Park Ji-tae
July 1941
I strode through the front gates still caught in the sparkling web of repartee and provocative smiles exchanged earlier with Etta.
Lost in vivid replay, I scarcely noticed Mother materializing to gently relieve me of my suit jacket in the marble foyer.
"You're looking rather disheveled and peaky, my son..." she stated, critically examining my loosened collar and mussed hair. "I take it amidst your carousing you haven't bothered eating properly?"
I blinked, struggling back to full presence under that familiar disapproval. Attempting diversion, I gestured vaguely at my coat. "No time for much between club matters, I fear. Shall I just take this upstairs to hang...?"
But Mother pinned me there against the intricate rug, hawk-eyed. "Don't try changing the subject, young man..." Her sharp tone brooked no resistance. Palms suddenly bracketing my face, she scrutinized me closer. "What mischief has you so absentminded at this hour? Don't tell me it was another careless dice game or--"
I gently detached her grip, chuckling. "Come now, Eomeoni! I was simply reviewing new talents for my flagship lounge." I proffered the perfumed card discreetly secured from Etta's vanity, its gilded edges and feminine script seeming to mollify Mother slightly.
She accepted it with delicate suspicion. "Entertaining some aspiring lounge girl this late?" One elegantly groomed brow lifted critically. "Surely that excavation requires less dramatic methods than skirting curfew..."
I barely smothered an irreverent snort, recognizing this practical tactician would never appreciate romance's inspired madness. Clasping her shoulders warmly instead, I offered sincerely:
"Perhaps, but then where would the delicious mystery lie in such straightforward arrangements?" With a smile, I headed upstairs, calling back: "Sometimes the adventure shapes the artist profoundly too, don't you agree?"
Mother's skeptical hmph trailed up the stairs after me. But I hardly cared, already envisioning the bewitching performer with sky-high ambitions who still held sweet dominion over my racing thoughts and skin.
Early dawn's rays filtered in through floor-to-ceiling windows as I descended for morning meal ritual. My mother was already scrutinizing household ledgers at the head of the long ebony table. But she set her fountain pen down to glance up as I entered, expression unreadable.
Taking my seat to her left, I lifted the delicate bone china to sip fragrant tea, expecting comfortable silence. Only the tick of the heirloom clock and faint scratch of pen on parchment filled the sunlit air for several minutes. Then Mother set aside her accounting abruptly.
"I'm rather on the fence about that Japanese girl your brother aims to take as his bride..." she pronounced, watching my reaction closely. "Something about the silk flower simply rubs me wrong for reasons I cannot define..."
I set the teacup down. As I regarded my mother with surprise as she awaited my take. "You'll have to refresh my memory on the young lady in question," I redirected evenly. "Was she the banker's magnate's only daughter...Miyoko Sato I believe?"
Mother gave an irritable nod. "The very one - all cosmetic elegance wrapping cunning thorns..." she muttered under her breath. Looking to me expectantly, she pressed on: "Well? You met her too. What impression did she etch under that polished front?"
I straightened my collar, weighing responses carefully. "She seems...composed enough for a future society Madame fitting our lineage." I kept my tone neutral. "What exactly seeded this antagonism you harbor towards the girl, Eomeoni?"
Something unreadable flickered in my mother's expression before she donned her genteel smile once more like armor. "Oh pay no mind to a suspicious old matron's ramblings..." With that evasive reply, she briskly resumed scribbling numbers and sentiments I sensed hadn't fully settled between us.
Mother exhaled sharply, neatly setting aside ledgers and pen. She leveled a severe stare my way that pierced through propriety's veil. "I've entertained enough of that serpent's simpering to last eternal lifetimes... Let us speak instead of your marriage plans, my son."
I nearly choked on my tea, blinking rapidly to clear my throat. As I patted my mouth with the linen napkin, I posed sincerely:
"This talk of marriage catches me unprepared, Eomeoni..." Setting down my cup, I met her severe expression. "Have I caused you such distress that you feel compelled to enact ultimatums already?"
I kept my tone gently teasing, hoping to soften this sudden interrogation. Flashing her a rakish grin, I leaned my elbows on the table diplomatically. "I promise to formally introduce any potential bride first for your wholehearted blessing before vows transpire."
