Sponsorship Stigma
Chapter 50
Not That You Dislike It, but That You Can’t
The jazz music drifting from the speakers was relaxed to the point of languor.
Resting her chin on her hand, Yeonjae stared out the window.
Outside, the street bustled with cars and pedestrians coming and going.
Yet inside the cafe, it was completely quiet.
With only bar seating available, it was hardly comfortable for office workers looking to linger.
And above all, the prices were higher than at the nearby franchise cafes.
Hand-drip coffee, roasted and brewed in-house.
Unless someone was a true coffee enthusiast, there was little reason to go out of their way to come here.
“We won’t actually go out of business like this… right?”
Yeonjae murmured, worry lacing her voice.
The manager had laughed and insisted that would never happen, but seeing the sales figures firsthand, Yeonjae couldn’t help but worry.
I need to find another job soon.
Even though she checked job-hunting apps whenever she had a break, it was far from easy.
Evenings were out of the question because of Jiwoo, and since she worked at the cafe, she had to find a place where she could work only a few days a week.
‘The cafe pays well, so it’s not like I can just quit right away, either.’
And above all, she lacked the confidence that she could find another job with better conditions so close to home.
That was why Yeonjae wanted the cafe to do well.
She could only treat the few customers who did visit with warm hospitality, hoping they would become regulars.
Wiping down the counter, Yeonjae lifted her head.
A glance at the desk clock showed that lunchtime was right around the corner.
During lunch hours, Yeonjae would lock the cafe doors and grab a quick meal nearby.
She had asked if she could eat a packed lunch inside, but was told that the cafe owner was sensitive to smells.
The owner had insisted that lunch had to be eaten outside.
The manager had confidently declared that covering meal expenses and guaranteeing a lunch break was a pretty good perk in its own right.
“Job insecurity is far scarier than perks like that, though,”
Yeonjae muttered as she gathered her things.
She was about to head out to eat.
Just then, her phone on the bar table lit up and began to vibrate.
Startled by the sudden buzz, Yeonjae picked up the phone.
Could it be Jeheon?
Even in the brief moment it took to check the screen, tension was plain across her face.
Then, seeing the familiar name appear on the display, her stiff expression softened.
“Yes, Secretary Oh.”
―Do you have a moment to talk?
It was Secretary Oh calling.
“Yes, of course.”
―It’s just that the tuner visited the residence this morning and tuned the piano.
“Tuning? But it was tuned before.”
Yeonjae tilted her head in confusion.
A tuner had come by not long ago, which was how Jiwoo had been able to start his piano lessons.
That was only a few days ago.
―The CEO told me to have it checked again. Things were so hectic back then that we couldn’t properly verify the tuning.
“The piano sounds fine. There’s really no need to call someone.”
Yeonjae recalled the sound she had heard during the lesson. There had been nothing unpleasant or grating to the ear.
Jiwoo’s teacher had shared the same opinion.
―The tuner has already come and gone. I’m calling because the tuning is finished. Yeonjae-ssi, you need to go to the residence and check it once.
“Me?”
Fluster filled Yeonjae’s eyes.
Then she soon conceded. If someone had to check the tuning, she was indeed the right person.
She was staying at the residence, and she was someone who could play the piano.
“I’ll check it this evening.”
―The thing is… you need to check it right now.
“Right now?”
―Yes. The tuner is waiting downstairs. Once we confirm there are no issues, he’ll be on his way.
Yeonjae looked troubled.
“Secretary Oh, I’m working right now.”
Silence lingered on the other end of the line for a moment.
After what seemed like a long hesitation, Secretary Oh spoke cautiously.
“This is the CEO’s idea, isn’t it? Telling me to check it right now.”
―…Yes. The CEO is aware that your lunch break is coming up, so he said you’d have plenty of time to check the tuning.
Dumbfounded, Yeonjae swallowed a dry laugh.
It seemed he now had even her schedule down to a tee.
“He certainly is thorough. Not you, Secretary Oh—the CEO, I mean.”
―…He tends to be that way, yes.
“All right. I’ll do that.”
―Thank you. I should have checked thoroughly when I called the tuner earlier; I’m sorry to trouble you.
“No, it’s not your fault at all, Secretary Oh.”
Secretary Oh had only done his best.
The real problem was simply that she had gotten on Jeheon’s nerves.
With an apology, the call ended.
As stillness settled back over the cafe, Yeonjae put down her phone and took off her apron.
A look at the clock showed that lunchtime had already arrived.
If she went to the residence to check the tuning and cooked herself a quick lunch at home before heading out, the timing should work out roughly right.
