Chapter 121
Chapter 121
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 122
Chapter Title: Yuin's Nationwide Trip 2: Goseong and Sokcho
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-That jangkal noodles place is seriously delicious.
-What's the name of that snack bar?
-It's called JM Bunsik—seriously good.
-Yuin's having such a happy trip ㅠㅠ I wanna eat Sokcho hoe too ㅠㅠ
-What's ray jjim? Different from hongeo?
-Yeah, that's delicious too.
-How does our Yuin know all these hidden gems? ㅎㅎ
-She's dead serious about eating...
-Eat lots and get those chubby cheeks even puffier ㅠㅠ
-What's the point if they get puffier—we can't even touch them ㅠㅠ
-Doesn't our Yuin do concerts or fanmeets?
-I wish she'd do a fanmeet...
Yeonwoo's trip was being uploaded to YouTube at a rapid pace.
All thanks to Wakana diligently editing and posting, her eyes gleaming with dollar signs(?).
It was still racking up overwhelming views and refusing to drop from the trends, but these days, it all felt... routine, somehow. Subscribers, views, trending status—nothing felt surprising anymore.
Which was why media interest had cooled off a bit.
Right now, all eyes in the press were fixed on one person.
Olivia Snow.
She'd hit Japan first, filling Tokyo Dome to max capacity for a sold-out triumph, then headed straight to Korea.
No sooner had she arrived than she hit the ground running, no rest in sight.
She made the rounds of foreigner must-dos like Gwangjang Market and Myeongdong, scarfing down tteokbokki and street food, then swept through Gangnam's department stores on a shopping spree, putting herself out there.
A world-class singer sightseeing in Korea for the first time? People snapped pics left and right, flooding SNS.
Having soaked up all that media and fan attention by showing her face everywhere, she took the stage at Seoul World Cup Stadium.
The venue, with its 65,000 seats, was packed just like in Japan. As the show kicked off, she seemed blown away by the uniquely Korean sea of voices singing along—something she hadn't gotten back in Japan—so she even threw in an encore.
After wrapping up with nearly an hour of encore,
"Koreans and Japanese look the same, and the countries are right next door—why's the concert vibe so totally different?"
"Um, that's... kinda racist, you know?"
"Why? What's the problem?"
Jessie let out a sigh.
"You're comparing nations and races. 'Same Asians' and all that. You're white—could you say France and America are the same? Anyway, never say anything that could be twisted like that."
Olivia Snow shrugged at her words.
"Do I seem that thoughtless?"
"Nah."
Olivia Snow nodded along like, Exactly, then said,
"Anyway, you tracked down that kid?"
"...We know where he is, but do we really have to go?"
"He told me to come myself. Then he bails? What's that about?"
It wasn't bailing—it was a family trip—but to someone as self-centered as Olivia Snow, excuses like that didn't register.
"So, where is he? Somewhere we can get to?"
"Before that, did the other side agree...? Nah, he basically said come if you're coming. He's in Gangneung."
"How far from here? Helicopter would be quick, right?"
"..."
That wasn't a question—it was her announcing she was helicoptering in to meet the kid.
"I'll prep the chopper."
Jessie said that and pulled out her phone.
* * *
"Aunt, can't you just stay still?"
At Yeonwoo's words, Jiyeong—who'd been pacing with chopsticks in one hand and beer in the other—froze.
"Oh, right. Gotta sit."
Jiyeong plopped down. But it didn't last. Soon she was up and pacing again.
Yeonwoo just shook his head at his aunt.
"Son, don't mind her. Eat your meat."
In the meantime, Jihoon, who'd been grilling while standing, plated some meat and brought it over.
Yeonwoo wrapped the charcoal-grilled pork neck in perilla leaf ssam and chomped down heartily.
Heo Ok gazed fondly at him while sipping her wine, and Jihoon kept busy grilling more as he watched Yeonwoo eat.
Jiyeong stared at her family, utterly baffled.
This was Olivia Snow, for crying out loud.
One of the world's top divas was coming here in person, and not a single one of them cared?
Weren't they being a little too chill?
"Yeonwoo, you invited Olivia Snow and now you're acting like it's no big deal?"
"Yeah. I don't wanna meet, but she keeps pushing. Why's she so set on seeing me? It's annoying."
"Good lord..."
A composer calling Olivia Snow annoying...
Sure, from Yeonwoo's perspective, she might seem musically insignificant. But in this industry, you couldn't ignore her influence.
What if treating her casually backfires?
She voiced these worries to Jihoon, but he just laughed like it was ridiculous.
"What're you even worrying about? She's not some Korean act—she's American."
"Huh? But still..."
"Listen up."
"Okay."
"In today's global market, you think a big US star can just throw their weight around on singers from other countries?"
Jiyeong paused, then nodded.
"Now that you mention it... yeah?"
America was still the hub of world music, no doubt. But the idea that America equaled the world market? That was ancient history.
She might sabotage things in the US, sure. But just pivot to other countries.
Japan for starters, and with Yeonwoo's composing and producing skills blowing up worldwide, even China and Southeast Asia were options.
