Sponsorship Stigma
Chapter 25
I Need You
“Salaje Zepkin?”
Salaje Zepkin, the young Russian pianist.
After making a name for himself by placing in the International Tchaikovsky Competition, he was now one of the most talked-about pianists in the world.
A virtuoso whose dazzling technique earned him comparisons to a reincarnated Liszt.
His most famous performance was Liszt’s La Campanella.
“Yeah! You know, that one! The pianist who played this piece!”
Jiwoo began humming, mimicking the melody.
Even from just a few short bars of the introduction, Yeonjae could tell it was La Campanella.
“Right. La Campanella.”
“La Campanella! That’s it, that was the one!”
Jiwoo nodded with a beaming smile.
“The pianist who played the La Campanella I heard before was Jepkin, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
Once, Jepkin’s performance of La Campanella during his tour in Korea had been broadcast on TV.
Jiwoo had been completely captivated by Jepkin’s playing back then and became an instant fan.
The boy had talked on and on, saying until his breath ran dry that he wanted to become a pianist who played as wonderfully as that.
“Did you know Jepkin is coming to Korea, Mom?”
“Really? Mommy didn’t know.”
Yeonjae shook her head with a gentle smile.
She only knew of Jepkin because Jiwoo liked him, not because she was interested enough to follow his news herself.
“Mmm, really? I guess he’s doing a concert here.”
“Is that so? Jiwoo, why don’t you finish your pizza first?”
Yeonjae handed the remaining slice of pizza to Jiwoo, who was still chattering excitedly while kicking his feet.
He was especially talkative today.
Was he really that thrilled that his favorite pianist was coming to Korea?
Even after finishing his pizza and all the way until bedtime, Jiwoo kept talking about Jepkin.
“All right, Jiwoo. It’s late, so let’s go to sleep and talk more tomorrow, okay?”
Even as she turned off the nightlight beside the bed, the child hadn’t stopped babbling.
Seeing Jiwoo finally close his eyes, Yeonjae shut the bedroom door and stepped into the living room.
Only after clearing the table, packing away the leftover pizza, and finishing the dishes did Yeonjae sit down at the table.
With the child asleep, the living room fell dead quiet.
Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes for a moment before taking out her phone.
Searching Jepkin’s name on a portal site brought up links related to his concert in Korea.
“He really is doing a concert here.”
The performance was only two weeks away.
Yeonjae thought of Jiwoo, who had talked about it all evening as if longing to go.
“I wonder if there are any tickets left.”
Just in case, Yeonjae accessed the ticketing website.
She selected the number of seats and checked, but every single seat was sold out. It was only to be expected.
He was a world-renowned pianist, after all.
Jiwoo seemed to want it so badly that she considered trying to get tickets somehow, but paying a scalper’s premium was simply too expensive.
“Nothing I can do.”
Yeonjae set her phone down dejectedly.
I already turned down the Foundation, too.
If he watched the pianist perform, it would only deepen his yearning for the piano.
Perhaps it was better not to go at all.
Even as she comforted herself with that thought, a corner of Yeonjae’s heart felt unsettled.
Even after arriving at the cafe for work, Yeonjae occasionally checked her phone.
The sparkling look in her child’s eyes throughout dinner yesterday weighed heavily on her mind.
Hoping a cancellation might pop up, she kept checking the ticketing site.
“What are you looking at so intently? Jepkin?”
“Ah, just checking on a concert.”
When Yeonjae turned around, the manager was standing there, having approached without her noticing.
At her response, the manager peeked at the screen and asked,
“A concert?”
“My son loves this pianist and seemed to really want to go. But it’s sold out.”
Yeonjae set down her phone with a sigh.
“I was hoping to grab a cancellation if one popped up, but I guess there won’t be any. Nothing to be done.”
“Is he that famous?”
“Yes. He’s a very popular pianist these days.”
“Is that so? I don’t know classical music, so I have no idea. Still, if Jiwoo wants to see it, I can see why it’s weighing on you, Yeonjae-ssi.”
Yeonjae gave a faint smile to the manager, who offered her understanding sympathy.
Just having someone she could talk to like this was a great comfort in itself.
As a new order came in, Yeonjae turned and walked over to the coffee machine.
She locked in the portafilter packed with ground beans and began pulling a shot.
