Translator: Nox

Sponsorship Stigma

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

30. If You’re a Man

It was right after Jiwoo and Yeonjae emerged from the crowd amidst the applause.

“Jiwoo’s mom!”

At the sound of someone calling for Yeonjae, the two of them turned around.

Standing there were Hyekyung and Seoha.

“My goodness, how can you play the piano so well? I came out of the restroom and heard the music, wondering what on earth was going on!”

Hyekyung approached with a flushed face and linked her arm through Yeonjae’s left.

“I wondered who was playing so beautifully, and I was so shocked to see it was Jiwoo and his mom.”

“…….”

“The teacher said you used to play the piano, and it was really true!”

“Auntie, you play the piano?”

Seoha asked pertly, tugging at the hem of Yeonjae’s clothes.

Seoha’s round eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“My mom was a pianist!”

“Really?”

Jiwoo answered on Yeonjae’s behalf in a thrilled voice.

At that, Seoha’s eyes went wide as saucers.

Her jaw dropped in disbelief as she looked back and forth between Yeonjae and Jiwoo.

“It’s true! Mom, you were a pianist, right?”

Jiwoo grabbed Yeonjae’s hand, his eyes brimming with anticipation.

Jiwoo tugged at her hand, pressing for an answer.

Watching Seoha and Hyekyung stare with astonished faces, Yeonjae looked visibly flustered.

She didn’t know how much the kindergarten teacher had told them.

However, it had been a long time since Yeonjae buried her past as a pianist deep in her heart.

“That’s all in the past, Jiwoo. I only played the piano for a short while.”

Feeling burdened by any further attention, Yeonjae waved her hand dismissively.

Despite the half-hearted clarification, Hyekyung’s eyes gleamed as if she had spotted an intriguing piece of prey.

“Who cares if it was just a short while! Can’t you just teach Jiwoo yourself?”

“…….”

“From what I saw, you were at a professional level. Come to think of it, didn’t you say you worked part-time at an academy? That was a piano academy, right?”

Quick on the uptake, Hyekyung pieced together everything Yeonjae had mentioned before.

Yeonjae had tried to hide it precisely because this kind of conversation made her uncomfortable.

“No, it’s not like that at all.”

A bitter smile touched Yeonjae’s lips.

Playing the piano wasn’t something achieved simply by teaching.

Besides, her fingers had already stiffened, leaving her unable to perform as a pianist.

On top of that, Jiwoo was a born genius far beyond Yeonjae.

There was no way she could handle nurturing someone like him.

Unless it were someone like Myeonghee, who was hailed as a master born of South Korea.

The sudden image of Myeonghee crossing her mind cast a shadow over Yeonjae’s face.

That venomous glare, that sharp-tongued face barking reprimands.

In front of Myeonghee, she had been so intimidated that she had never once been able to straighten her back comfortably.

The thought of entrusting Jiwoo to such a woman made her dizzy with dread.

Even if a blade were held to her throat, she would never allow it.

Resolving this within herself, Yeonjae parted her lips.

“Shall we get going? There’s not much time left before the performance starts.”

“…….”

“The subways in Seoul get very crowded in the evening, so we’d better hurry.”

Forcing a change of subject, she quickened her pace toward the subway station.

* * *

“Mom, did you see that? The line was so long, but we got right through!”

Jiwoo chattered excitedly to Yeonjae, his voice high and flushed.

When Jiwoo’s party arrived at the concert hall, an usher was waiting for them.

Perhaps because the ticket Jiwoo presented was no ordinary one, the usher guided them all the way to their seats in person.

“Yeah. Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“Totally! I felt just like a cool hyung in a drama!”

“I know. But what should we do about sitting apart from Seoha and her mom? Aren’t you sad about that, Jiwoo?”

“Eh? Getting to watch it at all is amazing! It’s a concert by such a famous pianist.”

Yeonjae glanced over at Hyekyung, who was sitting far from their seats.

Noticing Yeonjae’s gaze, Hyekyung waved her hand vigorously and smiled.

Jeheon had said that since the recital was so close, he couldn’t secure seats next to each other.

Having constantly refreshed the booking website trying to snag canceled tickets, Yeonjae understood completely.

Not a single cancellation had popped up. The fact that Jeheon had managed to get tickets for Seoha and Hyekyung as well was nothing short of a miracle.

Knowing this, Hyekyung had no complaints.

“Mo-om! Why does Jiwoo get a seat closer to the front?”

“Seoha, quiet!”

“Whyyy? Jiwoo’s over there right in the front center! Why are Seoha and Mom way back here? I want to go to the royal seats too!”

“Shh. Jang Seoha, didn’t I tell you that you’re not supposed to talk loudly in a concert hall?”

Even from a distance, Seoha’s pouty complaints drifted over.

Whatever she was so upset about, Seoha pouted her lips, but Jiwoo didn’t pay it the slightest bit of attention.

Jiwoo turned around and looked all around him.

With eyes sparkling as if holding the stars, the boy was busy drinking in the vast concert hall.

