Chapter 37: Learning Korean

The Watson estate was a palace—grand, immaculate, and far too quiet.

Cora sat at the long dining table, glancing from one end to the other, stunned by the sheer distance. How do people even talk like this? You’d need a microphone just to ask for the salt.

She ate slowly, trying her best to remember every rule her etiquette instructor had drilled into her. Fork in left hand, knife in right. Small bites. No slouching. Still, her movements were stiff and uncertain.

Across the table, Madam Watson finally put down her utensils. “Cora.”

Cora froze mid-bite. “Yes, Grandma?”

“The Korean delegation confirmed their visit for the weekend,” the old woman said evenly. “You won’t be going to work this week. Stay home, rest, and focus on your manners. I’ve arranged for an etiquette tutor to train you privately. Your current standard is… unacceptable.”

Cora’s face burned. She’d grown up ordinary—there had been no tutors, no formal dining lessons. What could she say?

Julian’s knife paused mid-cut. “Etiquette isn’t mastered overnight,” he said mildly. “She’ll improve with time.”

Madam Watson’s brows arched ever so slightly, a flicker of amusement crossing her sharp eyes. So it was true—her untamable grandson was finally showing his reins.

Cora hadn’t expected him to defend her. Her chest warmed, and she risked a quick, grateful glance his way. But Julian didn’t even look at her. The warmth evaporated instantly.

By the end of the meal, she felt as though she’d survived a war, not lunch.

The house might have been a symbol of power, but to her it felt cold and suffocating. Give her instant noodles in a small apartment any day over this cavernous mansion.

Julian noticed her relief the second they stepped outside. He didn’t comment, just got in the car and started driving.

“Grandma didn’t mean to insult you,” he said after a moment.

Cora blinked, startled. “What?”

He shot her a glance, and for some reason, the confused look in her eyes made his chest ache a little.

“At lunch—she wasn’t criticizing you personally. You don’t need to take it to heart. A week of focused lessons will be enough to get by.”

Cora nodded earnestly. “Oh, I didn’t take it that way. I was just thinking… are you sure I’m the right person to receive the Korean delegation?”

“They specifically requested you,” Julian said simply.

Her expression firmed. “Then I’ll do my best.”

He almost told her she didn’t need to treat it as work, but stopped himself. If he said that, she’d probably run for the hills.

So he let her believe what she wanted.

⸻

Over the next few days, Cora trained hard under the etiquette teacher’s supervision—posture, speech, greetings, the works.

And, since the guests were Korean, she started learning basic phrases too.

When Julian came home one evening, he heard a soft, rhythmic voice drifting from the living room.

“Saranghae-yo…”

The words hit him like a jolt. He froze mid-step, pulse skipping.

The little mole was sitting cross-legged on the couch, hair tied messily, notebook open on her lap.

“Annyeong haseyo…” she continued, mispronouncing it adorably.

Julian approached quietly. “Do you know how to say I love you in Korean?”

Without thinking, she blurted, “Saranghae-yo!”

He leaned in, teasing, “Didn’t catch that.”

Cora turned, startled—and mortified when she saw him standing there. “You’re home!”

Her cheeks flushed pink. Great. He caught me sounding like a broken language tape.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why that phrase?”

Cora blinked. “I don’t know. The instructor taught it, so I repeated it.”

Whatever flicker of warmth had been in his eyes vanished. He turned on his heel and walked away without a word.

Cora stared after him, baffled. What did I do this time?

She was starting to get used to his unpredictable mood swings—sunshine one second, storm cloud the next.

⸻

That evening at dinner, he was still cold.

Cora sighed inwardly. If he keeps ignoring me, how are we supposed to host anyone together?

After a moment’s hesitation, she quietly placed some vegetables into his bowl.

Julian’s eyes softened almost immediately, his ego purring at the gesture.

“What’s this?” His voice dropped, smooth and amused. “That look… are you asking me for something?”

Cora blinked, caught. “I—well…”

He smirked. “Go on.”

“I just… Grandma said the Korean president and his wife will arrive this weekend. I think I’m terrible at Korean. Maybe… I should just smile and not say anything at all?”

The corner of his mouth froze.

Not speak?

She’d rather stay silent than ask him to teach her?

His chopsticks hit the table with a sharp crack. Without a word, he stood and walked off.

Cora threw her hands up. Seriously?! How does one man change moods faster than the weather?

Mrs. Zhang hovered nearby, whispering worriedly, “Mr. Watson barely ate at lunch. If he skips dinner too, his health will suffer.”

Cora clenched her jaw. That stubborn man…

As his wife—even on paper—she couldn’t just ignore him. And if she did, the housekeeper would probably report her to Grandma by morning.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll take him dinner myself.”

Mrs. Zhang brightened immediately and handed her a tray. “Good idea! He always eats when it’s from you.”

Cora sighed, arranging small portions from each dish. Then, carefully balancing the tray, she went upstairs.

Knocking lightly, she pushed the door open with her elbow. “I’m coming in.”

Julian looked up from his laptop, one brow raised. She was holding a tray big enough to block half her face.

Without a word, she crossed the room, set everything down, and pulled up a chair across from him.

No speeches. No pleading. Just quiet determination as she picked up her chopsticks and started eating.

He didn’t stop her. He just watched, silent fingers tapping on the keyboard, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips.