Lie Again! Chapter 77

Chapter 77. Love, Set, Match (4)

 

Joey’s eyes sparkled as she began pouncing on Jin with questions about how this had happened. After a moment’s deliberation, Jin candidly told her what had occurred during lunch a few days ago. She trusted that Joey wouldn’t go around blabbing the story to everyone. 

 

“So, so? Did you see the look on his face?” 

 

Joey, who had insisted Jin couldn’t leave looking like that and was now fervently braiding her hair, asked with complete immersion in the story. She was so excited that her last few words were practically a scream. Unable to contain her glee, Joey grabbed Jin’s shoulders and shook her back and forth. 

 

“Ah, perfect! Let’s go on a date today and totally crush his heart.”

 

“Joey, I really said it’s not a date.”

 

It didn’t look like anything was about to be crushed anyway.

 

Jin spoke calmly amidst her dizzying, shaking field of vision. Her lack of confidence made the latter thought remain a mumble inside her mouth. 

 

Joey slid a scrunchie off Jin’s wrist and skillfully finished the braid. 

 

“You’re way too cautious. Fine, then. Let’s just call it a meeting for a guy and a girl to get to know each other, not a date.”

 

As she spoke, she draped the braid over one of Jin’s shoulders and nodded with satisfaction.

 

“Mm, I knew it would look good on you.”

 

After styling even the few stray strands, it was selfie time. Endless instructions to change poses or vary expressions continued, but the red convertible parked in front of them finally saved Jin from the selfie hell.

 

“Hello, ladies.”

 

James, sitting in the driver’s seat of the open-top car with the roof folded back, lifted his sunglasses onto his head and winked playfully. The moment she saw him, Joey’s lips twitched as she let out an exclamation.

 

“The car is so pretty!”

 

“Want a ride?”

 

James laughed at Joey’s comment, looking pleased that she noticed, and pointed toward the seats. Joey stared at the beige leather interior with a tempted expression but soon shook her head. 

 

“Oh, I want to so, so badly, but not today! Today is the day the two of you meet to get to know each other!”

 

“No, I told you…” 

 

Joey, who had just been arguing with Jin over whether it was a date or not, shot her a mischievous glance.

 

Jin, bewildered and unsure what was happening, turned away from James, who was staring in confusion.

 

“It’s a long story. Now, hurry up and get in!” 

 

Joey gave a playful grin, sticking her tongue out, and nudged Jin toward the passenger seat. She watched with a proud smile as Jin climbed into the convertible, then pulled out her phone and started snapping selfies. 

 

In the frame, next to Joey’s face winking and filling half the screen, James reached over to adjust Jin’s seatbelt.

 

James was quickly forced to retreat with his hands up by a sharp glare from Jin before he could achieve his goal, but Joey’s camera had clearly captured the large silhouette of the man half-covering Jin. 

 

The fact that Jin had her head turned toward James, showing only the slender line of her neck, made the photo even more evocative. 

 

It was a photo that exuded an atmosphere making anyone think, ‘There’s definitely something going on between them!’  

 

“Have fun!”

 

Joey turned away after waving both hands high above her head to see the convertible off. 

 

A strange light glittered in her eyes as she looked down at the photo she had just taken. 

 

* * *

 

Afternoon sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling window that filled an entire wall. On the blue marble table, emitting a subtle glow, a vermilion sander’s zinnia stretched its elegant stem like a bell, and the neatly arranged porcelain plates caught the light and gleamed with quiet beauty.

 

Even though the private room was large enough to comfortably fit a dozen or more, only two people were dining there. Yet there was no conversation between the two men at either end of the long table; only the soft clinking of utensils echoed through the room.

 

As the wine glass of the man sitting at the head of the table became empty, a server standing by the door approached and poured white wine. Evan watched the man—who possessed a sharp, solemn aura—rest his finger lightly on the base of the glass, then lowered his gaze. 

 

On his plate lay salmon adorned with a pale green aguachile sauce, arranged with flamboyance. The chef had come earlier to explain at length how he had flavored it with dill and citrus. The careful effort on the dish was evident, matching the long-winded explanation.

 

The places his maternal uncle chose were always like this. He acted as if he could not tolerate even a single drop of sauce that did not have someone’s labor imbued within it.