My playful assurance fell flat as Mother maintained her ramrod posture, elegantly groomed hands steepled tightly. Her sharp words allowed no humor or evasion: "This is no trivial game, Park Ji-Tae. Do not be cavalier when it comes to ensuring this family's welfare and reputation. Your father and I won't live forever. When exactly do you plan to present our household with a suitable wife?" Her uncompromising posture brooked no flippancy.
I sat back, chastened by her graveness. Looking down, I toyed with cup with my left hand while gathering earnest words. Glancing back up, I posed respectfully:
"You know I would never recklessly endanger what generations have sacrificed for and you've personally toiled so hard to secure..." Reaching across the table, I covered her hands gently. "Please believe I aim only to uphold our dignity through all I do."
At this, Mother exhaled unsteadily. To my dismay, age-old sorrow swam in her eyes now. Gripping my fingers suddenly with urgent strength belying her frail bones, she whispered fervently: "Then heed my warning well...wayward attraction often reaps only bitterest heartbreak."
She paused to fuss distractedly with the ivory combs securing her elegant bun. "Just swear to me upon our family's honor - you won't one day arrive with some wildly improper stranger as your chosen bride without warning..." Mother's haunted eyes pierced through me. "My weak heart couldn't endure the death blow of an audacious foreign beauty haunting our ancestral corridors..."
I shifted in my seat, sensing ominous history lurking beneath her fervent words. Hesitantly, I stretched my arms overhead to buy time weighing delicate response.
Exhaling slowly, I posited: "Would one foreign addition to our bloodline truly signify apocalyptic downfall? We already entertain the colonial government that cages our people..." I gestured subtly between us, eyebrows raised. "Surely welcoming one outsider into our exile could hardly be considered treasonous sin?"
My rational appeal met silence. I struggled reading the shadows haunting my proud mother's complex gaze as she stared sightlessly down at cooling tea. Sensing her profound unrest, I softened my approach further:
"It's too early for such hypotheticals regardless..."
Reaching over, I gave her wrist a gentle, reassuring squeeze until she looked up wearily. "For now let's not ruin the morning, Eomeoni."
This seemed to penetrate her melancholy. With a thin smile that didn't reach her eyes, Mother laid her hand over mine. "Yes, it was premature supposition. Please leave your mother's complaints at bay for today."
With an elegant sigh meant to smooth discomfort stretched between us, she gracefully began clearing dishes away.
Occupied Seoul
November 1944
Miyoko sat gazing into the vanity's gilded mirror, mechanically working scented oil into the elegant column of her neck. The pungent floral perfume failed to fully mask the lingering musk of forbidden intimacy still hanging in the air.
Lost in self-recriminations, Miyoko didn't register Yong-su entering until his strong hands claimed her shoulders, kneading forcefully. She froze as his lips found the sensitive spot on her nape that always betrayed her efforts of being strict. The warmth of that mouth grazed old territory, reopening barely healed wounds between them.
Glancing up, Miyoko met Yong-su's eyes in the mirror's reflection. His touch turned suddenly gentle, cradling her stiff form as if she were some rare, damaged treasure that he had accidentally but irreparably cracked long before tonight.
"You allow our indiscretions far too readily...Madame Park." He murmured into her loose hair. Her formal title in his mouth held a world of shattered intimacy and distances still uncrossable. His broad thumb traced the mocking imprint of his brother Ji-Tae's ring etched on her left hand.
"Am I truly so abhorrent you must continue fantasizing of him when we're intimate?" Yong-su rasped without self-pity, only resignation as his sculpted mouth slid along familiar territory from their earlier encounter.
Miyoko tensed, stung by his accurate assessment despite herself. She attempted an aloof scoff to mask the turmoil. "He's my husband now..."
Even to her own ears, the defense rang hollow. As if in retaliation, Yong-su's strong hands encircled her waist possessively, his words a tortured whisper against her skin:
"And you were supposed to have been my wife..."
The aching emphasis on "supposed to" pierced through Miyoko's composure at last. Twisting in his tightening embrace, she reached back to firmly halt his progress along her throat laid vulnerably bare.
"You take far too much twisted satisfaction in tormenting me..." she accused raggedly, despising the traitorous tears blurring her vision as she beheld her husband's brother. The man she had so callously spurned years before at ambition's altar.
Yong-su held her glittering stare, his own eyes darkened with equal parts desire and recrimination. "I could say the same of you...Madame Park," he bit out.
In the charged space between their heaving chests, a single crystalline tear clung precariously to Miyoko's lashes...until Yong-su shattered their fragile restraint completely with a desperate crushing kiss.