A crisp chime rang out behind her, followed soon after by the manager’s slightly flustered voice.
“Oh my, you come here quite often.”
Is it a regular?
Wondering to herself, Yeonjae poured the extracted shot into a plastic cup.
“This is the only place that has what I’m looking for.”
“We don’t have those beans, though. Like I told you before, those were blended by Yeonjae-ssi.”
As her fingers curled around the finished cup, a familiar voice drifted into her ears, making Yeonjae spin around.
“I know.”
At the end of Yeonjae’s gaze stood a man.
It was Jeheon, staring at her with an unyielding gaze.
“That’s why I came looking for the person herself today.”
“…….”
“Jung Yeonjae.”
Seeing him act so brazenly, as if she owed him her time, Yeonjae swallowed a dry laugh.
Catching sight of the waiting customer, she placed the cup onto the pickup counter.
Didn’t he go back to Seoul?
His business trip in Daejeon should have ended when the concert did.
Standing in front of the counter, Jeheon watched Yeonjae silently.
She swallowed a sigh at his gaze, which seemed to silently demand why she wasn’t taking his order.
As she walked over to the counter, the manager stepped aside for her.
Yeonjae looked at Jeheon briefly before shifting her eyes down to the POS screen.
“I’m working right now. I don’t have time to talk.”
“…….”
“And if it’s about the Foundation, you know I have even less time to spare.”
Expecting him to bring up the Foundation again, Yeonjae cut him off preemptively.
Jeheon, having stayed quiet as if at a loss for words, extended a credit card.
“An iced Americano.”
Yeonjae’s brow furrowed.
Why order something you can’t even drink anyway? Mutters echoed internally, but she eventually took the card.
Finishing the payment, Yeonjae returned the card along with a buzzer.
Jeheon took a seat by the window, not far from the counter.
Watching him do so, Yeonjae turned around and began pulling an espresso shot.
“What is it about today?”
“I don’t know. I thought he’d gone back to Seoul.”
“Seeing him take a seat, looks like he’s going to wait. Gasp, he’s looking at me.”
Startled, the manager ducked behind Yeonjae.
“Your ex-boyfriend came to the cafe before, too. He came without knowing you’d left early.”
There had been a day when business was slow, so she had clocked out an hour early.
“Ah, that day.”
Yeonjae let out a quiet sigh.
And that was also the day Jeheon had shown up at the academy.
It seemed he had stopped by the cafe first, and upon finding her gone, headed to the academy.
Yeonjae pulled the espresso shot, her brows knitting together slightly.
So he knew all along that I made the beans myself.
Yeonjae poured the freshly pulled espresso shot into a cup filled with ice.
She placed the coffee cup on the pickup counter, but instead of ringing the buzzer, she walked out into the hall.
Knowing Jeheon, he was the type to force an opportunity to talk with her no matter what.
Lunch hour was fast approaching.
If he staged a silent sit-in during the rush hour, it would make things difficult for both Yeonjae and the manager.
Approaching the table where Jeheon sat, Yeonjae set the cup down.
At that, the man who appeared to be looking at a tablet lifted his gaze.
“I’ll tell you again: I refused the Foundation. If that’s what this is about, I have nothing to s—”
“Not that.”
Jeheon placed the tablet down on the table.
“I need coffee.”
A cup of coffee had just been placed right in front of him.
Yet seeing him pay it no attention whatsoever made it clear that wasn’t what he meant.
“I gave you coffee beans.”
“I drank it all.”
His answer came out reflexively, like a vending machine dispensing an item the moment a button was pressed, making Yeonjae scowl.
She had given him the beans just last week.
Even if it was a pre-portioned amount, it was impossible to drink it all in such a short span of time.
“That wasn’t an amount you could finish so quickly. And I told you that was the last time.”
She had made it crystal clear when he came to the academy that she would never give him beans again.
Make something similar and drink that. Just as she was about to say those words—
“Even in Seoul, they said they couldn’t replicate that blend. If you’re the only one who can make it, what choice do I have?”
Jeheon, who had been leaning back against the chair, straightened his posture and leaned in toward Yeonjae.
“Jung Yeonjae, I need you.”
And with that, his eyes, drawn even closer, locked onto Yeonjae.
