The sturdy wooden doors opened when she said her name. As if it was a secret code. Or maybe a spell. A tall, elegant young woman asked for it, looked in her magic list, and the doors opened to the new restaurant of molecular gastronomy called Chiaro Di Luna.
The red carpet at her feet greedily devoured the sounds, silencing her march. It tried to hide her from view. It failed. Most turned around to watch her, saying her name in whispers and changing their expression suddenly while remembering her face.
Despite the beautiful melodies that the piano produced, some of the phrases were able to reach her ears. Phrases that remembered how she had fired the former pianist, and how she replaced and surpassed the poor pianist.
Many of those people around were regular customers. Some even seemed to have freeze in their place since the last time she visited the restaurant. It was as if the place was frozen in time. Detached from reality and eternally preserved to be enjoyed by few. The elegance and opulence displayed in every little detail might well have come from another time. From a not so distant past. Of knights and ladies.

Celeste arrived early, as expected, and took place at her usual table. Neither near or far from the entrance, or neither near or far from the piano. It was the perfect place. While waiting, she read the menu with great interest, even when she knew what she was going to ask.
Now she had to wait. She thought to send him a suit, but she imagined that Sam would feel extremely insulted. So she decided to trust his taste. After all she had to show him that now, she was mature enough for friendship. Was not a part of friendship to trust in others? The girl needed to show maturity and self control. As usual. Her tears were too valuable to be shed over trivial matters. Unfortunately Sam had attacked her in two moments of weakness. Sure he will thought she would cry for everything, all day. He could not be more wrong. Even in from of her family she dared not to mourn. But with Sam... well, their relationship was a little odd. But the death of her grandfather left her a little tender.
The girl let out their concerns in a long sigh, she was ready to enjoy that night. And nothing would stand in her path.

The time was 7:45 and Sam was a bit lost. This was not a block of New York he had visited before and he seemed to have got turned around. He felt angry at this because it was not as if New York was a particularly hard city to navigate, it was after all made of squares. He thought back to the map he had studied on the internet before coming out: out of the station turn left go on for a block and the restaurant should have been on the left across the street. Looking around he hoped for a clue to help guide him, but having never been here before that was a bit of a vain hope.

He had also bothered to look up the website for the restaurant he was headed to, which meant that he was at least dressed correctly for this part of town. Everything around here was opulent to say the least, there were exclusive brand name shops everywhere and most places had black tinted windows. This was a place you only came if you knew what lay in the shops or restaurants beforehand, casual passersby were not welcome. So he was lost, mainly because everything looked so damned similar.

Deciding he had probably not gone far enough he continued up the street, if he had not found the place by the end of the block at least he would have the intersection reference to help him find out where he had gone wrong. Dressed all in black but for the splash of white brought on by his shirt he faded into the night and the people he walked past did not give him a second glance. This had not been the case in the subway. There he had been seriously over dressed and people had stared, one little girl had even laughed at him. He knew he did not look stupid; the suit he had picked was stylish and modern but it still hurt his pride a little that kids should find him laughable. He should tell Celeste that, ask her if she realized what she was turning him into.

Just as he was about to give up and decide that he must have gone the wrong way down the street he caught sight of the sign he had been looking for. The Chiaro Di Luna was like most of the places here, somber on the outside with a doorman posted outside so that the customers would not have to tire themselves opening the door. He walked up trying hard to look like he was meant to be there and the door was politely held open for him.

Stepping inside the restaurant seemed to be a mistake because if he had felt out of place on the street now he felt like something the cat had dragged in. The customers did not turn and stare but he could feel the eyes on him and a murmur of conversation went through the room. He saw no sign of Celeste and all he could do was hope that she had already arrived as he could not bear the thought of having to wait here alone. He stepped forward and spoke to the chef de salle who was waiting patiently and doing his best to hide his curiousity.

“I’m here to dine with Miss Celeste Manfrella.”

The reaction his sentence had on the man put the illusion mutant very much in mind of that time in the store. It had been the day he had met Celeste and he had been a bit freaked out by how much fear a snobby fourteen year old could inflict upon people. Apparently the staffs in this place were no more immune to that fear and he was ushered hastily to the place his date was waiting.