As Yong-su's hungry mouth claimed hers, Miyoko sank trembling fingers into his hair, clinging to the solid anchoring of his body amidst her unraveling morals.
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she knew she should be recoiling from this profound betrayal of vows and family trust.
Yet she found herself pulling shamefully into Yong-su's broad frame instead, their ragged breaths and muted sounds of delirious pleasure drowning out the voice of propriety.
As if determined to excise his elder brother's touch with the possessive force of his own, Yong-su backed Miyoko onto the silken bed and pinned her writhing form.
"Tell me I haven't lost you completely..." he stated between blistering kisses along her throat. "That it's not too late for us..."
The honesty in his shaking tenor sliced through Miyoko's haze of lust. She lifted his stubbled face between trembling palms, hesitation reemerging.
"Yong-su..." Emotion clogged her throat. She had shattered this good man in pursuit of frosty ambition. Were there still fractured shards with which to rebuild him?
"Don't." Yong-su pressed a gentle finger to her lips before she could form the apology. His broad frame sagged atop her, tormented eyes searching Miyoko's own.
"Just give me these stolen moments before the light returns and you disappear from my arms..." The unspoken coda - back to the marital prison of his brother Ji-Tae's embrace - resonated between them.
Overcome, Miyoko answered by pulling Yong-su fiercely against her thundering heart. Tonight beyond the confines of morality and status, she would grant him this small gift - herself fully and unreservedly.
No probes of conscience nor duality. Only fevered skin and tender swift hours to sustain them both through the next bleak and solitary seasons.
As Miyoko lay tangled in restless slumber against Yong-su's bare chest, dawn's fragile light began filtering through the curtains of their refuge.
But miles away, the night still reigned cold and damp across Seoul's shadowed alleys...
Ji-Tae stood solitary on the cracked sidewalk, collar turned up against the chill as he peered down the dim side street.
It was the site of yesterday's inexplicable yet harrowing near-miss accident. In the emerging sun's pale glow, it could have been any unremarkable city curb.
Hands in his coat pockets, Ji-Tae slowly rewalked the path of screeching tires in memory. The nondescript buildings, stained pavement and splintered wooden telephone poles revealed no traces.
What was he even seeking in the muted dawn light? Absolution? Reason? Some tangible proof he hadn't imagined the entire incident as his driver vehemently claimed...
Ji-Tae sighed, breath pluming. The only remnants of chaos were faded skid marks disappearing down the alley's mouth, their significance fading equally into echoes.
Hands thrust deep in his coat pockets, Ji-Tae slowly rewalked the path of screeching tires in memory.
"Don't tell me you're changing careers from club proprietor to detective, sajang-nim..." came a hoarsed voice.
Ji-Tae turned to see his guard Kim standing watchfully at the alley's entrance, arms folded across his broad chest to ward off the chill.
One dark brown brow quirked subtly in question under the brim of his uniform cap. Behind the casual words, sharp eyes scrutinized the surroundings - and Ji-Tae's pensive expression.
Ji-Tae scoffed quietly. "And if I were...?" He arched one brow pointedly until Kim dropped his gaze, properly chastened.
Clearing his throat, the guard shuffled nearer. "No disrespect intended, sajang-nim. These streets simply hold all manners of unpleasantness for respectable gentlemen such as yourself..."
Ji-Tae managed a thin chuckle as he raked a hand through his mussed hair. "Which is precisely why I keep you around. Hmm?" His usually sharp features softened briefly in acknowledgment.
But his wry smile soon faded as he watched early risers begin to populate the streets. Noticing his employer's continued distraction, Kim posed gently: "If you'll pardon this humble servant asking, sajang-nim...what exactly are you searching for out here that still eludes discovery?"
He kept his tone carefully neutral, avoiding overstepping his role. Though privately, Kim worried for Ji-Tae's state of mind and safety lingering around this dingy alley obsessively. The sooner they could depart the better.
Ji-Tae exhaled slowly, gazing down the grubby alley. "I cannot logic away the conviction that the child we nearly collided with was real and injured...not some specter." He shook his head, jaw tightening. "Young ones don't simply vanish cleanly. At the very least, getting to the bottom of exactly what happened feels...necessary."
Kim considered his employer's rigid profile, choosing his next words delicately. "If I may speak freely...?" At Ji-Tae's nod, the guard cleared his throat. "I think perhaps you are...stalling a bit before heading home yourself."
