Sponsorship Stigma
Chapter 35
Sponsorship Contract
From the moment they left the kindergarten until they boarded the train, Jiwoo’s face was flushed red with excitement.
As if he still couldn’t believe he was really heading to Seoul.
After peering out the train window, he turned around to face Yeonjae.
“Mom. Where are we going when we get to Seoul? That department store we went to last time?”
He seemed to think that going to play the piano meant visiting that department store again.
Finding Jiwoo utterly adorable, Yeonjae ruffled his hair.
“No. We’re going to a very big company today. One of the top ten most famous companies in the country.”
“A company?”
“Yes. You’re going to sign a contract with the Foundation today, Jiwoo.”
At the mention of the Foundation, Jiwoo’s eyes went wide.
“Then is mister going to be there too?”
When Yeonjae nodded, Jiwoo’s face brightened noticeably.
An innocent smile soon spread across the boy’s face.
“What a relief! I thought I was never going to see him again.”
“Were you worried you wouldn’t get to see him?”
Jiwoo gave a small nod.
“Jiwoo likes mister. I thought if I couldn’t do that Foundation thing, I’d have to say goodbye to him.”
So this little boy’s worry had been Jeheon all along.
The fact that Jiwoo had grown so close to him that he was already worried about parting weighed heavily on her heart.
“Mom, Jiwoo wants to be cool like mister too.”
“……Why?”
“Because I like him!”
Asked why he liked him, the boy seemed to ponder for a moment before breaking into a bashful grin.
“He’s cool, and umm…… handsome, ah, I don’t know. But I think I just like him!”
Perhaps it was already foreseeable back then, the day Jiwoo first confessed how much he liked Jeheon.
Father and son. Severing the sacred blood ties between them was an impossible task.
If the piano and Jeheon were Jiwoo’s destiny, Yeonjae had to do what she could within it.
To protect her child from getting hurt, and to shield him from Myeonghee.
‘Mom will protect you, Jiwoo.’
So that nothing can ever threaten you.
“Mom, how long does it take to get to Seoul?”
“A little over an hour.”
“Whoa, that’s so fast!”
Jiwoo chattered incessantly until they reached Seoul.
When he grew tired, he gazed out the window, dozed off, and whenever he woke back up, he struck up a conversation with Yeonjae again.
And when their train arrived at Yongsan Station, someone was waiting for them.
Holding Jiwoo’s hand tightly, Yeonjae followed Secretary Oh into the building.
As soon as they stepped off the train, Secretary Oh, who had been waiting for them at the station, had greeted them.
She hadn’t even told him their train schedule, yet he knew with eerie precision.
From the moment he got out of the car and entered the building, Jiwoo’s eyes sparkled.
Even though it was just a parking lot, he was busy looking all around with curiosity.
Stepping into the corporate headquarters made Yeonjae feel inexplicably nervous.
Even though she knew no one would recognize her, stepping into the realm of Guil naturally brought a wave of tension.
[I would like to sign the contract somewhere other than the Foundation. Please.]
In response to the message Yeonjae had sent, Jeheon had summoned them to his corporate office instead of the Foundation.
Fortunately, taking the elevator directly connected from the parking lot minimized the chances of catching anyone’s eye.
The elevator they boarded ascended rapidly and came to a stop at the top floor.
Perhaps because it was a private elevator directly to the CEO’s office, Jiwoo, Yeonjae, and Secretary Oh were the only ones inside.
“Mom, why does this elevator only have one button?”
Finding it fascinating that it only went to a single floor, Jiwoo whispered to Yeonjae.
“That’s because this elevator is just for him.”
“Just for him? Does mister have his own elevator too?”
“Yes.”
“Whoa.”
At the child’s pure admiration, Secretary Oh chuckled softly beside them.
The elevator doors opened. They followed Secretary Oh down the hallway and entered the room he stopped in front of.
It was a meeting room.
As the door opened, the man seated at the center table looked up.
“Mister!”
Recognizing Jeheon, Jiwoo dashed toward him first.
After greeting the boy, Jeheon shifted his gaze to Yeonjae as she took a seat across from him.
“I told you I’d send my secretary for you. You really are stubborn.”
“Secretary Oh still ended up picking us up at Yongsan Station anyway. Jiwoo, come sit here.”
Yes!
Replying cheerfully, Jiwoo came over and sat in the chair Yeonjae pulled out for him.
“Besides, the train is faster than driving.”
“That’s right. Riding the train was really fast, mister.”
When Jiwoo chimed in to back Yeonjae up, Jeheon seemed to have no retort and gave a silent nod to his secretary.
Secretary Oh stepped forward and presented a folder in front of Yeonjae.
“Here is the contract.”
“…….”
“The points you requested earlier have been revised from the draft you previously received, and special terms have been added.”
With those words, he produced a pen from inside his suit jacket and placed it before Yeonjae.
When Yeonjae lifted her gaze, Jeheon signaled for her to read it over.
Taking a deep breath, Yeonjae opened the folder, and a familiar stack of papers came into view.
It was a contract she hadn’t seen in a very long time.
“Sponsorship? Mom, what is sponsorship?”
“Sponsorship means the Foundation will help you learn and give you support once you sign the contract.”
Yeonjae explained briefly and clearly to Jiwoo.
