Have You Only Lived Being Fooled?

His eyes were black as ink. Je-heon smiled, his gaze so opaque it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Yeon-jae hurriedly glanced around. Thankfully, there were only a few groups of customers. The manager watching with interest from behind the counter had probably already overheard, though.

"These days someone's been giving me a headache, so I've been craving caffeine."

"......"

"I need at least three cups a day, but what you gave me ran out way too fast."

"That was a gesture of goodwill, not an offer to keep supplying you."

Yeon-jae pressed a hand to her forehead as she answered, her tone somewhat blunt. Even seeing it with her own two eyes, she couldn't believe this situation had come about. She hadn't given him the coffee beans to create this kind of trouble.

"The beans were a peace offering."

A way of saying she was sorry for misunderstanding about Ji-woo.

"I have things I need to do, too. Right now, working at this café is my job. And after that, I have to teach kids at the academy."

"......."

"I don't have time to roast coffee beans just because you want me to, Mr. Gu."

And roasting would mean carving out time at the café. She had contracted hours with the manager; she couldn't roast beans while she was on the clock. No matter how she looked at it, Je-heon's demand was unreasonable.

As Yeon-jae stood her ground, rigid and unyielding, Je-heon rose from his seat. Then he closed the distance until he was right up against her.

"A peace offering?"

He asked it as if the subject had come out of nowhere.

"So we made up, then?"

Je-heon had drawn so close their noses nearly brushed, a smile of unreadable meaning on his lips. It was as if the lengthy explanation she'd just given meant nothing at all. He didn't seem the least bit interested in anything she had said.

"Made up? What are you talking about... And when did we even fight?"

They weren't one- or two-year-old children. And how would she even think of fighting with Je-heon in the first place? He lived in a completely different world from hers.

"That's what I heard."

"From who?"

"Your son."

"Ji-woo?"

Yeon-jae's eyes went round at the unexpected mention of her son. Had Ji-woo and Je-heon grown close enough to talk about something like that? No—had the two of them even had enough contact to have that kind of conversation in the first place? A flood of thoughts rushed in within that brief instant. Yeon-jae blinked, trying to make sense of the situation.

"You said it was a peace offering, so let's drop that. I'll pay you well for the beans."

"Pay for the beans?"

Unlike Yeon-jae, who asked in a bewildered voice, Je-heon continued without so much as a blink.

"How about tickets to the Jeffkin concert? Ji-woo wants to go to the recital, doesn't he?"

Je-heon was perfectly at ease, as if he already knew she would accept the offer.

"How did you know? That Ji-woo wants to go to the concert."

Yeon-jae blinked. She had only heard about the Jeffkin concert from Ji-woo yesterday. The fact that she herself had learned of it only a day ago—and yet he already knew—was astonishing.

"We're closer than you'd think. Here. The tickets. Best seats in the house."

Je-heon held out an envelope. Staring at the white envelope thrust before her eyes, Yeon-jae rolled her lip between her teeth.

"Go on, check."

She didn't even need to take them out to know they'd be royal box seats. She could already picture how overjoyed Ji-woo would be if she accepted. He'd probably jump up and down right then and there, bursting into that bright little laugh of his. It was such a perfect offer she wanted to snatch it up in a heartbeat—the sole problem was Je-heon himself.

"I don't want them."

Yeon-jae managed to get the words out. She'd been tempted to just close her eyes and take them, knowing how desperately Ji-woo wanted this. But—

"If I take those... I'd have to sign a contract with the foundation, wouldn't I?"

Even as she spoke, she watched him with a cautious gaze. Royal box seats for a Jeffkin concert would fetch an astronomical price on the black market. There was no way Je-heon would simply hand over tickets that money alone couldn't buy. He'd probably use them as bait to lure her into a contract. What remained of her reason told her she must not accept his offer.

After a moment, the man who had been sitting rose to his feet and closed in on her once more.

Je-heon held the tickets out to her again. But Yeon-jae couldn't bring herself to take them, only staring down at what he offered. At the sight of her, a short laugh escaped him.

In the end, Je-heon pressed the tickets into her hand. Looking down at the envelope now in her grasp, Yeon-jae lifted her head and met his eyes.

"...I'll only give you the coffee beans."