Waving off his hovering guard, Ji-Tae resumed pacing the curb. " There's nothing for me to do at home..." He flicked open his engraved lighter, snapping it sharply shut, the metallic clink echoing his restless thoughts.
"Regardless, I fear the child may be hurt ," Ji-Tae confessed. He turned slowly, narrowing his eyes down the alley's dingy mouth.
Just then, the bang of a sagging screen door made both men turn swiftly. An elderly gentleman emerged, limping slowly as he balanced worn boxes in his arms. Grimacing with effort, he shuffled toward nearby garbage cans.
Ji-Tae strode over, hand extended politely. "Please allow me to lend assistance, sir."
The old man just eyed the proffered hand before shuffling past with a gruff mumble. "I've managed fine on my own before..." His rheumy eyes narrowed over Ji-Tae's elegant coat and raked dismissively over Kim looming protectively nearby.
Ji-Tae retracted his hand awkwardly as the gentleman leaned to catch his breath against the wall. Kim stepped nearer, but Ji-Tae waved him off with an irritated sigh.
That's when the old man pinned Ji-Tae with a shrewd stare. "Regardless...you're a day too late..." he remarked cryptically between labored pants.
Ji-Tae turned swiftly, intrigued. "I beg your pardon?"
The senior looked away, focus drifting vaguely down the alley's gloomy mouth. "Just what I said...too little, too late." His gnarled hand scratched gray stubble as he shuffled down the pavement.
Brow furrowing, Ji-Tae followed and gently touched the old man's elbow. "Please, wait. Too late for precisely what, sir?"
The gentleman studied Ji-Tae's creased forehead and the sincerity visible under his polite facade. With a judicious tilt of his chin towards the deserted side street, he remarked simply: "Trouble already came and went down this way yesterday, young man..."
He blinked rheumy eyes and frowned at Ji-Tae's elegant coat before he proceeded to massage his worn hands after discarding the boxes, Ji-Tae gravitated back towards him politely.
"If you could...expand on your words, I would appreciate it, sir," he ventured.
The senior eyed Ji-Tae shrewdly, gnarled fingers still working to loosen his stiff knuckles. "Nothing confusing about plain truth..." he grunted.
But reading the conflicted concern lingering on Ji-Tae's creased brow, the old man relented with a sigh. "Yesterday brought trouble down this way, as I said. Involving a little one if I saw right."
He took a half-step in that direction before catching himself looking to the senior with polite urgency.
"This child you saw...was he hurt at all? I merely wish to confirm everyone escaped yesterday's troubling events unharmed..."
The old gentleman blotted his wrinkled forehead with a handkerchief, considering. "Hard to say about injuries...things move quickly in those moments." He paused, studying Ji-Tae's rigid expression. "But the boy seemed intact enough when his mother hauled him off after nearly getting clipped by that fancy car of yours."
Ji-Tae inhaled sharply. Before he could respond, the senior patted his shoulder in world-weary sympathy.
"You aim to check on them for your own peace of mind, eh?" The old man surveyed Ji-Tae's fine coat and handsome features. "Can't fault you for that. Though dressed as you are, they might scurry off again in fright..."
He sighed, work-stiffened bones creaking. "If it's forgiveness haunting you, let it rest. The poor scrabble to survive here, not pass judgements on rich men's mistakes. Or be charity."
With an understanding nod, he turned and limped off. Ji-Tae stared pensively after him until Kim discreetly cleared his throat. As they walked to the waiting car, the guard made a thoughtful noise.
"A beggar boy and mother then...could explain their swift vanishing." He eyed Ji-Tae sideways. "Be at ease, sajang-nim."
Ji-Tae slid pensively into the backseat of the idling towncar, the old man's sympathetic words still echoing through his turbulent thoughts. He scarcely registered the engine rumbling to life as Kim slipped discreetly into the driver's seat.
Several taut minutes passed in heavy silence save for the hypnotic swish of windshield wipers batting away glistening ribbons of night rain. Then Ji-Tae leaned forward, bracing his arms against the buttery leather seatback with quiet resolve.
"Actually Kim, one thing before we depart..." he began, hesitating briefly.
Through the rear view mirror, he noticed his guard's eyes widen subtly in surprise to be addressed so suddenly. Kim adjusted the cap low over his brow. "Yes sajang-nim?"
Ji-Tae took a slow breath, weighing his next request carefully under the roving street lamps overhead. "I want you to keep discreet surveillance on that alleyway we visited earlier..."
