Palm to Wrist
The two of them sat side by side on the worn, narrow sofa, their shoulders brushing close enough to touch. The children’s sofa was too small for two full-grown adults, but the chairs around the tea table were even smaller, leaving no other choice.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
It was a familiar, cozy space. Every time they came here, it had felt like stepping into a small piece of the Tree House, and Hunter even began to feel at home within its walls.
The tree roof above them was being hammered by a fierce rainstorm, the drops drumming a loud rhythm. Between the gaps in the slats, water beads fell in steady beats, pooling for a second on the round tea table before sliding off the edges in graceful streams.
“Kissing the wrist no longer has any effect at all.”
Hunter broke the silence with a sudden declaration.
Jiyu blinked in surprise, her mouth opening and closing as she stumbled over her words.
“W-why? Last time you said you definitely won…”
After handing over the first-edition Douglas Adams to Jiyu as a peace offering, Hunter had reached only the quarterfinals of the tournament. He now insisted the palm-kiss trick had lost its power.
“There’s nothing eternal in this world. After using it so often for years, I must have completely burned through the energy of that winning jinx and reached total depletion.”
He added the ridiculous analysis with a straight face, then went on to harass her, asking if there wasn’t some other method recommended by the famous psychologist whose book she had read.
When Hunter wanted something, he was relentlessly stubborn—sticking to her like glue, bullying, threatening, and following her everywhere until she gave in. He treated her like a babysitter he had left in charge.
“Choo Park, even if I just avoid you it won’t help. Think of another way already. That way I won’t have to bother you anymore. Is there really no other method in that psychologist’s book? By the way, what was the title of that New York Times bestseller? I want to read it too.”
Jiyu, terrified he might discover the book was actually a picture book for toddlers suffering from separation anxiety, blurted out something completely off the cuff. And she immediately regretted it with a pang.
“Um… what about kissing somewhere else instead of the palm?”
“Somewhere else? Where?”
Jiyu’s face went deathly pale the moment she saw the mix of shock and curiosity on Hunter’s expression. Her heart stuttered.
‘Oh my god, I must have gone insane. Kiss somewhere else? Where exactly?!’
She rolled her eyes away from his gaze, racking her brain like she was squeezing the last drops of toothpaste, and answered in a tone of uncertainty.
“Um… the wrist?”
“The wrist?”
Hunter watched her closely, one eyebrow shooting up.
“Yeah…”
“Hm. The wrist, the wrist… fine. But if that doesn’t work, next time you’ll have to come to my tournaments.”
Jiyu nodded reluctantly. He immediately extended his arm right in front of her face. Kissing the wrist instead of the palm felt strangely wrong. Her face grew hot, and she couldn’t lift her head for a while. She never noticed how flushed Hunter’s own face had become.
After receiving that wrist kiss, he continued his winning streak for a while. But now that even that had lost its potency, he would probably demand something else.
Jiyu glared at him with the same flat-eyed stare she always gave. Hunter tilted his head slightly, his expression bold and challenging as he looked at her steadily.
This time he was trying to flip her inside out with some new absurdity.
“Maybe you’re no longer my winning jinx, Choo Park.”
He announced it in a surprisingly solemn tone.
Jiyu couldn’t find the right words. She froze, blinking rapidly. A swirl of emotions she couldn’t put into language crashed over her.
‘He just realized it now? Then does that mean I don’t have to keep playing this annoying jinx role anymore? Is this really the end?’
Too many conflicting feelings tangled inside her; she couldn’t even tell whether she felt relief or disappointment.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rain on the roof grew slightly softer, making the sound of drops hitting the table unnaturally loud.
Hunter, who had been staring at the table with his elbows on his knees and hands clasped, slowly straightened his back.
“No, when I think about it, you might actually be my jinx after all. It’s just that for higher-level tournaments, the hand or wrist isn’t enough.”
Jiyu’s shoulders sagged. Of course not.
In the darkness, Hunter suddenly turned his head to face her.
“This time try somewhere else.”
“What… what?”
Jiyu noticed his frown in the faint light coming from outside.
“You don’t even know where? Kiss somewhere else.”
Her heart raced.
“Um, um, where?”
