Sponsorship Stigma
Chapter 15
Chapter 15
- The Lie
“Jiwoo and Seoha are at the Arts Center right now.”
“The Arts Center? Why did the children go there?”
“Uh… I sent home a notice. Did you perhaps miss it?”
Yeonjae’s gaze wavered helplessly as she looked down at the notice the teacher handed her.
[Hana Kindergarten: Information on Participation in the Daejeon City Ensemble Concert]
“There was a change in the recital plans, so Jiwoo and Seoha will be representing Hana Kindergarten in the kindergarten division of the Daejeon Autumn Ensemble Concert.”
“……”
“Since the host is Daejeon City, a teacher from the City Symphony Orchestra is providing the lesson guidance. I thought you already knew and gave permission, mother. I sent home the newsletter and even asked over the phone… I’m so very sorry.”
The conversation she had shared with the homeroom teacher until arriving at her destination tangled in her head.
Jiwoo and Seoha’s participation in the Autumn Ensemble Concert would replace the in-house kindergarten recital.
And on the day of the concert, the kindergarten would visit as a field trip to watch the performance together.
Just as the kindergarten was in a bind with no teacher to coach the ensemble practice.
They fortunately received support from Daejeon City and the City Symphony Orchestra, so they accepted it.
Leaving behind the teacher who repeatedly apologized, Yeonjae immediately searched for the hall where Jiwoo was supposed to be.
Seeing that the downward elevator was ironically stuck on an upper floor, she headed for the stairs.
Yeonjae’s heart pounded rapidly as she hurried down.
So deafening was her pulse that the teacher’s explanation barely registered; only one question echoed through her mind.
‘Why…?’
Why on earth had Jiwoo said he was staying at the kindergarten to practice?
Yeonjae bit down on her lower lip. Her heart fluttered erratically.
Before long, her steps halted before a massive door.
Staring at the nameplate that read ‘Practice Hall,’ she reached out with both hands and took hold of the handle.
Pulling with force, the door swung wide open.
Through the widening gap, the sound of laughter filtered into Yeonjae’s ears.
Even without looking, the owner of that laughter was crystal clear.
It was the child’s voice she had heard countless times over the past five years.
“Teacher! Seoha is playing too fast.”
“Jung Jiwoo, you’re the one who’s slow. This is my normal tempo, you know?”
“This piece isn’t supposed to be played that fast…. Huh?”
The eyes of the two bickering children turned toward Yeonjae.
“Mom?”
At Jiwoo’s exclamation, the teacher who was with them sprang to her feet.
Yeonjae bowed deeply in greeting toward the teacher, who introduced herself.
“Hello. I’m Jiwoo’s mother.”
“Oh, yes! Hello. I’m Teacher Tami, in charge of directing the ensemble. Jiwoo mentioned his mother was busy and couldn’t come. Jiwoo, your mom is here!”
Yeonjae offered a stiff smile to the teacher, who continued speaking.
Her heartbeat gradually began to quicken its pace.
“Teacher, I’m sorry, but could I speak with Jiwoo for a moment?”
Jiwoo’s rounded eyes widened dramatically in surprise.
The child quietly rose from the piano bench and stepped behind the teacher.
“Jiwoo. Didn’t you tell Mom that you were practicing at the kindergarten?”
“Well, you see…”
Hiding behind the teacher, the boy let his words trail off.
Seeing Jiwoo unable to meet her gaze properly, a sudden realization sank in.
Yeonjae’s mouth went bone-dry.
Though she didn’t want to admit it, her suspicion was correct.
Her child had lied.
Her boy, who knew only his mother, had told a lie.
An indescribable wave of emotion surged within her chest.
Had her explanation not been enough for a child to understand?
Had her own actions backed the child into a corner?
‘Or if not that…’
Yeonjae bit her lip as the image of a certain man abruptly surfaced in her mind.
No.
She was getting ahead of herself.
Telling herself it was merely a string of coincidences, Yeonjae barely held on to her fraying rationality.
“Jiwoo’s mother, is something the matter?”
Sensing that something was wrong, Jiwoo tightly gripped the fabric of the teacher’s clothes.
It was just as the teacher, also picking up on the unusual atmosphere, asked Yeonjae.
The door swung open once again.
Jiwoo’s gaze, which had been wandering in the air, shifted toward the doorway.
Yeonjae turned her eyes toward where the child looked with sparkling eyes, as if gazing upon a savior.
And when she saw the man standing there, Yeonjae’s heart plummeted.
All the way here, she had wondered.
Surely this isn’t a situation he orchestrated. Yet watching Jeheon approach, her anxiety steadily solidified into reality.
Perhaps Jiwoo being here—even going so far as to lie to her—
Perhaps someone had coaxed the innocent child into telling that lie.
Once ignited, the suspicion would not easily subside.