Even with a lengthy explanation, it was a concept too difficult for a five-year-old to grasp.
“Jung Jiwoo, want something to drink?”
“A drink? Like juice?”
“Yeah.”
“Jiwoo wants hot chocolate.”
At Jeheon’s offer, Jiwoo smiled brightly and ordered hot chocolate.
“Then we need to go to the cafe. Secretary Oh, could you take Jiwoo down to the in-house cafe?”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
Catching the underlying hint to take the child out for a moment, Secretary Oh stepped up to Jiwoo.
“Jiwoo, be on your best behavior.”
Yeonjae, also realizing Jeheon’s intention, gently reminded Jiwoo.
“What about you, Mom?”
“Mom’s fine. Go have your drink, Jiwoo.”
As always, her child was the only one who truly cared about her.
Endeared by that, she gently stroked Jiwoo’s hair. The boy nodded in understanding and took Secretary Oh’s hand, walking out the door.
The meeting room, once filled with the boy’s chattering voice, fell into silence.
“It gets quiet the moment that little guy steps out.”
“Right? At Jiwoo’s age, children start talking non-stop.”
Yeonjae found herself speaking before she could stop herself.
“At first, I was worried because he was late to start talking, but now I feel much more relieved.”
“…….”
“It’s tough when a child’s development is delayed. That’s just how a mother feels.”
Having rattled on about Jiwoo so easily, she suddenly caught herself and stopped.
It was uncharacteristic behavior for her.
“Ah, I rambled too much, didn’t I? Please understand, it’s just because I’m a mom.”
“I see that.”
Jeheon, who had been staring at her intently, murmured.
“It really hits me all over again that Jung Yeonjae is a mother.”
He rested his chin in his hand, looking at Yeonjae.
Under his steady gaze, Yeonjae was the first to look away.
Lowering her eyes, she began examining the contract.
[Sponsorship Contract]
Article 1, Clause 1.
Article 2, Clause 2.
.
.
.
Endless clauses running on and on.
When she was young, Yeonjae hadn’t understood what any of it meant even as she looked at the contract.
She had only cared about what she would receive and what she could enjoy.
And through that contract, she learned that nothing in this world is free.
The shackles locked in place the very moment the contract was signed.
And the stigma stamped on her as a beneficiary bound Yeonjae incessantly.
A child sponsored by the Foundation.
Wherever she went, whatever she did, the name Guil Foundation preceded her own three-syllable name.
At first, it didn’t matter.
She thought playing the piano without worrying about money was more than enough.
Yet as time passed and the existence known as Yeonjae faded away, the emptiness in her heart only grew.
Was she not Jung Yeonjae anymore?
Just because she was sponsored and taught, did she have to endure and bear everything?
“Um…… do I really have to go in?”
“The Director called for you.”
“But if I go in, again……”
Yeonjae had hesitated in front of Myeonghee’s door.
She never knew what object might fly across the room and strike her once she stepped inside.
That wasn’t all. Countless insults, and sometimes physical blows followed.
“I’ll get scolded……”
“That’s because you didn’t do well, Yeonjae-yang. You’re being sponsored and trained—what in the world is supposed to be easy about that? Others are desperate for an opportunity like this. Go on in.”
That because she was a beneficiary, enduring it was only natural.
The words Yeonjae struggled to speak were dismissed in an instant by Manager Joo.
“Mom is sick…… May I please leave early today?”
“Don’t make excuses. Would you be staying for extra practice if you performed properly in the first place? Stop using your mother as an excuse and just practice!”
Her mother, who had grown sickly and terribly ill one day.
She had left the house, leaving behind her mother who asked if she could skip practice just for today and stay home. Not knowing that would be the last time.
It was on that very day that life at the Foundation, which had been barely bearable, became suffocatingly overwhelming.
After her mother passed away and Yeonjae was left all alone, she was nothing more than easy prey.
Myeonghee knew better than anyone that Yeonjae had nowhere left to turn.
‘Without the Foundation, how would someone like you even make a living?’
Amidst the abuse and gaslighting, Yeonjae gradually lost herself.
In the living hell that was the Foundation, the only reason she endured was Jeheon.
Perhaps it was an unrequited love born from the sheer need for something to hold on to.
As old memories suddenly flooded her mind, Yeonjae gripped her hands tight.
Even after so many years, just remembering Myeonghee was still excruciating.
Facing her in person would be even more terrifying and dreadful.
Yet she had to endure.
As long as Jiwoo chose the piano, the only thing Yeonjae could do was protect her child.
I won’t leave my child’s side like my mother did.
“Did you check everything? All the terms you mentioned beforehand are included.”
Before setting off, Yeonjae had requested a few conditions from Jeheon prior to signing.
The piano lessons would take place in an undisclosed location, with only Jiwoo, Yeonjae, and the teacher present.
Jiwoo and Yeonjae would not go to the Foundation.
And Myeonghee and Jiwoo must avoid running into each other as much as possible.
The attached clauses included every single condition Yeonjae had demanded without exception.
“Yes. I’ve checked it. I’ll sign.”
Dabbing at the sting in the bridge of her nose, Yeonjae set down the contract.
“Please make me one last promise.”
The most important threshold remained.
“That if anything ever happens to Jiwoo in the future, you will protect him no matter what.”
