Evan's Request
"Still, it's not as if I'm doing anything shady just to make money. Please don't look at me quite so severely."
Sensing my gaze, Evan smiled awkwardly. I shrugged and asked a different question.
"By the way, this is a contest, but I didn't see any mention of prize money."
Evan took a sip of his steaming black coffee and nodded.
"If there's prize money attached, parents tend to get a little too competitive. Instead, every participant will receive a gift—not cash."
"Like a participation prize?"
"Exactly. We'll produce the picture book each child draws as an actual bound volume and send it as a gift, along with a coupon for Cotton Candy Books."
"So the next curation will be made up of books from Cotton Candy Books, then."
"I expect we'll approach it through the natural truths and philosophies woven into fairy tales."
Hmm. I felt like I almost had a handle on it—and also like I didn't. One thing was certain, though: the content might turn out dense and far from pure entertainment. For this curation video, I would have to lean hard into the visuals. I found myself thinking about how to render the protagonist's name and the symbolic illustrations in a lavish way, and that brought to mind the plump octopus and the little girl from the book Reni had been reading to Luca. Evan added a few more details.
"For the volume of the picture book, I'm thinking six to twelve sketchbook pages, including the cover. As for the timeline, we'll give them a generous two months."
With that, he pulled a brown package from the paper bag he had brought.
"Once someone pays the entry fee and joins the contest, we plan to send them a package like this."
"It looks just like those old post office parcels you only see in vintage movies."
"I tried to capture as much of that feeling as possible."
I untied the rough brown twine and opened the brown wrapping paper. Inside were a sketchbook, a promotional pamphlet, and a return envelope for shipping the sketchbook back to the bookstore.
"It does look kind of fun, but it also seems a little cumbersome. Wouldn't it be easier to just have people email PDF images or upload them to a drive?"
"The whole point is letting people experience the packaging we send from our bookstore. Plenty of people, once they fall for a product's packaging, start thinking about their next purchase right away."
So that was why the wrapping felt so carefully done. Almost like a gift to himself.
"Even so, I can't shake the sense that it's a hassle. You have to go back to the post office to ship the parcel, and there's an entry fee on top of that… Won't that sharply cut down the number of people who want to enter?"
"To be perfectly honest, it's more accurate to say we're looking for people who are willing to invest a certain amount of money and time. It will take longer, but I believe it will be better for the brand image in the long run."
Evan's point was that Bibliophile did not want to be a place that sold books cheap and in bulk—it wanted to establish itself as a brand worth investing time and money in.
…And one of those potential customers, apparently, was my own son.
Still, I didn't feel like refusing with a flat Not with my kid, you don't. Living close to books didn't seem like a bad thing—if anything, that was the problem that wasn't really a problem.
"Of course, I'm not forcing anything. But watching the children's videos over time, it seemed like your older boy enjoys both picture books and drawing, so I wanted to make the suggestion."
As he said it, Evan glanced toward Reni, but the boy was absorbed in snacking and playing with Luca's new toy, paying them no mind at all.
"I've thought this before, but the children really are remarkably well-behaved even outside the house."
"That's because I give them a new toy every time we go out."
It was an expensive habit, but the double-stacked points made the temptation impossible to resist.
"Once the toys pile up too much, I plan to sell them secondhand or donate them."
Feeling a twinge of conscience for no good reason, I volunteered an answer to a question Evan hadn't even asked, then took a sip of coffee.
With a face that said Ah, I see, Evan nodded, hesitated a moment, and moved on to the next topic.
"And the real reason I asked to meet today is…"
So this was the main point. Everything we had discussed so far could easily have been handled over the phone, so I had already assumed there was another reason he had insisted on seeing me in person.
But that reason turned out to be completely unexpected.
"After the Cotton Candy Books curation, I'd like to curate books on self-expression and individuality, grounded in fashion and makeup."
I had nothing particular to say, so I simply waited for him to continue. Evan seemed to hesitate a little longer before going on.
"No matter how hard I try to learn that side of things, my own experience falls short. So I want to seek the opinion of an expert—Mello Brown."
"Ah. Right."
"…Yes. Up until now we've been rather distant with each other, so it won't be easy to bring it up."
There was no mistaking the sense that Evan was talking in circles. Wondering if I was missing something, I asked him outright.
"Is it because you only first met at the recipe book shoot, so things are still awkward?"
At my question, Evan looked faintly surprised and asked back,
"You didn't know? We're cousins."
"Uh…"
Come to think of it—Evan Brown and Mello Brown.
Surnames like Brown or Smith were as common as Park or Lee back in Korea, so it had never crossed my mind that the two of them might be related. Or rather, before that—their images were so completely different…
Suddenly I remembered something Mello had said at a party once: that there had been a time in his childhood when the whole family opposed him, and he had almost given up on his dream. Looking at Evan sitting across from me now, I found myself nodding without meaning to.
Evan, too, seemed to be trying to step outside the rigid frame of a strict household. How hard must it have been for Mello?
"…"
That was all well and good. But why was he telling me this right now?
It was an especially cold winter morning.
Outside, a sharp wind howled and there was not a scrap of sunlight. But inside the house, the still-twinkling Christmas lights, the children's warmth, and the air heated by cooking breakfast kept everything cozy—almost a little too warm, even.
I moved back and forth through the house, feeding them breakfast and getting everyone ready for daycare and work, when Reni, busily changing clothes, suddenly lifted his head with a bright look.
