Dad's Coaxing
I fell headlong into the charms of calligraphy in no time at all.
After first writing the children's names in a pretty hand, it took only a single week for my desk to fill with ink bottles lined up by color.
As the collection grew by the day, I finally built a small wooden ink display rack and set it on the desk.
In truth, this was my first real hobby—the kind that was purely for pleasure. Cooking, woodworking, sewing: those were skills that made daily life easier. This was nothing of the sort.
Well, if I had to be pedantic about it, leathercraft counted as a hobby of its own.
Come to think of it, calligraphy and leathercraft had one thing in common.
They were both thoroughly expensive, high-end hobbies.
But buying this much ink had been unavoidable. Only after stepping into calligraphy did I finally understand Cassandra's words: under the sky, no two pinks are the same.
Under the sky, no two blues were the same either.
Even within a single brand, blue branched into medium, royal, sepia, and more.
And the blue of a British brand and the blue of a French brand held a subtle difference no words could quite capture.
Inks produced in Asia had a distinctly different character from those of the West as well.
Comparing the unique qualities of each, I didn't want to let a single one slip by.
And that wasn't all. The tiny, pretty bottle shapes stirred the collector in me.
Paper was expensive too. Depending on which paper you used, the ink developed differently, so you couldn't just grab any scrap.
And fountain pens. Fountain pens mattered. At first my eye had gone to calligraphy holders and nibs, but fountain pens offered an entirely different pleasure in the writing.
Having ordered practice notebooks along with them, I could now write letters that looked as if they'd been printed from a computer.
For videos better suited to manuscript work than calligraphy, this would do quite nicely.
With that thought, the fountain pens sitting in my cart had already reached five. Among them was even one so expensive I couldn't imagine buying it in this lifetime.
At least the truly outrageous items—solid-wood display cases, leather pen trays—I could make myself. That was a mercy.
While I was at it I made a leather pen case too, and though relatively affordable, wood and leather materials were still expensive in their own right.
One consolation: using and making these things generated revenue through the videos I filmed?
Anyway, spending hundreds of dollars on ink and pens would have been unthinkable before…
"Is this what they call a guilty pleasure?"
"Come on, you don't need a phrase like that for something like this. It's not exactly a shameful hobby."
"Yeah, you need to treat yourself every once in a while. But why'd you buy so many of the same color?"
"The same color? They're all different. What would you know."
After scolding Greg, I set up the camera.
Now that I'd finished planning how to artistically express Love and War, it was time to get the advertiser's approval.
First I filmed a short video writing the theme Evan had chosen—Love and War—as one continuous, picture-like composition.
Then I set the finished piece in a white card frame, arranged it with the books he'd sent, took a photo, and sent it over.
Along with that, I emailed him about the direction for the upcoming videos. About five minutes later, Evan's reply came back at once.
"The advertiser says he likes it," Cassandra read the email in a bright voice.
"He even goes a step further and asks if we'd like to give calligraphy pieces to ten people through a raffle. He says he'll pay for those calligraphy pieces separately."
"Oh, that could work. You know how even a small prize can really boost engagement. And since it's a raffle, nobody can complain about fairness either."
"True."
Ten sheets of calligraphy like the one I'd done today would take me less than ten minutes.
But the next part of the email left me a little flustered.
"Besides the ten raffle winners, he asks if we could sell them at fifty dollars each to anyone who wants one. He says the artwork fees would go straight to us. He'll pay the same amount for the first ten as well."
"Wait—fifty dollars a piece isn't a bit steep?"
Sure, I was happy about it, but was that really the going rate for calligraphy pieces?
A quick search confirmed that nowhere sold plain calligraphy works at that price.
The higher-priced products were the kind decorated with dried flowers or set in fancy frames.
"Or maybe he wants something like this—not just the card-style frame we sent, but a more elaborate piece?"
I really wanted to steer clear of that kind of cottage-industry work as much as possible now…
But since we'd essentially invited the idea ourselves, turning it down would be awkward.
"No, he doesn't say anything like that. Still, better to be sure—want to call him directly?"
I thought the same and dialed right away.
"I don't think any other decoration is necessary—just that level of finish should be fine. After all, beyond the ten raffle winners, any additional purchase is optional."
"That's true, but…"
"But in my view, they should sell well. People who collect books tend to buy pretty book-related goods on sight. If they think of it as related merchandise, quite a few will want one."
Internet bookstores didn't sell books alone these days, and Evan said he'd been considering various related products himself.
