An Incredible Event

Idaya launched a full-scale advertising blitz. It applied, of course, only to a handful of branches in Seoul.

Every product Starlight Food released kicked up a storm, and by now there wasn't a soul who didn't know the name. Once, the company had been little more than a hole-in-the-wall peddling snacks and other trifles. Now it stood as a proper conglomerate, fit to be measured against the major food corporations.

More and more goods bearing the Starlight Food name filled the supermarkets. They weren't appliances, or cosmetics, or other indulgences of taste. They were the staples a person absolutely had to eat, and that only drove the name deeper into the public mind.

You could get by without a television or any other appliance, though you'd have to swallow a great deal of inconvenience along the way. You could not get by without eating. There was a reason hunger was counted among the three fundamental human drives.

"They're making Americano out of Starlight Coffee beans?"

"Doesn't that sound delicious? Far as I know, Starlight Food has never put out a single thing that tasted bad. Plenty that tasted incredible, though."

"Coffee beans grow in this country? Now I want to know what they taste like."

"I had some with my friends the other day, and it was on a completely different level. Americano from any other café tasted like gutter water next to it."

"And that event is no joke, is it? Idaya must be raking it in. Can you believe they're spending this much on promotion?"

Idaya began selling coffee brewed from Starlight Coffee beans. For the length of the launch they didn't stage the event at every regional franchise, only at locations in Seoul. Buy two Americanos and the third was free; the two-for-one was merely the baseline. On top of that they showered customers with discounts however one might qualify—teen discounts, couple discounts, discounts for married pairs, and more besides.

If the Seoul visit campaign performed well, the plan was to let it spread gradually across the country. The nationwide franchise branches would have to receive Starlight Coffee beans as well, of course. The coffee they had been serving was perfectly fine, but coffee made with Starlight beans was far more delicious.

Then, for the masterstroke, they prepared giveaways of the sort no consumer could possibly let slip by. The giveaway would open at every branch in the country at once, even though those branches weren't selling Starlight Coffee beans yet.

In a sense, the cost of the whole promotion could be covered simply by buying Starlight Coffee beans, which were cheaper than beans imported from overseas. Vastly cheaper, in fact. It was an Idaya-exclusive contract, of course. Any other franchise café that wanted the beans would have to purchase them without a discount on Idaya's scale.

Not only Idaya's regulars but other consumers as well cheered the event. A promotion that merely handed out one free Americano would normally draw a line with no end in sight, and this was giving away far more than that, so people at Idaya cafés across the country went wild. Online, especially, all hell broke loose the moment anyone read the details.

They said it was the age of the internet, didn't they? Idaya's event began racing through social media, and the moment it landed on the community boards the pace turned feral, spreading like a wildfire no one could stamp out. The power of the media was tremendous. Everyone walked around with a phone these days, and the speed at which news traveled was on another plane entirely. Let something happen somewhere and hit the headlines, and it was only a matter of time before the whole nation knew.

True to the scale of the event, the cafés designated for the Idaya promotion had customers lined up out the door. Seating was out of the question. The shops overflowed with people ordering coffee for no reason but to enter, and the cafés around them watched their sales shrink in answer.

Set against the long lines in front of Idaya, the places right next door drew hardly anyone. A few customers worn out by the wait did drift over to them, but only a few.

The social-media half of the event, meanwhile, was running nationwide regardless of branch, and Idaya cafés across the country were shrieking with joy. Money was pouring down on them in sheets.

Social media began to overflow with Idaya coffee reviews pinned under every kind of hashtag. People hoping to enter and win labored over their posts, and because a review written with more devotion might improve one's odds, some of them ran to remarkable length.

How did you win a prize? Some got creative. Others got painstakingly sincere. But Starlight Coffee beans weren't being supplied to the whole country, and online that produced a small, telling split.

I rolled around on the bed. The sun was already high, yet the pleasure of loafing in my room only deepened. Perhaps because this was the second elementary-school vacation of my life, it tasted all the sweeter. Vacations came several times a year, of course, but I could say with confidence that no one else in the world had lived through the summer break of third grade twice.

I set snacks on the bed and read comics and novels on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my phone. The site charged for access, but to me money was as good as infinite. I'd signed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up for a system that refilled the balance automatically whenever it ran dry, and I read without end.

Tens of thousands of won might drain away in a day, but it was no more than a spoonful of sand scooped off a beach. The president had told me that by the time I came of age, I would be the richest person in Korea. Even so, I thought the finest kind of wealth was the kind nobody knew about.

Rich, and not famous—wasn't that the best way to be rich? Not a celebrity photographed by cameras wherever they went, but the wealthy who drew no attention at all and passed for ordinary people. Those struck me as far better off.

"Hana, what are you up to?"

Maru stepped into the room as she said it. She must have known I was rolling around in there. Does she think I'm bored? I was, admittedly. In my old body I would have called my friends over to play, but the ties of my previous life had been cut long ago.

Ask to meet them in this body, and they'd look at me as if I'd lost my mind. No—before that, they'd corner me and insist I go get my parents.

"I'm just hanging out!"

At my answer, Maru drew something out.

"If you're bored, how about we go have some fun here, Hana?"

What she held up was a poster for a fireworks festival.