Kim's gaze flashed to Ji-Tae's through the mirror. "But were we not just speaking of leaving local rabble to fade anonymously?" He gave a puzzled frown. "Hoping for that vagrant mother and child to perhaps reappear hardly seems a valuable use of resources, if I may speak honestly..."
Ji-Tae was already shaking his head before Kim had even finished, one hand raking frustrated through damp locks clinging to his forehead. "Yet something in my very marrow feels...unsettled still. As though unfinished business keeps guiding me to that wretched dead-end street for some damned inexplicable reason," he bit out sharply.
Turning to fix Kim with a conflicted stare, Ji-Tae grasped for coherent logic to anchor his new directive in reason rather than haunted intuition. "Unless you have concrete confirmation that all escaped last night's brush with tragedy fully intact, I want periodic surveillance on who comes and goes along that avenue."
He jabbed his index finger against the misted window glass for emphasis. "Be they harmless urchins or criminal transients or whoever. Report anything worth flagging, no matter how trivial it may seem." He slumped back against the leather, scarf askew and fine wool coat baring glimpses of his how humanized vulnerability and frustration. "I refuse leaving loose ends dangling around another nightmare almost witnessed. My conscience demands certainty of our innocence here..."
Ji-Tae blinked hard out at the street's garish lights swirling abstract through moisture on glass. And shivered against unwelcome ghosts that clung to his skin still. When he glanced up again, Kim was eyeing him as one might assess an unpredictable mind.
But the guard simply cleared his throat and nodded curtly. "As you say, sajang-nim...I will institute surveillance logs documenting that particular area indefintely." His usually implacable features registered subtle relief when Ji-Tae gave a strained smile.
With the smooth precision of one gentling a skittish beast, Kim pulled the car expertly out into early commuter traffic swallowing them into anonymity once more.
Occupied Seoul
July 1941
Ji-Tae strode confidently into the backstage dressing room, polished shoes clicking crisply over the hardwood floors. In one hand, he carried a leather folio clutching the performer contract and engraved fountain pen.
Unable to restrain a grin, he crossed the floral rug to where Etta sat studying her reflection in the bulb-lined mirror.
"Reporting with signed contract in hand as promised," he proclaimed, lifting the folio with a subtle flourish. "Now about making my club your exclusive Seoul roost..."
Trailing off, he noticed a teasing smile play about Etta's lips. She regarded him knowingly through the mirror as she pinned back glossy ebony curls.
"My, you look rather...flushed, Mr. Park," she remarked in dulcet tones. "However did you work up such a glow simply from walking to my dressing quarters?"
Ji-Tae smiled as Etta's lyrical chuckle filled the cozy space. He raked a hand through his hair, lingering adrenaline from rushing to have the contract papers drawn up evident in his breathlessness and color heightened by anticipation.
Composing himself, Ji-Tae perched his tall frame along the edge of her lounge, long legs crossing casually as he observed Etta move gracefully about the dressing room. He set the leather folio holding her unsigned performer contract atop the side table with a subtle flourish.
"Well now, when an exceptional songstress agrees to officially join my elite entertainment roster a full day early no less..." Ji-Tae leaned in as Etta pinned an orchid accent into her artfully pinned curls. "You can hardly blame an eager businessman such as myself for demonstrating equal enthusiasm finalizing the mutually beneficial deal..."
He let his weighted stare get lost in Etta's direction like a poet romances his words. As she met his daring eyes through the glass, Ji-Tae allowed a playful smile before he looked away. Only for a moment.
In order to distract himself, Ji-Tae straightened and framed the cramped dressing space between his outstretched palms as if peering through a camera lens.
"Just envision - the custom star's quarters I plan to outfit for your talents will be far better suited to properly display your radiance..." His voice trailed away almost reverently as Ji-Tae slowly took in Etta's graceful posture, her hair and knowing half-smile directed his way. He lingered appreciatively on her elegantly crossed legs peeking out from the beaded fringe of her dress.
Clearing his throat softly, Ji-Tae let his hands drop slightly to his sides when he realized he was staring outright.
Quickly regaining poise, Ji-Tae folded both arms and leaned back casually against the wall instead. Tilting his head, he posed smoothly: "Tell me - are you half as smooth gliding on your feet as you are singing lyrics from the stage?"
