When the wind blows the wrong way

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  KIM NAMJOON sipped his British tea noiselessly in the library, as his eyes skimmed the contents of the tender he was supposed to give his approval. Seated in his prized Victorian chair - a family heirloom - he gave an appreciative nod to the man on the Anna Casa couch directly across him, whose visibly nervous form relaxed a considerable bit.

The woman sitting next to him squeezed his palm as a sign of comfort.

"Hansol, these speculations seem quite realistic and the assumed profits are pretty impressive, too. I suppose that you could let your father know that we have a deal," Namjoon affirmed, clearing the remaining creases on Hansol's forehead.

The woman next to him gave him a bright smile, which went unnoticed as a dulcet voice ushered into the conversation.

"Congratulations," tittered the woman seated next to Namjoon in an equally posh chair.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kim," Hansol answered, the haste in his response obvious.

"You can just address me as Joohyun, Hansol dear. After all, we are soon to become family, aren't we?"

"Y-Yes, of course," stammered Hansol.

  A 'tchah' from beside him grabbed everyone's attention. The woman, who had earlier looked upon Hansol with such endearing eyes, picked up a cookie from a silver tray and bit on it with as much venom as she could ooze.

"Why the irritation, Yerim?" Namjoon queried, his cool yet sharp gaze managing to still Yerim's actions.

"It was nothing really, Father. I only recalled an unpleasant memory," murmured Yerim, nibbling on the cookie like a tamed mouse.

"Then you should learn to control your reactions. It doesn't set a very suitable impression to your fiancé; does it now, Hansol?"

  Yerim's fiancé replied with a clumsy nod as he bent forward to help himself to some scones. Joohyun gave a tinkling laugh.

"Oh, come now, Namjoon honey. You mustn't be so hard on her. After all, little Yeri is still learning, isn't she?"

The condescension, despite being masked by saccharine notes - like a perfume's odour would a cigarette's fragrance - managed to reach its mark.

"It seems as though you've forgotten that little Yeri is not even five years younger than you, Joohyun," seethed Yerim.

  Sniffing the putrid waft of a brewing family fight, Hansol got up.

"Thank you for inviting me to tea, Mr. Kim. I'll need to leave now - there are some matters at hand that need attendance."

"Travel safely, Hansol. It was predicted that the weather woudn't be as pleasant as yesterday - storms are expected. A traffic-jam wouldn't suit you at this hour, would it?"

Hansol gave a tiny jerk of his head to indicate that Namjoon's warning was noted.

"Remember our date, Yerim," Hansol reminded and left the library, but not before glancing over his shoulder and quickly tilting it back to the front.

Namjoon put down the tender and took Yerim into scrutiny.

"How do these dates go? I hope that he doesn't have to suffer your ill temper, or your unsuitable eating habits."

"Don't worry about them, Father. We exchange conversation and drink coffee."

"Just coffee? Surely, it couldn't be because of your peanut, lactose, gluten and other allergies I might have forgotten?" Joohyun asked, the lack of concern and abundance of maliciousness thinly veiled in her words.

"And, what if it is?" Yerim snapped. Joohyun's eyes glinted with what looked like satisfaction.

"Control your temper, Yeri; she is your mother," Namjoon warned. "Surely, this is something taught in your etiquette classes, isn't it?"

"My mother is dead," Yerim whispered.

"Kim Yerim, you're taking this much too seriously. This is no way to talk to your parents. Let's end this here, understood?"

Yerim did not reply and was still quivering in anger.

"Understood?" Namjoon's icy voice had the desired effect - Yerim subdued with a meek nod.

"I shall do myself a favour by leaving and letting you have the famed talk," Joohyun spoke and picked up a Turkish Delight before getting up.

"And where are you off to, darling?" Namjoon queried.

"I shall have to write a complaint letter. Some of those hair products I use contain too many chemicals - might ruin my hair, for all you know," she sniffed, delicately touching her black locks as she bent forward to give Namjoon a kiss. "I will probably have to step out to deliver this - some of these consumer services are voraciously inefficient."

"I see. Return back soon, then," Namjoon smiled and bestowed another kiss on his wife.

Joohyun strutted out of the room, without forgetting her occasional swaying of the hips.

  With a satisfied smirk of the rear side of the gorgeous woman, the senior-most Kim turned back to find the youngest positively writhing in disgust.

"What do you see in her, Father? All I see is a gold-digger!"

"None of that nonsense now, Yerim. You shouldn't express your opinion on matters that don't concern you."