Bored and restless, she wondered why she was always so early. It was always the same question every time she was in a similar situation. And the answer was the same year after year. That behavior, which was perhaps her only act of empathy for another human being, was simply to arrive early everywhere. After all, she hated to wait. So she do not want to left anyone waiting for her. She was always the first to arrive. Although this made her feel anxious and bored. At least no one could say that her family were prone to be untimely.
She took her cell phone and checked the time. With desperation she saw there was a few extra minutes to wait. And she no longer had much more to do. Celeste had read the chef's recommendations, nodding in approval to the chosen dishes. She read the menu without prices from head to toe. And even tried to practice the ancient art of origami with her napkin. But the classic crane ended up looking like a fat duck. Instead of feeling offended and angry for her failure, she blamed the napkin for not wanting to cooperate with her. Was she being mature, right?

She was about to disarm the ugly duck and try again, when her eye caught a familiar face near the door. Seconds after he crossed the magical doors of her favorite restaurant, Sam was escorted through the maze of chairs and tables toward her. That was what she liked about that place. It was not the Italian food, or the advanced technique used for cooking and processing the food, not even the fact that any place of the restaurant was as clean as an operating room. No, of course not. What made her feel at home, was that feeling of power. Or was it the fear that she liked? Was there any difference? Well, at least in some places her name was still worth a little more than her money.
Freed from the waiting, she got up with great enthusiasm, and waited for her guest standing on the side of the table. With a big welcoming smile.

Her smile of relief and excitement quickly turned into a big smile of satisfaction while seeing his clothes. His choice was excellent. Even better than the traditional and boring tuxedo that most guess were wearing. Again, she had to admit that Sam had a very good taste in clothes. An enviable style.
Celeste dedicated him one of his usual reverences, in a very cordial welcome with which not only showed her education but her beautiful evening dress. Of course it was not as fancy as the silver dress she had worn at the auction. But it was a beautiful dress, delicate and simple of a navy blue. Perfect for an date. And her golden hair danced in long curls with every movement, and for a crown she was wearing a big bow of the same shade of blue.
Tilting her head to complete the curtsy, she greeted her guest using the little French she knew. "Monsieur Sam." A sly smile touched her lips as she returned to her original position. To wait for his answer. She was just playing, curious to find out how he will react.

It did not take Sam long to spot Celeste as she rose to greet him. She was dressed in a more somber fashion today, favoring a very good cut to all out bling. He decided that he approved of the dress but the bow was another matter. It kind of put him in mind of an Easter egg and the thought brought up one corner of his mouth in a sort of half smile. The staff member indicated the table and stepped back to let him pass. Sam guessed that it their world it was better to be as useful as possible but also as invisible as possible.

"Monsieur Sam."

The blond greeted him with a curtsy and a small slightly amused smile. He smile back but this time it was a smile that he had to hold back because he had just imagined the look on her face if his return greeting were just “Hi”. It would completely ruin the mood so he refrained from doing it but the idea was still oh so tempting. However he had decided to try and not make her cry today so he would behave himself.

"Celeste."

With the greeting, which was actually more just an acknowledgment of her presence, was accompanied by a small nod of the head. He would normally then have helped her back into her chair but one of the ever discreet staff had beaten him to it. So he contented himself with just pulling out his own chair and seating himself at the table. He noted then that he had a vast number of knives and forks laid out in front of him. He sighed, there was no way he was not going to commit a blunder on the order in which to use them. He’d just have to stick to the principle that you start on the outside and work your way in. It was only then that he noticed the waiter standing patiently at his elbow with a menu. He took it quickly and thanked the man and then he turned his attention back to Celeste.

"Come here often do you? The staffs sure seem to know your name."

He had also noticed that the sly stares and whispers from the other guests had become slyer ever since he had joined Celeste’s table. Did this girl scare even other rich aristocrats?

Fear. Envy. Rejection. Jealousy. So many emotions triggered by something as small and fragile as her. She was delicate as the piano notes. That also produced many more emotions. And while the stares were many, she had learned to ignore these strangers and their whispers. So many lies and so many truths out of their mouths, it was hard to tell which was a rumor and which was true. Even the lies had truths in them. So the rumors were never completely false or completely true. The pianist, some called her. Others said she was the daughter of a mobster. Sometimes it was the daughter of a president, from a distant country with a complicated name. Sometimes her father was a businessman or a trader. Other a modern slaver. They said so many things...