Etta lifted an eyebrow at him in the mirror's reflection. "I'd say so...why?" She turned to face Ji-Tae with a hand on one cocked hip. "Have you hidden dancing skills I'm not yet aware of Mr. Park?"
Ji-Tae just chuckled softly. "I meant how are you with a partner guiding your steps?" He moved to the record player in the corner and the crisp crackle of a jazz tune soon filled the space.
Etta tilted her head, intrigued. As Ji-Tae extended one hand, she drifted closer but bypassed his offer noncommittally. "I'm no Ginger Rogers if that's what you're asking..."
"Pity..." Ji-Tae allowed his gaze to trace the alluring silhouette she cut before redirecting up to catch her eyes. "I thought even angels might be flawless at all manner of creative arts."
"You flatter me..." Etta scoffed lightly. Behind her, sunlight angling in from the room's sole window danced across the vanity glass. It glinted off the one pearl drops dangling from her ears, framing her elegant profile in radiance.
The brassy jazz tempo on the record player suddenly deepened. As if on instinct, Ji-Tae unfolded his arms and beckoned Etta over once more with a subtle yet confident crook of his finger.
Intrigued, Etta found herself studying the graceful strength of that hand - artistic fingers, neatly trimmed nails, golden signet ring glinting. Poised yet alluringly masculine. Much like the cultivation of allure and intellect this club owner wielded with ease.
Seeking distraction from such wandering thoughts, Etta raised her own hand, casually copying his gesture.
"Why the crooked finger, Mr Park...what's this little summons about?" She kept her tone light, hoping the cheeky mimicry masked her quickened pulse.
Ji-Tae's lips quirked. "Why not sate your curiosity and come over here to find out?" He tilted his head towards the record player in invitation as another brassy tune began.
When Etta merely watched him over her shoulder, brow arched elegantly, Ji-Tae let his hand fall.
"Let me guess - you prefer watching my clumsy solo efforts from afar and laughing?" He smiled self-deprecatingly down at himself.
"A fair concern..." Running one hand through his hair, Ji-Tae stepped smoothly over the carpeted floor instead. Halting just before her, he met Etta's daring eyes.
"But as I've learned - if a gentleman desires the finest partnership...he should take the first step."
With that, he extended his palm out once more in silent query.
Keeping his movements slow and non-threatening, he reached for her hand, lightly caressing the back with his thumb before bringing her palm up to rest against his chest. The motion invited rather than demanded, allowing Etta time to pull back if she wished.
But sensing no reluctance in her body language, Ji-Tae gently yet firmly grasped her hip to steer them into closer dance frame. Their joined hands hovered gracefully at shoulder level now as he expertly guided Etta into the foxtrot's opening steps in perfect sync.
"Just follow my lead..." he encouraged in a low murmur, meeting her eyes to be sure his new proximity remained welcome before skillfully whirling them along.
Halfway into a weighted silence as they swayed gently to the music, Etta glanced downwards.
"I fear I may be scuffing your expensive leather shoes, Mr Park..." She observed the gleaming leather mere inches from her satin heels, suddenly hyper aware of their closeness.
Ji-Tae just smiled, giving her waist a subtle yet reassuring squeeze. "A trivial concern - new shoes can always be bought."
When she looked back up, he met her gaze warmly. Without breaking their stare, he readjusted their hand position, lightly caressing her knuckles. Ji-Tae's thumb traced a slow, distracting arc over Etta's graceful fingers as he guided her hand to rest at shoulder height instead.
Etta attempted a teasing scoff to restore casual air. "Ah, an easy stance when one has the cursed luxury of wealth..."
Ji-Tae shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving hers. "It's simply that I would consider scuffed shoes a small price..." He smoothed his other hand appreciatively along the curve of her hip. "...For the reward of knowing at least one meaningful thing came from wearing them today."
Etta felt her pulse quicken as his sincerity penetrated her usual armor of breezy detachment. She found herself leaning infinitesimally closer within their dance frame as Ji-Tae guided them in smooth strides across the floor.
There was assuredness in his sure movements and muscular forearm flexing fluidly to direct their steps - distinct from typical entitled arrogance. This felt like the habit of a man genuinely at ease guiding a partner around the dance floor.
As Ji-Tae expertly spun her through a series of graceful turns, Etta found herself studying his face up close. Dark eyes attentive, faint smile playing about his mouth...he seemed completely immersed in the moment, enjoying their easy rhythm.
