Side Story 2

Side Story 2

“We have to cling to the rumor that he’s a single father, at least.”

With his phone pressed to one ear, the reporter stood in front of a tinted car and hurriedly slicked back his messy hair.

The senior reporter’s angry shouting boomed through the receiver, but he only whistled.

“All we’ve got are a few photos of him carrying the kid around by himself, no woman in sight. Come on, sunbae. Have you stayed that squeaky clean your whole life, that you’re still driving a twenty year old used car? A real reporter knows how to dig where it hurts, you know, find the weak spot they want to hide.”

He held the phone farther away as the noise assaulted his eardrum. Even so, he looked dead serious as he spat into his palm and forced his limp hair to stand up, shameless as ever.

Today’s interview subject was the man who had played a key role in turning the isolated island of Hwaido into the Lucerne of Asia. Without him, the island could never have branded itself, or even claimed any symbolic identity as a “music city” in the first place.

Hwaido’s top influencer and a young local power figure. A cellist who still played in the same spot, backlit by the sunset.

Kwon Chae-woo.

In the black window, the reporter’s reflected face looked slick with shine.

“Do you think people are going to search up our article because they want to hear about classical music?”

He bared his teeth, then clicked his tongue and flicked away whatever was stuck between them.

“They want gossip, gossip. He’s still young and looks good, but he keeps carrying around some kid like a kangaroo. I’ve tailed him for months and the mom doesn’t show her face even once.”

On the other end of the phone, a voice heavy with fatigue came through.

“…I got turned down for six months just to land today’s interview, you know that, right?”

“I know, I know.”

“…Don’t screw this up. Don’t invade his privacy, and don’t even ask low class questions in the first place. Do you think we’re some tabloid rag?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The reporter answered lightly and adjusted his tie.

In a way, it had been inevitable that Kwon Chae-woo would become Hwaido’s landmark. A man who appeared out of nowhere where the sacred tree the residents had cherished and revered had been cut clean down. It only took a few days for a young, handsome man to go viral through people’s social media.

Then chaos erupted when the public learned the musician was the same person who had swept the Geneva International Music Competition and the Rostropovich International Cello Competition, debuting at thirteen as the youngest winner.

“…And, don’t let your guard down. That man, Kwon Chae-woo, he’s not normal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain it well, but he’s cold. You’ll know the second you meet him.”

“He looks young. He’s not even thirty yet, right?”

The reporter dug in his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and put it between his lips. There were rumors he used to be gang affiliated, and rumors his family did dirty cleanup work for politicians, but the stranger thing was that the more he dug, the blurrier the starting point became.

Seriously, give me one solid fact. Anything.

He reviewed the questions he had memorized dozens of times and planned to take a single drag before going inside.

“He’s someone who’s done nothing but pluck strings since he was a kid. He could be an oddly sheltered hermit who doesn’t know how the world works. Honestly, the more clueless someone is, the more they put on weight, that’s just the artist brand of arrogance.”

The reporter could already taste the headline.

“Music and Scandal, Why a Famous Cellist Lives in Seclusion!”

“Hwaido’s Landmark, ‘I Forgot My Glittering Past to Raise My Child Out of Wedlock’”

Ah. Thinking about the views alone made him grin.

“I came all the way out to this backwater, I have to get something.”

He chewed the cigarette filter, exhaled, then flicked his gaze to the sleek SUV he had been using like a mirror.

Even looking at it again, it was a gorgeous imported car. Jet black metal without a single smudge, a killer line that ran clean into the windows. How much would something like this even cost.

He craned his neck to find the logo.

At that moment, the rear door opened and a long leg swung out.

The man was tall and broad shouldered, the kind of build you noticed at a glance.

“Ah, f*ck.”

The young man stepped out and swore immediately. Startled, the reporter backed up without thinking.

“…!”

Over a neat black suit, the owner of the car wore a baby carrier that did not match at all. You could not exactly call a baby carrier fashion, but still, it looked painfully wrong on him.

The baby’s chubby legs kicked with energy, while the young man’s eyes stayed icy.

They looked like they belonged to two different worlds.

“A reporter smoking right before an interview, huh.”

