The Bakery

"Then we'll set things up so the film, the drama, and all three YouTube channels can cross-run with as little schedule strain as possible."

Yeon-woo nodded as he listened to CEO Jeong Hyeok.

Wanting to shoot something and actually being able to shoot it right away were two different matters, so they had decided to take the projects a little more slowly for now.

There was no telling how long the meeting would drag on today, so he had already told Manager Kim Min-su to head home first. He planned to drive himself back in his personal car parked downstairs.

Inside the elevator, Yeon-woo eyed the fifth-floor button that had been blocked off so no one could press it, and thought of the agents.

Besides Han Hae-un, I still can't reveal my identity to anyone. So I can't go up to the fifth floor.

Maybe someday, far in the future, once absolute trust had been built—but for now he had no intention of exposing himself to the other agents.

He reached for the basement button, then changed his mind.

Ding—

The elevator stopped at the first floor. Yeon-woo stepped out of the building and looked at the only shop that had leased space inside it.

— Stern Bakery

Stern Bakery.

A compound of German and English that, translated literally, meant "Star Bakery."

"Hmm. The only tenant in the whole building. It's been a while—maybe I should buy some bread."

Still wearing his cap and mask, Yeon-woo pushed open the bakery door.

"Welcome!"

A young woman behind the counter greeted him brightly.

Yeon-woo dipped his head in return, picked up a tray, and began choosing bread.

A young couple, they said. Husband's German.

Mokhwa Building was, for all practical purposes, Yeon-woo's property, so of course he had run thorough background checks on the only people working in the only shop currently leasing space. The same would apply to every future tenant as well.

The couple running the bakery was an international marriage—a German man and a Korean woman.

They came to Korea the year before last, opened the bakery, and have been barely scraping by ever since.

The commercial district was dead; aside from neighborhood regulars, customers were scarce.

When Han Hae-un had visited in the guise of Terrence and offered to lower the rent, they had been so grateful they had loaded him up with free bread.

Hae-un said the bread was actually pretty good.

After years of living in Europe, Yeon-woo's palate had adjusted to local tastes. Since reincarnating, Korean food had been overwhelmingly better than anything else—except Korean bread. Korean bread he simply could not stand, so he almost never ate it.

Hae-un had spent less time abroad than Yeon-woo, but still long enough that his standards would be similar.

While turning these thoughts over and selecting a few loaves, Yeon-woo's eyes landed on a familiar white shape.

A pale, snowball-like loaf wrapped in plastic and tied with a ribbon sat on the shelf.

"Is this by any chance stollen?"

"Huh? You know stollen?"

The woman at the counter looked mildly surprised by the question. Yeon-woo nodded.

"Christmas is already over, yet you still have stollen?"

"Ah—actually I didn't put it out to sell. I asked my husband to make it for me. I really love it."

Stollen was a German bread baked with dried fruit, nuts, and spices, then brushed with butter and dusted with powdered sugar. It was traditionally eaten to celebrate Christmas, so while its shape was nothing like the cakes most people imagined, in a way it was closer to cake than ordinary bread.

"Oh. So it's not for sale?"

The memory of his years stationed in Germany made him want it badly; the disappointment in his voice was plain. The woman turned toward the back and murmured something. A moment later she nodded and beamed at him.

"We can sell it. My husband says he'll just bake another one. Still—having a famous actor eat the bread my husband made puts me in a great mood."

"How did you know?"

"Pardon? I knew the second you walked in. Anyone can tell it's Ryu Yeon-woo…"

At the bakery owner's words, Yeon-woo gave an awkward smile and removed his cap and mask.

Apparently the disguise had been completely useless.

Just then the husband, who had been baking in the back, leaned out far enough to speak to his wife.

"Tell the customer it'll taste even better if he lets it mature a little longer."

Yeon-woo smiled and answered in fluent German.

"I know exactly how to eat it. I really love stollen."

"Oh. Your German is excellent. Much better than my wife's."

The bakery owner playfully elbowed her husband in the ribs.

"Got it. I'm going back to bake."

The husband disappeared into the kitchen again. Yeon-woo glanced around the shop and asked the owner,

"If the bakery suddenly started doing really well… would that be a headache?"

The abrupt question made her tilt her head.

"What? Of course not. The better it does, the better."

"I see. If it got too busy you might never get a break and just work nonstop."

"Please. If business was so good I had to bake mountains of bread every day, that would be my dream come true."

Yeon-woo nodded and carried his tray to the counter. She rang him up, swiped the card he held out, and once the payment went through she smiled brightly.

"Enjoy, and please come again!"

"I will."

After Yeon-woo left, the owner tilted her head, then smiled to herself.

"Artists really are a little eccentric, aren't they? Asking if good business would be a problem—of course it's good."

Because they were the only tenants in the building, the bakery couple naturally knew about the new companies that had moved in.

I don't know much about the company on the fifth floor, but it's a relief that big companies took the other floors.