"It seems I have much to learn..." Etta murmured. Sensing her gaze, Ji-Tae met her eyes as they swayed and dipped. His stare drifted down to trace the soft curve of her lips before lifting again to recapture Etta's own admiring look.
They shared a tentative yet magnetic smile, pulses quickening. Ji-Tae gave her waist a subtle, approving squeeze. "No matter...you're a natural," he assured warmly.
With that, he transitioned them flawlessly into the foxtrot's signature sweeping steps. Etta focused on matching his confident stride, keeping their frames aligned. Her hand rested softly in Ji-Tae's steady grip, relishing his subtle warmth and how naturally his fingers supported hers - a perfect counterbalance.
She noticed up close how his dress shirt pulled taut across his shoulders as they moved. Etta imagined feeling the athletic muscle and faint heat from his skin beneath the crisp fabric.
Oblivious to her wandering thoughts, Ji-Tae smiled down at her. "See? Nothing to improve upon that I can detect..."
Etta laughed, the sound low and musical. "You might just be biased, Mr Park..."
As the final notes trailed away, Ji-Tae gently released her from the dance frame. Hand still clasping hers lightly, he reached over to switch off the record player.
"Biased or not, does it matter if I intend you to be the only partner I whisk around this floor?" he countered.
Etta looked up at him for a moment before shaking her head, an amused scoff escaping her lips. She smoothed her dress and drifted over to sit at the vanity table.
"I must admit...I'm still very surprised by your familiarity with American music and dances," she remarked, inspecting her manicured nails. "One would think you spent time across the Atlantic yourself."
" Why? What is it that you're trying to ask so indirectly?" He smiled, folding his arms.
She glanced over her shoulder coyly. " I'm just confirming, I guess it's true that you converse often with Yankee soldiers....Although most men wouldn't know obscure Broadway references...or actresses like Ginger Rogers...well maybe Miss Ginger..."
Ji-Tae just chuckled, readjusting his already perfect tie knot. "I picked up a few cultural tidbits here and there. A soldier once showed me Ms Roger's image on a cigarette photo card." He paused for a moment before he nodded in her directing.
"Why do you ask? Are you curious if it's American women generally I converse with or associate with..." Ji-Tae's voice dipped lower as he met her gaze. "Or are you fishing around to gauge how often my interactions mirror the one I have with one American specifically...?"
Etta waved a hand airily, avoiding his scrutiny. "Oh please, don't think so highly of yourself Mr Park...I was merely making polite small talk." She glanced down, idly pleating her skirt. "It's not as if many expatriate ladies make their way out to this particular corner of Asia..."
Ji-Tae placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "You wound me with that cool dismissal of my charms!" But his eyes glinted playfully. Straightening, he leaned nearer. "Regardless...you still haven't answered my original question..."
He left the words hang temptingly. Etta hesitated, a secret thrill running through her that few women likely captured this ambitious man's keen attention so persistently.
She looked back up, holding his bold stare. "And which question might that be exactly?"
Ji-Tae smiled slowly as he closed the distance between them. Bracing one hand casually beside her on the vanity counter, he peered down intently into her eyes. When Etta's gaze darted aside for a moment, he gently guided it back, one finger tilting her chin.
"The delicate question of whether I ought to request the rare honor..." Ji-Tae's voice dipped lower, "....of exclusive dance partnership with you on a more...permanent basis." He let the words sink in weightily.
Etta felt her breath shallow as his thumb lightly caressed along her jawline. She inclined her face towards his touch despite herself.
Meeting his awaiting stare, Etta pronounced evenly at last: "I suppose you shall just have to wait and see when the time comes to get your answer then..."
She gave him a subtle yet coquettish look up through her lashes. Ji-Tae felt his breath catch, pulse racing at the alluring yet elusive reply. He started to lean closer still when an abrasive knock interrupted.
Lilac (Fumiko) burst in, popping gum loudly as the door banged open. "Well well, I spy imported leather shoes gliding your way, Etta dear..." She cackled, eyeing Ji-Tae blatantly. "Didn't take you as the type to sample handsome new prospects so early!"
Before Etta could retort, Lilac spun theatrically towards Ji-Tae with an exaggerated bow. "Why if it isn't Prince Charming himself straying backstage! You sure you haven't just accidentally stumbled into the wrong dressing quarters here, Mr Park?"
Etta stood swiftly, placing herself between them. As she finished attaching her second signature pearl earrings, she volleyed breezily over one shoulder, "We can't all cast lines as smoothly as you do, Lilac..."