"But it does concern me, Father. That - that woman is your replacement for Mother. And I know that it's been years since her passing and I respect your wishes to remarry. But have you ever considered the fact that your new wife is nearly the same age as your daughter? And also the sole reason she married you? Seokjin's already told me how much you let her spend -"

"Why was Seokjin talking to you about accounts in the first place?"

"-and at the rate that spendthrift is going, you can rest assured that within a few months, Kim Enterprises will be on the rocks!"

Yerim fumed, her hair a little disheveled from the massive amount of shaking she had done during her outburst.

  A faint rustle tickled her ears but she dismissed it as the turning of pages caused by a passing breeze - the windows of the library were open.

"Again, this does not concern you. You won't be living in this house anymore, so don't meddle in things like my marriage and my firm. How I run the firm and how much money ought to be drawn out from its assets is up to me, not you," he thundered.

Instead of humbling his daughter, he succeeded in breaking her already fragile heart.

Then again, it wasn't the first time he had done so.

"Don't I, at least, have a say in this? I am a Kim, too," she whispered, desolation and desperation clouding over her face.

"You aren't a man, so naturally you don't have a say in this. Now, if I had a son - "

"You have a son," snapped Yerim. "You have a son - a son who is a junior partner in the firm."

"Ah, you mean Taehyung, that faggot."

She shuddered at the mention of the sexual slur.

"It is unfortunate that he's a junior partner and I can't cut him out without a reasonable excuse - that's against the law. But that does not matter. He's no son of mine. I will have left my company in good hands - Seokjin isn't a woman or a homosexual. He's also a very capable man, at that. You needn't worry your pretty little head about the company, Yerim."

  Struggling to keep her voice steady, she spoke in a choked voice: "Is this why I cannot work in the firm - because I am a woman?"

The only answer his daughter received was a hard, cold gaze.

"Please Father, let me prove my capabilities. I have so many wonderful ideas for the future - my perspective can be a fresh addition! I have done so much research ever since I completed my honours course in business and -"

"Regardless of your major and research, my decision remains final. I'm sorry," he concluded, although 'sorry' was the last thing he was.

Tears pricked Yerim's doe eyes as she stood up.

"You said that one shouldn't give up on their dreams. Then, why are you denying me mine? Just because I am a woman?"

"That was for a speech in a charity center and you know that. Besides, every chairman knows that any firm is bound to lose its touch once a girl steps into its threshold."

Yerim stood motionless, rooted to the ground. This could very well be the last time she could ask for something from her father and he denied it to her, just as easily as turning the next page of a book. After a few weeks, she would no longer be a Kim. Dreams of helping her father and watching the company grow shattered in that instant and even the tiniest glimmer of hope was stepped on, like one would step on cigarette ends to extinguish them of their final glint.

A soft cough barely reached her ears and the voice of her father's "enter" sounded like a badly-tuned radio.

The manservant, Park Jimin, made his way into the library, a fresh plate of biscuits and a refilled teapot balanced carefully in the silver tray he held. He started setting them on the table. The tinkling of china managed to waken Yerim from her reverie.

"You came a tad too late, my man. Nearly everyone has left but I suppose I can enjoy my cup of tea alone, eh, Yeri?" Namjoon remarked.

Yerim did not answer.

He ordered Jimin to pour him some tea and the man complied. Namjoon added a few sugar cubes, mixed them in and sighed in satisfaction. Jimin took his leave but not before casting a look at Yerim, who noticed.

Baffled by his expression, she touched her face to see if there was anything weird and sure enough, tear tracks glittered on her rosy cheeks.

"Is this your last word, Father?" The question was lifeless, almost dead.

"You heard me. Now go get some rest. There is a lot of planning that you need to do for your wedding so that the guests aren't disappointed. Joohyun's busy, so I'm afraid that you'd have to meet with the planners yourself. You know my schedule, too ..."

At this point, Namjoon's voice was simply white noise to her, just like how he had chosen to ignore the turmoil he'd left his only daughter in.

Only one thing could be happen, now that she couldn't have her way.

Cruel as it sounded, it had to be done.

She stormed out of the haven of books, pausing only to see her father pour himself a last cup of tea.

*

  The house-keeper entered the library and saw her master on the armchair, fast asleep.

"Shall I switch off the lights, Mr. Kim?"

She received no answer, which surprised her, since Kim Namjoon was a light sleeper.

She crept near the Victorian chair, a hand drawn out cautiously. She gently tapped his shoulder.

Not even a shudder. How strange.

She sighed and decided to pick up the trays on the table. Her gaze fell on the sleeping man's face and what she saw made her stop in her tracks.

Death had come to Kim Namjoon swiftly and suddenly.

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