XVIII.

S H O W  P O N Y

—aka, dealing chess with a queen is a pawn's tearful gambit

EXT— 6TH ARRONDISSMENT.

PARIS, FRANCE — MORNING.

SCENE I.

A BEAUTIFUL PENTHOUSE in the best street in Paris, fit for a socialite who I didn't even know existed when I was here in my jobs.

A mark like this is rare. Sure you can say you're the best of the best if you can puncture and alienate the circles of the rich, but just like the rest world of— even the one percent is divided in tiers. Quiet socialites are usually in a hierarchy even the best of us struggle to reach. They are the money and power behind decisions that could affect the rest of the world. They live unbelievably comfortably, back doors already open before they could even look up from unnamed shoes.

(True rich doesn't really care for the titled products. A name is nothing but preference, something to brag about. You buy by the quality).

As soon as the elevators opened to a foyer, my spine straightened. Kristoff felt the movement, with our elbows interlocked to appear a united front. It seemed silly sure, but I knew the character I had to play.

I wasn't too sure the character she plays, but being on guard can't possibly do you any harm.

As long as I acted the part.

"Nervous?" Kristoff asked. "Or excited?" He nodded and Archie who had been behind us had taken the procession, walking ahead to face my next trial.

"Can't I be both?"

"And I thought you were confident."

"Oh, that I am."

Whether that was a bluff is up to you, isn't it? Hardy-har.

What are my first thoughts of Natasha Kim?

She was just like the grey clouds. Hidden beneath her is a thunder thinly concealed. And by god, was she beautiful.

Of course she was, she was Kristoff's aunt for god's sakes.

Dark, pin-straight black hair cut in a severe length just above her collarbones. Darker eyes, lined in a simple kohl, with an oddly Roman nose for an Asian woman. But she was beautifully pale, not like a porcelain, touched more with a little bit of sun. The first thing I notice were her lips, a solid colour of red that left little marks on the coffee she was drinking, matching the exact shade of her nails.

She was elongated on a chair in a lone table of plain white fabric brimmed full with little bits of breakfast— a mixture of classic French: salted butter, sliced baguettes, tartines and jellies. A hot coffee pot and pistachio gelatine to my surprise, one of my favourites. Coexisting between that familiarity are a surprise find of Korean food. There was the distinct look of small fishes, fermenting greens, and what I can only assume is the fluffiest little pot of steaming egg.

Her eyes found mine first and foremost, diamonds— big, big diamonds in her fingers glinting as she set the cup down. And it was such a pretty cup. Gold-rimmed and painted with 17th century scenes.

We came to a full stop just as Archie bowed low.

"Ah." Her lips formed into a smile. Lines, shadows of them, pulled at her face that barely showed her age. "The lover. Bonjour."

I bowed, not as low but just as respectfully as Archie did, arm still nervously intertwined with Kristoff's so it felt a bit awkward. When I looked up, her eyes were on our shared space.

"Bonjour, madame. Merci de m'avoir invité."

Her smile stretched just a little bit, but her eyes— God, the way she looked at me reminiscent of Kristoff's first gaze. Walled. Not entirely cold like his though, or impolite, just. At an arm's length.

"I was told you spoke fluent French. Nationalité française?"

I blinked. Once. "Oui."

Kristoff, ever the man of statutory politeness, inclined his head in a guise of a bow. "Joh-eun achim-ibnida, imo."

"Hmm." His aunt smiled. Her smile. . . off. "Kristoff."

I paused, heart in a grip. There was. . . something there. A. . . sharpness, I wasn't expecting, especially an aunt to a nephew. . . or even a nephew to an aunt. This proved the little alarm in my head when Archie's already perfect posture straightened even more.

I thought you were on the same side?

Because though his words were in respect, the way he only inclined his head and tilted his chin the minute his greeting was over spoke volumes. And I've unlocked a few Kristoffs myself. . . this was one was familiar. The very same man I met on a boat in Italy.

And his aunt's response was in kind.

A match between two fencers, awaiting the Allez.

"Well?" Natasha Kim said, inclining her head to the spread, privy to the sudden chilliness in the room but made no move to quell it or share on what the hell is going on. "Sit down, lovebirds. I'm sure you've had quite the month."

And when she laughed, by God did my grip on Kristoff's arm went tighter.

