Sponsorship Stigma
Chapter 23
Resignation
“I wondered who it was.”
When she turned around, Jeheon stood there in a suit.
Perhaps because of the concert, he was dressed to perfection, complete with a vest and tie.
It had been a week since he had come by the academy.
A week wasn’t a long time, yet it felt as if she hadn’t seen him in a month.
Even though she hadn’t particularly missed him.
While Yeonjae was lost in such pointless thoughts, Jeheon glanced around the empty waiting room.
“Where’s Jiwoo?”
“He went to rehearse. The kindergarten division goes first.”
“I’m late, then.”
Just as Yeonjae lowered her gaze to zip up her bag,
a set of heavy footsteps approached.
Glancing up, she saw Jeheon walking over to the sofa inside the waiting room.
“Jiwoo is in the hall.”
Thinking he might not have heard, she repeated herself, and their eyes met through the mirror.
Jeheon looked at her for a moment before sitting down on the sofa.
“I heard you.”
He heard, but he was staying here?
Pretending not to notice his gaze burning into her back, Yeonjae finished closing her bag.
Even when she straightened up, Jeheon was still looking at her.
She looked back at him, wondering if he had something to say, but the silence only stretched on.
“Do you have something to tell me?”
Jeheon’s lips parted as if he were about to speak, then closed again.
“No.”
Yeonjae’s brows furrowed slightly.
“Is your business trip to Daejeon over now?”
Since today was the day of Jiwoo and Seoha’s autumn concert, the event Jeheon had overseen was officially coming to an end today.
Catching the underlying meaning of her question, Jeheon curled up one corner of his mouth.
“I wonder. It seems my business trip depends on your answer.”
She had answered that proposal long ago, yet he clearly hadn’t given up.
“I’ll give you that answer right now.”
Since he didn’t seem to have accepted it, she intended to make it crystal clear once more.
“Thank you for giving Jiwoo such a wonderful opportunity.”
No matter how hard Yeonjae tried, she would never be able to provide things as good as Jeheon could for Jiwoo.
It was undeniable that Jeheon had given Jiwoo an extraordinary, undeserved opportunity.
And the boy loved it so much.
“The opportunity from the Foundation that came to Jiwoo—I also know you were trying to be even more considerate because of my past connection with Guil.”
“……”
“I am grateful for it. For that, I truly thank you, CEO.”
Even though he was the man who had forgotten her, and even though she resented him for it…
She knew it wasn’t entirely Jeheon’s fault. It was the aftermath of an accident.
At first, she had resented Jeheon terribly, but she gradually came to accept reality.
There was nothing he could do about it either.
Rather than resenting a man who had no memories left, it was Yeonjae herself who needed to let go and resign herself to it.
Once she sorted out her thoughts, her heart felt much lighter. Facing Jeheon became easier, too.
“However, I don’t believe Jiwoo will be happy playing the piano. The Foundation may guarantee success, but it doesn’t guarantee happiness.”
A bitter smile touched Yeonjae’s lips as memories of her childhood surfaced.
“I was never happy.”
It was a truth she had never spoken aloud before.
Denying the Foundation felt like denying her own life, so she had never wanted to say it.
“I played the piano to my heart’s content, and my career as a pianist grew illustrious, but Jung Yeonjae wasn’t anywhere in it.”
Not even knowing her mother was sick.
What was the point of being consumed by the piano and having a glamorous exterior?
When there was no family to share in the joy of good news.
“You must know too, CEO. What it means that so many grant recipients have been replaced over the years. I want my son to live an ordinary life.”
“……”
“I am truly grateful, but I decline the Foundation’s contract.”
Yeonjae bowed her head toward Jeheon.
And when she straightened back up, the waiting room door opened.
“Jiwoo’s mom, the performance is about to start! Oh my, you’re here too, CEO?”
The one who broke the awkward tension in the air was Seoha’s mother, Hyekyung.
“We shouldn’t just stand around, let’s go!”
Before she could hear Jeheon’s reply, Yeonjae was led out toward the hall by Hyekyung.
“Jiwoo’s mom, our seats are right in the center! They say the CEO arranged these great seats for us.”
“You’re right. They really are the best seats.”
At Hyekyung’s excited explanation, Yeonjae sat down with an awkward smile.
