Episode 34: Then It’s Full Speed Ahead
Having been cussed out by a customer for no reason, Oh Woo-ya couldn’t possibly be in a good mood.
Yet, she quickly shook off her glum expression, flashing an eye smile and even sticking out her tongue a bit as she comforted me instead.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. That must’ve startled you, huh?”
Is her mentality just that strong, purely innocent, or fiercely resilient?
Even after getting chewed out by that couple’s girlfriend, she’s still putting on her sales charm, noticing Seung-ah by my side.
I decided to place our order first.
The menu was simple: basic toast and milk.
“Two toasts, please.”
“Sure, just a moment.”
“Seung-ah, want some milk?”
“Yup, strawberry milk for me.”
“One strawberry milk and one plain milk too.”
“Got it, I’ll bring them with the toast.”
When I first saw Seo Seon-yu on the street, it was so sudden I was caught off guard. This time, I came prepared, so I could keep my composure.
Woo-ya spread margarine generously on the griddle, skillfully flipping the bread with a spatula.
From a distance, I hadn’t noticed, but up close, Woo-ya and her toast stall felt oddly mismatched.
Maybe because most street toast vendors I’d seen were middle-aged aunties or uncles, but it was like watching a girl in street fashion playing traditional percussion.
Her face could pass for an early high schooler, but running a stall from morning meant she probably wasn’t a student…
Taking a slight risk of being rude, I asked her age.
“Sorry, but how old are you?”
“Me?” Woo-ya glanced at me, grinning with her Busan accent. “How old do I look?”
I could kinda see why the girlfriend from earlier went full-throttle.
Woo-ya’s blatant charm was the kind that could spark fights among jealous couples.
It felt like a calculated sales strategy, armed to cater exclusively to male customers while ignoring female ones.
“Hmm… your face looks super young, but since you’re running a stall this early, probably not a student…”
“Why not? I could be a student,” she teased.
“Twenty?”
“Really, I look that old?”
Flipping the bread with her gloved left hand, she shot another eye smile.
Her knack for bantering with customers was next-level.
I played along.
“Up or down?”
“What’s that?”
“Older or younger than twenty?”
“Hehe, spot on. I’m twenty.”
Seon-yu’s 18, Jin-ah’s 19, Woo-ya’s 20, Ah-hyun’s 21, Seung-ah’s 22.
What the heck?
It’s like their ages were deliberately lined up in a perfect staircase.
While I was chatting with Woo-ya, our saintly Seung-ah was cleaning up the toast the girlfriend had thrown on the ground.
Noticing late, Woo-ya glanced at her and said, with zero sincerity, “Oh, I was gonna clean that… Just leave it.”
“No, it’s done.”
“Thanks. You two aren’t from Busan, are you?”
I answered, “We’re from Seoul.”
“Oh, Seoul folks! Wow, that’s cool. Here for a couple’s trip?”
I’d planned to talk privately after business slowed, but with no customers waiting, I got straight to the point.
“No, we came to meet you.”
“Me?”
“Do you know VIP Entertainment? It’s an idol agency with GraceOne and Free Sense.”
“Oh, sorry, I don’t watch TV at all, so I don’t know any recent singers.”
“I’m a manager there.”
“Oh, I see.”
“We’re looking for a new member. Ever thought about joining a girl group?”
“Huh? Me…?”
“Yes.”
Woo-ya gave an awkward smile and shook her head.
“No…”
“No interest?”
“Nope…”
Conversation shut down in one minute?
For the first time, the girl who didn’t lose her smile even with a rude customer looked visibly uncomfortable.
If she’d reacted with something like, “Me? A girl group member?” I could’ve gently coaxed her along. But her flat, uninterested one-word answers threw me off, making me shrink a bit.
The conversation’s energy plummeted, leaving us both awkward.
Seung-ah, who’d just tossed the discarded toast into the trash, stood beside me. I steeled myself to try again.
“Are you completely uninterested in singing or dancing?”
“Yes…”
Woo-ya kept up her strained smile and head-shaking, like she was brushing off a desperate guy hitting on her at a club.
Her whole body was screaming, ‘Please drop this topic.’
What now?
I hadn’t anticipated such a firm rejection.
In the heavy silence, Seung-ah glanced nervously between me and Woo-ya.
Even her capybara-like charm couldn’t break through this wall.
Knowing it was a long shot, I kept talking, like a telemarketer pitching to an indifferent customer.
“I saw on a blog that your name’s Oh Woo-ya, right?”
“Yes.”
“Our company really wants to work with you. You don’t need to know how to sing or dance—we’ll train you. How about just visiting our office to talk?”
“I have to run the stall, so I don’t have time. Sorry.”
“No days off?”
“Nope.”
Her defenses were airtight, leaving me at a loss.
Even Seung-ah couldn’t find an opening to jump in.
An awkward silence lingered until the toast was ready.
“It’s hot, so be careful.”
“Wow, looks delicious!”
“Since you cleaned up the toast, I’ll throw in the milk for free.”
“Thank you!”
“Strawberry and plain, right?”
“Yup.”
Woo-ya bent over to grab the milk from the cooler, her dress riding up to a dangerously revealing edge.
‘Sales soaring, I can hear it.’
No wonder guys show up every day.
I’d love to camp out for a week to persuade her, but it’s Busan…
For now, the only option is to get her contact info, like I did with Seon-yu, and work on her slowly.
But will she even give it?
“Sorry, could you share your phone number?”
“My number?”
“I’ll send you info about our company via KakaoTalk.”
“I don’t check KakaoTalk much when I’m working.”
“When do you usually finish?”