The calligraphy I'd shown him, he added, was a piece of merchandise finished to such a high standard that it would really stoke the urge to buy.
There would certainly be people who wanted to display it on their shelves alongside their curated books—so it struck him as an excellent idea.
"Taking you on as a business partner really does seem like one of the better decisions I've made lately."
"Ah… well, yes. Since I'd just make them as the orders come in, it doesn't sound that hard."
As I said it, I thought of Cassandra's mother's work. She sold replicas of her pieces as the orders came in as well.
Even though quite some time had passed since the first video, demand for her work remained steady.
People's tastes tended to cluster, though, and certain items were especially popular, so she set aside days to make batches. Calligraphy could work the same way.
After a few more words with Evan, I hung up.
A brief silence settled over the office. Cassandra, unable to hide her delight, spoke first.
"So the advertiser just green-lit the proposal we sent? And he really likes it?"
"Looks that way."
"Whoa, we're off to a great start! Long live the boss's Golden Hands!"
Greg shouted it with an over-the-top gesture, and the kids in the room glanced our way.
"Hey, you'll scare the kids."
Of course, the kids had already caught from Greg's voice that it was good news and were smiling. Still, having our first advertising proposal accepted felt pretty great.
If the campaign performed well, other advertisers would come calling, so I had to give it my all.
"By the way, Jun."
"Yes?"
"Reni hasn't gone to kindergarten in a whole week now, has he?"
"Ah… yeah. It's already been that long."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed.
"Jun. Shouldn't you at least be trying to get him back to kindergarten?"
Yes, I've been trying in my own way.
"Do I really have to?"
Oops. What came out of my mouth was the opposite of what I'd been thinking.
When I gave an awkward smile, Cassandra shook her head.
"For the child's sake, shouldn't you?"
"Well, that's true…"
But Reni had shown no sign of wanting to go back to kindergarten at all.
Was I supposed to talk him into it, then stand in the hallway for a while so I could stay close by?
Rather than stewing over it alone, I figured I should hear from a professional, so I left work a little early and, for the first time in a while, messaged Teacher Ivy.
I'd thought she might still be in class, but once again she replied almost at once—complete with a big emoticon.
If Dad was going in to teach a class, she reasoned, the child might naturally follow him to kindergarten.
It made sense, so I replied that I'd discuss it with him and added my thanks. Then I floated the idea carefully with Reni.
"Reni."
"Hm?"
He looked up from tumbling around on the blanket with Luca.
"Daddy just talked to Teacher Ivy at kindergarten."
"Ah."
Reni sat bolt upright, a flicker of alarm in his eyes, as if he hadn't expected Dad to bring up kindergarten at all.
"She said she'd like Daddy to come help with a class."
"Huh? Daddy?"
"Yep. Daddy."
"O-oh… I see…"
He looked a little relieved, yet carefully gauging every word, clearly worried the conversation might turn to why he wasn't going to kindergarten. It was written all over his face.
Wanting to put him at ease, I asked for his thoughts.
"So what do you think, Reni? Should Daddy do it? Or not? Either way is fine. I'll do whatever you say."
He thought for a moment, then asked,
"If you help the teacher… do you help every day?"
"Hm? No, not every day. Probably just one day?"
"Oh…"
He pulled his star pillow into his arms and fretted over it for a long while before asking, carefully again,
"If Daddy goes… can I come too?"
"If that's what you want, that would be nice, wouldn't it?"
"Mmm…"
He still looked torn.
I bit back the urge to ask whether he didn't want to see the little girls who'd promised to marry him, and waited quietly for his answer.
But no matter how long I waited, none came. So I tossed out a few things I thought might catch his interest.
"Even if I do the class, though, I'm not sure what I should teach."
"Not sure?"
"Yeah. I'm stuck between making scarecrow clothes and making Halloween costumes."
Reni's body gave a little bounce. Got him—my son had taken the bait!
While searching for classes suitable for kindergarteners, I'd come across nonwoven fabric costumes you could make for Halloween or Christmas.
The kids in the photos looked so happy even with rice-sack-like fabric over their heads that I figured it might work…
"Um, um—Halloween costumes have to be able to be anything you want."
Scarecrow clothes hadn't even registered. I swallowed a laugh and asked,
"Is that so? How would we manage that?"
But Reni simply held up his favorite slime doll with a bright, sunny smile and offered a simple, perfect answer.
And it was exactly the answer I'd been hoping for.