Sponsorship Stigma
Chapter 4
Amnesia
Straightening her posture, she lightly tapped her phone screen, bringing up the illuminated clock face.
Yeonjae parted her lips, a hollow laugh escaping her.
‘24:05’
She had come straight here after sending the message. From the hours when the scorching afternoon sun hung high until the deep darkness settled in.
Yeonjae had waited for Jeheon in the residence for half a day.
Her emotions had surged and plummeted as if she were on a roller coaster.
Even as she told herself he had only acted cold out of conscious awareness of the onlookers, the callous gaze he had turned on her was not so easily forgotten.
Still, she had believed he would come once he saw the message saying she would wait at the residence.
One o'clock.
I will wait until one, and not a minute later.
Looking down at the phone that had passed midnight, Yeonjae stood up listlessly.
The screech of the chair scraping backward felt exceptionally loud.
Her gaze slowly swept across the profoundly quiet residence.
“Whenever I call for you from now on, come here.”
“Where… is this place?”
“My home.”
The man who had held out a black master key to her.
Yeonjae’s eyes had widened in surprise at the word home.
Jeheon had an official residence.
The Samseong-dong apartment near the headquarters of Guil Group, where he served as CEO.
Yet what he had handed her was not the key to that Samseong-dong apartment.
“A place no one knows about. So don't bring anyone with you. Come alone.”
This residence was his secret sanctuary.
And Yeonjae was its first and only visitor.
“I ordered more cups, toothbrushes, and towels.”
“Why? Why don't you just move in and set up house?”
“Can I?”
No.
Perhaps she had stayed here even longer than the owner of this place, Jeheon himself.
Because she had always waited for him here.
Her gaze wandered to the kitchen, drifting past the sink to rest on the dish rack.
Two mugs sitting side by side.
Two pairs of spoons and chopsticks.
Memories blossomed vividly wherever her fluid gaze came to rest.
And when she finally turned around, her eyes falling upon the grand piano standing in the sprawling living room.
Her eyes grew searingly hot, and Yeonjae bit down hard on her lip.
“I despise the piano.”
“Then why did you buy it?”
A piano, something he claimed to detest, and yet Jeheon had brought in the finest one available.
“You look prettier when you play.”
The man who had held her close, burying his face against her the entire time she played.
“Besides, we can't do this at home.”
Sitting together to play the piano, kissing, laughing.
The year she had spent with him here had not been short. Every single moment had been sincere.
Tears that had gathered unbidden spilled down, pooling on the back of Yeonjae’s hand.
She raised her hand to stem them, but once they started, the tears poured out like a broken dam.
Strangely, ever since she set foot in this place, her tears would not dry up.
Foolishly enough, she found it hard to put this feeling into words.
Her shoulders heaved for a long time as she buried her face in both hands.
Just then, sensing a presence outside, she turned around.
It was the sound of footsteps echoing through the quiet space.
Yet when even those footsteps soon faded away, a wry smile formed on her lips.
“Now I'm hearing things… hah.”
She thought it would be better to go look for him rather than spend time doing this.
She knew Jeheon disliked arbitrary actions, but if they were lovers, surely that much would be fine.
Just as she decided to go to where he was, an electronic chime rang out, piercing the silence.
As if drawn by some spell, Yeonjae walked toward the front door.
It was unmistakably the sound of the digital door lock.
It happened just as she reached the entryway.
Yeonjae’s eyes widened at the silhouette visible through the half-open door.
There stood Jeheon, whom she had begun to believe would not come.
Their eyes met directly. The longing she had held back with all her might began to spill over.
This isn't a dream, is it?
Yeonjae rubbed her eyes, wiping away the wetness blurring her vision.
Overwhelmed by emotions that swelled until her chest ached, she ran to him.
And closing the distance in a single breath, she threw her arms around Jeheon.
At the warm heat felt inside her embrace, tears burst from Yeonjae once again.
What had happened during the day, the lingering trace of anxiety—all of it melted away like snow the moment she saw him.
“Why are you so late? I thought something terrible had really happened to you.”
The streams running down Yeonjae’s round cheeks soaked into Jeheon.
“I missed you.”
“…”
“I missed you so much, Jeheon-ssi.”
Desperate, ardent love bled through her damp voice.
And as if that feeling had reached him, he flinched slightly.
Rising on tiptoe, Yeonjae raised her hand to gently caress the back of his head.
The strands of hair slipping between her fingers.
The deep breath pooling against the curve of his neck constantly reminded her that he was back.
“I really missed you so…”
It was just as Yeonjae strained to speak.
With a derisive scoff, a chuckle that sounded like a sneer seeped into her ear.
“Disgusting.”
Yeonjae flinched, her body tensing.
She had not expected a tender reply like ‘I missed you too, Yeonjae.’
He had never been a gentle man to begin with.
Yet the voice echoing against her ear, sharp as shattered glass, was brimming with contempt. Just like earlier that day.
“Let go.”
No. I must have misheard.
Telling herself it could not be, Yeonjae lifted her head.
“Didn't you hear me tell you to let go?”
Yet the gaze piercing her skin was chillingly merciless.
It felt as if time had ground to a halt.
In the midst of time flowing endlessly on, Yeonjae could not move an inch.
A cold, terrifying sensation, as if sinking into the deep abyss of the sea, weighed down upon her.
“Jeong Yeonjae.”
At the low, measured voice, Yeonjae started.
As she straightened her head, his pitch-black eyes staring at her from inches away filled her field of vision.
