Chapter 7
**CHAPTER TITLE: The Lucky Charm of a Bookworm**
Lauren Hamilton was half-Korean and a plastic surgeon who had once been Lauren Nayeon Han. Her father, Dr. Han Jong-gu, had been the neurosurgeon to the president himself.
He had spoken to her only in Korean, insisting that one must know one’s roots to be a proper human being. If she answered in English, he never replied.
During summer break she spent the season in Korea instead of going to camp with her friends. Thanks to that she could speak Korean almost as fluently as a one-and-a-half-generation Korean American, though English remained her true mother tongue. She could not force Hunter to learn it the way her father had forced her.
Hunter had therefore struggled with his maternal grandfather. Each time she visited, the stern old scholar shouted at her that he would not teach the boy. They had even hired a Korean tutor once a week to teach Hangul, but Hunter showed no interest.
Then Lafayette’s marchioness, Miran de Lafayette—herself Korean—had begun boasting that her son Rex spoke excellent Korean. Lauren had agreed with her at once and decided to bring the two boys together for lessons.
In the Upper East Side, Hunter and Rex were mischievous troublemakers who fought whenever they met. When their sparks flew they would team up to cause chaos. They had already exhausted two tutors.
That morning Hunter sat quietly while Jiyu read aloud from a chapter book. Lauren had thought the girl was exaggerating when she said she was reading the books herself. Seeing Hunter so still and attentive was genuinely shocking.
‘My son can sit still like this?’
Hope bloomed in her chest. If she could place this calm, brilliant girl in a Korean lesson, the atmosphere might improve. Jiyu’s fluency in the language was a perfect bonus—children naturally learn from their peers.
Hunter was competitive. Placing him beside a girl who spoke better Korean and read better than he did would surely ignite his passion without any direct order. He had never touched girls.
Lauren smiled brightly at Jiyu.
“Jiyu, here’s what I wanted to say. Hunter is learning Hangul from Rex. Would you be interested? Every Saturday morning, two hours at our place.”
Jiyu’s eyes widened and she answered without hesitation.
“Of course I’m interested! When can we start?”
The one-time playdate had somehow become a weekly tradition. Because they lived in the same apartment building, Hunter’s free time was always open to Jiyu. No matter how suddenly he texted, she never refused.
On the way to school they often met the other mothers in the lobby and walked together to the building. When urgent errands arose they shared the nanny.
Jiyu came to Hunter’s house every Wednesday for math tutoring and stayed for Saturday Hangul lessons until he could read it himself.
From the very first day Hunter had disliked her. Throwing the ball in the elevator had been meant purely as a game. He had never intended to knock her out.
He had never imagined a girl who would dodge a straight, easy ball with such graceful slowness. He had told his mother about it that night, only to be scolded instead.
The memory of Jiyu floating backward in slow motion still haunted him. It had even appeared in nightmares.
He threw the small ball. It struck Jiyu’s forehead, and the girl swelled like a giant. Her face disappeared from view. She toppled over the skyscrapers of Manhattan. The city cracked like cookie crumbs. The Hamilton Residence vanished without a trace.
He had tried to grab her, but his arms felt bound. He could not even scream. The dream had shaken him to the core.
That accident had been the first time he experienced the absence of Jinx in his life. He had been punished for an unintended result and lost his freedom.
A week without the playground or playroom had been worse than starving.
The culprit was that smug old busybody Jiyu Parker, the one who pretended to be kind while constantly stirring up trouble.
Hunter could not understand why his mother kept inviting her over. The only use she provided was reading the book aloud. Strangely, the words stuck in his ears.
If only she had never been useful at all.
Soon Hunter realized how desperately he needed Jiyu. The realization had been shockingly painful.
Several months earlier, on the day Jiyu first came to watch his tournament, Hunter had crushed an eleven-year-old opponent and claimed the championship. It was his first win. His UTR finally entered the four-digit range.
‘But that was all me.’
The victory had nothing to do with her.
Yet a few weeks ago his mother had invited the same bookworm and her fussy mother to another tournament. It had been pointless.
The first round was against someone a year younger. The opponent had been terrified and quit after losing six-love, crying that his stomach hurt. Hunter advanced easily, winning the next two sets six-two and six-one. The semifinal had been no different.
In the final he faced a stronger player, twelve-year-old Sean Peterson, UTR 5.8, who stood a full head taller. Hunter had lost every previous match against him.
Before the match, while deciding the serve order and flipping coins with Sean, Hunter noticed Jiyu sitting in the stands, head bowed over her book. A very poor spectator.
The first set belonged to Sean, three-six. Hunter won the second seven-five. The third was tied at six-all, and the tiebreaker decided the winner. First to seven points.
[Come on, Hunter!]
Lauren and Jiyu cheered loudly. After dozens of rallies Hunter won the decisive point. The stands erupted. Only then did Jiyu lift her head, glance around, give an empty clap, and return to her book.
It had felt strangely wrong.
‘My game is less fun than the book?’
Hunter refused to believe it. He gritted his teeth and ran the court with all his strength. When his focus wavered and he fell behind, only then did Jiyu look up and watch his match.
That day Hunter delivered a performance far beyond his usual level and dethroned Sean to claim the championship.
After the match the four of them ate dinner at a Korean restaurant in Fort Lee. That was when Lauren made a comment Jiyu could not ignore.
It had been the first warning sign.
“Thank you for coming, Jiyu. It seems every time you come, Hunter wins tournaments. You must be his lucky charm.”
Hunter chewed his teeth and muttered that it was impossible.
The next tournament Jiyu did not attend. Hunter lost in the quarterfinals. His focus had been off. In the following one he reached the semifinals but was crushed by someone ranked lower. Even his first serve had felt wrong.
When he tried to analyze why, he remembered Lauren’s words at the dinner. It hit him like a backhand. This bookworm could never be his lucky charm.
‘Not Jinx, at least.’
There was only one solution.
[Invite him to the tournament and finally check whether the superstition is real.]