Sponsorship Stigma
Chapter 21
Chapter 21
The Last Coffee Beans
Yeonjae’s eyes glanced downward.
It was her phone, resting on the desk beside the piano. She pulled her gaze away from the pitch-black screen.
Wondering if a text might arrive, she kept checking her phone.
Last night, she had left the coffee beans at the front desk before heading home, so he should have received them by now.
Since she had contacted his executive secretary, she thought there would at least be a message, but the phone remained silent.
From the end of her part-time shift at the cafe until the start of her lessons at the piano academy.
“…Did he not get them?”
When Yeonjae murmured in wonder, the student sitting in front of her looked back.
“Teacher, did you say something?”
“No. Just talking to myself. Are you done?”
“Not yet! Can’t you cut down on my practice a little? There’s only ten minutes left!”
Glancing down, she saw the sheet music, where the required practice count hadn’t been filled yet.
“Do you think I’d let you? The competition isn’t far away, you know.”
The student’s cheeks, puffed with anticipation that practice might be cut short, deflated.
“Do as much as you can.”
“Tch, okaaay.”
Yeonjae closed the door to the practice room and stepped out.
As she turned around, watching the student start moving again through the window, the academy director approached her.
“Teacher Jeong, there’s a visitor here to see you.”
“For me?”
Yeonjae’s eyes widened in surprise at the word ‘visitor.’
Unless it was a parent or a student, no one ever came looking for her.
Told that he was at the front desk, Yeonjae walked down the hallway.
Her curiosity about who had come was short-lived.
Beyond the transparent glass doors, the back of the man standing in front of the desk was all too familiar.
“What brings you here?”
At Yeonjae’s voice, the man turned around. It was Jeheon, who hadn’t sent a single message all day.
She had expected a text or a call, but she never imagined he would come in person like this.
Although she did have things she wanted to say to him face-to-face, fluster overtook her first.
“Because you’re here. I heard you were looking for me yesterday.”
His words seemed to say, You’re the one who needed to talk, causing Yeonjae’s eyebrows to lift slightly.
“You could have at least sent a message. I’m busy right now. I’m still in the middle of teaching.”
There was still over an hour left before her lessons ended.
On top of that, after finishing her lessons, she had to pick up Jiwoo from kindergarten.
Yesterday, when she had sought Jeheon out, she had specially adjusted her academy schedule to go see him.
The time they had to talk would be short—thirty minutes at most.
There was no way this man would wait over two hours just for that.
“When do you finish?”
Jeheon stepped closer and stopped right in front of Yeonjae.
“I have two more sessions left. Even after that, I have to go get Jiwoo, so I don’t have much time.”
You could have let me know in advance. I was checking my phone all day.
“Today isn’t really a good time… Please contact me when you’re free. I’ll come find you another day.”
Jeheon, who had been staring quietly at Yeonjae, took a seat at the table in front of her.
Seeing the man sit down when she thought he would leave immediately, Yeonjae’s eyes wavered slightly.
“Why are you sitting down?”
“What do you mean, why? Can’t I sit and wait?”
Jeheon leaned deeply back into the chair.
Did he really have no intention of leaving?
Leaning at an angle and looking up at Yeonjae, there wasn’t the slightest waver in his gaze.
“You’re waiting?”
“Yeah.”
“Here?”
“Is there a problem?”
Even though Yeonjae asked again in disbelief, Jeheon was steadfast.
“There’s… no problem.”
“Then that’s settled. If you’re thinking of me, finish your lesson a bit early.”
The words It’s a lesson, how can I end early? rushed to her throat, but she swallowed them down.
In the end, Yeonjae had to turn away with a reluctant expression.
Even as she conducted the rest of her lessons, an odd feeling lingered within her.
The one who waited had always been Yeonjae, never him.
No. There was just one time Jeheon had waited.
When he came to the cafe where she worked part-time in the morning, waited around, and ended up buying all the coffee beans.
That had been a little under an hour, though.
Moreover, Yeonjae was the one who had sought him out with business to discuss.
Perhaps because she thought that whenever they sought each other, it was always her doing the seeking, it just felt strange.
“Piano is played with your seat. The competition isn’t far off, so don’t try to skip your practice, alright?”
“Okaaay. Goodbye, Teacher.”
Only after finishing the lesson and sending the student off did Yeonjae step out of the practice room.
Her footsteps toward the front desk picked up pace little by little.
Even as she walked, she was half in doubt.
Is he still waiting? It’s Gu Jeheon, of all people.
At the end of those deepening thoughts, Yeonjae opened the front door.
Approaching the desk bustling with children during break time, she saw the director.
At the table where Jeheon had been sitting before she left, children were now seated.
He must have left after all. Of course, he’s not the type to wait for someone that long.
Just as she was about to give up and turn back—
“Teacher Jeong, go to Consultation Room 1.”
The director pointed toward the consultation rooms.
Yeonjae opened the door to the consultation room area, separated from the desk.
Unlike the noisy front desk full of children, silence hung over the consultation room hallway.
Consultation rooms lined the straight corridor closely.
Yeonjae knocked on the very first consultation room.