"That's enough."

At her repeated insistence, the corner of his mouth eased into a loose smile. As if, only then, he was satisfied.

Having finished getting ready to go home, Ji-woo slung his backpack over both shoulders. Then, with his teacher's send-off, he was about to leave the classroom.

"Ji-woo, your mom's here. Go carefully now."

"Yeees. Goodbye."

He hadn't gone far before a voice calling his name brought him to a halt.

"Jeong Ji-woo!"

The high-pitched voice was all too familiar. He didn't even need to look. When Ji-woo glanced over his shoulder, Seo-ha had already come up beside him.

Seo-ha adjusted her backpack and casually struck up a conversation.

"Ji-woo. Guess what? I'm going to start taking lessons from a professor."

The way she framed it as a question, her eyes were shining so brightly it was almost oppressive.

You're curious, right? Who the professor is—you're even more curious, right?

Looking at Seo-ha radiating that aura from every pore, Ji-woo wasn't particularly curious, but he asked anyway. He knew that if he didn't play along, she wouldn't return his greetings until lunchtime tomorrow.

"What's a professor?"

"Aigoo, you don't even know that? A university teacher!"

Belatedly, Ji-woo recalled what a university was. Mom had said a university was a school that big brothers and sisters went to. Come to think of it, the auntie Yeon-jae sometimes visited to play accompaniment was a university professor. So that auntie was a university teacher. The student brothers and sisters who came to learn had called her "professor," he thought.

"Ahh, I get it. So?"

"What do you mean, 'so'? She's super famous. My mom said she even lectures at a university in Seoul, and it was really hard to get lessons with her!"

Seo-ha bounced her shoulders, putting on a prim little expression.

Seo-ha would be fine if it weren't for this daily bragging. She talked without the slightest hesitation about lessons and competitions Ji-woo couldn't even dream of. I can't even learn piano. Then again, when had Seo-ha ever cared about that kind of thing? I'm the nice one, so I have to put up with it.

"Yeah? That's great. Congrats."

Ji-woo replied listlessly as he took off his indoor shoes at the kindergarten entrance. Seo-ha trotted after him all the way to where they changed into sneakers.

"Heh, thanks. Ji-woo, are you really not going to do piano?"

"......"

"My mom said you're pretty good too? Not as good as me, of course."

When Ji-woo didn't even pretend to listen, Seo-ha suddenly shoved her face in close.

"Huh? Why aren't you answering."

Yikes. Startled by the face that had come far too close, Ji-woo took a step back.

"Dunno. Oh, wait."

Something suddenly popped into Ji-woo's head. He had something to brag about, too.

Salazé Jeffkin's concert in Korea! A solo performance being held in the country for the first time in years.

"I might get to go to the Jeffkin concert next week!"

"Jeffkin? That famous pianist?!"

Seo-ha's voice shot up so high it sounded almost unstable. With only a slight exaggeration, her eyes went so round they seemed to take up half her face.

"You got tickets? You did, Ji-woo?"

"Not yet. But I might get them!"

Ji-woo's shoulders, which had been drooping just moments ago at the thought of piano, began to lift little by little. After listening to Seo-ha brag every single day, receiving that envious look in return sent his spirits soaring.

"Hmph. What, 'might get them' means you might not, too!"

Seo-ha's eyes quickly shifted to a look of disbelief. She learned violin, but Jeffkin was such a famous pianist that even Seo-ha knew who he was. When she'd heard he was coming to Korea, she'd told Hye-gyeong she wanted to go see him.

"Seo-ha, you can't even get those tickets right now. And you're a violinist, not a pianist, so let's sit this one out, okay?"

"Whyyy! A-rin said she's goooing! I wanna go toooo."

No—she'd actually thrown a tantrum, but it had been no use. Hye-gyeong had shut it down completely, saying the tickets simply couldn't be obtained.

"Nuh-uh. I'll be able to go!"

"Liar! How are you going to get them?"

Unable to believe it, Seo-ha pressed him. Jeong Ji-woo's going, Song A-rin's going. I'm the only one who can't go? In an instant, Seo-ha's little head filled with a silent scream.

"Hehe. That's a secret."

Unaware of the turmoil inside Seo-ha, Ji-woo answered with a bright, sunny smile.