Easing the door to her old Honda open, Kyoko Mogami stepped out into the frigid air, shivering as the chill penetrated her parka. Blank, seamless clouds covered the skies above her like a fluffy blanket.
"Brrr. It's so cold…" she muttered to herself as she retrieved her coffee from the middle console.
Indeed, a freakish cold snap had hit Southern California on the cusp of the new year, days after the teens eighteenth birthday. It rarely dropped below 40 degrees in Beverly Hills, but the temperature was already several degrees below freezing at midday. Instead of its usual benign smile, it seemed winter had chosen to bare icy fangs.
Part of her shiver could be attributed to nerves. Today was the first day with her new–and evidently insanely affluent–student, Kuon Hizuri. It was also the day of the first forecasted snowfall for the region in over fifty years, though the young woman hoped they had gotten that particular prediction wrong. It simply wouldn't do for her to become stuck here.
I stand out worse than a poster of a flat-chested girl on Sho's bedroom wall, she thought.
That inadvertent thought was immediately followed by the usual shot of deep hurt and chaser of burning anger. Sadly her birthday wish for the name of Shotaro Fuwa to be expunged from her memory had not been granted.
She took a long sip of the homemade latte she gripped with frozen fingers, gulping down the steadying caffeine as she breathed in the comforting, sweet blend of pumpkin and spices. In Kyoto she'd never drank coffee, but she'd taken to drinking a PSL every morning since her encounter with the handsome sparkling blonde-haired stranger who so uncannily resembled her childhood faery prince. The remembrance of that random rendezvous made a strange warmth bubble up from her chest and spread throughout her body.
It had occurred a month ago when Kyoko, bleary-eyed from studying and working late as usual, had dragged herself to the Moonbucks around the corner only to discover she'd left her purse at home. Gallant and gorgeous, the tall man in line behind her had offered to pay on her behalf. Perhaps it was a little odd to remember a complete stranger so fondly that one created a habit based on a single interaction, but the memory was a dazzling spot among a particularly bleak time––and he looked so much like a grown up Corn that her heart had skipped a beat. Bright and shining, gazing at him had been like gazing at the sun. His charming and warm smile had practically melted her in place. To her regret, she'd been too tongue-tied at the time to utter a word of thanks.
With her free hand, Kyoko lightly caressed the smooth iolite stone stored safely in her left coat pocket, silently wishing blessings on the one who had given it to her as she took another sip. While her version of the drink may not have tasted quite as delectable as the Moonbucks, it was a heck of a lot cheaper and cheaper trumped nearly everything at the moment.
Which happened to be why she found herself half frozen, standing outside in front of the most detailed and ornately carved rod-iron gate she had ever laid eyes on. Faeries and butterflies flittered and lazed about the branches of a gorgeous sakura tree in full bloom. One could almost think that touching the scene would grant one an invitation to frolic with them in some magical foreign land. One that was kind and warm–the opposite of reality.
Years of working tirelessly at the Ryokan in Kyoto had given Kyoko a firm grasp on the English language so when one of the girls from her classes had suggested she become a Japanese language tutor instead of working those atrocious evening hours, she had pounced on the idea. She'd placed ads at her own and other local college campuses. Even a few of the affluent high schools.
CalArts Senior Kuon Hizuri was her fifth client. When she'd offhandedly mentioned the name of her new student to Adriana, her roommate had first gasped, and then begun babbling on about how he had to be related to the Hollywood megastar Koo Hizuri and wife, supermodel Juliena Duris. Kyoko had immediately shot down that possibility as being ridiculous but…the unimaginable was staring her in the face. She gazed at the massive and no less luxurious palatial home visible through the gates.
Just how rich is this family? she wondered. What kind of personality would the son of a supermodel and famous actor have? Her expression soured as she pictured the son of a different wealthy family and she sighed heavily. He'll probably be a womanizing jerk or a swindler like the majority of boys who grow up monied.
Unfolding the paper she'd jotted the access code down on, she stepped up to the keypad on the side of the gate and carefully entered 0-6-1-2-0-4. The gate beeped loudly, locking mechanism shifting from red to green before slowly easing open. Feeling like a pauper about to meet the prince, Kyoko hopped back into her vehicle and slowly headed along the drive up to the gleaming white palace. After parking as far off to the side as possible on the rounded driveway, Kyoko exited her car and made her way to the front door.
Up close, the vast structure was even more impressive––a french chateau style mansion with beautifully incorporated brickwork. An elaborate chandelier hung from the ceiling of the spacious veranda which narrowed as it wrapped around the right side of the home. The veranda alone was bigger than her whole apartment. On the left, a uniquely rounded room jutted out from the main body of the mansion. Through the windows, she could make out wooden shelves of rich mahogany and a matching escritoire.
As lovely as the ryokan was that she had once lived and worked in, this place held an arresting elegance in a class of its own.
Sucking in a deep breath, Kyoko rang the doorbell. A passionate symphony surrounded her, enveloping her senses, sweeping her away in a melodious emotional flood. It wasn't until a tall, dark, and unbelievably attractive man appeared before her that she realized her face was wet with tears. Too stunned to speak, she blinked, enraptured, forgetting her reason for being there in the first place. Aside from the look alike Corn, he had to be the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. And he was gazing at her like one would if one had discovered something unseemly––like a cockroach.
His brown eyes rested on her tear-streaked cheeks and his expression softened.
"Are you all right, miss Mogami?" His masculine voice had a deep and disarming timbre that automatically lowered her guard.
"H-how do you know my name?" she asked. It came out sounding more like a series of squeaks.
He smiled wryly. "Well, you are the only cute Japanese girl here at the time I'm supposed to meet with my new tutor."
"Oh!" she hastily wiped at her face. "I-I'm sorry! I am Kyoko Mogami," she stammered, blushing. He looked mildly disappointed for some reason so she rushed to explain herself–only to find a loss of words. "I was a bit, um…" she waved her free hand a helpless gesture.
"Overwhelmed?" he supplied.
She nodded.
"Understandable. It's a lot."
"That's kinda funny coming from the guy who lives here." She clapped a hand over her face.
What is wrong with me? she internally berated herself. Bad enough he had witnessed her crying for no apparent reason, but now she'd lost her filter.
He chuckled, "You don't mince words do you?"
"I-I'm sorry. That was very rude. I don't normally– I mean I shouldn't have—"
"No, honesty is refreshing." He cleared his throat. "I'm actually living in a dorm right now. It's just that they don't allow visits from members of the opposite sex." His tone became self-deprecating. "And you wouldn't believe how many people kiss up to you because you're a handsome face with money." Her expression must have said something because he added, "Or maybe you would. Honesty becomes a luxury." Before she had a chance to comment, he swung the door wide open. "Please come in."
Holding her pumpkin spiced coffee like a chalice, Kyoko Mogami stepped past the handsome prince into the magical castle.