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‘Di’…well, it’s not traditional Korean.”
    She looked torn between pleasure and more confusion. “Chinese? But you said it sounded like a Korean name.”
    I nodded. “Traditional Korean names are made with Chinese characters. Like my name, Hyunkyung. Hyun means wisdom, and kyung means respect and trying to do the right thing. O-jjil hyun and konggyung kyung. My grandfather made my name to carry on the Han tradition, and he wanted me live a wise and respectful life.”
    “It’s a beautiful meaning,” Indigo—Indi said, but she still looked puzzled. “Miss Cha calls you something else. Ee…Easy….”
    I laughed. Instead of embarrassing me, her ignorance now offered a chance to explain things in a new light. I enjoyed the freshness of my ordinary world seen through foreign eyes. “Ee Sajang. Miss Cha and my employees call me Ee Sajangnim, or the head of the company. Technically, Ee Sajangnim is my father, but he has turned most of the business over to me.”
    I should have been thrilled to assume my new rights and privileges, but instead, I had made international headlines as the spoiled Han princess who demanded rich food. An American prankster had sent a case of Nutrageous bars to my office, and a peanut company offered a special sale with single-serving packets labeled as Princess Peanut . The company stocks shot through the roof overnight, at my expense.
    “But, please, call me Hyunkyung.” I smiled. Instead of returning the smile, she faltered.
    “I would…I wish I could. But it’s so difficult.”
    “Nonsense.” I laughed and checked my watch. “If you’re not going to eat more than that, we should go to the concert hall.”
    Gratefully, she stood up. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s delicious, but my stomach feels funny after the long flight.”
    I gave her points for diplomacy. “Come,” I said. “After the concert, I’ll have to teach you to say my name.”
    At her confused nod, I hid a smile. Maybe, just maybe, I had gotten lucky despite all the mix-ups.
    Maybe I won’t force Madame Eve out of business, after all.

 
     
     
Chapter Five
     
     
    As we entered an enormous room lined with seat boxes at irregular intervals, Hyunkyung touched the small of my back to guide me into the seat next to hers. We had a private box off to the right side of the stage, as if we were royalty. I glanced down at my Cinderella costume and wondered if any of the concertgoers streaming through the doors wished they could be in my place. Most likely. Who wouldn’t want the seat of honor, free from kicking seatmates, whining children, and the inevitable ringing cell phone?
    If only I wanted to be in my place, too. I had enjoyed our dinner conversation more than I cared to admit, but I hated classical music. I never understood the story or all of the finer points that the commentators loved to hash out. The one time I’d attended a concert for school, I’d fidgeted the entire time and wished I could fake illness to go home early. I hated feeling as stupid as Greg had made me feel when we watched football and I didn’t understand the action.
    Greg. Stop it! I crossed my legs underneath my borrowed finery. “Why do you like this program?” I couldn’t feign interest in the music, but I wanted to know why Hyunkyung cared about it so much. She gave me a quick look.
    “If you’ve never seen Leila Feran, you….” She struggled to find words. “ Ma-um-ee apayo . How do you say it in English?” She tapped her chest. “My heart hurts. Listening to Leila Feran makes my heart hurt. She makes me cry, and afterward, I feel as if an angel touched my soul.”
    Stunned, I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. Talking about music, her jaw and temple lines softened. “But there aren’t any words, and it’s so difficult to understand.” I hadn’t meant to admit that, but I wanted to make sense of her private joy. What music gave to Hyunkyung, I wanted to experience, too.
    She took my hand in hers.