* * *

Mr. Jeong watched Eugene's expression out of the corner of his eye. The moment he sensed an opening, he pounced on it like a rabbit diving for clover.

“Eugene?”

“What is it, boss?”

“About your friend...”

“It hasn't been a month yet.”

It happened in an instant. Before he could finish speaking, her answer left Mr. Jeong slumped like a rabbit caught by the scruff of its neck.

“Still, that business of his might end early, mightn't it? Even if he's busy, he could find time to visit a friend...”

Still unable to give up, Mr. Jeong tested the waters wistfully. Eugene gave him a cheerful smile.

“Boss.”

“Oh, are you thinking of giving him a call?”

“Customers are waiting. Stop fooling around and get to work.”

“...”

Before a customer, even a boss had no choice but to become a humble supplicant. Eugene watched Mr. Jeong trudge off, shoulders drooping, to make the coffee someone had ordered, then muttered,

“Boss has no patience. It hasn't even been a week since my partner said he couldn't come.”

She could understand him. Ever since Limon had announced he couldn't come, customers asked every day when the two of them would perform together again. These days, everyone from neighborhood shop owners to scouts from various guilds tried to pry Limon's contact details out of Mr. Jeong. As the target of that barrage, of course he desperately wanted Limon to visit.

Though the biggest reason was probably that Mr. Jeong himself hadn't heard Limon and Eugene play together in so long that his restlessness had turned into withdrawal symptoms.

Even so, Eugene had no desire or intention to indulge him, for one simple reason. “I'm the one who wants to see him most.”

More than a junkie craved a fix. More than someone longed for a lover who had gone away. More than a debtor waited for payday. Eugene missed Limon desperately. More precisely, she missed his playing.

‘But I have to wait.’

She pressed down the urge to call Limon right now and ask him to play for her. Limon was her partner. They were equals; he wasn't someone she could impose her wishes on. And the thought of some unrelated person pressuring him to play? As much as she loved music, she valued the freedom to make it even more. She couldn't accept that.

“Good day, Eugene.”

That was why she frowned before she could help herself when Moon Cheon-yeop, wearing sunglasses, greeted her as though they were close.

“Mr. Moon, why are you here again?”

“Come now, don't say that. It's not as though I'm somewhere I shouldn't be.”

“You are, though.”

Moon Cheon-yeop went rigid.

“... Ha ha ha. You do love a joke, Eugene. What café would ever turn away a customer?”

Perhaps he was simply that thick-skinned, or perhaps he was developing a tolerance. Either way, he quickly recovered and brushed it off with practiced ease. Eugene eyed him narrowly.

She would have liked nothing better than to throw him out, but... “Is that a threat?”

“Come now, a threat? Of course not. As a regular customer of this café, I was merely offering you a word of caution.”

‘Liar.’ Eugene had seen him browbeat Mr. Jeong when the boss had shown his displeasure, asking whether he wanted his café to get a reputation for turning customers away. She knew exactly what Moon meant. Her voice came out curt.

“Then what are you ordering?”

“A contract with you, if I may.”

“That's not on the menu.”

“Then we can put it on, can't we?”

He said it with a sly smile. Eugene didn't get angry or even annoyed at his shamelessness. She was so used to it by now that she could barely muster any interest.

“Mr. Moon, I've told you plenty of times. I'm not signing a contract.”

“People change their minds.”

“Not me.”

“Well, now...”

Moon clicked his tongue at her stonewalling. It was absurd, really. The WIM Guild was a giant in the industry, the country's premier entertainment guild with no real rival. Most musicians would jump at the chance to sign with it.

Yet she had refused an offer from him, the man who had built Claire's career, no less. He would have taught any ordinary musician a lesson long ago. He had held back only because he'd recognized at least some of Eugene's talent. But that was coming to an end.

“You still don't seem to understand what kind of organization the WIM Guild is, Eugene.”

“Do I need to?”

“You do if you want to survive in this business. WIM is backed by Midas.”

Speaking as if he were explaining something to an ignorant infant, Moon let the corners of his mouth lift, arrogance disguised as kindness.

“Do you know what that means?”

“What does it mean?”

“It means I can make things very difficult for you if I choose.”

It was no exaggeration. Midas was the guild of the Golden Monarch, the only one of the ten Monarchs with wealth to rival the Seven Dragon Group. With the power of an absolute being and enormous riches at its disposal, Midas wielded more influence than any of the ten great guilds.