Her voice trembled.
“…I don’t know either.”
Gnawing on her lower lip, Hunter’s brain spun through every body part connected to tennis—fingers, forearms, elbows, shoulders. All of them sounded ridiculous. Ugh… I’m going insane.
Finally, she lifted her head and asked with a sliver of hope.
“Um… what about the palm like before? You haven’t done it for a while, right?”
“You’re joking. The palm already lost its effect last year, didn’t you know?”
Hunter immediately shut it down with cold finality.
“What about the back of the hand?”
He gave a mocking laugh and shook his head.
“The hand area is useless now.”
“Then where exactly—”
Jiyu turned her resentful glare on him, then flinched. Hunter’s face was too close. She froze, staring back at him.
Hunter blinked, swallowed hard, and licked his dry lips before opening his mouth.
“That’s…”
Weak light slipped in through the two door entrances and one window, illuminating half of Hunter’s face. In the black-and-white space, only his pupils seemed to glow with an eerie blue light. That sharp gaze slowly traveled down her face and stopped on her lips.
Jiyu caught her breath and instinctively covered her lips with the back of her hand.
Suddenly, a memory from last year flashed through her mind—the gym class on a rainy day. Even without touching fingers, the pulse point felt like it was beating madly.
Probably around one hundred twenty-five times a minute.
She lowered her eyes and awkwardly dropped her hand.
‘Hunter would never…’
Jiyu looked up again. Hunter’s eyes, which had been staring at her with a strange intensity, now flickered unsteadily.
The meaningful silence was louder than the rain. For no clear reason, a chill ran down her spine. Her heart lurched again with the feeling that something unbearable was about to happen.
“Gonna go!”
Jiyu squeezed her eyes shut, then cautiously opened them.
Hunter fixed his gaze on her, nodded, and spoke in a slightly cracked voice.
“Yeah… so then there…”
He paused mid-sentence, tilted his head, and frowned.
“Uh… what did you just say?”
“Go.”
“So… where?”
Hunter’s patience had run out; he pushed the words out between his teeth.
“Your tournament!”
Jiyu raised her voice too.
“My… tournament.”
She gave a tiny nod. For a split second Hunter’s shoulders, which had been raised in tension, dropped a little.
He slowly straightened the upper body that had been leaning toward her, then leaned against the sofa’s backrest. After that, he pressed the back of his head against the Tree House wall and let out a long, heavy sigh.
Jiyu turned her head in the opposite direction, feeling a vague sense of release she couldn’t name, and exhaled a sigh of relief. Her heart hammered against her ribs like it wanted to break free.
The rain began pounding the roof again. The rhythm of drops falling on the table became staccato.
Hunter suddenly stood up.
“Sunday morning nine o’clock, lobby.”
He turned toward the entrance with the slide and grabbed the rail with one hand, then leaped down in one fluid motion. The tension in Jiyu’s shoulders finally dissolved; she collapsed onto the sofa. The noisy rain drowned out Hunter’s footsteps fading away. The relentless rain on the Tree House roof felt eerily like her own heartbeat.
Sunday, 9:03 a.m. Jiyu stood in front of the front door, backpack filled with reading material and homework slung over her shoulder.
“I’m off.”
“Uh, have a good one. Study hard. Call if you think you’ll be late. Daddy will come pick you up.”
Allison poked Alan’s side, who was sprawled on the sofa watching a Korean drama on Netflix X, while Alan himself read the Wall Street Journal beside her. Alan nodded.
“Have a good trip, Libidibie. Call if you’re gonna be late, Daddy’s coming to pick you up.”
Alan couldn’t speak Korean at all, but somehow he understood the conversation between Allison and Jiyu from the tone.
“It’s alright, Daddy. When it’s over, my… friend said he’d drive me home.”
Allison finally tore her curious eyes away from the TV monitor.
“Really? Who is it? A rich kid?”
“Um… yeah.”
Jiyu mumbled guiltily. After all, Hunter was from a wealthy family.
Allison smiled brightly and waved at her.
“Okay. Go on, you’ll be late.”
Alan followed suit, smiling with his sharply gathered lips.
“Have a good trip, Libi!”