Kara led Chi-Qua down the hall to the suite’s second largest bedroom, which was also equipped with ample office equipment.
Inside, Kara gasped when she saw an assortment of dresses and pantsuits in the house colors of red and white laid out upon the bed. Mother’s work, for certain.
“I’ll try them on,” Chi-Qua said with feather-soft tone. “I’m sure something will fit. Then I’ll unpack, and we can discuss protocol.”
“Certainly.” Kara backed toward the door. “Chi-Qua?”
“Yes, Miss Syung.”
“I’ve missed you. It … it will be good again. I promise.”
Chi-Qua nodded without smiling and stood silent with the suitcase in hand as Kara exited.
She was caught in a swirl of emotions returning to the master bedroom. Kara didn’t see Lang coming from the other direction until he was upon her. He wrapped her in a triumphant hug and offered a beatific smile.
“So, you pulled it off. She’s back. Congratulations, little sister.”
“How did you know that …?”
“Father told me yesterday. Said he was going to go public as the Baeks’ accuser. He wanted this to be a surprise. Very noble act, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Lang. Sometimes, Father rises above the others.”
Lang cut a laugh in half. “That’s one way to see it. At any rate, I hope you two are very happy. As friends, of course. Enjoy your time together.” He leaned in close and whispered. “One day, I am going to have Chi-Qua killed, and you will know why.”
He pulled away, his smile long gone. Lang did not stick around for a reaction.
Kara stumbled into her room, laid down on her bed, and cried.
3 Fallen of the Gentry
Standard Year 5361
W HEN KARA SYUNG WAS eight years old, she accepted her place as the lesser child beneath her brothers Lang and Dae. They were, according to Hokki tradition, the heirs most suited to build upon the family legacy. The first born must train in the same skills as the patriarch to ensure continuity. The second born must do the same to preserve stability in the event of tragedy but may otherwise pursue an independent career. Any other children are subject to a future at their parents’ discretion. Now twenty, Kara lost all patience with this ancient nonsense practiced by a handful of elites.
“The Freelanders have good ideas,” she told Chi-Qua Baek, her personal assistant and best friend. “They call it the Count of One. Each Hokki chooses a path true to instinct and passion, not genetics or tradition. And I see the look on your face, Chi. Every time I mention the Freelanders, you act as if I’m forcing you to drink sour milk.”
They were picnicking by the cliffs of Bongwoo Curl on the island’s east coast. It was Kara’s idea; she thought Chi-Qua needed a break. From time to time, her friend’s melancholy surfaced in the form of morning depression.
“Their ideas don’t bother me,” Chi-Qua said. “But your obsession with them might compromise your place in the household. Your parents say Freelanders are heretics. If they cast you out, Kara, what happens to me and my family?”
“How often do I have to convince you, Chi? They won’t dare touch me. Plus, I’ll be moving up in the pecking order.”
“Ah. And you’ve told Lang and Dae about this big move?”
“What? Warn them in advance? No. I want to see the look on their faces when I spring out of the closet.”
“Will I be there, too?”
“You’d never forgive me if I left you at home.”
The road to this moment, where Kara and Chi-Qua bantered like old friends rather than employer and personal assistant, came fraught with many bumps and ruts. Chi-Qua spent the first several weeks of indentured servitude resenting Kara’s selfish maneuver to restore their so-called friendship. She despised wearing the Syung staff uniform, even if it represented her family’s best shot at restoration into the Gentry. She resisted Kara’s impromptu gestures of kindness as mere manipulation. The gift-giving hurt most. It was condescending, she told Kara three months into her job.
“You remind me who has and who hasn’t,” she said.
That moment, the first where Chi-Qua spoke with blunt force, threw Kara off-balance but became a crucial turning point. Kara had forgotten the level of shame imparted on Chi-Qua when the Baek family was sacrificed during refinery. Objects, no matter their beauty, would never restore her best friend’s faith in a corrupt social order. Bribery was not now – nor had it ever been – the solution.
Kara decided what Chi-Qua needed most was a faithful ear and a trusting heart. If they listened to each other and spoke of their deepest feelings without fear of confidence lost, they might restore what refinery stole.
It didn’t happen overnight. Even now, almost two years after Chi-Qua entered Kara’s service, walls rose between them on rare occasions to create unexpected tension. Some sort of domestic event – usually involving Kara’s mother or eldest brother Lang – reminded Chi-Qua who held the leverage in this relationship. Kara sheltered her best friend in the private suite while at home and made a point to travel with Chi-Qua at her side.
The picnics became a weekly feature of their relationship. Though Kara took them to a wide variety of beautiful spots along the coast, Bongwoo Curl was their favorite. The cliffs fronted a crescent-shaped bay where the water ran deep, and the waves crashed against vicious boulders. Along the face, thousands of seabirds nested in protected cavities. Flocks swirled the bay and dive-bombed into schools of bite-size fish. The red-crested sea swans showed no fear of humans, landing near picnickers and lingering for leftovers. Today, the Kye-Do rings neared their zenith as talk of Kara’s ambition continued.
“It’s one thing to speak of passion,” Chi-Qua said. “It’s another to
