Jackpot

I must have dozed off. When I blinked my eyes open and checked the time, it was a little past five.

The two brothers were still fast asleep. I eased myself up, opened the bedroom door, and found Evan sitting in the dim dawn light with his back to me, looking half-awake and thoroughly dazed.

I made enough noise that he should have noticed, but he never turned around. Still not all there, then.

I went into the master bathroom, washed my face, crossed into the kitchen, and only after I started the coffee machine did he finally look my way.

"Was the sofa uncomfortable?"

"No… I'm sorry. I'm not usually ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠such a lightweight…"

Evan answered with an embarrassed dry wash of his face.

"You had quite a bit last night. It's fine. I was the one who kept pouring."

I held ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out a mug of steaming lungo; he took it gratefully.

"Want to step out onto the terrace? Nothing wakes you up quite like coffee out there."

"Sure."

It was an August morning, but the breeze was surprisingly cool. The early stir of the city and the occasional birdcall rode in on the wind.

"…This is nice."

"Yeah. I never knew how much I'd miss it until I had a terrace this big. Of course, the second floor makes up for it with that much more living space."

"Right. No terrace, but one extra room."

His voice still sounded rough. Just thinking about his house seemed to drain him all over again.

"…Maybe you should take the day off? You really don't look well."

"No. Going into work is better. Sitting at home would only dredge up bad memories… First I'll hire someone to pack up the place. After that I'll either rent it out or sell it."

So it really had been his own house.

A brief, inappropriate flicker of envy passed through me before I asked the natural next question.

"Where will you live, then? Properties don't come up that often in this neighborhood."

"I can stay at a hotel for a while. And once this recipe book is out, I've been thinking about transferring to headquarters."

Living in a hotel. Rich people really did think differently. More to the point—there was a separate headquarters?

"I thought the place I visited was headquarters… Though given the size of the publisher, I suppose that wouldn't make sense."

"Yes. Headquarters is in another city. My grandfather sits up at the top of a skyscraper there like a control tower."

He gave a small laugh, as if he'd meant it as a joke. I chuckled along with him.

Evan gazed out at the quiet street and went on.

"Honestly, I don't know. I rather liked it here. I wanted to build the branch into something that actually reflected the character of this area…"

"Is that even possible?"

"It is. Branches follow head-office policy, but they still get a fair amount of independent leeway."

Then he added that right now it might be better to just throw in the towel and do whatever he was told.

"It's strange, isn't it. I came out here because I hated that kind of life—and now that life has gotten hard, I'm thinking of going right back."

"…"

"Maybe that's the life that actually suits me."

"It might be a hasty decision. Why not give yourself a little more time to think it over?"

"…Yes. Either way, I still have to finish every project I've taken on."

After that we simply sipped our coffee for a while.

Evan was the one who spoke again.

"…I find myself thinking about the meaning of life sometimes. Especially when everything feels this exhausting. You start wondering what any of it is for. The moment you die, it's all over, after all. Even the words of the wisest people don't land when you're in that place."

Uh… if you're going to drop something that heavy out of nowhere, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to respond…

I remembered some sage saying that silence was golden. Right. I would just listen.

"I used to think that feeling would go away once I had a child."

"Pardon?"

So much for my resolution. The answer slipped out before I could stop it.

"Love for one's children is a theme that comes up constantly, isn't it. Parental sacrifice, parental love—or the meaning of life that parents supposedly discover through their kids…"

"Hmm…"

"No matter how much I studied it, that whole territory was completely foreign to me. But I figured a life with children was something you could arrive at naturally, so I assumed I'd understand it someday."

Is this guy still drunk…?

"Having a child just to find the meaning of your own life is a little… off, don't you think?"

Evan lifted his gaze from his cup and looked at me.

"But you found it, didn't you? Isn't that why you brought home a second child?"

"I only brought them together because I thought it would be good for the brothers to live side by side."

Taking in Luca in the first place had been pure stubbornness on my part, and the reason I'd brought Reni home had been Luca, plain and simple.

But time had changed that.

"Both boys simply seeped into my life until they became family. I don't look after them as a way to hunt down the meaning of my existence."

Of course, the result was that I had grown fonder of living, and it had given me a reason to try harder. But still.

"I don't know for sure… but if the kids became my entire life, wouldn't that be a burden on them too?"

The same worry Cassandra had raised—and Maria as well—drifted naturally through my mind.

I wanted to share joy and sorrow as a family. But that meant walking with the children, not walking toward them as if they were a destination.

Evan listened quietly, seemed to turn it over, then asked,

"So do you have any concrete plans for how you want to live from here on out, Jun?"

"Well… raising the kids well is the top priority for now, of course."

Which meant the YouTube channel had to find its footing properly first.