Like fuel added to a fire, it only grew fiercer the closer he drew to the hall.
Jeheon offered a slight nod in greeting and walked toward where Yeonjae stood.
One step, two steps.
Closing the distance, the man stopped right in front of Yeonjae.
“You came?”
A voice meant for Yeonjae’s ears alone settled quietly beside her.
“I heard you were quite busy, so I was going to take Jiwoo home after it finished.”
Looking into the inscrutable man’s eyes, her suspicion hardened into certainty.
This was indeed a situation of his making.
Yeonjae clenched both of her fists.
It was to rein in the indignation threatening to spill over.
“Why would you take Jiwoo home, CEO?”
At Yeonjae’s tightly suppressed voice, a faint crease appeared between Jeheon’s brows.
“What do you mean, why?”
Jeheon’s dry voice drifted from between his parted lips.
A distance of less than a handspan.
The air between the two facing each other froze chillingly.
“Do you mind it?”
Of course I do. Yeonjae swallowed the words she could not bear to utter.
While she picked through her thoughts for an answer, the closed door opened.
“Teacher, please have a drink while you work. Oh, Jiwoo’s mother is here?”
“Mom!”
Seoha, who had been beside Jiwoo, dashed toward the woman who had just walked in.
It was Hyekyung.
“It’s their first time playing together, but they’re already doing so well. Of course, our Seoha is accommodating him a lot.”
“……”
“Oh, right. Jiwoo’s mother, it’s your first time meeting him, isn’t it? This gentleman is—”
The woman who approached with her child tried to introduce Jeheon on his behalf.
“I know who he is.”
Knowing him all too well was the problem.
“You do?”
Leaving behind Hyekyung, who tilted her head in wonder, Yeonjae unclenched her tightly gripped fists.
It was thanks to the slender thread of reason urging her that she shouldn’t make a scene here.
Just as she was about to tell Jeheon they should talk outside.
He moved first.
Passing by Yeonjae, Jeheon came to a halt and pushed open the large door.
Then he gave a slight nod toward Yeonjae.
“Please continue practicing. We have something to discuss.”
Saying the very words she was about to utter.
Exiting the hall first, Yeonjae strode across the lobby.
Stepping outside the building, the darkening sky entered her view.
She walked past the lights illuminating the deepening night sky one by one.
Whenever Yeonjae moved, the sound of shoe heels followed close behind.
Before long, reaching the top of the descending stairs, Yeonjae spun around.
And Jeheon, who had been following, stopped in his tracks.
Their meeting gazes gradually intertwined deeper.
The silence of their eye contact stretched on, yet Yeonjae merely stared.
Her lips trembled countless times.
“What is it you want to talk about? I doubt you’re going to say you’ll sign the contract with the Foundation.”
“……”
“You acted as if you’d never see me again.”
In an instant, Yeonjae felt a surge of emotion.
“Do you really not know why I’m acting like this?”
A choked voice leaked from between Yeonjae’s parted lips.
The kindergarten Jiwoo attended was not small, but neither was it prominent enough to receive support from Daejeon City.
A concert that hadn’t existed was suddenly arranged, and because there was no practice room, a practice space was provided. And in a professional practice hall at the Arts Center, of all places.
Yeonjae recalled the hall where the children had been practicing.
It was by no means small. A hall large enough to host a small recital or ensemble performance.
And the grand piano situated at the center.
A Bösendorfer, a luxury piano handcrafted by Austrian artisans.
Children renting out not just a practice room, but a whole practice hall to use?
No matter how much support Daejeon City and the City Symphony Orchestra provided, there was no way that was possible.
A privilege that arrived like a stroke of good fortune for her child. She knew it wasn’t mere luck.
And she knew that Jeheon was the only one capable of manufacturing luck out of thin air.
Yeonjae bit down hard on her lip.
“There’s no way you don’t know. Ha, since you claim not to, let me ask. Just what on earth did you do…?”
What on earth did you do to a mere five-year-old child? That was what Yeonjae intended to ask.
“I’m the one who’d like to ask. What did I do?”
Cutting Yeonjae off, Jeheon’s eyebrow twitched upward.
Seeing him feign ignorance so nonchalantly made her blood boil.
“The practice hall where the children are practicing, the symphony orchestra’s support, and even participating in the autumn concert—you arranged all of it, didn’t you, CEO?”
“That’s right.”
To her blunt question, he gave a succinct affirmation.
“Who else besides me could make something like this happen? In a countryside town like this.”
It was just as Yeonjae had thought.
Now that the truth was confirmed, her thoughts naturally flowed toward Jiwoo like water.
“Then the reason Jiwoo is here right now is also because of you, CEO.”
“If you put it that way, I suppose so.”
“Then were you the one who put Jiwoo up to this, too?”
At Yeonjae’s sharply barbed question, the furrow between Jeheon’s brows deepened.
