Sponsorship Stigma
Chapter 14
Jeheon cast his gaze downward and checked his watch, the hands pointing to eight o’clock.
It had already been thirty minutes since Myeonghee stepped away to take her phone call.
He picked up the jacket draped over his chair. Just as he was stepping out of the room, a voice stopped him.
“Are you leaving? The Director should be finishing up soon.”
At the syrupy, lingering tone grazing his ear, Jeheon turned around.
“Tell her to take her time. She seems busy.”
Jeheon knew who the woman called the Priestess was.
There was no reason to wait for a call that had no clear end in sight, so he intended to leave.
“You’re leaving?”
A sharp, shrill voice, distinct from Minyoung’s, cut into Jeheon’s ear.
Standing in the direction he turned was Myeonghee, who had approached without him noticing.
“Manager Joo, bring that out.”
As Myeonghee gestured toward Minyoung with her eyes, Minyoung set a shopping bag down in front of Jeheon.
Even before checking its contents, Jeheon’s eyes darkened.
“Why does giving you a simple batch of herbal medicine have to be so difficult? The instructions are inside, so make sure you take every single dose.”
“……”
“This is why I told you not to fire Mr. Lee. Wouldn’t it be convenient for both of us to have it delivered through him?”
Mr. Lee was the domestic employee who had been brought in to manage the Samseong-dong residence after Jeheon woke up.
He would open the door at all hours, turning the house into a storage depot packed with items Manager Joo dropped off.
As the memory of those unpleasant days resurfaced, the corners of Jeheon’s mouth stiffened.
“Pick up when Manager Joo calls. Otherwise, give her the master key, or hire someone again. She’ll drop it off inside and leave.”
His tightly set lips twisted into a dry chuckle.
“If Manager Joo keeps drifting in and out like that, I might end up walking down the aisle with her.”
“What?”
Shock flickered across Myeonghee’s face.
“Manager Joo is turning forty this year, isn’t she? Seven years older than me.”
“What kind of ridiculous nonsense is that!”
“Why do you think it’s nonsense?”
In an instant, Myeonghee’s face flushed an angry red.
Minyoung stood between the two of them, looking utterly at a loss.
“‘A secretary had an affair while delivering herbal medicine. Right when his fiancée is about to return from abroad.’ It makes for quite a sensational story, don’t you think?”
“Who would dare say such a thing? Besides, Manager Joo is my person. That would never happen!”
“Since when do people care about the truth before gossiping? As long as it’s entertaining, that’s all that matters.”
“Gu Jeheon!”
Myeonghee burst out, raising her voice.
“Stop it, it’s sickening!”
The cracking edge in Myeonghee’s voice laid her sheer disgust bare.
The more agitated she became, the deeper Jeheon’s gaze sank.
The curve of his lips softened slightly as he looked at her.
“I know. You find even the slightest stain on your reputation absolutely sickening, Mother.”
Myeonghee could never tolerate a single blemish.
Having Jeheon fool around with Manager Joo, who was essentially her right hand, would be an unbearable disgrace.
She was the type of person who would rather die than become the subject of endless public gossip.
“You raised me with such precious care, so it wouldn’t do for me to mess around with a secretary. Consider this a preventative measure.”
Wrapping up the situation with crisp finality, Jeheon offered a smile toward the frozen Myeonghee.
The taut tension that had surrounded him until just a moment ago loosened completely.
“Since it’s good for the body, you should drink this, Mother. Manager Joo, please make sure she takes it.”
Jeheon picked up the two large shopping bags sitting before him and placed them down in front of her instead.
“Leave!”
At Myeonghee’s words, which amounted to an outright expulsion, Jeheon gave a slight nod.
Watching Minyoung scurry toward the kitchen to fetch a glass of ice water, he turned on his heel.
As Jeheon walked out of the mansion, a piercing shriek echoed behind him, but he paid it no mind.
Myeonghee throwing a hysterical fit was nothing new.
Having lived under the same roof for decades, Jeheon was well accustomed to it.
Even if, from time to time, she still managed to pull off things shocking enough to exceed his worst expectations.
He walked along the path and was just approaching the garage when a voice greeted him.
“You came out early.”
It was Seongjae.
“Seongjae.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Jeheon stopped walking, Seongjae, who had been quietly trailing behind him, halted as well.
“Are you certain Jiwoo has no father?”