But as always, the employees of the restaurant were extremely busy in attending their star guest. So the girl could forget those lies and prejudices to enjoy a perfect night. Employees were dancing around her table with great skill, without stopping. It was a weird combination of classical dance and ninjutsu. The shadow of a shadow. Moving quickly. Accurate. Always accurate. Making no mistakes in any of the steps. If they did, they lost they job. It was sad, but true. So they were always one step ahead of their needs. As if they were reading their minds.

While one settled her chair, an employee offered Sam a menu, while another anonymous staff member walked gracefully from the kitchen with a tray full of ice where a bottle of champagne was resting. While the bubbling beverage was served, Celeste found a moment to respond to Sam. It was hard to not pay attention to that helpful dance around them. Watching them dance for her, filled her with pleasure. She demonstrated it with a smile for no one in particular. "Not so often. I only come here once a week. " She said, trying to make it sound normal and unimportant. She smiled, happy, hiding the sadness that caused her not to have company during those nights. "I always come alone." She confessed. Do not letting that sadness from seizing her heart. "It's the first time I have company."

The melody that escaped from the piano distracted her again. The new pianist was excellent, almost as good as she had been last week. The notes hung in the air long enough, to be replaced by new ones every moment. Each note flourished as a different feeling in their hearts, directing them to feel joy or sadness. According to the change of mood from the pianist and his pet with white teeth.
"Do you like the place?" She asked insecure. She had wanted to ask it since he arrived, but she knew the answer would be a bit different than what she was used to. Sam was able to tell the truth instead of nodding like a fool. It could end badly. Still, the question was pronounced.

Before he had even been able to open his menu, Sam already had an answer to his question and it was very Celeste like indeed. Her idea of not often was once a week was it? Well he hoped that she did not expect him to come out here every week from now on. But he would jump that hurdle when he got to it. For now he listened quietly to what she was saying.

"I always come alone. It's the first time I have company."

Now that was a bit more surprising, who let their fourteen year old come to the restaurant on their own? He would have understood better if she had been coming with her family but alone what was the point? And that statement shed some light on why the whispers had intensified when he had been seated at her table. Now they must be dying of curiosity, wondering just you he was to be Celeste’s very first guest. He hoped for both their sakes that no one found out who he really was. It do no one’s reputation any good if all these rich snobs found out he was just some nobody and a mutant to boot.

"Do you like the place?"

The question focused his mind once more and this time he took the time to look at the place rather than the people in it. The restaurant was of course beautifully appointed with a subtle play on the light and shadow. It was opulent without being tacky which was just right for a place like this but Sam had a feeling that he would not like the price tag of even the smallest of the ornaments here.

"It's very nice but not what I'm used to. I feel that in a place like this I'm going to have to be very careful not to do anything wrong."

It was hard explaining this kind of thing to her. What he was trying to say was that he knew that any misstep in etiquette would be held against him, and god knew he would screw up a few times before the end of the evening. So he was convinced that no matter how excellent the food would be he would not enjoy it half as much as he should for fear of using the wrong fork. Picking up the menu he decided to try and move things along a bit before she asked him to elaborate. Everything in there was written in Italian with a tiny English translation underneath and of course there were no prices.

"So what's good here?"

Almost guessing his thoughts, and fearing that the place he was not used could become a nightmare, she rushed to try to get some pressure off of his shoulders. "Do not worry so much, I will not get mad if you choose the wrong fork or cup..." The girl talked in a reassuring tone and full of understanding. Her words were soft and low as if she were speaking to a baby. "But please do not mess your shirt with sauce or champagne." Now, she changed her tone and pronounced each word loud and clear, giving much emphasis to the warning. Realizing so late that her words could be misinterpreted she added quickly a big smiled to show him that she was joking and continued with her reassuring speech. "We all make mistakes at first." She tried to say that even she had made a couple mistakes the first time her family have dinner in a luxury restaurant, and also on many other occasions throughout her short life but the words felt uncomfortable in her throat, so she preferred not to utter them. And choose to keep for herself these little mementos of weaknesses.

She continued with what she hoped was a good speech to encourage her guests to feel more comfortable. Although she was not really sure what to say, she continued, recalling the inauguration of that restaurant. She could remember what bothered her the most were the people looking at her with piercing eyes. As if they were looking directly into her soul and they were judging her. Surely most would have said guilty. "Besides, the food is so good that once you start eating you will forget the harpies watching us." She looked around furtively, catching furtive glances. She found several diners staring and whispering. She did not mind. She had learned to love the attention.