You kept something from me again, mother of—

I was hit with a prying gaze meant to break me down to figure me out. Casual. Calm. "Antonina, yes? Do tell me about yourself. It is so rare for our dear Kristoff to introduce a woman to family. Unless it was any of the women you don't really introduce."

Her laughter, though is a laugh, was scathing enough to puncture a blood vessel.

But I smiled, folding my hands over my knee.

I've fooled better marks after all.

"Well, it is quite the funny story. . ."

SCENE II.

I figured that I was going to have a somewhat difficult breakfast— I wasn't privy to luck. Everything I've done and worked hard for, I clawed for it.

But can't a girl at least think it wouldn't be verbal fencing match of my own? Pry. Forward. Point. I should have known better. The fight between women is a silent game. Our words are double jointed, our meaning heavy between saccharine words.

The questions themselves, though straight to the point and definitely nitpicking every inch of who I was supposed to be, the Antonina furnished, buffed and presented before her like a shiny new toy— was like a minefield. Every new question brought additional questions to support it, taking whatever thread I offered and pulling. I was a soldier in a foothold of the battle; winner or loser was hard to discern in the thick of it.

She was very particular of how we met.

"Must we change that too?"

He was drumming his fingers on the table, in that balcony in Venice. A starless sky, a silent sea. A city in near submersion. A shriek of laughter from somewhere, drunk or a child, made me pause before I continued.

"Not too much. Positano. Boat. A flirt over drinks. A night. But the morning after has to be revised— you're not the type to be smitten by just anybody, so use words that are pleasing but aren't... really a lie."

KC raised his fist, then ran a hand through his hair making a mess. "I'm confused."

"As am I," Archie said without looking up from his tablet.

Men. I sighed. "Okay... describe me. The first time you all saw me. One word."

KC grinned. "Fun."

Archie snorted. "Trouble."

"Possibility."

I leaned back, tilting my head at the pursed man. "Possibility?"

"Conspirator. Actor. Liar. A double edged sword."

I said one word. "... and that's a possibility?"

"A chance to win."

"So a game." I smiled. "A mystery. A chance. Then that's how you describe me. A what if you that wanted to find and see. Playing the lies as close to the truth as possible covers more holes. Gives us better coverage. Sure, I can teach you how to show someone you love someone, I can teach you a how a man behaves— but it wouldn't be how you love, isn't it? The way love manifests depends on the person they love. Every love is different."

I settled back on my chair, smiling. "And if we're attempting to pull a one over people who know you, to some degree. . . we need to follow your familiar steps, dance to it to make it more believable.

"Now... the basics of the great big love story is as follows..."

"... And he just," I turned to Kristoff, smiling as if the mere idea of remembering how we met was brining up the butterflies in my stomach and not the breakfast I was trying to force down my throat. "He invited me to breakfast. Ordered me more like it." I rolled my eyes, turning back to his aunt with a laugh.

Play the part, touch his arm— but not too much. Don't restrict him, make him uncomfortable. Keep the smile, answer firmly but in a blasé way. It helps if you keep noticing her jewellery— not a very hard practice because they gleamed against the peeks of morning sunshine.

A one woman play, including raising the curtains and fixing the props. Remembering the lines and performing for an audience that is not only in front of you but criticising everything that you're presenting.

I was definitely going to get a bonus out of this. I could do this, of course I could, but every puncture, every try of hers was aggravating my nerves.

Natasha laughed, warm and buttery. "So just like that."

"I wouldn't say just like that, exactly." I took Kristoff's hand under the table, a movement not amiss by the way the rest of my upper body moved. Her eyes followed. I smiled, perky and almost, almost annoying. "But all the travelling did help. Venice is so pretty this time of the year, and I got a very nice white coat. I think. . . Archie chose it?"

"Archie didn't." Kristoff's entire interaction so far was cursory, brief and somewhat cold, but from the interaction of aunt and nephew, that seemed the norm so I gave up on that.

But they had another thing coming if they didn't think I was going to get answers for that.

"Archie didn't?"

"No. I did." His hand escaped my own, eyes steady on the side of my neck. Before I could point out why, he reached over my ear, tucking a stray hair.

"Thank you?" Even the reply sounded like a question to my own ears. I felt shy. I made me look shy.