“I start at 6 a.m. and go till 10 p.m.”
Sixteen-hour workdays?
Add prep time, and it’s even more—already a top-tier idol’s schedule.
She mentioned taking over from her grandma. Is she the family breadwinner?
If she’s supporting her family with this stall, her reaction makes sense.
“Hmm… after you close, maybe we could grab a meal and talk? Do you have time then?”
“No, I need to head home to prep for tomorrow.”
“Alright, no pressure to reply, but could you just give me your number? I won’t bother you.”
Woo-ya stared at my outstretched phone for a moment, then reluctantly typed in her number with a resigned look.
Just then, a customer arrived, so Seung-ah and I stepped back.
As we ate our toast and headed back to the subway station, Seung-ah asked, “What now?”
“No idea.”
“She’s like a steel wall.”
“Exactly. I think she needs to earn money. It was her grandma’s stall, and she’s running it now.”
“Oh, maybe she’s the family breadwinner?”
“Could be. Even if she’s not interested, most people would at least be curious about a girl group offer, but she’s completely shut off…”
I checked Woo-ya’s KakaoTalk profile.
Her main picture was the “Pippi Toast” sign.
There were three more photos and a status message.
One showed an elderly woman, likely her grandma, smiling brightly from a hospital bed, with the status: “Grandma, don’t be sick ㅜㅜ.”
Another was a photo of Woo-ya with what looked like her siblings—a girl in a school uniform and a young boy, probably in elementary school.
A hospitalized grandma and two younger siblings…
I showed Seung-ah the photos.
“Looks like she’s the breadwinner.”
“Oh no…”
“Seems like her parents aren’t around, huh?”
“Maybe…”
Even if her parents are around, it doesn’t seem like a typical family situation.
This is too tough…
Considering the line for her toast, she’s probably making decent money. Even if she were interested in being an idol, giving up her livelihood would be hard.
Even if the album comes out as fast as possible and profits are settled, there’d be at least a six-month financial gap. Choosing the toast stall over that is the obvious choice—100, 1,000 times over.
I’d have rejected it like Woo-ya too.
“Guess we’ll have to eat sashimi next time.”
“Yup.”
There’s nothing we can do right now.
Just an hour after arriving in Busan, we headed back to Seoul.
On the KTX, I sent Woo-ya a message with the company website, my freshly issued employee ID, and a few Free Sense YouTube videos.
Me: [Sorry for the trouble today.]
Me: [If you need any help, feel free to reach out anytime.]
Back at the company, I reported to Team Leader Jeon Min-yong.
After hearing the situation, he thought we didn’t need to keep pursuing her.
“Let’s look for someone else.”
She has no interest in being an idol, and her skills aren’t guaranteed, so I had no more justification to push.
But another thought crept in.
The future video showed a five-member group with Woo-ya succeeding. Couldn’t we find someone even better?
With album activities planned and decent trainee recommendations coming in, unless a total troll like ChanceMaker’s infamous flop joins, the plan shouldn’t derail too much… No, wait, no way!
Damn it.
I forgot I’d bet 200 million won in production costs on the five-member lineup with Woo-ya.
Minor variables aside, the combination of Seung-ah, Ah-hyun, Jin-ah, Seon-yu, and Woo-ya is non-negotiable.
I can’t lose Woo-ya!
And whatever the process, the future video already confirmed Woo-ya joins Free Sense.
So what’s the move?
Full speed ahead.
I’ve got to hit her with every approach possible.
Don’t movies and variety shows talk about spending years wooing a top star?
“Team Leader, when you think about it, I’m in debt to the company right now…”
“Cut the preamble and get to the point. You’re saying it has to be her, right?”
“Yes…”
“So what’s your plan? Camp out in front of her house with a protest sign?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“We don’t have time for that, idiot.”
“What if… you give me just one week?”
“You serious?”
“Yes. I’ll do whatever it takes—work like a slave at her stall, care for her grandma, anything.”
“You crazy bastard.”
“Haha…”
“Fine, a guy who wrote a pledge to the CEO would do anything. One week?”
“Yes. I’ll bring her back.”
With Jeon’s approval, I went home and packed a week’s worth of underwear and clothes into a suitcase.
“Mom, I won’t be back for a week.”
“Work trip?”
“Yeah, gotta go to Busan for a new member.”
“Bring back some Gijang seaweed.”
I took the evening KTX to Busan and booked a motel near Pippi Toast.
Rented a car too.
Company card for the win.
Woo-ya had read my messages and materials but hadn’t replied.
No matter.
The morning’s defeatist mindset was gone.
In full berserker mode, I headed to her stall at closing time.
Our breadwinner girl was cleaning up after sending off the last customer.
“Need any help?”
“Oh my gosh, you scared me!”
“I came back from Seoul.”
“Huh? Why…?”
“They told me not to come back to the company without you.”
“What…?”
I’d shown her the company website and my ID, but this kind of aggressive approach might feel overwhelming or scary. So I added some flexibility.
“I get that you’re not interested, so no pressure. Just let me help out with anything. I need something to tell the company later.”
Woo-ya pointed to a trash bag inside the stall, readily putting me to work.
“Then take that to the dumpster over there.”
Lucky break.
Whether she’s clever or just tough, it means she’s not on guard anymore.
I eagerly stepped into the stall and grabbed the 50-liter trash bag, brimming to the top, with both hands.
Was I too excited?
Rip!
The bag caught on the stall’s edge, tearing open.
Eggshells and crumpled bread bags spilled out in a chaotic whoosh.
“Argh!”
“…Um, you said you were helping…?”