Containing a smile of malice, she answered quickly. "Everything." She was not lying, for there was nothing on the menu that did not prove worthy. "No one should die without enjoying these Italian dishes. She thought in moment of illumination. "I'm going to ask Di Fogli Mille Verdure as appetizer, Paccheri Scarpariello as first dish and my favorite Filetto in Crosta di di Manzo Mandorle as a second. " While she casually commented her choices, the waiter took her order with skillful hands. His pen deftly slipped on the paper until the order was completely captured. Celeste did not even look at him to see if he had recorded everything. She knew that he had done it. Again she had an internal conflict, should she explain those dishes to Sam? Without knowing how skilled was Sam on Italian, she explained each dish. Risking to offend him. "Vegetables with mozzarella, pasta with tomato sauce and spices, and almond-crusted fish with honey sauce, respectively. " At least she was kind enough to put it politely, as if sharing her knowledge. And not as a way of emphasizing the lack of knowledge of others. She begged Sam to know the difference between the two.

Sensing his hesitation Celeste rushed in to reassure him and as she did she began to dig herself a very very large hole. He could tell that she was trying her best to be careful of his feelings but it wasn’t really working. It seemed strange to him that rich people were raised in such a way as to remember oh so intricate manners but no one ever seemed to teach them any diplomacy. Resigned to being constantly reminded that he didn’t really belong in a place like this Sam settled down and tried to pull out the useful information in what she was telling him. He did however have to bite his lip to keep from making an anger comment as she hinted that he might be ham fisted enough to spill things on himself. He was a commoner not a retard.

Thankfully she quickly moved on to discussing the menu and placed her order in perfectly accented Italian. This just made him feel more stupid and also somewhat angry. Why was he feeling down because he couldn’t speak Italian? He was bilingual too it just didn’t happen to be in a language that would help him right now. Keeping a tight lid on his feelings he listened to her translation of what she had ordered and decided that none of it was to his taste so he returned his eyes to the menu.

It took a bit of squinting but he finally made his choice and instead of trying to give the name of the dish to the waited he merely pointed at the menu. It was a trick he had picked up on a trip to Japan with his friends. If you don’t speak the language pointing at things usually gets the trick done. So the end result of his ordering was some Carpaccio for starters and seafood pasta to follow. Now all he had to do was wait to see how stupidly small the portions would be, because molecular cuisine did not bode well for them being plentiful.

“Sorry I don’t speak any Italian, so pointing is probably less embarrassing than me trying it with a British accent.”

He didn’t add that things probably sounded better with a British accent than with an American one, but he reckoned that it was probably true. The British were very biased against the Americans, not so much against the people themselves but against the culture. And even though Sam was now living in the US that small superiority complex was not going to disappear overnight.

“So did you learn Italian when you were small? Did you have to take lessons? I would have thought that Spanish would be a more useful language.”

The situation was incredible absurd, she was doing everything to help him feel comfortable but she was failing making she looks like an horrible host. And looks like the worse person ever for having forced him to attend a place like that. She knew they must had gone to one of the many fast food chains in the city. But the simple idea of ​​putting one foot in those places gave her nausea.
When she was about to order one of the employees to read the menu for him, Sam made his order... pointing like a mute. It could have been worse. Anyway she doubted the employees could utter the word as easily as her. She had never tested it but she was sure they would fail miserably. As the former pianist.

It was her duty as hostess to make him feel comfortable. So she chose to share another ration of sincerity. Hoping that showing like imperfect human would help him feel better. She ignored the comment on the British accent the best she could, she hated that thick accent. Sometimes the words were closed that looked like a completely different language.
Finally she returned to her plan of showing sincerity. "If we went to a Korean restaurant, I would have to do the same. " That and because she would not be able to enjoy food without worrying about money. Sam could be saving money for something more important. Correction, for something different. What could be more important than her?
Not knowing if he would feel flattered or offended, she preferred to hide the fact she was already looking for a good teacher to choose the dishes for herself and avoid needing to rely on the good judgment of the waiters, since they rarely had a palate as refined as hers.