“Mom, Mom. The concert hall is so big. It even has three floors!”

Jiwoo, who had been kneeling on his seat to look behind him, spoke to Yeonjae.

Only then did Yeonjae begin to take in her surroundings.

“It’s different from the hall where I played. That place was also the Arts Center, so why is it so different?”

“You’re right. This place is much bigger than where you played. It must be because it’s Seoul.”

“Whoa. Mom, does Jiwoo have to become famous to play here?”

Yeonjae’s hand, which had been gently stroking Jiwoo’s hair, paused for a moment.

After that brief hesitation, her hand moved again, lightly ruffling his hair.

“You probably will.”

“Like Jepkin?”

“Yeah. Like Jepkin.”

Jiwoo nodded as if he understood.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned back around to face forward.

He tugged on Yeonjae’s arm and leaned in close.

Drawing close with an air of secrecy, as if about to share a classified secret, the child whispered:

“Then did Mom ever play here too?”

At Jiwoo’s question, Yeonjae’s eyes met the boy’s in midair.

Looking up at her intently as he waited for her answer, anticipation was written all over the child’s face.

Was my mom an amazing pianist like Jepkin too?

Jiwoo looked as though he had so many things he wanted to ask.

Yeonjae’s lips trembled slightly.

Looking down at the child brimming with anticipation, Yeonjae offered a faint smile.

“Yeah. Mom played here once, too.”

Even though that recital had ended up being her first and last.

Pianist Jung Yeonjae’s first piano recital.

The day she heard the news that Jeheon had gotten into an accident on his way over—that performance took place right here, in this concert hall.

“Really?”

The boy’s eyes widened into perfect circles.

A broad grin naturally spread across his face. Just as Jiwoo moved his lips to say something to Yeonjae—

The surrounding lights began to dim, starting from the back.

“Whoa, looks like it’s starting!”

Jiwoo adjusted himself into an upright posture in his seat.

What was so great about a concert that made him this thrilled? Smiling as she watched him, Yeonjae’s eyes caught sight of an empty seat.

It was the seat right beside her.

Even though the performance was beginning, the seat’s owner had not arrived.

The seats the two of them occupied were premium spots, even among the royal seats.

Because it was right in the center of the front rows, not far from the stage.

To think someone would leave a seat like this empty.

Her brief thought of curiosity didn’t last long.

Seeing Jepkin walk onto the stage, the thought quickly vanished from her mind.

* * *

Jiwoo didn’t blink even once, right up to the moment Jepkin finished his stage greetings and returned to sit at the piano.

The child, who had been leaning back against the seat, shifted his weight forward.

As if trying to see even a fraction closer.

Jepkin’s hands drifted upward through the air as if swimming, before settling softly onto the keys.

Like numerous crystals colliding and resonating together, high notes rang out, filling the vast concert hall.

The piece’s title, La Campanella, meant “little bell” in Italian.

Clear as church bells ringing out, the first high note, D, resonated briskly, echoing across the hall.

The melody reverberating through the ears was mesmerizing. So much so that chills ran through the entire body.

Yeonjae gently turned her head.

Jiwoo’s mouth hung agape, his enlarged eyes showing no sign of shrinking.

If it was like this for Yeonjae, who had played the piano her whole life, how overwhelming must it be for Jiwoo?

What’s more, having played the exact same piece right before coming to the concert hall, it would feel all the more profound to him.

From the first piece to the final program.

For two whole hours, the boy was completely captivated by the performance.

While Seoha showed signs of boredom partway through, Jiwoo’s eyes only grew brighter as time passed.

When Yeonjae looked down, she saw his ten fingers twitching against his knees.

A recital—it was merely a piano performance.

Yet the child looked happy. Happier than at any other moment.

“However, I don’t believe playing the piano will make Jiwoo happy. The Foundation may guarantee success, but it never guaranteed happiness.”

Right then, Jeheon’s words overlapped in her mind, causing Yeonjae to bite her lip.

Could Jiwoo truly be happy?

Even though Yeonjae had failed, would her child be different?

Just as Jiwoo’s mind was entirely filled with the piano, Yeonjae’s mind was entirely filled with her child.

Right up to the moment the recital ended.

The curtain fell on those long two hours, and the audience members began to leave their seats one by one.

As if wrapped in a deep afterglow, Jiwoo remained seated for a long while even after the performance ended.

After holding that silence, the child suddenly sprang up from his seat and faced Yeonjae.

“I wanna play the piano! Can’t we go back to that department store from earlier?”

As if his hands were itching to play, the boy stamped his feet.

“I just wanna play once. Please?”

Holding up his index finger and begging, he made Yeonjae wear a troubled expression.

It was already past the department store’s closing time.

Just as she was about to tell him that they couldn’t today and should try another day—

“Jung Jiwoo.”

A deep voice came from behind, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps.

“If you’re a man, you have to know how to be patient.”

Jiwoo’s gaze, which had been fixed on Yeonjae, slid toward the back.

And his eyes went wide, as if he had just spotted someone.