Part 8

"The child is sick." 

The man said this with a pale expression before embarking on a lengthy phone call. 

He instructed me to head back home. 

I deliberately remained silent, eavesdropping on the conversation without making a sound.

The words exchanged over the receiver remained inaudible to me, but I could still infer the gist of it from the man's side. 

Tonight, Seung-rok had an overseas concert schedule. 

Given that it was already lunchtime, he would soon need to depart for the airport. 

Even if the ailing child arrived in Korea from Singapore today, Seung-rok wouldn't be able to check on their condition until evening. 

Entrusting the child to his elderly grandfather was the only option left for him. 

However, considering the grandfather's age—likely close to 90—it made sense for him to prefer someone younger to accurately understand his intentions and take the child to the hospital. 

Although he did not mention it, I could feel it.

I decided to comply with his wishes.

As soon as the call ended, I blurted out impulsively,

"I'll stay here and take the child to the hospital." 

"Are you planning to stay here all alone?" 

He scrutinized me with his eyes, questioning why I would say such a thing. 

Perhaps he wondered whether he could trust me to this extent. 

I delivered the final blow, 

"I won't act on my own. After all, you're the legal guardian. I'll share all the details from the hospital, and you can make the decisions. Nowadays, even on flights, the internet works just fine."

I knew it.

Seung-rok couldn't refuse my words. 

"Will you do that, then?"

***

That night, I waited for the child at Jeju Airport. 

As I stood there, waiting endlessly, a particular memory resurfaced. 

It was the moment I first discovered my talent.

It was also the moment when my mother crushed the very thing I excelled at. 

My slump had persisted, and I was already destined to be kicked out of the golf ranking eventually. 

Unable to resist my mother's desperate pleas, I continued playing golf. 

But truthfully, I couldn't focus on the game. '

I was weary of golf already.

It was then that Jisun sunbae unexpectedly made me an offer.

"Mina, can you be my caddy?" 

Jisun, who had already secured an impressive LPGA victory, was in a slump also. 

Frustrated by her performance, she reached out to me, wondering if I'd be a compatible caddy or coach. 

After all, I hadn't been fully focused on my own game.

So, I accepted her proposal. 

Surprisingly, although I fell just short as a player, I had a knack for coaching. 

Analyzing others' swing forms, providing encouragement during moments of doubt, and even walking alongside them—I found fulfillment in these coaching tasks. 

Fortunately, Jisun felt the same.

She went on to win five more LPGA titles, becoming a legend in Korean women's golf. 

Each time, she acknowledged my contributions and spread the word. 

Thanks to her, I quickly rose to prominence as the top coach. 

But there was a problem: my mother. 

She staunchly opposed my decision to pursue coaching full-time. 

"Aren't you proving your talent as a top player?" she'd argue. 

"You could become a star with just a little more effort." 

She again insisted on meddling in someone else's affairs.

Eventually, I gave in to my mother's demands and quit coaching. 

After my mother collapsed, I found myself penniless. 

So, I reluctantly resumed giving lessons. 

Life is full of irony, isn't it?

Honestly, I'll admit something. 

My life has been abysmal after my mother collapsed.

I suddenly realized I was the result of an affair. 

Somehow, I became entangled with a dubious debtor, whether a stepmother or a stranger. 

In the absence of my mother, I was completely cornered. 

But let me confess something.

Her absence didn't feel entirely negative.

Part of me was relieved.

It was an uncomfortable truth.

"Teacher!" 

As I entertained that thought, the grandfather and the child arrived. 

I gathered my thoughts, mustering my composure, and stood up.

"Let's head to the hospital quickly," I replied. 

***

Both the child and the grandfather remained surprisingly composed. 

His grandfather was nearing ninety.

Although he was in relatively good health, he wasn't fit to drive. 

He suggested that he and the child could take a taxi home since everything seemed fine. 

The child also spoken to me nonchalantly, 

"Oh, Mom's here?"

I introduced myself as neither the mother but simply as 'Teacher' to the child. 

Without delay, I took the child to the hospital.

That was my customer's will.

Meanwhile, Seung-rok continued to send me messages even while I was driving.

I was aware that Wi-Fi worked on planes these days, but this was a bit too much.

Throughout my journey to the hospital, Seung-rok bombarded me with messages.

-The fever is dangerous. Neglecting a cold could lead to pneumonia, or worse, even something like typhoid fever. 

Typhoid fever, really? 

It seemed unlikely for a six-year-old who had recently enjoyed a musical in the big city.

Despite the annoyance, I couldn't help but smile at Seung-rok's unwavering concern for the child. 

Strangely, the child and the grandfather remained calm, while absent Seung-rok was the one in a frenzy.

Upon arriving at Jeju's largest hospital, I discovered there were no available beds. 

The receptionist apologetically informed me, "We're fully booked. You'll need to come back tomorrow." 

The grandfather and the child were ready to return home once they heard it.

But Seung-rok's persistent messages continued: "Listen, fever—it's no joke. Not even a smidge of a temperature rise is okay. The car? Keep it at a cool -19.5°C. Got it? Not a single degree higher. Trust me on this."

I found it a bit tiresome. 

Yet, Seung-rok's love for the child was palpable, so I couldn't help but chuckle. 