The idea of ​​a much smaller Celeste learning something amused her. It was illogical to think that she could learn anything by being smaller, smaller meant at least two or three years younger. Time when she considered that she had not learned anything. Maybe she did learn something, but her birthday in which she started using two digits for was so far away, buried in her memory. Forgetting those days when the family was united, she took a sip from her cup filled with icy champagne, nodding slightly she continued with an explanation that felt extremely painful. "Yes, my mother taught me. I never passed the intermediate level. And after she virtually abandoned me, I did not want to continue learning. Since it was a thing we did together." Secretly she desired to have those days again, but it was impossible. For some reason her mother did not love her anymore, neither her father. Both preferred businesses over spending time with her.

"Ciertamente lo es." The girl said with a strong American accent but with the correct pronunciation. "It certainly is." Said one more time but in the official language with the intention to not offend her guest since she find very impolite to speak in a language that the others could not understand. "I have a real Spanish tutor." One of the many tutors who were sometimes friends, sometimes parents but never stayed long enough to establish these links in depth.
"Anyway I do not agree, all languages ​​are useful in appropriate circumstances. Even Esperanto." Language from which she knew only a little more than Korean. Only a few popular words. All that talk about languages was producing on her an extreme curiosity about his origin. His accent was saying his last place of residence was England but his face had oriental roots. A mixture of totally different cultures. "Can I know why you moved to England?" The question came out of her mouth as if it was alive, small and weak. But strong enough.

From the bizarre look Celeste gave him Sam could tell that his clever ordering technique had not impressed her. He let it slide as she then admitted that she would have had to do the same thing in a Korean restaurant; which he had to admit was only half true. If she had been ordering in Korean then probably but most middle class restaurants in New York listed the original name for the dish and the English translation in big friendly letters next to it. But he guessed she probably did not know that as she had no doubt never been to a normal restaurant.

After all the kind of restaurants he was used to eating in did not provide you with an already filled glass of perfectly chilled champagne. Nor did they let minor’s drink for that matter, he watched as Celeste sipped hers like a connaisseur and wondered how far apart their upbringings really were. His mother would have grounded him for a week if she had found him drinking at fourteen. Personally he ignored his glass, he didn’t really like the stuff, he would drink it so as not to offend but he would wait as long as possible so as to limit the risks of the cup being instantly refilled.

What came next came as a bit of a surprise to Sam. It appeared that Celeste’s Italian came from her mother and that was a sensitive subject. Not that you would really know from the way she stated thing, neither her tone nor expression changed as she declared that her mother had abandoned her. He had already had doubts about her family situation but nothing concrete. Hearing her say it aloud seemed to make the whole thing sadder; he felt a pang of sympathy for her but kept it to himself for she had already moved on.

"I have a real Spanish tutor."

He had missed the beginning but he reckoned that it had to do with Spanish as well. He nodded slightly to indicate that he had been following her explanations and wondered how many different tutors she had. Because judging from her people skills she was clearly home schooled. He was curious to know what subjects an elite family considered important. Languages, some sciences, music, economics? He’d have to ask her sometime but not today because her next question was a difficult one.

"Can I know why you moved to England?"

There was a long and short versions of that story a neither were something he particularly liked to think back on. But he had promised to make an effort and she had kept up her end of the bargain so far, there had not been a single tear since he got here, so he decided to give her at least the short version.

“I moved to be closer to my mother’s family. My father died and Korean is not an easy place for a single foreign woman trying to raise a child.”

He remembered than time, everyone in the neighborhood had been so supportive at first. They had been genuinely upset about his father’s death but after a few months passed no one paid them any attention anymore. It was like his mother and him had become invisible, after a while his mother had declared that there was nothing left for them there and they had moved to London.

“It was quite a culture shock at first.”

Until Sam replied, she could not help but be extremely curious about his life. She imagined many possibilities for a change of residence that big and all of them were due to some much more pleasant reasons than the death of his father. Some of her ideas were even romantic, his father could have met his mother there and decided to move to England to raise their son. Now she wished she had not asked. In part because the memories could have turn him sad, as she always did while looking at her box with memories. Although in her case, it was a mixture of happiness and sadness.
And partly because now she wanted to know even more. She had all kinds of questions to ask about those early years in a country that was not hims.

His story was sad, which demonstrated a very hard childhood contrary to her childhood. Celeste could not help but smile slightly in a gesture of empathy probably trying to show more compassion than the amount she was accustomed. Of course, she also had some emotional problems with the distance between her parents, and suffered much by the death of her grandfather, but still it can´t be compare to what he and his family had lived. It was hard to admit it, but this time Sam won. If it could be say in that way.