"Hat. Where's my hat?"
Before I could even start looking for it, Luca's head whipped toward the sofa.
"Oh, there it is! Thank you, Luca!"
Reni followed his little brother's gaze, found his hat, and praised him. Luca really did seem to understand a fair amount of speech now.
Beyond just cookie and mama, he recognized words he heard often—hat, diaper, doll—and understood questions like "Where is it?" as well as requests like "Bring it here" or "Please give it to me."
And when I stood with him in front of a mirror, he seemed to recognize his own reflection. Watching him have staring contests with himself in the glass was so adorable that I had filmed it more than a few times.
I kissed each of my steadily growing boys, and we left the house together.
January winter had a strange feeling to it.
Plenty of people started the new year with energy, but it was the coldest stretch of the year, so shoulders stayed hunched. And once the Christmas and New Year atmosphere faded, winter became…
"No romance. Zero romance."
After dropping Reni at kindergarten and arriving at the office, Greg buried his face in his desk and muttered.
"Still better than November, though, right? Honestly, I prefer this sharp cold to that stretch."
"I don't know. Seasons don't even matter. I just want to sleep one solid night…"
Ah. So that was the real issue.
Greg had said that because of Sabrina, who cried even harder once night fell, the whole household was running on sleep debt.
"Rachel said she doesn't think she can make it into work at all…"
In spirit, she wanted to come sit in the office even if it meant carrying Sabrina on her back—but she couldn't bring the baby because she would just keep crying.
"There's nothing wrong with the baby's health, is there?"
Cassandra asked, setting out vegan biscuits she had brought from home.
"No. No matter what we ask, the doctor just says newborns can be like that…"
I see.
At the sight of the biscuits, Luca stretched both hands straight toward Cassandra, and I adjusted my hold on him. Just how well-behaved had my baby been, really?
"Cookie!"
"Luca. You're supposed to say, 'Daddy, cookie please.'"
"Coo-kie!"
Of course, it felt like I was now collecting every bit of the easy stretch I had coasted through back then. I set the vigorously squirming child down on the floor.
"All right, all right. Cassandra, is that okay for him to eat?"
"Of course. I figured Luca would want some, so I was careful about that."
"Thank you."
I stripped the coat off the baby standing proudly on two feet, took a biscuit from Cassandra, and pressed it into his hand. Then I scooped him back up—still standing there smiling bashfully.
Even if my body was exhausted, the child was overflowing with health, and that made him so impossibly cute.
I kissed the cheek of the boy busily chewing his snack, and Greg looked on with open envy.
"When is our little princess going to get that big…"
"What are you so worried about? You've watched from the sidelines how fast Luca grows."
After settling Luca in the playroom and coming back out, Cassandra handed me a freshly poured coffee and asked,
"Speaking of which—when you met Evan yesterday, nothing out of the ordinary?"
"Ah. He asked me for a favor."
Evan had asked that the next time I hosted a gathering Mello would attend, I invite him along as well.
"Good heavens. Those two are cousins?"
I wasn't the only one who had never imagined that connection. Cassandra's eyes went round, and so did Greg's.
"Yes. They've been living as if the other barely existed for a long time… But after going through various personal things recently, he said he started to wonder if he hadn't been too hard on Mello all these years."
"Straightening out a relationship that's been twisted since childhood—as full-grown adults—can't be easy. Evan's impressive."
"He said his goal for the year is to look after the people around him a little more carefully."
"Wow. That guy's a brave adult."
I nodded quietly.
Looking after the people around you that you'd grown distant from was easy to say—but what it really meant was choosing to endure discomfort for the sake of relationships you had, for all kinds of reasons, turned away from. There was no guarantee that trying would make every relationship better, and yet he was still willing to reach out first, even knowing he might be refused. That was definitely an act of courage.
"So, boss. Are we throwing another party soon? I want to play Hwatu again."
The man who had just been moaning about wanting one solid night of sleep was now asking with sparkling eyes. So he wasn't that worn out after all.
"Hmm…"
It wasn't a proposal I could flatly refuse. There was Evan's request, of course—but more than that, I needed something to film for a playlist video, and I still had to shoot something.
"But if the setup is exactly the same, it'll feel a little deflated."
Cassandra snapped her fingers as an idea struck her.
"Then how about we gather at Lemon Soup this time? The rooftop and the first floor already went out in the performance video and my wedding video, but the second floor hasn't. We put darts, a pool table, card games—real party stuff—up on the second floor and throw a proper party."
She added that if we held the party at Lemon Soup Pub, I wouldn't have to cook myself, so it would be easier on me, too.
But that also means more money going out, doesn't it?
I wanted to ask that, but Greg was faster.
"Oh, I love it! Then should we invite more people this time? I can call some of my friends, too…"
At the mere mention of a party, the two extroverts started bouncing off the walls.
"…"
And I, being a true boss, decided to fully respect my employees' opinions.
"All right. Since the venue is set, you two can handle the party content yourselves."
A small cheer burst from both of them.
"And get the budget double-checked with Rachel one more time."
A small sigh escaped both of them at once.
"I'll talk to Dimitri about the rental and see if we can get a staff discount. As for the food…"
"Then I've got a friend who's a DJ—friend discount…"
Leaving the two of them to the most heated meeting we had ever held, I headed for the workshop to get on with the day's work.