Plus, you could always climb the Melboard charts without setting foot in America.
And after back-to-back scandals like sexual harassment allegations, even in the US, it wasn't easy for power players to bully other artists anymore.
'Maybe I worried too much?'
"And you... it's not worry—you just wanna suck up to Olivia Snow, right?"
"What? Me?!"
Well...
"...Yeah."
One of the few active singers who was Jiyeong's muse.
She was thrilled to meet Olivia Snow, but she also wanted to build a good connection through this encounter.
Even if it was through Yeonwoo instead of herself.
As an aunt, she wanted that vicarious thrill from afar.
"Aunt, that Olivia Snow sister's arriving soon!"
"Huh? For real?"
"Her staff just messaged!"
"No way—didn't she have a concert today? How's she here already?"
She had a point.
The show had barely ended—how was she making it to Gangneung?
Right around then, the whir of helicopter blades echoed from somewhere.
A helicopter?
Normally he'd brush it off, but something felt off.
Sure enough.
Before long, two cars pulled up to their secluded pension villa—out in the middle of nowhere, no one should be dropping by.
"Whoa, she's here."
As Jiyeong trembled, barely breathing, Yeonwoo set down his chopsticks neatly in front of him, done eating.
He straightened his clothes and hair out of habit, then eyed the people stepping out of the cars.
Olivia Snow.
Her looks matched her surname to a T.
Snow-white skin, blue eyes, platinum blonde hair.
She evoked the Snow Queen—or princess.
Even her haughty expression.
'She's being born?'
But Yeonwoo wasn't shocked by her looks.
Countless fairies trailed her, and soon, amid a swirl of blue light, her clone fairy was born around her.
Frankly, after hearing her songs, Yeonwoo had figured no clone would show.
By his standards, it was ambiguous.
Her composing? Meh for summoning fairies. Her vocals? Same.
Nice way to put it: versatile. Harsh way: nothing peaked high enough.
She wasn't a specialist dominating one thing—she was a jack-of-all-trades sparking synergy.
'What's her thing?'
So the clone's appearance caught him off guard. Every clone fairy so far inherited one standout skill from their host.
Shunji rocked guitar and had producer vision, but made a clone with his superior sight-reading eyes. Park Jeonghoon was solid on piano, but his clone embodied his top-tier conducting.
So this woman had to have one killer talent to spawn a clone.
What was it?
Puzzled, the newborn clone emitted blue light and fluttered toward Yeonwoo.
Like all the others, homing in on the one person who could see her.
Yeonwoo locked eyes with Snow's haughty clone staring back at him.
"HELLO."
Olivia Snow's voice pulled his gaze away.
"[Hello. My stage name is Yuin, real name Yeonwoo.]"
Olivia Snow looked flustered at Yeonwoo's bow, offering an awkward nod in return.
She clearly wasn't used to Eastern-style greetings.
"[You speak great English.]"
Yeonwoo shook his head.
He'd learned through manager Jaehoon, nailing the accent with his special knack, but...
"[Not totally fluent yet.]"
His actual fluency still lagged.
"[It sounds plenty fluent to me.]"
"[I can mimic what I hear perfectly. Accent, pronunciation.]"
Yeonwoo said, then tilted his head.
"[So why'd you wanna see me?]"
After the greetings, Olivia Snow gave a short laugh at his slightly awkward English, then replied.
"[You blew me off.]"
"[Never.]"
"[You rejected me. Said come yourself if you wanna meet.]"
That called for a longer answer, so Yeonwoo glanced at his dad and started speaking Korean.
Jihoon soon translated.
"[Yeonwoo says he's on break and didn't want any interruptions. He wouldn't have met even if your country's president asked.]"
"[...Really just a break?]"
Jihoon didn't relay Yeonwoo's words this time—he gave his own take.
"[Yeonwoo's only eight. As a parent, I have to look out for his mental health too. Honestly, my influence probably played a big part in him not wanting to meet you.]"
Snow silently studied Jihoon and Yeonwoo.
Then she scanned the others.
They say East Asians and Westerners struggle to tell each other apart visually.
But with features this striking, no mistaking this family.
Sharp eyes ran strong in the genes, at least.
'Family, huh...'
A genius kid, sure—but still a child. A father fighting to shield him. The genius thriving under that protection.
Unthinkable for her.
She looked the part of privileged white elite upbringing at a glance.
Truth was, she was "white trash"—poor white—from the slums.
No parental love—just beatings from drug-addict folks, nearly selling her body for their fixes. A fed-up neighbor reported the abuse, landing her in a shelter.
That clingy, twisted edge to her personality? Born right there.
Anyway...
Gazing at this genius boy with what she never had, jealousy bubbled up.
Just as Jessie—the one person who could read her—nearly freaked,
"[Yeah, Dad's right. But there's another reason.]"
Would it tamp down the spite and shift gears?
"[You can't compose.]"
"[I can't compose?]"
Good lord.
The kid had just fanned the flames—no, doused the house in gasoline. With dynamite chaser.