Even in Yeonjae’s eyes, their seats were prime spots just a few rows back from the stage.
“Right? The Kindergarten is over there. They originally said it was fully booked so the kindergarten couldn’t come for the field trip, but it seems that got sorted out.”
Yeonjae’s gaze followed the direction of Hyekyung’s gesture.
In the back, she saw a familiar Teacher and children huddled close together.
It seemed not only Jiwoo’s Kindergarten but several other preschool classes had joined for their field trips as well.
Scanning the surroundings, Yeonjae’s eyes came to a stop up front.
In the section where the symphony orchestra officials sat, a familiar back caught her eye.
It was Jeheon, who had been with her in the waiting room just moments ago.
After staring at him without realizing it, Yeonjae looked up at the sound of a voice beside her.
“The power of the Guil Foundation really is no joke, huh?”
“It really is.”
“That’s why Jiwoo should also play piano—”
“Looks like it’s starting.”
Knowing all too well what Hyekyung was about to say, Yeonjae cut her off with an awkward smile.
Darkness settled over the hall, and the stage lights brightly illuminated the center.
A black Bösendorfer Grand Piano stood solitary in the middle of the stage.
Behind it stood a decorative flower arch blooming with red roses.
While numerous children came and went on stage, Yeonjae remained detached.
Not a single performance left an impression on her.
She merely clapped whenever an ensemble finished, and another team walked on, repeating the routine over and over.
As time passed like that, Yeonjae raised her head at the voice echoing from the side.
“And now, we have come to our final team.”
The very last team—it was Jiwoo and Seoha’s turn.
Following the host’s introduction, the two children walked out from backstage, holding hands tightly.
Jiwoo and Seoha walked to the center of the stage and bowed toward the audience.
“Oh my, look how adorable they are.”
Hyekyung was busy taking out her phone to record a video.
Even before fully straightening from his bow, Jiwoo peeked up, his eyes darting around busily.
Searching for someone, the boy’s gaze finally landed on Yeonjae.
As if forgetting he was on stage, Jiwoo broke into a radiant smile.
He looked like he was about to wave, but when Seoha tugged at him from beside, he finished his bow.
Unbelievable.
Jiwoo, you should finish bowing. Why are you looking for Mommy?
A gentle smile crept onto Yeonjae’s lips, which had been tense the entire time.
Around her, quiet chuckles rippled through the audience at how cute Jiwoo was being.
Having finished their greeting, the children moved to their positions.
Standing two steps ahead of the piano, Seoha rested the violin she held against her shoulder.
She then looked back at Jiwoo, who had taken his seat on the piano bench, and gave him a nod.
Catching the cue, Jiwoo raised his hands lightly, letting them alight upon the piano keys.
A melody began with delicate, soft syncopations on the piano.
To the accompaniment, the graceful violin melody in E major layered in, building rich harmonies.
Whenever Seoha moved, her pale pink tulle dress swayed softly.
With a performance distinctly different from the preceding teams, every eye in the hall was drawn to the stage.
“Oh my goodness, are they really kindergarteners?”
“They’re both so good.”
Even amidst the whispers around her, Yeonjae couldn’t tear her eyes away from Jiwoo.
His brows lifted when he concentrated, and soon a smile bloomed across his face at the melody flowing from his fingertips.
A brief piece lasting less than four minutes.
Throughout that short time, Jiwoo was utterly captivated by Salut d’Amour—right up until the moment he pressed the final note.
Whatever the piano was to him, the child looked so blissfully happy.
“However, I don’t believe Jiwoo will be happy playing the piano. The Foundation may guarantee success, but it doesn’t guarantee happiness.”
So happy that the words she had spoken to Jeheon just moments ago echoed in her head.
When the piece finally came to an end, Jiwoo lifted his head.
The children’s faces flushed red at the burst of applause resounding from all around.
Taking Seoha’s hand once more, Jiwoo walked to the center and bowed.
And Yeonjae met the child’s eyes as he lifted his head.
Even from a distance, the boy’s sparkling eyes seemed to ask her:
‘Mommy, did I do well?’
The tip of Yeonjae’s nose turned red.
Feeling tears threaten to spill for no reason, Yeonjae blinked them back and clapped all the harder.
Seeing her smile, Jiwoo broke into a beaming grin.
The image of his smile stretching from ear to ear was etched vividly into her mind.
