A Whiff of Trouble
Jiyu reached the apartment and, despite her young age, let out a deep sigh that carried the weight of someone far older than she was.
She had no idea what had prompted Hunter to summon her all the way out to the treehouse, but a nagging instinct told her something unpleasant was about to unfold.
Hunter was relentless when he wanted something—demanding she come to him until she gave in.
‘It would’ve been easier to meet in the penthouse instead.’
Ever since Daisy’s birth last year, Jiyu no longer dreaded visits to the Hamilton home as much as she once had. She had always wished for a little sister, and that chubby, milk-scented Daisy had been far too adorable to resist.
Whenever they played, Jiyu would inevitably find an excuse to slip away to Daisy’s room. Now that the baby could toddle about, it was time to head back home, so she would return to the playroom, pick out a book to borrow, and settle in for storytime.
Hunter barely paid her any attention except when he ordered her to read aloud. He could read by himself now, yet he still liked to demand she read with him as if she were some kind of audio-book machine.
Annoyed, she had once complained about it in a whisper to her affection, only to receive a stern warning in return.
“Kid, where do you expect free things in this world? Those books in the house belong to you anyway, so you’re basically paying for the privilege. Read them if you’re asked.”
The worst part was that whenever she tried to stop, Hunter would dangle from the parallel bars like a ragdoll or do something else entirely while she read.
He would glance up at her as if addressing the empty air, then stop and start juggling tennis balls instead, only to let them clatter to the floor with a displeased scowl.
‘Keep reading until I say stop.’
During their last playdate, she had been forced to read three entire chapters of a fantasy novel inspired by Greek myths until her voice cracked.
Would he call for the next chapter now?
She still couldn’t understand why someone who could read alone refused to do so by himself. She had once wondered if it was because he was slow-witted, but the math tutoring sessions had quickly ruled that out.
Jiyu had given up trying to make sense of it and pulled little Sophia’s sleeve with a resigned expression.
“Miss Sophia, I’m going to the treehouse for a bit.”
“Right now?”
Sophia’s wrinkled eyes widened in surprise as she looked down at her.
“Yeah. Hunter asked me to come out for a second. He probably wants me to read him another book.”
“Hunter? Okay, okay. Go on, then. I’ll make snacks while you’re gone.”
Sophia had long since learned that anything involving Hunter in this house meant the green light.
“Sure. I’ll be back!”
Jiyu breezed through the corridor and pushed open the heavy iron gate leading to the courtyard.
Afternoon sunlight poured across the elegant bronze bench that curved around the stone fountain like a graceful wave. The bench had been the quiet guardian of this courtyard since the 1920s, when the apartment building had been built.
On one side stood a treehouse tall enough for adults to step inside. Because the residents here were mostly older, there were few children in the building. Plus, the courtyard was completely private—no outsiders could enter. It had become their own private playground.
Beneath the long wooden beams of the treehouse, a rectangular sandbox waited for sand play. A yellow shovel and a half-broken blue plastic bucket from Hunter’s childhood still lay half-buried in the sand.
A winding slide shaped like an elephant’s trunk stretched from the side of the treehouse all the way to the ground, and a round tire swing dangled from the roof beam, swaying gently in the breeze.
Hunter moved fast, and Jiyu had deliberately taken her time, so he should have been waiting already. As expected, the rhythmic sound of knuckles tapping on wood echoed through the air.
He always carried tennis balls in his pockets and spent his time bouncing them off the walls, but those bounces never felt regular. They sounded oddly forced, almost calculated.
Jiyu stopped at the ladder, took a deep breath, and briefly debated what had pulled her here. She wasn’t curious, but she wasn’t about to refuse either. Today, her curiosity won out.
She placed one foot on the first rung. The wood creaked loudly. The sound of the tennis ball hitting the floor inside the treehouse stopped instantly.
She climbed slowly, keeping her head lowered as she stepped inside. When she was only in second grade, she hadn’t needed to duck, but her height had grown again.
Outside it was blindingly bright, but the treehouse was dim and shadowy. Her eyes had to adjust after several blinks.
A play kitchen, a miniature seating set, and a small sofa completed the familiar interior. The sight of Hunter sprawled out in a slouch on the sofa felt completely alien. He played on the roof of the treehouse, not inside it. Too narrow and stifling, he had once complained.
“Jyu Parker.”
Hunter questioned her with an irritated tone, skipping any greeting.
Jiyu frowned slightly at the tip of her nose.
Jyu Parker.
Hunter could pronounce the name “Jiyu” properly now, yet he still called her that way as if it annoyed him. Every time she heard it, the old voice echoed in her head: “Jyu Parker. I hate you.”
She had begged him to call her Olivia instead, but he had never listened.
Jiyu, likewise, jumped straight into the reason without a hello.
“Why did you call me here?”
She poured every ounce of resentment and irritation she could muster into those few words. The urge to snap at him for not paying attention to other kids like last time nearly spilled out, but she held it back. She wasn’t afraid; she had known Hunter too long to find him frightening.
Still, the words she had read in books always came from the mean girl who tormented the main character. And the victim always ended up hurt.
Jiyu refused to be that mean girl.
‘What good would it do? That self-centered Hunter Hamilton wouldn’t even notice.’
‘Self-centered’ was a word she had read recently. The moment she saw it, Hunter’s face flashed into her mind. Only he himself could bother the Hunter Hamilton who made everything go his way.
Jiyu pulled out the small chair from the miniature seating set and sat on it as far from Hunter as possible. The sofa where he lounged with one arm draped over the backrest was her usual seat, yet he had claimed the entire thing for himself, and the sight of it made her blood boil.
“There’s a tournament tomorrow.”
Hunter blurted it out abruptly.
“……”
Jiyu blinked slowly, her face blank.
Hunter had started entering regional junior tournaments for players under twelve twice a month since last year. Lauren had taken Jiyu and Jiyu with her twice to watch. So the announcement wasn’t exactly shocking.
“A tournament?!”
He repeated it impatiently.
Jiyu finally opened her mouth slowly.
“……What about it?”
“You’re going.”
He pressed the words out through gritted teeth.
“The tournament.”
His deep, striking blue eyes—glowing eerily in the dim light—locked onto her like laser beams. Jiyu’s mouth snapped shut. She stared, then narrowed her brows.
“You dragged me all the way out here just to tell me that?”
Hunter had first picked up a tennis racket at age four, guided by his father, Jered Alexander Hamilton.
Tennis was a traditional sport of the Hamilton family. Jered himself had been the captain of the varsity tennis team at Alton School during his time there.
Hunter attended the tennis academy on Randalls Island twice a week after school. At eight years old, he received an invitation to join the elite player group.
How could he not be over the moon?
Jiyu had tilted her head in confusion, but the Hamilton family had moved swiftly once they learned he had talent. They had quickly begun full support.
The lowest of the three floors of the Hamilton Residence was called the basement. It housed the employee quarters for the “Help” staff, the wine cellar, storage, and large equipment.
Last summer, a massive renovation began to expand the space into a proper tennis court, completed by December. Hunter took private lessons there, practicing with the latest ball machine. One side even had a fitness room, making it worthy of a professional athlete.