After briefly considering alternatives, I recalled that there were multiple stamps indicating the boutique.

I immediately handed a stamp resembling a drink to the counter staff, explaining, “Give one of these stamps to customers who bring their own cups for takeout. Collecting five of them allows them to exchange for one drink.”

This was a kind of mileage or alternative currency system where taking out five drinks earned you an extra one.

The eyes of the counter staff widened. “What?”

“Let’s call taking out and stamping for mileage accumulation.”

Both seemed a bit puzzled, so I wrote down the terms I came up with and asked, “Even if it’s unfamiliar, the task isn’t difficult, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

The female counter staff immediately started making stamps, melting wax to distribute to customers.

I instructed Milga to promptly inform customers of this and post a job advertisement for three additional café staff.

“After finishing, 1st-floor staff can close and leave for the day.”

Soon, the line of customers who received Milga’s instructions scattered, excluding a few.

I grabbed a piece of bread and a drink and headed to the square fountain.

I planned to talk to the street musician about sponsorship. However, today, the violin melody felt more melancholic than before.

Glancing at the musician’s hat on the ground, I noticed there wasn’t a single coin inside.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t surprising.

With each fairy tale being equivalent to 10,000 won, there was no change here. Therefore, few people could afford to be moved by street music and put a fairy tale inside.

Unless they intentionally came due to a fondness for his music or a good mood.

If the musician’s situation was like this, it seemed easier to suggest sponsorship.

“Sigh. How can one make a living like this?”

The musician, who only played the violin, turned his gaze in a gloomy manner. My words didn’t seem to please him.

“Come to think of it, it’s already past lunchtime. Aren’t you hungry?”

The violin melody became even heavier. The musician was now in a state where his mouth was pursed.

‘Pursed.’

I took out a fairy tale and put it into the hat.

Kling[Dash].

The violin melody lifted a step lighter. The musician’s gaze was now precisely fixed on the fairy tale inside the hat.

‘Understandable.’

I put another fairy tale into the hat.

The violin melody became even more cheerful.

This time, I put in a silver coin.

A short ad-lib was added to the violin, followed by a more cheerful performance.

The musician couldn’t hide the smile forming on his lips. When our eyes met, he even winked.

A faint laugh escaped my lips.

I waited for the song to finish, and when the musician reached into my hat to collect the money, I handed him the bread.

“…?”

“You seemed to have skipped lunch, so eat this.”

The musician glanced up and down at me, then accepted the bread with one hand. His hand, receiving the bread, was surprisingly pure and smooth for a street musician.

Only then did I realize that something aristocratic emanated from him inexplicably.
I tried to examine his face closely again.

However, his silvery eyes, which I directly met this time, differed from the innocent impression I had received so far. They seemed deeper, so I quickly avoided his gaze and refrained from asking about his story.

Although I became curious about his background, prying into personal matters could be considered impolite.

The musician sat on the fountain and started eating the bread. I stood and observed his actions.

During the opening ceremony, I was too busy to pay attention, but upon seeing him again, his composed posture was no less than Phillip’s or Alexander’s.

His appearance, dignity, and excellent violin skills.

‘Did he hide his social status?’

Around this point, it was more likely that there was no lack of people willing to sponsor the street musician than that he refused any form of support.

I called the gatekeeper guarding the entrance of the boutique and brought paper and pen after that, handing them to the musician.

“It seems you can’t speak, but… can you write?”

The musician, who was silently looking up at me, rummaged through the breast pocket of his jacket. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he took the pen and paper I offered.

His instinctive fumbling with the breast pocket was probably to find a handkerchief to wipe his mouth.

Hence, I was convinced that his original status was by no means low.

‘Let’s put the sponsorship proposal on hold for now.’

As long as there were no sudden rebellious issues, it would be better to observe and maintain a relationship. One day, if it seemed appropriate, I could suggest sponsorship, provided it didn’t turn into an awkward situation.

“If it’s okay with you, you can come to our boutique’s cafeteria for lunch from now on. Your music enhances the atmosphere of the street, so consider it a reward.”

“…?”

“If you have anything to say, write it on that paper.”