Yes. Before long, a crisp, concise voice came from inside.
After a short breath, she opened the door.
“Must be finished?”
The door swung open.
Sitting across a desk that was neither small nor large, Jeheon came into view.
As if he had been reading a pamphlet placed beside him, he set the paper in his hand down on the desk.
“I didn’t expect you to still be waiting.”
“I told you I’d wait. I don’t make empty promises.”
“You’re usually so busy.”
Because he wasn’t the kind of man to do something so inefficient as waiting two hours just to meet for thirty minutes.
Swallowing the words lingering on her tongue, Yeonjae sat in the opposite chair.
Following Yeonjae as she sat down, Jeheon’s gaze swept over her.
“You’re my number one priority right now. The most urgent matter.”
Knowing that was for the Foundation’s sake, a bitter feeling arose.
Wondering if she had ever been his number one priority outside of things like this.
But that emotion was fleeting.
“I hear Jeong Yeonjae came looking for me because she had something to say. How could I resist?”
“…”
“What is it that was important enough to wait around for me?”
At Jeheon’s blunt, candid question, Yeonjae’s lips parted slightly.
Now that she was facing him in person, the words didn’t come easily.
Yet a gleam shone in Jeheon’s eyes as he looked at her.
“Did you decide to sign with the Foundation after all?”
“No. It’s not about that.”
Suppressing the dry chuckle that threatened to escape at how typical it was for him to think of the Foundation first, Yeonjae gave a slight shake of her head.
“Did you receive the item? I left it at the front desk.”
Watching Yeonjae, Jeheon leaned back against the chair.
Perhaps because it wasn’t the kind of question he wanted, the curiosity in his eyes dampened noticeably.
“I got it.”
At Jeheon’s curt reply, silence fell between the two of them.
So he did.
What Yeonjae had roasted and delivered were the coffee beans Jeheon used to love before he lost his memory.
A cafe she had stumbled upon by chance. A blend combination recommended by the cafe owner, who said he roasted it himself.
She had liked Jeheon so much that she even learned how to roast beans just to give them to him as a gift.
Back then, he couldn’t drink any other coffee except that blend.
How was it now? No, had he even tried it?
Yeonjae needlessly fiddled with her hands lowered beneath the table.
It was Jeheon who broke the awkward silence hanging between them.
“They weren’t store-bought beans.”
“That’s right. I made them.”
“You did?”
As if he hadn’t imagined Yeonjae had made them herself, the end of Jeheon’s voice rose slightly.
“Yes. I roasted them.”
“You know how to roast? I thought you were only interested in piano.”
“I learned. Because someone kept saying every day that he hated sour coffee. Didn’t I do well?”
Yeonjae had smiled brightly at Jeheon, who had looked taken aback back then.
“Tell me whenever you need some. Jeong Yeonjae’s signature beans are made for one person only.”
Though she had said it was for Jeheon, the truth was she loved it when he sought her out whenever he needed coffee.
Because it made her feel like someone special to him.
Even with his memories gone, his tastes wouldn’t have changed, so he would probably still like it.
The only thing that had changed was the relationship between the two of them.
A bitter smile spread across Yeonjae’s lips.
Setting old memories aside, she had to say what needed to be said. She intended to open with an apology for misunderstanding about Jiwoo.
“You really confuse me.”
At the low voice seeping into her ears, Yeonjae lifted her head.
“You know my coffee preferences, and you even know how to make beans that suit my taste.”
“…”
“And you still say you don’t have feelings for me?”
Jeheon, who had been leaning back, leaned forward closer to Yeonjae.
“Or do you just have an exceptionally good memory? Good enough to remember the tastes of a man you used to like in the past.”
Jeheon’s direct gaze locked onto hers.
Looking at his eyes demanding to know if she truly no longer liked him, Yeonjae’s brow furrowed slightly.
The things related to Jeheon were memories she couldn’t forget even if she wanted to.
“How could I forget?”
It was something she had heard until her ears practically bled.
While one person had forgotten so easily, to her, those memories were practically everything.
“The beans… I gave them to you to apologize for the misunderstanding earlier.”
“…”
“Unlike Seoul, there’s nowhere around here that sells beans like that.”
Yeonjae squeezed the words out, trying her best to sound unaffected.
“I mean there’s no ulterior motive like me still liking you, CEO.”
She had emptied those feelings out enough.
For someone busy living day to day, there was no way such feelings remained.
“And thank you for supporting the recital. But I hope you’ll leave it at just that.”
She wondered if she should say more, but there was still time left until Jiwoo’s recital.
Since they would run into each other again, she decided it was better to wrap up their connection on the day of the recital.
“Then, I should get going to pick up Jiwoo.”
Thinking that was answer enough, Yeonjae straightened up and prepared to rise from her seat.
“…What if I need more beans?”
A voice followed, catching Yeonjae’s footsteps.
“Will you give them to me if I ask every time?”
A faint smile touched Yeonjae’s lips.
She never expected the words she had once said to him to return like this—carrying entirely different emotions.
“No. This is the last time. There won’t be any more.”
“…”
“You’re capable. Please find something similar on your own.”
Beans that had lost their owner had to disappear now.
