A girl from high society [JENSOO]

3

At the time appointed by Edward, Jisoo, already completely calmed down and, as it seemed to her, ready for anything, paced the room with nothing to do. She had braided her hair, arranged it in—as it seemed to her again—a more refined hairstyle, carefully examined her image—there were no specks of dust anywhere, made up her lips—which she could not stand, and now she walked back and forth, glancing at her watch every now and then and starting to worry. Edward still did not go, although it was already approaching one o'clock in the afternoon, and Jisoo did not want to be late for lunch in this house at all, and she had already picked up the phone, intending to call the guy, when suddenly there was a quiet but decisive knock on the door.

-Yes?

-Miss Kim?

Jisoo immediately recognized the impassive voice of Butler John, who seemed to burn her cold even through the door. She looked at herself again, straightened the nonexistent folds on her skirt and straightened up, crossing her arms over her chest.

-Come in!

The door opened, and the immaculately dressed butler with his stone face stood on the threshold, looking at Jichu with detachment and equanimity, like a principal at a guilty schoolgirl.

-Mr. Kim Jr. sent me to escort you to lunch, Miss Kim.- He said in a flat voice, looking somewhere through the girl.- He and Mr. Kim are waiting downstairs.

Jisoo smiled with relief.

-Thank God, otherwise I was going to go down myself.- She said, hoping that seeing a smile, John would thaw a little. But nothing was reflected on the butler's frozen face, and it seemed that Jisoo's warmth even hurt him.

-That would be a mistake, miss.- He said, stepping aside and giving the girl a chance to pass.- Mr. Kim Sr. does not like when someone comes to dinner earlier or later than the appointed time.

Gritting her teeth, Jisoo slipped past the butler, stung by his obvious hostility, but immediately stopped, as if remembering something.

-John, didn't they tell you in your butler courses or wherever you studied there that guests need to smile back if they smile?

John carefully and quietly closed the door to the room and turned his frozen gaze on the black-haired. At first it seemed to her that he wanted to say something insanely unpleasant, the crease of his lips became so icy and hard, but then he said in the same even tone:

-I'm a hereditary butler, Miss Kim, and it's not my job to smile at random guests of this house.

Jisoo chuckled bitterly.

-Random guests?

-Yes, miss.

He held out his hand in the direction of the corridor with an index gesture. Kim even thought that a faint sarcastic smile was playing on his lips.

-Please. It is not necessary to be late for lunch on the first day.

Touche.

Talking furniture wasn't as simple as you thought, Jisoo.

She shook her head, admitting defeat, and hurriedly followed John through the empty corridors, looking into his straight — as if a stake had been driven into his back. Again they walked along the countless doors leading to someone's -or no one's— rooms, again they went down the stairs past the stained—glass windows depicting bloody scenes from the Bible, and when they reached the first floor, they met a young, plump woman in a maid's costume: a dark blind dress and a white apron — very pretty, but with the the same absent expression on her face. She was carrying a stack of laundry and bowed her head affably when she saw Kim, but John did not even deign to look at her, but silently walked past, opening the doors of countless rooms one by one. In one of them, there was a huge mahogany grandfather clock in the corner, and Jisu involuntarily shuddered when it began to strike.