Chapter 13: A Small World

When she heard Park Bo-seon’s question, Se-gyeong turned her head to look at the boy whose eyes were full of pleading. Without hesitation, she nodded firmly and said loudly, “Yes! He said it, and he also kicked this little sister!”

Two minutes later, Yi Eun stood holding Park Bo-seon’s hand in front of the boy’s parents.

After a brief explanation of what had happened, the boy’s mother, who had been smiling just moments before, instantly dropped her expression. She gave Yi Eun a sharp glare, but when her eyes met Park Bo-seon’s, she quickly masked it with a look of polite apology.
“So sorry, really, the child’s still young and doesn’t know better. As for the audition, perhaps we can still…”

Yi Eun might have been young, but she wasn’t unaware of how others felt toward her. In fact, one of the reasons she was so well liked at kindergarten was because she was especially good at reading people.

After being glared at, she pursed her lips and glared right back, her short height limiting her intimidation factor, so she rolled her eyes instead completely unafraid that she was dealing with an adult.

“No need,” Park Bo-seon said, glancing down at Yi Eun’s expression and unable to hold back a small laugh. This kid fought back when kicked, rolled her eyes when glared at definitely someone who returned every grudge.

She lifted her eyes and curled her lips into her usual professional, perfunctory smile.
“Looking forward to future opportunities to work together.”

In the industry, that line was purely a formality, and the woman knew it. Her jaw clenched tight, and she grabbed her son’s arm with a hard squeeze, muttering under her breath, “What a disgrace,” before turning to leave.

But Yi Eun tugged at the hem of the woman’s trench coat and said through her sniffles,
“Auntie, you still haven’t apologized to me.”

“Me? Why should I apologize?” the woman said impatiently, yanking her coat out of Yi Eun’s hand.

By the time the staff found Lee Jin, she had only gone downstairs to buy a drink and somehow chaos had already broken out.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, she saw her daughter being pushed aside.

“Omma…” Yi Eun looked up at her mother, tears pouring down her face. She tilted her foot, showing everyone the black mark on her ankle.
“My foot hurts so bad…”

“Aigo, how could someone bully a child so much younger than themselves?”

“She’s crying so hard, it’s breaking my heart.”

“She only started crying when her mom showed up, poor thing.”

“What are adults even teaching their kids these days?”

The staff murmured quietly among themselves, but their words still reached the ears of everyone in the center of the commotion.

Lee Jin squatted down and wrapped her tearful daughter in her arms.
“Don’t cry, Yi Eun. Omma’s here now.”

She anxiously felt around Yi Eun’s ankle. At this age, kids were especially prone to injury, and she had no idea how bad the kick had been.

But after several presses and careful pokes checking even for swelling her daughter’s tear-streaked face stayed exactly the same… not a single flinch or cry of pain.

Got it.

This “make the whole world know I’ve been wronged” kind of dramatics, just who did she inherit this from?

“Aigo, our poor Yi Eun. When we get home, Omma will take you to get it checked out.” Lee Jin didn’t spare the mother and son a glance, her face full of exaggerated concern.
“We don’t know if it’s a fracture or a hairline crack. Ankles are delicate.”

The woman’s eyes went wide in shock, her breath catching with fury.
“They’re just kids playing around, don’t you think you’re taking this too far? And your daughter kicked him back, didn’t she!?”

    Lee Jin casually lifted her eyes, the condescending, scrutinizing gaze from the other woman making her feel a strong sense of discomfort.
“A joke? Honestly, you and your son are the real joke. A child who can say those kinds of things and as parents, you treat it like it’s nothing?”

Never mind the discriminatory comment about China, just the fact that a child under ten could casually blurt out “ssibal” (a Korean curse word) said enough about their upbringing.

Lee Jin took a step back, holding Yi Eun in her arms and partially shielding herself behind Park Bo-seon.
“I’ll be taking my daughter to the orthopedics department. You might want to stop by psychiatry while you’re at it.”

“You little ssibal!” the woman screamed, clawing the air as she rushed forward.

Immediately, all the previously passive staff stepped in some holding her back, others shielding Lee Jin and her daughter.

“Hey hey, don’t get physical your kid started this whole thing.”

“Wow, if you hit someone now, there really will be a hospital visit!”

“Just leave already, don’t mess up the audition process.”

“There are cameras filming back there. Imagine how bad it’ll look if this ends in a fight.”

As more people gathered to watch and more fingers pointed her way, the woman realizing she’d lost control of the situation hurriedly spat out a vague “You’re the one who’s crazy!” and stormed off, dragging her son with her. She didn’t even wait for the elevator, instead leaving through the emergency stairwell.

Park Bo-seon was genuinely impressed.
This woman who had always seemed so gentle and soft-spoken had quite the sharp edge when pushed.