Lilac just smirked as Ji-Tae scoffed subtly in amusement, one finger grazing his chin thoughtfully.
"So, I don't suppose one of those exclusive contracts might be for me then, Mr Park?" Lilac pressed, eyes flashing. "Surely it's not only Etta here you've deigned to visit backstage...?"
Ji-Tae smiled indulgently. "Let's not undermine your intelligence. If I aimed to recruit you, there would be no question." His subtle dismissal cut, but Lilac preened just to be addressed.
Checking his watch, Ji-Tae added politely, "Now if you ladies will excuse me, final club matters await attention before Etta's arrival."
With a lingering look towards the songstress, he disappeared smoothly down the hall.
"My. He's just so infuriatingly dazzling..." Lilac sighed aloud once Ji-Tae disappeared. She crossed her arms, glancing irritably at Etta sorting sheet music nearby.
"You get to bask in the spotlight glow effortlessly, Etta dear...with those startling good looks and a voice smooth as French brandy to boot." Lilac waved one bejeweled hand over the silhouette Etta cut in her signature crimson gown. "Even jealousy can't dull your starshine I suppose..."
Etta couldn't restrain an amused chuckle as she came over carrying some records. "Well, well Lilac! If I didn't know better, I might just think you paid me an actual compliment..."
As she breezed past to the phonograph, Etta added lightly: "Of course, that sharp tongue praising me now told outright lies before...when you claimed Mr Park was engaged." She arched one brow. "Deceit remains deceit."
Etta held Lilac's glare evenly. "So why invent outright untrue gossip to share?"
Lilac scoffed. "Why?? Sudden interest in Mr Dreamy's relationship status now?" She gave Etta a critical once-over. "It's not as if you actually care who he's engaged to..."
"On principle, it simply seems needlessly petty, even for your typical standards..." Etta responded. She held the song sheet up, one more time appearing to study it closely.
Lilac shifted before huffing irritably. "It was just outdated hearsay, don't get your feathers ruffled!" She fanned herself.
Etta rolled her eyes, moving to rifle through remaining records.
At last Fumiko threw up her hands."Okay okay, So I told a little lie, sue me!" She scoffed loudly, snatching up one of the records Etta had set aside.
Eyeing it critically before flinging it back down, Fumiko flipped her dark hair and gazed over at Etta with a smirk. " Still...mind those bedroom eyes unless you want trouble."
Etta maintained her casual poise, humming noncommittally as she sifted through the vinyl collection. Selecting a promising album, she drew one long nail almost tenderly along the grooves.
"As I already said - no need to fabricate stories where there is none," she repeated coolly, meeting Fumiko's stare. "Business remains strictly professional between Mr Park and myself."
Fumiko wrinkled her nose skeptically. "Professional until it ain't, you mean..." With an exaggerated wink, before proceeding to reapply vivid lipstick with a sneer. "Besides, I didn't lie outright—I guess I meant his younger brother, so I misspoke. But he's soon to have a Japanese sister-in-law. That should tell you...perhaps an ambitious dreams should be more realistically?"
She smiled coldly. "Like I said...careful fluttering those lashes. Single doesn't mean available..." Her lacquered nail wagged in mock warning.
Etta bristled but kept her tone breezy. "Well, I'll be sure to set my ambitions by your refined example then..." She gestured at Lilac's gaudy costume. "Run along now to squawk for drunken scraps tossed your way on stage."
As Lilac stood to storm out, she paused, eyeing Etta with a sniff. "I suppose the dress looks decent enough for your farewell show...that much I'll grant you credit for." She disappeared in a huff.
Etta just smirked and called mockingly after in awkward Japanese: "Aaaaane~? Are you falling for me perhaps?"
Laughing musically to herself, Etta shook her head when only slamming doors echoed back. As she returned to sorting sheet music, she heard Lilac yell irritably from the hall in Korean:
"Stick to Korean! Your Japanese is awful...just focus only on what you're good at."
Etta rolled her eyes as she finished applying her lipstick. "I thought it sounded rather decent," she murmured, playfully repeating the strange Japanese address under her breath. "Ane~...?"
Shrugging, she set the lipstick down. "No matter. I still prefer Korean over Japanese anyways." Chuckling, she resumed vocal warm ups.
—————————————————————
Do you guys have any predictions on what might've happened?
Please vote and keep comments coming really helps me rank.