The Arrival of the VVIP (1)
Young-hoon had a feeling that Lee Jae-man's call was running late today, so he picked up the phone and dialed first. Jae-man answered with a voice brighter than usual.
"Mr. Kim, I was just about to call you myself. Thank you so much!"
"Sorry? For what? Did I help you with something?" Young-hoon asked, feigning innocence.
"That wine we drank last night was absolutely incredible. For the first time in ages, there was meat on the breakfast table this morning! And last night, I finally got to do my duty as a husband. Properly, if you know what I mean. Hahaha!"
"Really? No side effects, though?"
"None whatsoever. No hangover, no headache. And I've got energy bubbling out of me since the crack of dawn. Well, if that counts as a side effect, then I suppose it is one. Hahaha!"
"Well then, if you notice any other effects, give me a call. Have a great day, President Lee."
"You too, Mr. Kim. Fighting!"
Ki-hyun, twenty-seven years old, ran a specialty coffee shop on Garosu-gil in Sinsa-dong, Gangnam. His father was the managing partner at Kim & Park, one of South Korea's most respected law firms, and his mother was a presiding judge at the Seoul Central District Court. Between the fortune they'd inherited and their towering social standing, his parents had it all — everything, that is, except luck with children. Ki-hyun, their only son, was it.
Both of them were brilliant, so naturally they assumed their son would inherit their fine genes and distinguish himself early. But the wretched boy seemed, decisively, to be lacking in the brains department. No matter how many elite tutors they hired through his childhood, nothing worked, and they gave up on their son's prospects long ago. A life belongs to the one living it, they reasoned, so they resolved to simply let him do what he loved.
The one mercy was that Ki-hyun did have a bit of a knack with his hands.
The truth was, Ki-hyun wasn't just a little dim — he fundamentally had no interest in studying. His passions lay elsewhere. His parents adored coffee, and perhaps under their influence, Ki-hyun came to love it just as fiercely. Thanks to studying himself half to death in high school, he managed — by sheer luck — to get into a junior college's barista program in the capital region.
After that, he visited nearly every origin where great coffee was grown. Brazil, Colombia, and Guatemala in South America; Ethiopia, Kenya, and Tanzania in Africa; Indonesia, Vietnam, and the Philippines in Asia — there was hardly a coffee-producing country he hadn't set foot in.
After his army discharge, Ki-hyun resolved to go into the coffee business. With his parents' deep pockets behind him and his own confidence overflowing, he went big — a chain of coffee shops plus a bean-roasting plant.
But South Korea already had some fifty thousand coffee shops — more than fried chicken joints — and with nothing about his business that set it apart from the competition, Ki-hyun's venture slid steadily into decline. Considering it an expensive lesson, he boldly wound down the chain and shut the roasting plant as well. Even so, his passion for coffee never cooled, which is why today he ran just a single specialty shop on the Sinsa-dong strip. The coffee there was so good and so refined that it held its own on Garosu-gil, a street not exactly short on quality cafés.
Ki-hyun propped the shop door open and stole a brief moment of mid-morning leisure. A coffee shop and music are inseparable, so every morning he downloaded a few good tracks and played them for the customers who wandered in. Today was no different — he was browsing Subak, the country's largest music platform, hunting for something worth adding to the playlist.
"Huh?! It's Five Girls' new song! A Loving Heart? Don't know what it is, but obviously I have to listen."
Five Girls was a girl group Ki-hyun could never forget. Back when he was doing his military service in Cheorwon, the group had come for a morale performance. However much the army had improved over the years, the army was still the army — and to the middle-aged soldiers stationed there, a girl group was nothing short of an object of worship. The song Five Girls sang that day, "Run," had lodged itself in Ki-hyun's skull like a nail, and from that moment on, he was a fan.
But for the past three years or so, not a whisper of news from Five Girls. Ki-hyun had naturally assumed they'd disbanded — and now, out of nowhere, their new single was sitting right there on Subak, the biggest music site in the country.
"Wait — these girls haven't broken up? Man, that's great to see. If it's Five Girls, listening is non-negotiable."
Without a moment's hesitation, he paid and downloaded A Loving Heart. With hazy nostalgia and swelling anticipation, he pressed play —
"Good lord, what IS this song! That's Five Girls for you. I always knew they'd see the light of day someday. The era of Five Girls is about to begin!"
Ki-hyun couldn't hold back the tears. Something about the group's years of toiling in obscurity felt uncannily like his own situation. And now, seeing Five Girls return with a song this magnificent, he couldn't shake the feeling that a bright dawn was coming for him too. He hurriedly played the song again. Even on the second listen, the emotion hit just as hard. The surging feeling was simply too much to contain.
This was a masterpiece for the history books. A song like this deserved to be shouted from the rooftops.
Ki-hyun had a following of roughly a hundred thousand on social media — his coffee knowledge and passion had earned him a modest fame of their own. He sat down and posted his review of A Loving Heart.