Knowing that her curiosity would not magically disappear, she took another sip of champagne to build up courage. The taste was not what she liked most of the drink, but the social status it represented. The sensation that caused the frozen but still bubbly drink while going down her throat brought her back to reality. "Did you know English when you arrive to England?" She asked smiling. Excited about the possible answer. She gave him that smile with the intention of make him respond. Not wishing to cause sadness, but a sort of verbal frenzy which would let her learn all the things she wanted to know.

Although her parents were constantly on business trips around Europe, she could not imagine how would feel if they were dead. She did not see them, or talked with them much, so it was almost as close as if they were dead. She even had a guardian to care of all her legal stuff. It was as if everything was arranged for when both die for real. Everything would continue without a change. It would be the same. It was as if they were training her for that moment.
In her opinion, that was too cruel. Nothing explained why they preferred to left her alone.

"Did you know English when you arrive in England?"

Her question was harmless enough which was a relief because he had been a bit worried that she might pry more into his father’s death. It was a strange habit people seemed to have when you told them someone died. They felt that in order to sympathize fully they needed to know how it had happened and such things. So for once he was glad that normal social rules did not seem to apply with Celeste.

“I did, my mother is English so I was raised bilingual.”

It had been a gift and also a bit of a burden, he had always been able to speak both languages for as long as he could remember. So when it came time to try and learn French in school people had expected him to find it easy but instead it had been hell. He had absolutely no idea how to go about learning a language and has come away with very poor grades. This had of course been a big disappointment for his mother that spoke four languages fluently because of her job as a reporter.

“Now I don’t have much of a chance to speak Korean and I find it slipping away. Which is why I watch a lot of Korean dramas and listen to their music; it helps me keep my vocabulary up.”

He smiled, it was true that at first he had taken up kpop and dramas as a way of maintaining his slipping Korean but now it was a bit more of an addiction than anything else. Besides he felt a small sense of pride when artists from his birth country managed to make it in America, even if it was only one brief appearance at the MTV music awards. He also reckoned that Celeste would hate the whole thing, there was nothing cheesier than Kpop but that’s what made it appealing. It was all over the top looks and stupidly meaningless but catchy lyrics.

As he was musing over this the first course arrived. He had not been wrong about the portions being on the small side but at least the small amount that you got made you want to eat it. He stared at the elaborate yet minimalist decoration in his plate and wondered how long it had taken to develop.

The glorious appetizer, called Antipasti in Italian, arrived at her table after executing a dangerous dance on the edge of the abyss. Luckily the waiter knew how to skillful dodge obstacles. He managed to keep the dish in a righteousness position that almost impossible.
Once deposited on the table, Celeste found that the plate did not only smelled like heaven, but also looked as it. Each ingredient was part of a sculpture with different altitudes that challenged many laws of nature, the elements touched by the hand of the chef had been transformed so that they had a totally different appearance from its original form.
She waited for some prudential seconds after the dish was placed in the proper place, she did not want to show that she was desperate to put a good portion in her mouth. She was a lady after all.
At the same time, another waiter deposited a plate in front of Sam as elaborate as hers. The bright colors on both plates, begged to be eaten.
Obediently, she took a vegetable hidden in a thick layer of mozzarella. The flavor of melted cheese and grilled vegetable mixed to form a new flavor. Once again, the chef had outdone himself with something as simple as an appetizer.

Really surprised, she put a big smile on her lips that tried to hide her jealousy. "It's a really amazing skill. I wish I could speak two languages ​​perfectly." She said seriously. Even her mother had learned English perfectly, as busy as she was playing to be the Queen of the place. Secretly she always hated her for that. If her mother ad spent more time with her, she would speak Italian perfectly. "Then the only problem was the culture, do you miss a lot of small things from your country, right?" Among other things, her mother always complained about all the things she did not have. Although she had many. One unique cake, a few ingredients, a gift Italian shop. She said to need these little things to create her own Little Italy. Of course Celeste had never understood how she could miss the days when she have not a single penny.

Leaving aside the strange relationship of attraction and rejection she felt for her mother, she commented on the next topic. Music. Of course they were not talking about symphonies that had changed the world of music, of course not. They were talking about a different style of music. Almost bizarre. The girl hid her disappointment in her voice as best she could, but she still could not prevent the chosen words to be a bit hurtful.
"I never heard anything of Kpop, but occasionally my ears bleed while listening to Jpop. Are they similar?" She hoped Sam to understood that it was not an attack on him, but a clear rejection to all these modern culture that she was sure were ruining the world. It was the same with the punk movement, with hard rock and countless musical styles that never would make their way to history books as more than mere curiosities.

