Sponsorship Stigma
Chapter 13
A Wish
“Remember. You’re the one who refused this time, Jeong Yeonjae.”
Resting her chin on her hand, Yeonjae stared into empty space, her light brown eyes darkening.
Whenever she spaced out like this in the middle of a meal, the events of the afternoon played out naturally in her mind.
Why did he have to come by and unsettle her like this?
Just as Yeonjae bit down softly on her lower lip—
“Mommy.”
At the voice filtering into her ear, Yeonjae snapped her head up.
It was Jiwoo. Her gaze soon met the little boy sitting across from her.
“Hm? Did you call Mommy?”
“Jiwoo called you three times.”
Jiwoo puffed out both cheeks as he answered.
“I’m all done with my rice, but Mommy keeps giving me pork cutlet. Look at this.”
Looking down, she saw pieces of tonkatsu neatly stacked in his empty bowl.
Crispy fried tonkatsu was Jiwoo’s favorite side dish.
Every time Jiwoo took a spoonful of rice, Yeonjae had been placing a piece on top.
She thought she had been keeping pace with how fast he was eating.
“Look at me, out of my mind.”
She hadn’t even realized he’d finished his rice.
“Mommy was spaced out. Did my sweetie enjoy dinner?”
The boy, who had been pouting cutely, broke into a bashful smile.
“Uh-huh! The pork cutlet was yummy.”
Watching him nod repeatedly, Yeonjae couldn’t help but smile too.
She rose from her seat and tied on the apron hanging on the back of the chair.
As she approached the sink and slipped on rubber gloves, Jiwoo walked over carrying his spoon and chopsticks.
Seeing the boy stand on tiptoe to place his utensils in the sink, Yeonjae smiled brightly.
“Are you helping Mommy? Whose son is this, being so sweet?”
“Jiwoo is Mommy’s son!”
Proud of the praise, Jiwoo wrapped his arms around Yeonjae’s waist and nuzzled his head against her.
As if planning to stay stuck to her the entire time she washed dishes, the boy showed no signs of letting go.
“You little leech. Are you going to stay like this the whole time?”
“Yeees. I’m going to stay like this.”
“Is that so? Then whoever doesn’t let go first wins.”
“Okay!”
As the dishwashing neared its end, Yeonjae looked down.
Jiwoo came into view, clinging tightly like a cicada to an old tree.
He was trying so hard.
Seeing him squeeze his eyes shut and hold on even as water splashed, she swallowed a laugh.
Did he really want to win that badly?
They often made little bets like this, but she had never seen him this devoted.
Only after Yeonjae placed the squeaky-clean dishes onto the drying rack did the bet come to an end.
“Mommy. Jiwoo won, right?”
Approaching Yeonjae as she took off her apron, the boy’s eyes sparkled brightly.
It always broke her heart that he seemed to have grown up faster than other children his age.
Yet seeing him act just like an ordinary five-year-old today made Yeonjae’s heart tickle with warmth.
“That’s right, Jiwoo won. Good job! Mommy always seems to lose, huh?”
Though in truth, Yeonjae let him win most of the time.
Seeing the boy grin from ear to ear made it a worthwhile choice today as well.
“Then since Jiwoo won, grant my wish!”
“A wish? I don’t think we made that promise.”
“I just decided now. The winner is always the king.”
Adorable in his shrewd attempt to claim a wish ticket, the boy was so lovely that Yeonjae waved the white flag.
She bent her knees and met his eyes at eye level.
“What is Jiwoo’s wish?”
“Mmm.”
The playful glint in his eyes from just a moment ago settled into quiet seriousness.
“Ummm. Well…”
She watched his small lips murmur and hesitate.
What could the wish be that made him hesitate like this?
Suppressing the urge to kiss his plump, rounded cheeks, Yeonjae gazed at him.
“You must really want it, seeing our Jiwoo hesitate this much.”
Yeonjae reached out and gently ruffled Jiwoo’s hair.
Just then, the boy’s delicate lips parted.
“The piano.”
“……”
“Jiwoo wants to play the piano with that mister.”
At that exact moment, Yeonjae’s hand gliding through his hair froze.
A recent memory flashed across her mind.
On their way back after running into Jeheon, who had come to the kindergarten, Jiwoo had asked Yeonjae if he could learn to play the piano.
“Could… Mommy think about that?”
Unable to bring herself to give a firm refusal to the child, she had avoided answering.
She had tried hard to find an answer a five-year-old could understand without being hurt, but it wasn’t easy.
A few days had passed since then, but he had still been waiting.
Yeonjae’s heart sank heavily, as if weighed down by dozens of lead weights.
In truth, the answers Yeonjae could give were already set.
‘I’m sorry, Jiwoo. We can’t afford piano lessons with our circumstances.’
‘The Foundation is a dangerous place for you, Jiwoo. If something goes wrong… you and Mommy might be separated.’
As Yeonjae stood frozen, unable to choose either answer—
“This is Jiwoo’s wish, so it’s okay, right?”
The boy’s eyes gazing at Yeonjae were endlessly pure.
A five-year-old who believed a wish ticket could make anything come true.
Yeonjae’s heart clenched tight at what she had to say to the child brimming with anticipation.
“I’m sorry, Jiwoo. Mommy can’t grant that wish.”
“……Why? It’s my wish ticket.”
The child’s large eyes trembled helplessly.
A sense of loss so vast it was as if he had lost his entire world washed over him.