"You were fussing about your hair since this morning."

"Oh. Well." I laughed heartily. Silly, silly. "Yes, that's true. But I didn't realise you chose my coat. I loved it."

"I could tell." Kristoff rested a hand on my knee, warm and comforting. An anchor against buoyancy. "I'm glad you do."

I could stare at him throughout it, watch him fall into my steps as much as I move around his.

On the other end of the table just beside me, Archie had been kept to the sideline and to himself, which I very much preferred mind you. It did feel awkward not to even receive one warning stink eye, but I realised we were all playing a role, a space to fill in a rich man's game of chess.

Archie and I were pawns, and we had to behave like one.

Our roles were just different.

"Adorable."

Kristoff and I looked up. Natasha was smiling, as if she had won.

"She is adorable, Kristoff," she repeated. "I was wondering how this was going to be spun, but evidently, she helped smoothened the rest. You found a good one, or shall I say stumbled on a good one?"

She smiled, ring finger holding an enormous marquise-cut diamond slid across the bottom of her lip, in a thoughtful movement. "It will be a believable story— a gold digger in love with a rich a man, a rich man enamoured with a gold digger. It's the perfect twist to what Yuna tried to trip you over."

Archie and I were frozen, my mouth in a waning smile. Kristoff scoffed. A nentirely too nasty, too human response that I looked back at him. The slight contortion in his eyebrows, the flat prim of his mouth. His jaw was locked. He was angry. Surprised even, but more angry.

"Of course you knew. KC is not doing his job well enough."

"Oh, your soldier is working well." She speared a fruit from her platter, entirely too lax while Archie was the complete of opposite of her; frozen and gritting his teeth. "It was Yuna's movements that made me re-think my people on you. They weren't enough, but I was able to piece through the obvious."

She eyed me with a grin. "Your face, mademoiselle, I must say was splashed too far and too between since meeting Yuna and then appearing by Kristoff's side. The game had been obvious to me, but it is enough to fool the rest."

She laughed through the back of her hand. "Suyeong-ssi eolgul-eul bogo sip-eo cham-eul su eobs-eo. . . I should have someone take a look at her expression when it happens."

A knock. All heads turned to the same guy I met last night— only he didn't look suspicious this time in a hoodie, cap and mask. He was well dressed in a suit, outlining what I suspected previously to be a lithe and built body. Like a dancer's. His eyes touched my frozen one's for one heartbeat before he addressed our host with a simple nod, hands clasped behind his back.

The door he had came out of was left slightly ajar, and I could see a wheelchair and a blonde head with someone else— a nurse maybe, but dressed in elegant clothes, a woman, brushing her hair. She was speaking to her but she was unmoving, with only the back of her head and old hands were slung on the side of the wheelchair visible.

"Excuse me," Natasha said, standing up. "I'll attend to mother. If she's okay for visitors, I would be more than happy for you to meet her, Antonina." She brushed her hands together, red nails gleaming, hands pale and impeccable. She was taller than I thought, in flowy slacks that ended in pointed red heels.

She danced a pointer finger my way. A cushion-cut diamond danced with it. "Whoever is hiding you is very good, whoever you are is very hard to pry. I do hope it all works out in the end. After all, appa already knows of your existence. You're very important now, and no one, not even Yuna— or me," her mouth stretched, pearly whites more threatening to me than Kristoff's own stony silence. "— is allowed to touch you now."

It was nice to meet you, Miss La Verne. Bienvenue dans le jeu. J'espère que tu dureras."

Translations—

French & Korean,

Bonjour = Hello

Bonjour, madame. Merci de m'avoir invité.  = Hello, ma'am. Thank you for inviting/the invite.

Nationalité française? = French national?

Joh-eun achim-ibnida, imo  = Good morning, aunt.

Allez = go/come on

Mademoiselle = Miss

Suyeong-ssi eolgul-eul bogo sip-eo cham-eul su eobs-eo. [수영의 얼굴을 보고 싶어 참을 수 없어.] = I can't wait to see Soo-young's face.

Bienvenue dans le jeu. J'espère que tu dureras. = Welcome to the game. I hope you last.

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That is a lot of goddamn translations, I hope you all enjoyed that tensed morning.

Because it doesn't end there.

Thank you for reading~