Ki-hyun's post caught like wildfire and spread. Followers who searched out and downloaded Five Girls' song shared the emotion with their own circles, and one by one they posted their own raves to their feeds. Just like that, without the group itself having any idea, A Loving Heart by Five Girls was quietly gathering strength.
A storm that would soon sweep through the entire music industry was drawing near, step by stealthy step.
While Deputy General Manager Cho stepped outside for a smoke, Young-hoon tried to reach his cousin-brother-in-law, Ki-jin. But the moment he picked up his phone, Ki-jin was calling him — as if on cue.
"Hey, hyung-nim. What's up? I was actually about to call you after hearing from your wife."
"Uh... so, brother-in-law. Have you had lunch yet?"
"Not for a few hours yet. Are you buying me lunch?"
"Of course I am. When have I ever leached a meal off you?"
"Fair enough, I suppose. A senior executive should treat his brother-in-law — it'd be a bit much for a mere assistant manager like me to pick up the tab."
"Spare me the clever talk. Be at the Japanese restaurant next to my office by 11:50. You've been there once before, remember?"
"Yes, I know the place. See you then."
Young-hoon's company and Ki-jin's office stood one block apart — a comfortable ten-minute walk. Young-hoon idled away the time and left the office around 11:40, arriving at the agreed Japanese restaurant at 11:50 on the dot. Shortly after, Ki-jin pushed through the door. Perhaps because he worked with numbers for a living, Ki-jin was precise about nearly everything.
"What, my brother-in-law got here first and is waiting on me?"
"Nope. I just walked in myself."
"Let's go in. I made a reservation."
Following the server, they were shown to a private room. Seated, Ki-jin ordered the full-course set, then turned to the matter at hand.
"So, hyung-nim — that wine is really something else, huh?"
"Your sister says so."
"She says you don't let her sleep at night anymore? Says she's exhausted to death."
"Honestly, that woman has no filter. And since we're on the subject — I'm not some pubescent boy, you know. Every morning the little guy is standing at attention staring straight up at the ceiling, and it's frankly embarrassing. Especially after how hard I work for your sister at night. Anyway — brother-in-law, how long do you think the effects will last?"
"I can't say for certain either. But based on what I've been working out... hmm. We split two bottles of wine on Sunday, right? That's about 1,400 milliliters — roughly thirty soju-glass servings. Three of us shared it, so ten glasses each comes to about 500 milliliters per person... It's not exact, but my guess is each 100 milliliters gives you about a day's worth of effect. So the boost should wear off in five or six days. It'll vary from person to person, but that's my rough estimate."
"So since we drank ours on Sunday, by your prediction the effects could be gone around tomorrow or the day after?"
"That's right. Though hyung-nim, you said you feel refreshed every single morning when you wake up? That part we'll need to study properly — who knows how long it lasts."
"Speaking of which — brother-in-law, you've got to save me."
"I heard the broad strokes from your wife, but tell me the details. If it's something I can help with, I'll help with whatever you need."
Looking relieved, Ki-jin laid out the situation he was in.
"Brother-in-law, the truth is I manage a few VVIP clients. And during a meal with one of them, I happened to let slip about this wine I'd been drinking. This damn mouth of mine — always flapping. Now the man wants to try the wine for himself, and I'm stuck not knowing what to do. He said if it works the way I described, he'd put his fortune under my management. And that fortune is over three hundred billion won. So you've got to help me out here. Please."
"Well, then I suppose I can't exactly refuse... The problem is, there are only a few bottles of wine left."
"Huh? When we talked on Monday you said there weren't any left. That you'd have to get more?"
"If I'd said there were some, you'd have been hounding me every single day. So obviously I said there weren't. Anyway — how much should we charge for the wine?"
"People like him aren't the type to haggle over money. If it works the way I described, whatever you ask will be the price. The sooner the better — could you do it by tomorrow evening?"
"No can do. I've got something important tomorrow."
"Then today?"
"No firm plans as of yet..."
"Good. Then let's meet tonight. Should I call the chairman now?"
Ki-jin made the call right there at the table and locked in the dinner appointment.
"Brother-in-law, tonight at six, Uncheonggak in Jongno. It's a traditional full-course Korean restaurant — just punch it into the GPS and you'll find it easy."
"Then I'll need to head over to Ilsan this afternoon to pick up the wine. How many bottles should I bring?"
"Two sound about right? One to drink with the meal, one as a gift."
"As you know, hyung-nim, that wine is a very rare vintage. I know you'll handle it, but make sure you charge an appropriate price."
"Of course. Just trust me. I'll squeeze out as much as I can."
"Then text me the address and phone number for Uncheonggak in Jongno. I'll be there right on time."
With the dinner appointment settled, Young-hoon rose from his seat. What he did not yet know, not at this moment, was that a meeting had just begun — one destined to become a major turning point in his life.