“It might be hard to understand. But Mommy can’t leave Jiwoo in that mister’s care.”
“……”
“The Foundation is a scary place. Mommy just wants Jiwoo to live as you do now. I’m sorry.”
“Then Jiwoo… can’t go with mister? But I have to.”
Tears welled up in Jiwoo’s eyes as he asked Yeonjae again.
“We don’t have a piano…”
The boy’s small shoulders shook.
Thick streams of tears pooled at the corners of his eyes and spilled endlessly down his cheeks.
“Jiwoo has to play the piano, hic.”
In an instant, the child burst into uncontrollable sobs.
“At the recital, with Seoha, hic… We promised to play together. Jiwoo is the representative…”
Jiwoo wept aloud as he explained that he had been chosen as the representative to perform an ensemble piece at the kindergarten recital.
Bewilderment washed over Yeonjae’s face at the mention of a recital she had never heard about before.
Before she could even ask anything—
“Jiwoo is a liar now! Waaah! Seoha is going to hate Jiwoo!”
“Jiwoo!”
The boy dashed into the master bedroom where the bed was.
Without even looking back at Yeonjae’s call, Jiwoo pulled the blanket completely over his head.
Even the thick blanket could not muffle the growing sound of the child’s crying.
* * *
“How is the work at the Foundation?”
Jeheon looked up at the shrill voice.
The voice belonged to Myeonghee.
“Yes. Manageable.”
At Jeheon’s crisp reply, one corner of Myeonghee’s mouth curled up.
“I heard you discovered a piano prodigy? Jeong Jiwoo, was it?”
“……”
“I saw the video. The Foundation is in quite an uproar. Landing that kid would be like hitting the lottery, wouldn’t it?”
Watching Myeonghee probe subtly, Jeheon set down the cup he had been holding.
“Yes. That’s why I’m trying hard to secure him.”
“Right. You should. For you, it’s something you ought to stake your life on.”
Myeonghee wore an inscrutable smile as she picked up her cup.
She blew gently onto the steaming cup.
“Oh, you know Yoeun is coming back this time, right?”
At the unwelcome name that arrived with the change of subject, Jeheon flinched slightly.
No matter how many times he heard it, it was a name he could never get used to.
“I received the report.”
“A report? Anyone listening would think you were talking about a stranger. Our Yoeun would be heartbroken.”
Jeheon’s neatly shaped brow arched slightly.
He was entirely unaccustomed to Myeonghee speaking of anyone with such affection.
Jeheon swallowed the hollow laugh that rose unbidden.
“She probably is a stranger.”
“What?”
Ignoring Myeonghee’s venomous glare, Jeheon reached for his cup.
Soon, the cup emitting wisps of steam settled comfortably in his hand. During the five years Yoeun had studied abroad in the United States, she had never once returned to Korea.
Would she be about twenty-six by now?
“Her face is hazy in my memory as well.”
He thought of the woman whose face was now blurred in his mind.
It was only natural, considering they had met in person less than five times.
Were it not for Myeonghee, Jeheon often forgot Yoeun even existed.
To him, the image of Jeong Yeonjae was far more vivid than that of his fiancée.
Jeheon fingered the cup held in his hand.
Like the gentle warmth slowly spreading through the palm of his hand, Yeonjae’s face naturally formed before his eyes.
She had shed her youthful, naive look and become fully a woman.
Her face was undeniably the Jeong Yeonjae he knew, and yet—
The aura she gave off was unfamiliar.
“You can smile right now?”
When he raised his head, Myeonghee was glaring at him in disbelief.
“Ah. Was I smiling?”
Jeheon wiped his mouth. Apparently, he had been smiling without realizing it.
Looking at him with exasperation, she shook her head.
If anything, Myeonghee had been the one trying to dissuade Yoeun, asking if she really had to go study abroad.
From five years ago until now, Myeonghee had unwaveringly wanted their marriage.
So much so that she pushed forward with the absurd logic that both marriage and childbirth were better done young.
Because she was dead set on their marriage, she always disapproved of Jeheon’s lukewarm attitude.
“This is why I lose face in front of the in-laws. Just how many years has it been? No matter how young Yoeun is, you shouldn’t make a woman wait that long.”
The same old repertoire repeated as always.
Anticipating what would follow, Jeheon closed his eyes.
“You know the Chairman has high expectations for you too. Do you think you transferred to the Foundation for no reason? It’s all Chairman Koo’s test tied to the succession.”
“……”
“There will be a dinner with the family elders. You need to prepare properly……”
As always, he intended to let it go in one ear and out the other.
Just then, a knock echoed through the quiet room.
“It’s Ju Minyeong. May I come in for a moment?”
Promptly bowing in greeting, Manager Joo stepped into the room.
“What is it? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a conversation?”
“Well…… Director. A call came in.”
“A call?”
Myeonghee’s gaze shifted from Minyoung to the phone she was handing over.
At the name displayed on the screen, Myeonghee’s complexion visibly brightened.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
“Go ahead.”
Watching Myeonghee rise from her seat, Jeheon thought it was just as well.
He was sick to death of talk about the engagement.
Just as Jeheon watched Minyoung bow toward him and casually picked up his phone—
“Hello? It’s me, Director Pyo.”
Myeonghee’s voice as she crossed the threshold was fraught with excitement.
Following her, Manager Joo soon closed the door.
“Shaman-nim. Why has it been so hard to reach you lately?”
Even so, that shrill voice rang clearly in Jeheon’s ears.