If Midas made a move, burying one musician would be easy, no matter her talent or connections. Musically. Socially. Physically.

“So stop playing hard to get. Now that I've stepped in, no other guild will take you anyway.”

Moon spoke triumphantly. He knew Midas's clout better than anyone and was certain that even haughty Eugene wouldn't dare refuse him this time.

“So?”

“... Pardon?”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

That certainty lasted until Eugene tilted her head and asked again, as though she didn't understand his point.

“Whether you've got connections at Midas or you can make trouble for me, Mr. Moon, what does any of that have to do with my singing?”

‘Is this bitch actually stupid?’

Moon was dumbfounded. He had threatened her so openly on purpose, hoping to secure favorable contract terms and teach her not to get ideas later. But instead of being frightened into submission, she acted as though she hadn't understood the threat at all. He was beginning to question her intelligence.

“Try it, if you can.”

“T-try it?”

The moment he saw her eyes, all those thoughts vanished.

“Get Midas to bring the Golden Monarch here. Try kidnapping me to make a snuff film. I don't care.”

Her blue eyes were calm and still, so clear they brought a lake to mind. But deep beneath that placid surface lurked a savage storm.

“My songs belong to me. I'll never give them to you.”

How could he describe it? A mother bird guarding her eggs? No, nothing so frail. A lioness ready to tear apart anything that touched her cubs. Or a dragon guarding its treasure, ready to burn everything around it. Hot, fierce, deadly. The conviction in her gaze was so absolute it bordered on madness, and it sent a chill down Moon's spine.

‘She overwhelmed me?’

Moon faltered. He was a high-level player himself. With the WIM Guild behind him, he was usually the one who intimidated others, not the other way around. Yet this unknown musician, who wasn't even registered with the Players Association, had made him feel cowed, if only for a moment. It was unbelievable.

“Hah. You certainly have a mind of your own.”

Once his disbelief faded, he felt what any man who considered himself entitled to respect would feel at being slighted: anger and humiliation.

“But Eugene, I suggest you think it over once more. Decisions made in youthful passion tend to have the worst consequences.”

It was an ultimatum. Change your mind now, or he might carry out the threat he'd just made.

Eugene paid him no mind. She answered coldly.

“I decide what's worst for me. You don't, Mr. Moon.”

Moon frowned at her firm answer, as though even a blade couldn't pierce it.

“You'll regret this choice.”

“Lots of people have told me that. Nothing's ever changed.”

“Because none of them were me.”

“You think so?”

Moon radiated menace; Eugene stood her ground and met his gaze. The two of them looked nothing like a café customer and a waitress.

“Chief Moon! Are you threatening Eugene again?”

Kim Seung-jun had spotted their confrontation as soon as he entered the café and rushed over. Moon answered him with perfect composure.

“Come now, Producer Kim. Threatening her? Please don't say things that might give people the wrong idea.”

“You were looking at her like you wanted to eat her alive!”

“Something got in my eye and I frowned. Don't exaggerate.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Whatever you say, Producer Kim, as a chief of the WIM Guild, I was merely having a pleasant conversation with Eugene.”

“Ghh...!”

Moon's meaning was clear: he belonged to the WIM Guild, and Kim had better not spread baseless rumors if he didn't want trouble. Having delivered that veiled threat, Moon rose.

“In any case, I've said what I came to say. I'll be leaving now.”

As though Kim were beneath his notice, Moon turned his back on him. Then he looked straight at Eugene through his sunglasses and spoke quietly.

“I do hope nothing unfortunate happens to you, Eugene.”

“Nothing will, whether you worry about me or not.”

“Heh. I hope so.”

He left behind a peculiar laugh—mockery, derision, a sneer, who could tell? Once Moon had gone, Kim hurried over to Eugene.

“Eugene, are you all right?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“Well...”

Kim hesitated, recalling all the troubling rumors about Moon. As he agonized over whether to tell her things that could easily get him sued for defamation, Eugene gave a small laugh.

“Never mind.”

“Pardon?”

“I'm fine. You don't need to worry.”

Whatever kind of man Moon was, whatever he was plotting, she'd be fine. Saying so as casually as ever, Eugene held out the menu she'd been carrying and asked,

“So, what can I get you?”

“...”

“Oh, and just so you know, contracts aren't on the menu either.” For some reason, Kim looked terribly disappointed at that. Eugene gave him a perfect customer-service smile.