 

But whenever Evan looked at these dishes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were empty. Just like this room. Large and luxurious, yet the contents were utterly desolate.

 

‘He’d probably faint if he saw the lunches served at Crawford.’

 

Evan sneered as he pressed down on the fresh fish with his fork. It was quite comical to imagine this man in a suit sitting in a chaotic cafeteria, looking dubiously at a tray of greasy food. 

 

The meals with his uncle, which occurred once every three months, mostly went like this.

 

Sit in the restaurant chosen by his uncle, force down the meal he picked, fill his mind with pointless thoughts, and endure the time.

 

Evan ignored the stinging ache in the pit of his stomach once again. Once the meal was over and he returned home, the pain would vanish as if it had never been there. 

 

When Jonathan saw Evan moping over his uncle’s call, he had asked why he didn’t just refuse to go if he hated it so much, but that was a naive question. 

 

Immediately after his maternal grandfather’s funeral, his mother, who had been living soaked in alcohol, was taken by the arm by his uncle and put on a plane to France. The stated reason was for her to continue the art studies she had abandoned due to pregnancy, but in reality, Evan knew it was closer to an exile because the uncle could no longer stand to look at his disheveled sister. 

 

Following the absence of parents to look after him, Evan’s welfare was solely his uncle’s concern.

 

Christopher Warren was fundamentally a strict man. Evan had spent his adolescence under that man who valued etiquette, dignity, and formality, and he had realized early on that rebellion was an act that only served to shrink his own radius of freedom. 

 

“Straighten your back. Tuck your chin.”

 

As he relaxed his posture while lost in thought, the rebuke came immediately. As he lifted his head, he met the grey eyes staring back at him. 

 

His uncle looked more like his late grandfather with every passing year. It was especially true as his deep brunette hair gradually turned grey.

 

In the past, he had simply thought that blood doesn’t lie, but now he was confused as to whether the man truly resembled the grandfather or if their uniquely stubborn personalities made them grow alike.

 

“You’ve picked up useless habits. How long do you plan to stay there?”

 

Evan corrected his posture without a word, and only then did the man tear his gaze away and elegantly slice the perfectly cooked salmon.

 

Evan knew exactly where ‘that place’ was, which the man spoke of as if he didn’t even want to say the name. His uncle was someone who never hid his disapproval.

 

Evan replied nonchalantly to the old argument that had continued since he entered middle school.

 

“What do you mean how long? Until I graduate.”

 

“I believe I told you to transfer to Trinity.”

 

This, too, was a long-standing command. A tedious urging to move his enrollment to a private school in Florida—one with the highest tuition and attended by children of long-standing upper-class families.

 

“What for? I don’t have anything I want to do anyway, and you’re going to buy my way into a university by donating a lawn. It doesn’t matter where I am.”

 

He didn’t know why he couldn’t just brush it off by saying he’d think about the old topic, or why a sudden sense of rebellion reared its head.

 

“Watch your tongue. Unless you want to be sent to a boarding school.”

 

“…I’m sorry.”

 

A cold warning came immediately. Evan avoided the weaponlike gaze and obediently lowered his eyes.

 

Fortunately, the man accepted his compliance and offered no further scolding. The suggestion to go to Trinity was quietly dropped.

 

Evan knew this generous treatment was only because he was a ‘Butterfield’ and not a ‘Warren.’ 

 

If he hadn’t inherited his father’s surname, his middle-school plea to live alone would never have been accepted, nor would he have been able to go to Crawford against objections or spend his time aimlessly as he pleased.

 

‘Should I call it a relief?’

 

He was quite pleased with his situation—being pushed out of the Warren family’s focus because his mother was treated as the black sheep of the family. If possible, he wished they would take their eyes off him entirely.

 

Evan watched the man who fulfilled his duty by turning his sister, who was bound by ghosts, back into a functioning human being and occasionally checking in on her son. Then he turned his gaze to the server standing by the door. The server was secretly pressing on his lower back with his hands behind him, as if his back ached from standing still for so long.

 

It was funny that everyone in this large room—him, his uncle, and the server—was spending time they didn’t want. 

 

Scoffing inwardly, Evan cut off his thoughts and focused on the meal. It seemed better to do so to shorten this time, if even by a little, and before that server’s back gave out completely.