The moment their eyes met, the man’s gaze sharpened into a long, slit like cut. He frowned over the bridge of his nose and wrapped one thick forearm around the baby’s head protectively.

“…Uh, Mr. Kwon Chae-woo?”

“Back in the day, I wouldn’t have let this slide.”

“Huh?”

“If you don’t want your kid eating cigarette ash, put it out.”

“Huh? Oh, uh…!”

Kwon Chae-woo snatched the lit cigarette away and crushed it under the heel of his dress shoe until there was nothing left. He pressed down once, then again, expression unreadable, his face pale and refined like a beautiful young man in a painting.

They said he was in his late twenties. The reporter swallowed hard at the elegant, sharply sculpted features that looked almost too sensitive to be real. Even while Kwon Chae-woo glared at him like he found him disgusting, his hand closing the car door moved with careful restraint, mindful not to startle the baby.

Damn it, why did I have to run into him like this right now…?

The reporter clicked his tongue internally, then stole another glance at the soft, chubby baby nestled in that broad chest.

The baby, who had been gripping his father’s lapel tightly, dipped his head like he was saying hello, then suddenly tipped sideways.

Kwon Chae-woo caught him on instinct and pressed his lips to the baby’s forehead, which looked like it should smell faintly of powder.

“Careful. Your head’s heavy.”

“Awoong, oong oong.”

“Yeah. You almost went, ouch, and cracked it open.”

When his gaze turned to the baby, the coldness in his face broke apart like sunlight in spring. The reporter followed them in a daze.

Inside a quiet cafe with a clear view of the green forest outside, Kwon Chae-woo looked even more handsome in person, and he radiated an inexplicable pressure.

Standing this close to the tall man everyone whispered about felt like walking on the edge of a blade. He was a musician who created beautiful melodies, yet an untouchable air bristled off him like thorns.

And he handled the baby with effortless skill, pouring all his attention into him. This did not feel like some guy playing at being a dad for appearances.

“Um, Mr. Kwon Chae-woo. That baby is…”

The baby’s eyes were not as sharp as his father’s. They were large, round, like marbles, and his cheeks blushed pink. If the reporter had run into him on the street, he would have found it impossible to look away, but right now sweat prickled at his skin.

“I didn’t have anywhere to leave him, so I brought him. You should have been notified in advance.”

“Ah, yes, but that’s not what I meant…”

“I reviewed your questions. Let’s start.”

“…”

“I have to go to the community center in an hour.”

The strange pressure rolling off the young man made the seat feel uncomfortable. The reporter forced himself to ignore the baby, who kept staring at him with bright, curious eyes, and began the interview.

“The Hwaido International Music Festival was held recently. It drew major attention, with many of the world’s leading performers and conductors participating. Global stars came to Hwaido, including mezzo soprano Magdalena Kozena and cellist Truls Mork.”

As if he understood this was an interview, the baby watched the reporter with wide, alert eyes. It was a very different attitude from Kwon Chae-woo, who never took his gaze off the baby.

With his head lowered, Kwon Chae-woo carefully wiped the baby’s drool slick mouth with a gauze cloth. At this point, the reporter honestly felt confused about who he was even here to interview.

“Hw… Ahem, I heard Hwaido has begun branding itself as a music city. Mr. Kwon Chae-woo, you’re currently supporting that effort as an advisory member of the city council.”

“…”

“The budget can’t have been large. Personally, I found it suspicious that those world class stars gathered on a small Korean island as if they’d all made a promise.”

“Luck, I guess.”

Kwon Chae-woo only kept smoothing the baby’s hair.

It was simple. He threw money at it.

He started all of this for Lee-yeon. He wanted to build an outdoor forest venue named after her, and he wanted music to follow her everywhere on Hwaido as she went around making house calls. He pushed the project through out of pure selfishness.

Kwon Chae-woo poured in his own money and recruited overseas experts one after another, bringing them on as artistic directors and executives. Considering the slice of his wealth that surfaced during that process, it was only natural that people started calling him a “young local power figure.”

Hwaido, the music city, had only just taken its first step. Even this interview was still part of promoting the project, so he had a long way to go.

More routine questions and answers went back and forth, and about twenty minutes passed.

Then…