“How do you know about this place?”
His gaze, which had been fixed on Yeonjae, slid past her toward the space behind her. The room was reflected in his eyes one detail at a time.
He was looking around as if Yeonjae’s presence in this residence was utterly foreign to him.
How did she know about it?
It was only natural. Before the accident, it was the space they had shared countless times.
Yeonjae clenched her fists tightly.
At that, the small object resting in her palm dug painfully into her flesh.
Even if she wished to believe this was a dream, the sharp pain shooting through her fingertips was all too vivid.
“What… do you mean by that?”
His eyes, which had been scanning the surroundings, turned back toward Yeonjae.
And a crooked, mocking smile touched his lips.
“Are you asking because you really don't know?”
Jeheon snatched her wrist in a swift motion, hauling it into the air.
As he twisted her wrist, her clenched fist was forced open, and an object dropped with a dull click.
“Why do you have that?”
He pointed downward with the tip of his chin.
Yeonjae’s gaze fell, landing on the master key lying on the floor.
“Even Madame Pyo Myeonghee doesn't know about this place.”
Her heart sank heavily at the voice filtering into her ears.
“Now you're running background checks on me, Jeong Yeonjae? Just what on earth are you… hah.”
His pitch-black pupils showed beneath an icy surface, like silt settling in muddy water.
Yeonjae shrank back under the undisguised disdain burning in those eyes.
The gaze fixed on her was unfamiliar, yet maddeningly familiar at the same time.
It was a look she had grown used to over more than ten years.
When Yeonjae closed her eyes, old memories layered over one another in vivid succession.
The Cheongdam-dong mansion, and Myeonghee’s lessons once a week.
On those days, even while looking at the piano keys, all her attention had been directed toward the top of the stairs.
Will he come down today?
Just a little longer—in thirty more minutes, it'll be time for him to go work out.
Whenever she waited with a fluttering heart and happened to run into Jeheon, she had been deliriously happy.
If you took the piano out of Jeong Yeonjae’s life, nothing remained.
Her heart beat whenever she pressed the piano keys.
The melodies blooming from her fingertips were the sole solace of her insignificant life.
Guil Foundation. A student personally raised by the world-renowned pianist Pyo Myeonghee.
Among all the children sponsored by the Foundation, Yeonjae was the only one who had endured steadfastly to the end.
\[Jeong Yeonjae Delivers a Dreamlike Performance, Becoming the Youngest Winner of the Chopin International Piano Competition\]
\[Birth of a Prodigy: Jeong Yeonjae, the Monumental Achievement of Pianist Pyo Myeonghee\]
Behind that glorious achievement lay countless entangled interests.
Jeong Yeonjae was the greatest triumph of the Guil Foundation, managed personally by Myeonghee.
A prodigy pianist shaped by a world-class pianist.
‘The one and only disciple of Pyo Myeonghee.’
‘The pride of Guil Foundation.’
Not once had the name Jeong Yeonjae stood out on its own.
Under the numerous titles that followed her, those three syllables of her name were easily overshadowed.
If Pyo Myeonghee and Guil Foundation were removed from Jeong Yeonjae, would anything be left?
Yeonjae shook her head faintly.
A passive life lived purely through Myeonghee.
Jeheon was the very first thing Yeonjae had ever dared to covet for herself.
“Did you forget what I said?”
Her body was shoved backward along with the low voice pooling in her ears.
And as she lifted her head, their eyes locked once more.
“I don't date the kids the Madame raises.”
She saw her own reflection mirrored in his deeply sunken black eyes.
Like a herbivore cornered by a predator, she was trembling beneath his fierce gaze.
“So I believe I told you to go find someone on your own level.”
At the look and voice she had undeniably encountered before, Yeonjae’s lips trembled violently.
Old memories overlapped atop his figure.
“You? I don't like you. You reek of a brat.”
“Then what about when I become an adult?”
His dry gaze had gradually descended, coming to rest on Yeonjae’s school uniform.
Next year, she would graduate and become an adult.
The school uniform that felt like shackles, and school itself, would all be behind her.
Her wavering eyes had looked up at Jeheon.
Gazing at him with a faint trace of hope.
Could there perhaps be the slightest sliver of a chance?
They had known each other for years.
Because her heart felt like it would burst just looking at him, Yeonjae had clutched the cuff of her dress shirt.
“I don't play around with the kids our Madame raises. It creeps me out. You people who look like you'd do anything for money. So go find someone on your own level.”
Yet contrary to her hopes, Jeheon had been uncompromising. Every single word was as sharp as a thorn.
Yeonjae’s love had been trampled before it could even blossom.
She had returned home and cried for days on end.
And yet, no wall was eternal. In the end, the two of them had become lovers.
So why was he telling her to find someone on her own level now?
When Yeonjae cast her eyes downward, they landed on the master key.
What was more, that key was something the man had personally given to her.
As long-forgotten memories began to resurface one by one, her heart pounded frantically.
Could it be… does he not remember?
No, that can't be, right?
She hurriedly lifted her head, and her eyes met his.
Taking him in carefully, she sensed an aura completely different from the Jeheon who had promised to attend her recital.
The intense emotion of disgust deeply etched into his cold, staring eyes.
Was this the reason behind the sense of discord she had felt seeing him awake?
Unable to close her parted lips, Yeonjae trembled all over.
He has no memory? That's impossible.
“Jeheon-ssi, don't you… remember?”
Even as she asked him, Yeonjae clutched her trembling fists.