“Yes. As I mentioned before, she gave birth and raised the child alone in Daejeon without a father present. We also confirmed she received single-mother government subsidies.”
Before visiting the kindergarten, when he first discovered that Jiwoo was Jung Yeonjae’s son.
The very first thing he investigated was the existence of the child’s father.
A child being born meant a father existed somewhere.
Yet Jiwoo was carrying Yeonjae’s surname.
“‘What if I’m pregnant? What if it’s really your child…?’”
The woman who had asked what would happen if she truly had his baby.
Back then, he had dismissed it as absurd sophistry. He thought of it as nothing more than a desperate, crazy scheme to establish a connection with him while he had lost his memories.
‘Jung Jiwoo, five years old.’
Five years had passed, and learning that Jiwoo was five years old left a persistently uncomfortable, indescribable feeling lingering in his chest.
That she had truly been pregnant around that time.
At first, a fleeting doubt had crossed his mind. Wondering if the boy could really be his child.
Then reason took over, and his chaotic thoughts fell back into order.
No matter how absent his memories were, there was no way he would have messed around with a sponsored beneficiary he found so distasteful.
So he began looking into the child’s father.
He expected to find a lead quickly once he started looking, but the trail was unexpectedly clean.
No, everything related to the child’s father was beyond clean—it was a complete blank slate.
“Still, how can there be zero information like this?”
“That part bothered me a little as well, but these days, relationships take many different forms.”
At Seongjae’s cautious addition, Jeheon promptly accepted the point.
Jeheon had also kept that possibility open as the most likely scenario.
An accidental pregnancy with some man she barely knew.
Or, if not that, the father was such a nobody that she had tried to cling to Jeheon instead, making claims about being pregnant.
If that were the case, the actions the otherwise quiet Jung Yeonjae took five years ago made sense.
“Indeed.”
If the child’s father was such a wretched excuse of a man, she should have given up.
Why had she insisted on giving birth all on her own and living in such relentless struggle?
“This is why I can’t understand her.”
Refusing the help he offered, refusing the Foundation.
Recalling Yeonjae’s irrational behavior, Jeheon’s brow furrowed deeply.
Then, his thoughts shifted.
“By the way, what happened with that matter?”
“Ah. It’s in progress. Since it’s merely an addition to the existing itinerary, they said it shouldn’t be difficult, and the Daejeon municipal government has been very welcoming. They consider it a win-win.”
Despite the heavily abbreviated question, Seongjae understood immediately and pulled out a tablet to hand to Jeheon.
“Of course they would. Who would turn down an investment in a cultural wasteland?”
Jeheon’s dry gaze scanned the tablet screen.
“No one hates money.”
Soon closing the tablet cover, he handed the device back to Seongjae.
“Are you heading to the residence?”
Putting the tablet away, Seongjae walked straight toward the car.
He asked Jeheon as he opened the passenger door, but Jeheon cut in.
“No. Give me the keys.”
“The car keys? I can drive, sir.”
Meeting Jeheon’s silent, steady gaze, Seongjae reached into his inner jacket pocket.
Before he could even hand over the retrieved keys, a hand reached out and snatched them away.
“Are you really heading back down again? When are you leaving?”
“Right now. Extend the business trip. Make the duration generous.”
Bypassing the wide-open passenger side, Jeheon stepped straight to the driver’s seat.
The car’s headlights flared to life, illuminating the path ahead.
Shortly after, the engine roared, a resonant exhaust note echoing through the garage.
The window rolled down, revealing Jeheon.
“Then I’ll wrap up tomorrow’s schedule and head down immediately.”
“No. You stay in Seoul.”
Jeheon’s gaze settled heavily upon Seongjae.
Whether this was simply a lingering sense of déjà vu or something else, he couldn’t be sure.
“Keep a tight watch on the doors. In Samseong-dong.”
Jeheon felt he needed to uncover the true nature of this subtle, indelible sensation.
Yeonjae leaned back against her chair.
A glance at the wall clock showed about five minutes left of her break.
Thinking she might close her eyes for just a moment, Yeonjae prepared to do so.
A sudden vibration from her phone interrupted her, and she pulled it out.
Seeing the name flashing on the screen, Yeonjae pressed the call button without hesitation.
“Hello, Teacher. This is Jiwoo’s mother.”
―Mom! It’s Jiwoo.
“Jiwoo? Is something wrong?”
Hearing the voice from the other end of the line, Yeonjae shot up straight in her seat.
“Jiwoo?”