While the child and the grandfather remained composed, Seung-rok spoke loudly.

But then again, what could I do? 

When a guardian worries about a child, there's no way for me to stop him.

I decided to comply with Seung-rok's instructions without adding a word. 

"Just wait a moment. I'll let you talk directly," I told him. 

Seung-rok dialed my phone through the smart internet calling service, and I sent the phone toward the reception desk.

"The office hours are over," the receptionist said coldly. 

I handed her the phone as instructed by Seung-rok. 

Initially taken aback, she turned pale upon hearing Seung-rok's voice. 

I couldn't fathom what he said, but she looked scared.

In a hurry, she hung up and immediately communicated with someone else.

As she made several calls, her voice grew fainter. 

Finally, she returned to me. 

"Please accept my sincerest apologies for not recognizing the presence of the VIP's granddaughter. I deeply regret any inconvenience this may have caused."

Granddaughter?

Was the term "VIP" referring to Seung-rok's grandfather? 

He hadn't shown any signs of being a VIP. 

Nevertheless, everything proceeded swiftly from there. 

The hospital director personally apologized to us later that day. 

The thorough medical examination was completed promptly, and the staff moved the child to the larges room available.

It all unfolded like a well-rehearsed play. 

Seung-rok's reputation and connections likely played a significant role. 

I realized the true power of a global star. 

As I lay in the guest bedroom—much larger than my own accommodations—I pondered whether Seung-rok was indeed the child's father. 

His actions today seemed more paternal than those of an older brother.

But that was obscure.

A K-pop idol who is a father of a child? 

I recalled the information I'd seen while I was preparing for the job interview. 

Seung-rok had been a K-pop idol for seven years. 

Having a six-year-old daughter implied that he became a father around his debut. 

Did that even make sense?

The situation was undeniably complex. 

I had planned to move into the child's home and become a golf coach, but now I wondered if I could handle this strange atmosphere. 

Still.

Seung-rok's generous offer weighed heavily on my mind. 

It could free me from suffocating debt and allow me to live more comfortably than even during my days as a professional golfer.

Moreover, the child was still young. 

To achieve her dream of becoming a top golfer, she needed at least ten more years. 

Having this job would guarantee stability during that time. 

If I earned money independently and built my coaching career through the child, I might get a secure future.

I mean, look at me.

Who would marry a woman drowning in debt like me? 

Perhaps this opportunity was exactly what I needed.

I could took matters into my own hands, paid off my debts, and started planning for my retirement.

It did not take me long for me to make up my mind.

That night, I stayed up reading the materials Seung-rok had provided until dawn. 

***

In the early dawn, Seung-rok called me over the internet. 

"How's the child?" 

I stretched and recounted the doctor's words from yesterday. 

"She's perfectly fine." 

"Fine, you say?"

"Yes, absolutely. No issues." 

"Just a moment ago, her fever was raging. Does that even make sense?" 

I repeated the doctor's assessment verbatim. 

"Sometimes children's fevers rise for no apparent reason. They recover quickly. If it persists, it could be a problem, but for now, let's observe. If anything happens, just bring her to the hospital." 

"I'll head there right away. Can you give me a ride?"

I was so shocked, I almost dropped my precious Samsung phone.

"What did you just say?" 

"I'm at Jeju Airport. I came straight after the concert last night." 

What an intense person. 

The concert was just last night. 

Did he rush here right after it ended? 

"Aren't you tired?" 

"I got enough rest on the plane." he finished the call right away.

I sighed in confusion.

Just then, my phone alarm went off. 

A YouTube video showed 'The ZERO' performing live at yesterday's concert. 

I 'accidently' set an alarm on a certain keyword.

Seung-rok, soaked in water, stood before Japanese fans, singing in a white shirt that clung to his body. 

It was a very sexy look—quite different from his usual neat attire.

As he sang, his intense gaze and sensual movements made it clear: he was clearly a K-pop star.

Not a trace of excess fat, a perfectly transformed body.

His slightly long hair fell over his eyes as he sang, captivating the audience. 

Fans shouted, "Oppa!" with every sway of his body, as if they were more interested in his body than his music.

Well.

Honestly.

I couldn't blame them.

"What am I even watching? I need to get to the airport."

Shaken from my trance, I regained my senses. 

I immediately pocketed my phone and drove toward the airport. 

On the way, I played 'The ZERO's' early music—songs from their debut days. 

Lately, their music focused on fraternity love, but back then, Seung-rok's original compositions were mostly melancholic, singing of lost love.

As I listened, my mind raced. 

If Seung-rok was indeed the child's father, his debut marked the fruition of love. 

Why would someone like him write and sing lonely breakup songs? 

Did he think they'd become hits? 

Or…

With these questions swirling in my mind, I arrived at the airport.

There, as usual, Seung-rok—his face hidden behind sunglasses, a mask, and a beanie—waited for me at the café. 

After meticulously questioning me about the child's condition, he finally flashed a satisfied smile.

"You've been through a lot. Thank you for all your work, teacher." 

"You're welcome."

"Well then, why waste more time? Let's move it today. I will help you." 

I dropped the file I was holding. 

Seriously. 

This guy bugs me so much!