As Celeste fired more questions at him Sam carefully picked up the knife and fork that were furthest away from his plate and gingerly selected a morsel on his plate to try. The food had been transformed in so many decorative ways that if you had not ordered yourself you would have been hard pressed to know what you were putting in your mouth. He delicately placed the food in his mouth and then waited until the flavor had reached him before chewing. Okay he had to give it to them the taste lived up to the price, the meat just seemed to melt and the seasoning was just right.

"Then the only problem was the culture, do you miss a lot of small things from your country, right?"

He was amused by the question because he had never really thought about it before. It was pretty hard to find two countries more opposite than Korea and England. In Korea everything was very organized your life was planned out as soon as your parents knew what kind of grades you were capable of bringing home. His father had been really proud of him and had already decided which university he would attend; all that before he even turned ten. And then there was the cooking, in Korea everything was majorly spicy and rice was of course a staple thing in the diet there.

Whereas in England you could plan your own course, change your mind countless times and no one would care. Which meant that you could easily end up jobless and adrift in the world but at least you would have chosen your way there. And on the culinary front the British were renowned for their poor food; fish and chips did not count as a great delicacy in the rest of the world.

“To be honest, I think I’m more likely to miss small things from England more. Korea does not have too many little homely things.”

Her next comment he had almost expected. That the idea of Kpop and all heavily marketed music upset her was no surprise to Sam. He reckoned that she would call that music trash if anyone asked even if she secretly listened to it when no one was looking, because pop music did not fit in with who an aristocrat should be.

“It stemmed from Jpop, but now it’s closer to American pop. At the moment it’s slowly becoming Korea’s biggest export. But don’t worry I will not inflict it upon you, I’m pretty used to people looking down on it.”

He smiled at that because it was oh so very true. If he ever mentioned that he listened to Kpop to anyone they all laughed at him. So he was very used to listening to it in private, so as not to inflict it on unwilling listeners. Although he did firmly believe that it would break through into main stream music soon and then no one would be able to escape it.

She could certainly understand why Sam missed things in England when he was in America. The difference might not be as great as between Korea and his former country of residence, but still continued to be great. In movies England seemed to be a country dominated by seriousness. It was a gentleman. While her country, again just based on movies and music, it seemed to be a rebellious copy. A son trying to join some urban subculture. Clearly America was the black sheep of the family. But still the two had their attractions and problems. Despite her young age, she was sure that she would never leave the country which had become her home. Otherwise she would end with a broken heart. It may well how her mother had felt... Although that did not justify to leave her alone.

Even a little hesitant, she tried to paraphrase one of her grandfather's advice. It was more of a code than a tip. "Maybe you should not get used to people not liking your music." In her reverie, she almost could hear the voice of her grandfather pronouncing very similar words. But the memory was fuzzy and she could not get the subtitles to materialize well. The voice uttered what she believed.

Returning to the idea with more strength and security, she continued. "Perhaps you could try to get more people to know about it. It is not my style, but someone may have a similar taste. And that person could be missing it by not knowing." The code of her grandfather was a bit different, but he always said everyone had to fight for what they wanted. Even if it was about music. Although she did not understand the whole idea, she understood that it could very well applied to that situation in particular. If someone did not like his music, there was someone else that would like it. He just had to keep trying. Of course, not impose it, but sharing.

With that idea still rolling through her mind, Celeste opted for a new confession. Almost without realizing the situation had been softened to the point where the two were chatting without any problem. There was no need to force things. Everything was good. Her confession this time, was an act of sincerity and not an attempt to manipulate the situation. "It happened to me with classical music. I thought there was nothing so refined, that had a long history but it was actual at the same time but when I did listen it, I liked it a lot." It was clear that not only the music calmed the beasts as said the popular saying, the food seemed to have a pleasant effect on Sam, who was much more relaxed than before.

"Maybe if they start using the piano a little more, we would have interesting music again." She was sure it would be that way. Several bands used classical music´s instruments in rock style songs creating an incredible effect. A mixture that although at first sounded strange, it was not dissonant at all. There was not so many bands like that as it seemed to be risky than to write a catchy song, but whenever she needed something fresh and daring, she could find something of both world in these song.