The commercial district had already been dead, so sales were terrible—yet lately entertainment-company staff had started dropping by for bread, which helped a little.

And the new landlord is so kind. We're lucky.

Sales were rising while rent had dropped; for the first time since coming to Korea they could finally breathe.

The bakery owner had no idea that the man who had just left was the building's owner, and was directing her gratitude elsewhere.

Meanwhile, Yeon-woo headed down to the basement with his bag of bread, staring at the bakery logo printed on the paper bag as he thought.

"Hmm. Having a bakery on the first floor of the company building that people actually line up for… that wouldn't be bad at all."

Just as he had planned from the beginning: total control inside the building, and a crowd of people outside it. That combination was ideal for hiding something.

By placing the entertainment company beneath the operations headquarters, he had already secured a perfect justification for controlling the building's entrances and who came and went. Now he needed to draw people to the exterior.

That meant reviving the commercial district around the building.

Once home, Yeon-woo poured a glass of milk and, for the first time in a long while, tried the bread.

The chewy pull as the crumb tore told him exactly how much care had gone into the dough.

"Not bad."

It was good enough to satisfy a palate that years of European bread had made extremely particular.

And that same day, after a long silence, a new post appeared on Yeon-woo's personal SNS.

The long-awaited photos—beautifully browned bread and a selfie he had taken earlier—spread among fans almost instantly.

Internet-news reporters who spent their entire day staring at celebrities' star ratings also pounced on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the rare big catch and began churning out articles.

All he had done was post that he had found a delicious bakery, yet within hours the articles had transformed him into a regular customer.

In recent years "bakery pilgrimages"—people hunting down good bread—had become a trend, so any article pairing Ryu Yeon-woo's name value with the mystery of a bakery's location was more than enough to grab attention.

The next morning the bakery couple arrived early as usual to open the shop—and found a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠line of people completely encircling Mokhwa Building. They tilted their heads in confusion.

After parking and coming up, they noticed the people in line murmuring as they looked at them.

They had recognized the German husband and realized this was the bakery couple.

"That must be the baker. Looks like they're about to open."

"They're opening earlier than I thought. Online it said nine, so I figured we'd be waiting forever."

But the couple had never once imagined that the line might be waiting for them. Still puzzled, they rounded the corner.

"Why is there a line? Something going on around here?"

"Maybe the entertainment company upstairs is doing something? Like a fan meeting. You know, Korean culture."

"You think so? Companies don't usually do that on-site…"

Talking as they walked, they drew closer to the bakery entrance.

"Seriously, why are there so many people."

"…Ah?"

The spectacular sight of that long line ending precisely at their bakery door hit them both at once.

And at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠same moment, yesterday's conversation with actor Ryu Yeon-woo flashed through the wife's mind.

Unable to tell whether they were dreaming or awake, the couple hurriedly unlocked the bakery door.

The husband still had no idea what was happening, but he changed clothes and went straight into the kitchen. The wife opened the door again and called out to the waiting customers.

Ding-a-ling—

"Please wait just a moment! Opening the bakery takes a little time. We'll open as soon as we're ready—even before regular hours!"

She came back inside and turned on her phone.

Yesterday she had been so tired from prepping dough and letting it mature—hoping the newly arrived entertainment staff might buy some bread—that she hadn't even looked at her phone.

Just in case, she searched the bakery online. Sure enough.

"H-holy… This is no time to stand around. We need to bake—now!"

A few days later, Yeon-woo heard from CEO Jeong Hyeok that several concepts for the YouTube channel had already been drafted, and he headed up to the representative's office.

Knock-knock—

He knocked and entered to find the working staff already gathered.

"Am I late?"

As Yeon-woo stepped in, Executive Director Yoon Mi-yeon shook her head.

"We were just meeting early."

Once Yeon-woo sat down, Gong Min-jeong—who had been put in charge of the project—stood and began the briefing.

"First, I'll walk you through the concept that has taken shape after we made contact with PD Joo Hyun-seok, who recently left SBC's variety division."

Gong Min-jeong flipped through the presentation materials as she spoke.

In short, they would take an existing real-variety format, set it in a travel destination, and have LN actors compete in segments prepared by the production team to win pocket money, late-night snacks, and the like.

"Hmm. I understand the concept clearly. It's a thoroughly popularized format in domestic variety. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠won't that make it feel less fresh?"

At Yeon-woo's question, Gong Min-jeong nodded as if she had expected it and continued.

"An entertainment company running its own YouTube variety channel is still a fairly unfamiliar field. If we get it wrong, the whole thing could flop and disappear without a trace, so we deliberately chose the most popular, proven format. And this concept does have a clear point of freshness."

Watching her brief them with absolute confidence, Yeon-woo tilted his head.

"What exactly is that point of freshness?"

Gong Min-jeong politely pointed both hands toward Yeon-woo.

"The fact that Actor Ryu Yeon-woo will be appearing."