dandelion

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Places like that reeked. Not of conventional bad smells like sewers, rot, or dampness, unfortunately. What reeked was the opulence. The dirty, foul hypocrisy of people who wandered around with plastic smiles and feigned interest, shaking hands with potential partners and looking down on the expendable ones.

The occasion demanded that you play along with their little game, but you weren’t going to give that den of demons the satisfaction. You didn’t need to feign friendliness, just as you didn’t need superficial friends. In fact, you didn’t even need to be there in the first place, but not attending would have been rude to the host who, incidentally, had invited you himself. Your presence there was purely protocol. The prelude to a multi-million dollar deal that would propel both your company and your partner’s to new heights. All you needed was patience, to greet people out of pure courtesy if necessary, and to keep a low profile, for wise men were those who knew when to remain unnoticed.

The chauffeur parked at the curb while you adjusted the sleeves of your overcoat, made of thick brown tweed. That night’s charity gala would be a private affair, and the surrounding area was cordoned off, so there wasn’t a trace of the press. A shame, since your outfit, a crucial element of the confidence you exuded that day, was worthy of at least a photo or two.

As you stepped out of the car, the Noh family estate loomed imposingly on the hillside, a series of pavilions of fine wood and stone that stretched horizontally, staggered on two levels separated by staircases. An honestly impressive work of traditional-contemporary engineering.

The dark, rough, and cold granite walls framed the central gate of the property, whose doors were wide open. Two guards stood watch on either side. One of them stopped you to confirm your identity, before allowing you to proceed to the staircase leading to the first pavilion.

Small rock gardens and trees flanked you as you climbed each step, illuminated by warm lights installed along the sides and complementing those of the rest of the house. You soon encountered guests once you reached the first pavilion, made up of two symmetrical wings that formed a semi-square.

The space, with its low ceiling and dark wooden beams, was full of service staff attending to the recently arrived guests who were milling about between the lobby and the staircase leading to the main structure. Many gave you curious glances, as you were no stranger in the business world. But despite their more than obvious desire to approach and flatter you, you walked past them, hands in your pockets, head held high. After climbing another set of stairs, leaving behind couples of guests who stopped at the landings to admire the views of Seoul, you arrived at the house itself: two low-ceilinged floors stacked one on top of the other. You crossed the threshold of the ground floor.

The grand foyer opened onto an expanse of dark basalt, polished to such an extent that it reflected the ambient lights, making them look like stars on a black lake. It was an open space that extended into both wings, supported by solid wooden columns that rose to a network of beams that held up the entire ceiling. The view stretched out in both directions. To the left was a kitchen and bar area, where employees were serving drinks and appetizers. While on the other side, where the crowd was denser, the wing extended into more dimly lit lounges, furnished with designer pieces.

All in all, it looked like a small palace on the mountains of Seoul. It was beautiful, yes, but ostentatious to the extreme. The Noh family, at least its main branch, consisted of only three people; they definitely didn’t need all that space. It was, quite simply, a way of saying, “ Hey! Look what I have and you don’t.”

And speaking of hypocritical and pretentious pigs…

As you made your way toward the center of the room, a man in his mid-forties detached himself from a small group of people upon noticing your presence. Mr. Noh approached you with measured, confident steps, attempting to project his authority over you, his suit as gray as the floor beneath your feet. He had black hair slicked back with gel, and a few gray hairs were already showing.

“Mr. Salvatore. I’m glad you’ve honored us with your presence,” the man said with a forced smile and heavily accented English, offering you a hand which you briefly shook. His gaze swept over you from head to toe, acknowledging how well you looked.

“It’s not in my nature to be ungrateful, so I could hardly miss this.” You returned the smile without showing your teeth, hands clasped in front of you. “You have a beautiful home.”

Mr. Noh nodded and looked proudly around.

“Built from the ground up to my wife’s and my specifications,” he said before fixing his gaze on you. He was taller than you, but not by much. “But don’t play the fool, Mr. Salvatore, you didn’t come here to flatter my house.”

“Certainly not,” you acknowledged.

“My partner assured me that your perspective on the investment is most… optimistic. I hope we can discuss the deal tonight.”

“Your partner is not mistaken. Would you mind waiting until the gala is over?”

“Not at all,” Mr. Noh shook his head. “However… did you come alone? Without a legal team or…?”

“Years of hard work have taught me to fend for myself, Mr. Noh. I consider myself quite capable of closing a deal on my own.”

Mr. Noh let out a laugh and patted you on the arm.