Even with a meal allowance, business was slow, and she had felt guilty spending good money to buy food outside.
Thinking that this was for the best, Yeonjae locked the cafe door.
Does he really have to go this far?
Was his intention just to bother me?
Because he was displeased with what happened that day? Or because I moved out on my own?
Yeonjae’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts the entire walk toward the residence.
There were so many things weighing on her mind that it was hard to even tell which one had upset Jeheon.
When Yeonjae opened the front door and stepped inside, cool air brushed against her skin.
Passing through the hallway and stepping into the living room, the piano positioned straight ahead came into view.
Though it looked no different from yesterday, Yeonjae felt inexplicably suffocated.
Being here with Jiwoo or the teacher was entirely different from visiting the residence alone.
And on top of that, having to check the piano herself…
It felt as if a heavy boulder were pressing down on her heart.
“Haa.”
Exhaling a deep sigh, Yeonjae walked over to the piano. Then she stopped in front of it.
Yeonjae raised her hand and gently brushed it across the keyboard lid.
Even after five years, the texture meeting her fingertips felt maddeningly familiar.
Yeonjae pulled out the bench and sat down.
And as she lifted the lid, the neatly aligned keys came into view.
Keys she had pressed countless times.
Whenever she played the piano, Jeheon had leaned against the outer rim.
Whenever she was close to finishing the piece, Jeheon would always mischievously steal a kiss.
A piece she had never once managed to play all the way through.
Perhaps because of the dream she had had the other day, its lingering image remained, looping in Yeonjae’s head.
Over and over, as if on repeat.
“…How am I supposed to live here like this?”
Just looking at the piano intoxicated her with old memories, making it hard to keep her wits about her.
How was she supposed to stay at the residence?
Yeonjae bit her lower lip.
I’ll just check the sound and leave.
It’s fine. It’ll be fine.
After all, I’m the only one here.
‘I’ve always done my best.’
Telling herself that every choice she made had been for the best, she took a deep breath.
At first, she pressed the keys one by one, then Yeonjae slowly exhaled.
Then she placed all ten fingers upon the keys.
Her hands naturally began to play the piece, fluid as flowing water.
Though countless scores existed in her head, facing the piano wiped her mind completely blank.
Only a single piece came to mind.
Practiced tens of thousands of times, her hands moved before her thoughts could.
As the keys were struck, a soft melody resonated through the living room.
The touch of the keys against her fingertips, the pedal, the air tickling her cheeks.
Not a single thing had changed from before.
If anything was different, it was that Jeheon was no longer there to listen to her play.
And that Yeonjae’s playing was not as flawless as it once was.
Yeonjae closed her eyes.
Her hands glided freely across the keys like ballerinas dancing on a stage.
Moving gently one moment, then accelerating with swift momentum to produce a splendid melody.
As if breaking from a trance, the hands pressing the keys came to a halt.
Where Yeonjae turned, there was a man just sitting down in an armchair.
Black eyes of unfathomable depth stared at Yeonjae.
“Keep playing.”
Even at his gesture urging her to start again, Yeonjae couldn’t move.
The moment she met Jeheon’s gaze, all ten fingers froze rigid, right where they rested on the keys.
Fingers contorted in grotesque stiffness.
Yeonjae broke into a sweat so heavy that her back was drenched.
“The tuning… is fine. There’s no problem.”
She hastily rose from her seat.
“I’ve checked everything, so I’ll be going.”
And in a rush, she tried to lower the piano lid with the back of her hand.
Perhaps because she couldn’t use her hands properly, the lid slammed shut with a loud crash.
Yeonjae squeezed her eyes shut.
“I’m sorry. My hand slipped. I need to get back to the cafe, so I’ll be on my way.”
Accompanied by the scraping sound of a chair being pushed back, body heat met her back.
“What’s wrong with your hands?”
“It’s nothing.”
She hurriedly looked for sleeves to hide her curled fingers, but she was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt.
Just as she tried to hide them behind her back—
Jeheon’s hand reached out first and took hold of hers, lifting it up.
“You call this nothing?”
Then, his eyes—blazing as if having swallowed flames—shifted away from her.
To each and every one of Yeonjae’s stiffened fingers.
Every spot his gaze touched felt as if it were burning hot.
“Tell me, Jeong Yeonjae.”
Yeonjae’s eyes trembled helplessly.
A tumult of emotions crossed Jeheon’s face.
Shock, bewilderment, and fury.
“You… it wasn’t that you hated the piano, but that you couldn’t play it?”
Jeheon’s voice as he questioned Yeonjae was terrifyingly cold.