I carefully laid out the expansion ideas I'd been mulling over lately, and the possibility of opening a studio. Handing him empty comfort felt less useful than talking shop; practical conversation seemed to help him more.

"So last night I was going to read them a picture book, and—um, what is it?"

Mid-story I glanced over, worried I'd been talking about myself too long, and found Evan staring at me with an almost unsettling intensity.

"Listening to you just now gave me a great idea. Would you be interested in regularly promoting the books our publishing house selects?"

I could only blink at him. He pressed on.

"Do you remember the periodical I gave you before? If you introduced the titles featured there on a regular basis, it would be perfect. Membership-only videos would work well too."

"…Right. Um. I'll think about it. I'll need to talk it over with my manager—the one you met…"

"Ah, her. Yes, by all means discuss it thoroughly. I doubt she'll object."

"Sh-shouldn't you be heading home soon if you need to get to work?"

"Good heavens. Look at the time. I'll be in touch again, then."

Evan drained the rest of his coffee, thanked me, and went back to his own place.

"…"

I stripped the cover off the sofa he had crumpled through the night, shoved it into the washing machine, and thought:

Feeling neglected and actually carrying out an affair were two entirely different things—but in that moment, I understood Grace's position by about 0.1 percent.

That man's workaholism was off the charts.

Mornings with the kids were always a whirlwind.

I set the robot vacuum to work on the living room and started dressing the boys. Reni hopped down from the bed and announced,

"Daddy, I can put on my socks by myself."

He opened the drawer with his clothes. It was so cute and so responsible that I let him be—until he reappeared wearing mismatched socks.

I scrambled for a way to fix them without embarrassing him, but Reni declared with complete confidence,

"Daddy, this way is pretty!"

Ah. So he'd done it on purpose.

"Is that so? You think wearing one of each is prettier than a matching pair?"

"Yes!"

Well. We were only staying home today, so it was fine.

"Waaah!"

I flipped Luca back onto the bed just as he tried to roll over and crawl away, and finished changing him.

"Heehee…"

Whatever had him so delighted, the baby beamed and let me dress him without a fuss.

Passive lack of personality, or free-spirited fashion terrorism? That was the question.

I sat the nicely dressed boys in their chairs and started feeding them breakfast when Cassandra called. Both hands full, I put her on speaker.

"Morning, Cassandra. Funny you should call—I actually had something to ask you… Oh, right, I'll send over the footage from last night too."

Excuse me—who was the one who told me not to refresh the page so often because I'd fall into the abyss?

"I turn off pretty much every notification, not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just YouTube, or I can't look after the kids. I'd just stare at my phone all day… Is something wrong?"

Under her relentless prodding I set down the spoon I'd been using to feed the baby, pressed a milk-bread roll—the only thing Luca never threw on the floor at mealtimes—into his little hand, and opened the app.

"…Huh? Oh. What is this!"

One of the videos had exploded.

The Shorts featuring Reni's "It's the knee!" lesson for Luca had racked up an insane view count, and an enormous flood of people had followed the link into the full video.

I'd wondered why Cassandra hadn't uploaded that adorable clip right away—now I understood. She'd been waiting to build the linked video first.

She had gathered unpublished clips from everything I'd sent her and edited the kids' lovable moments into something almost like a sketch comedy.

Every shot of their backs, their profiles, their blurred faces had been short to begin with. But those fragments, stitched together over my guitar playing as the background music, flowed into a single seamless video…

Thanks to that music and those effects, the whole thing felt cute, tender, and warm. It wouldn't have been an exaggeration to say it held the children's entire gentle daily life.

The quality alone told you how much care had gone into the edit.

"We really did! No—seriously, you did amazing work!"

I was clutching my phone, unable to hide my excitement, when Reni—spoon still in his mouth—beamed up at me and asked,

"Daddy happy? What's good?"

I kissed the top of his head while his mismatched socks swung cheerfully in the air.

"Reni did something really incredible ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for Daddy."

"Meee?"

Reni clearly had no idea what was going on, but seeing me so thrilled made him giggle.

"Aba, Daddy!"

"Yes, yes—our Luca did amazing too."

I planted the same kiss on Luca's head; he still couldn't stand any affection that went only to his older brother. Then I invited Cassandra to bring Charlie over for dinner instead of celebrating over the phone.

"We'll talk about that when we meet. I'll send the video."

We hung up, both buzzing with excitement.

Ah—dinner was one thing, but shouldn't I be handing out a bonus for something like this?

With that thought in mind I finished feeding the kids, ran out for groceries for the evening, and logged back into the app.

"…Wow."

Even in those few hours, the channel's subscriber count and the video's view count had climbed even higher.

I didn't know the exact numbers yet, but it looked like one bonus wouldn't be enough. Two, at least.