck snapped back, and she collapsed in slow motion, her white dress flying off.

Ae-Jeong let out a creepy scream. With a thud, Jiyu hit her head on the marble floor.

The day she first met Hunter H. Hamilton.

The record-breaking playdate ended with Jiyu passing out from a concussion and being rushed to the emergency room.

ꕥ

It’s the morning of the first Thursday in September. It was the first day of school at Astor School.

Jiyu yawned and stood in front of Ae-Jeong, wiggling her toes.

Her navy blue socks, which reached up to her knees, were hot and itchy.

Ae-Jeong tied a large navy blue ribbon in one side of Jiyu’s hair, who wore a plaid one-piece uniform with red, white, and green stripes on a navy blue background. It was a classic grosgrain ribbon.

In an environment where everyone wore the same uniform, hair accessories were the only way to express individuality, so girls at private schools on the Upper East Side wore large bows in their hair like nobody’s business.