Jiwoo didn’t have a kids’ phone.
Because of that, this was the first time he had ever called her through his teacher.
Did something happen?
Fearing he might be hurt, her heart pounded erratically as she waited for his reply.
―No! I called because I have something to ask Mommy!
Hearing the excited voice after the brief silence, her tightly wound heart finally eased.
Yeonjae swallowed a sigh.
Before she could ask what it was, Jiwoo spoke first.
―You know today? Can Jiwoo and Seoha practice for the recital together?
“Today?”
Remembering Jiwoo crying the night before, a bitter pang touched Yeonjae’s lips.
The Foundation was one thing, but she knew it was difficult to stop the child from participating in a simple school recital.
“You can’t follow that mister, Jiwoo.”
“Then what about the recital? Hic.”
“The recital… if you really want to do it, Jiwoo, you should.”
Only after being told he could perform in the recital did the boy stop crying.
Yeonjae shifted her gaze, staring at the desk calendar.
Today was a day without after-school classes at the kindergarten. It seemed they intended to practice after regular classes ended.
“Are you staying at the kindergarten to practice?”
―Uh-huh. That’s right.
“When will you be practicing?”
―Tuesdays and Thursdays, for two hours each!
The boy’s voice, which had hesitated for a moment, turned entirely bright as if nothing had happened.
“Alright. I understand.”
―Yay! Teacher, Mommy said yes! She said we can practice!
The child’s elated voice drifted away from the receiver.
Shortly after, the teacher’s gentle voice came through.
―Hello, Mother. It’s his homeroom teacher. Just as Jiwoo said, it’s alright for the children to practice together, right? Seoha’s mother will be with them the entire time, so please don’t worry.
“Yes, of course. Thank you.”
At the mention of Seoha’s mother, a figure formed in her mind.
She had heard that for the sake of her daughter Seoha, who was talented at the violin, the mother had quit her job to take charge of parenting full-time.
So Seoha’s mother can care for her child at this hour.
Even though everyone’s circumstances were different, a dry, prickly sensation caught in Yeonjae’s throat.
―The instructor is very famous and wonderful, and it’s a great opportunity for both Jiwoo and Seoha. Then I will take it as your permission and send the children off to practice.
“Thank you so much.”
With the teacher’s warm parting words, the call ended.
Right, I couldn’t tell him not to do the recital.
Not when his voice sounds so bright about going to practice.
Yeonjae stared at her phone for a long while before rising from her seat.
It was time for the class to resume.
With the evening rush hour under way, crowds of people bustled past.
Walking along the downtown street brimming with pedestrians, Yeonjae’s steps came to an abrupt halt.
Having some spare time before picking up Jiwoo, she had dropped by the downtown area.
Perhaps because it had been so long since she walked alone at this hour, Yeonjae had wandered without a set destination.
Those footsteps eventually led her to a small musical instrument shop.
By the time she came to her senses, she had already stepped inside.
The explanations from the owner, who greeted her with a warm, good-natured smile asking if she was looking for a piano, barely registered in her ears.
“If I don’t go to the mister, there’s no piano. Jiwoo has to play the piano, hic.”
The price range was wide. If she pushed herself, she could afford one of the cheaper models.
But was buying a piano just for the child’s recital truly the right decision?
If he had a piano at home, the child would naturally want more and more.
Tracing that inevitable progression, Yeonjae left the owner behind and stepped out of the shop.
“Who practices piano in a neighborhood where the houses are practically stacked on top of each other? I barely got my baby to sleep, and you woke them right back up!”
“I’m so sorry… I didn’t realize the sound would carry so loudly. It was during the day, so…”
“Are people not home during the day? Give me a break. You’d better knock it off before I report you for noise pollution!”
In the house where she lived with Jiwoo, playing the piano without proper soundproofing was impossible.
How much did soundproofing work cost again? It was bound to easily exceed several million won.
And once soundproofed, she would have to restore the property to its original state whenever they moved out.
Even so, buying an electronic keyboard didn’t feel like a proper substitute.
“…It’s not easy.”
Weighing the harsh reality, Yeonjae looked down at her phone.
Seeing that practice time was nearly over, Yeonjae hurried her pace.
The distant kindergarten gradually came into view.
Naturally, she walked into the building, intending to greet Jiwoo.
“Mother, did Jiwoo say he was practicing at the kindergarten?”
Yet the one who greeted Yeonjae was not Jiwoo.