She smiled and gently patted the still-startled Yi Eun.
“Good girl, Yi Eun. Go do your audition now. Auntie and Mommy will be right outside waiting for you.”

Yesterday, she’d merely taken a liking to the child. But after seeing this side of Lee Jin today, another idea sparked in her mind.
“Lee Jin-ssi, besides selling traditional Chinese pastries at your store… have you ever considered collaborating with us?”

After all, she’d just checked out the shop it was in Itaewon, a busy area with high foot traffic, and surrounded by elementary schools and kindergartens. A partnership with their children’s fashion department could be a win-win.

The two women exchanged a glance, and the more they talked, the more aligned their ideas became. Lee Jin even forgot that she had originally come today to “find work” for her daughter.

Meanwhile, Yi Eun, ever carefree, despite having just been frightened by the chaos, walked with her short little legs right back to stand next to Shin Se-gyeong in the waiting room.

The two girls had already exchanged names earlier, and when brought into the audition room, they held hands and stood at the small table in the center of the room as instructed.

Auditions for child models were relatively simple. The audition director, used to working with kids, spoke gently and asked them to spin in a circle, strike a pose for the camera, or make a cute expression.

“Give me a fierce, cool expression.” This was the last group of kids just two, but they were the most satisfying to the director. The older one wasn’t as cute as the younger, but her expressiveness was excellent. He hesitated, scratching both names on his list.

Yi Eun tilted her head, recalling how she’d rolled her eyes earlier. She pouted and glared again, furrowing her brows, her chubby little face puffing up like a steamed bun.

Compared to the poised, arms-crossed, slightly aloof vibe of Se-gyeong beside her, Yi Eun looked like a tiny but feisty little dumpling.

A few staff around the room couldn’t help but laugh. The director tapped his pen against his forehead, watching for several seconds, the longer he stared the funnier it seemed.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough.”

After the two girls left, he turned to his partner.
“Which one should we pick?”

The female director rubbed her sore cheeks from smiling too much.
“I personally prefer the younger one. Ever since becoming a mom, I’ve had a soft spot for cute kids. And since we’re marketing toward China, she’s got the nationality advantage too.”

The director nodded, he felt the same. He checked with a few female staff, and most of them gave the same answer as the female director.

Even after years of pushing for gender equality, women still bore the majority of the caregiving role in society. The preferences of the female staff helped him make his final decision.
“Alright then. Let’s go with her.”

Meanwhile, the two kids leaving the audition room hadn’t spoken yet, but their parents suddenly looked at each other in surprise and covered their mouths.

The children didn’t recognize each other, but the parents immediately recalled having seen each other before at a photo studio.
“Is your child the one who was recording the show together with Jiyong back then?”

“Yes, yes! You’re Lanjie’s friend, right? What a small world!”

Yi Eun turned to look at Shin Se-gyeong, her eyes full of confusion.

Shin Se-gyeong tilted her head and looked back at Yi Eun, equally puzzled.

“You know Jiyong/Jiyong oppa?”

When the two little girls holding hands knocked on Kwon Jiyong’s door, Han Lanjie, who opened the door, was startled.
“Oh my, Yi Eun and Se-gyeong, what are you two doing together!”

Kwon Jiyong, who was holding a game controller in the living room, heard the name “Yi Eun” and frowned in a dilemma. Between his game and his friends, he chose his friends.

He hit pause, put the controller on the sofa, and quickly ran to the door.
“Yi Eun, what are you doing here?”

“Jiyong!” Yi Eun let go of Shin Se-gyeong’s hand and darted over like a firecracker, spreading her arms wide to hug Kwon Jiyong.

She only reached up to his chest, and when she looked up, she accidentally bumped her forehead against Jiyong’s chin with a “pop.”
Jiyong rubbed his chin with a big “ouch,” ignoring himself and Se-gyeong standing nearby, but he looked angry and frowned.
“Who? Who kicked you?”

Someone was bullying Yi Eun right after he graduated!?

Jiyong thought: how could anyone bully such a cute kid like Yi Eun? Although Yi Eun often annoyed him and made him say things like “I’m not talking to Yi Eun,” and though sometimes he pinched her chubby cheeks, it was never out of anger. So why should anyone else bully Yi Eun?

“I’ll tell you!” Yi Eun let go of Jiyong and, feeling completely safe with a familiar face, put her hands on her hips ready to complain.
“That person first did this, then I did that…”

Her little mouth kept going, clearly not running out of things to say anytime soon.

The three parents simultaneously put their hands to their foreheads.
“How about we go inside first?”

Shin Se-gyeong nodded and raised her small hand to politely greet,
“Jiyong oppa, I’m here too.”