“Admirable, without a doubt,” he nodded. “But I strongly advise you not to get used to it; sooner or later, when the responsibilities overwhelm you, you’ll need to delegate a thing or two to less… important people.”

There it was. The tone with which he capped that last sentence was more than telling: this man considered himself superior to everyone present. Superior to you, even.

“I appreciate the advice, but I pray that day doesn’t come soon. I know how to take care of my own money.”

Mr. Noh nodded with a prolonged gesture, as if conceding the point.

“Naturally. You couldn’t have become the wealthiest vineyard owner in Italy without being a shrewd man, could you?”

You smiled. At least he understood who he was dealing with.

“Well, you’d be surprised how many dimwits make it to the top.”

You weren’t sure if he caught the jab or not, but his laugh was a nervous one.

“You’re a funny man, Mr. Salvatore. I’ll leave you now,” he said, taking a step back. “As you understand, I have other guests to attend to.”

“Naturally,” you gave a slight bow to respect his customs.

“Enjoy the gala, please. Make yourself comfortable and don’t get lost, okay?”

“You can count on it.”

You watched Mr. Noh walk away until he disappeared into a group of guests on the left. You were left alone for a moment, processing the fact that, to him, you were probably little more than a useful tool. You didn’t buy into all that fake hospitality bullshit, and frankly, you didn’t care; you hadn’t traveled halfway across the world to make friends. Much less friends like that scumbag.

What you did care about was enjoying your stay for as long as it lasted. You didn’t have many options for that, since wherever you went, you were going to encounter the same kind of people and the same kind of conversation. The best you could hope for was a good drink alone and hoping nobody approached you, so you headed towards the bar area.

As you might expect, the bar was completely open to the guests. You took one of the empty stools at the far right, resting your elbows on the polished mahogany surface. Behind you, you heard murmurs from people who, before you arrived, had been speaking in a perfectly audible tone of voice. You were almost certainly the subject of their conversation was you, but since you didn’t speak Korean, your suspicions would remain just that.

On the other hand, the bartenders probably didn’t speak English either, so you used gestures and simple words to order a Negroni. As you sipped it discreetly, a few people—investors, business owners, lenders—were brave enough to approach you and greet you politely, but the rest kept their distance or simply pretended you didn’t exist.

Which quickly led to you getting bored.

Korean culture was vastly different from Italian culture. Koreans were extremely formal and reserved. Conversations between them progressed cautiously, slowly. In the entire hour you sat there, you didn’t hear a single hint of familiar, friendly laughter, like you always heard in Florence. It was probably the closest you would ever get to being among robots programmed for optimal social interaction. No spontaneity. No free will. No camaraderie.

The only thing that could break the monotony was something impactful enough to capture the attention of all the guests at once. Something that, no matter how hard they tried, couldn’t be ignored. Something that would become the focus of livelier conversations. Conversations sparked by spontaneity.

Miraculously, that something seemed to have arrived.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed many of the guests leaving sentences unfinished. It wasn’t an abrupt silence, but everything seemed to quiet down even more than usual. Realizing the awkwardness of the moment, many resumed their conversations almost immediately, but none could stop staring at the same spot.

Curious, you placed your glass on the bar and stood up to take a look.

There, on the first flight of stairs leading to the upper floors, a patch of white, amongst the gray and black, shattered the previously established visual identity. The girl, with long, dark hair and delicate features, descended the steps slowly, scanning the room with a cold, unimpressed expression. Her short, strapless white satin dress, adorned with a bow at the neckline, hugged her slender figure and accentuated her beautiful porcelain skin.

From the way everyone was looking at her, you easily concluded that she was someone important. More so than anyone else present. Only one person besides Mr. Noh came to mind who fit that description.

That was, without a doubt, his only daughter and heir to his entire fortune, as the old man had no sons. Noh Yunah.

The girl exuded a fascinating aura. She was fully aware that all eyes were on her, but her impassive demeanor clearly demonstrated how much she loathed it. The caged animal syndrome, you called it. Noh Yunah didn’t want to be there. You’d even venture to say that, if it were up to her, she’d run back the way she came.

As she reached the last step, the circle closed around her. Three or four men approached to offer bows and introductions, with frankly pathetic and desperate gestures, but Yunah didn’t even bother to look them in the eye. She feigned a polite smile before it vanished completely.

Her audacity made you smile. And why not admit it? You were immediately attracted, for it was the first time that night you’d seen someone not acting like an NPC.