“She hugs you? Keeps calling you cute? Sounds like she wikes you.”
“Whaaat?!”
Woojoo’s manager grinned mischievously at her tomato-red face.
“So, are you two dating now?”
“N-no way! We’re not even seven yet! Don’t you know boys and girls aren’t supposed to sit together before seven?!”
“That’s what that means to you? You need to cut down on the period dramas.”
Hmph. Did he think she didn’t know?
Namnyeo-chilse-budongseok meant that boys and girls couldn’t start dating or holding hands or kissing before the age of seven.
(Namnyeo-chilse-budongseok: Literally “boys and girls don’t sit together from age seven.” It refers to strict gender separation, but Woojoo interpreted it as “you can’t date until you’re seven.”)
So officially dating meant waiting until they turned seven.
Guru likes me.
Trying to hide the way her chest fluttered, Woojoo leaned back into the sofa.
Peeking over at Guru, who was fiddling with something on her phone, Woojoo suddenly remembered something.
“Oh yeah. The director told me to ask if you’d wanna be in a shoot.”
“Gwuu?”
“Yeah. He wuvs your mask.”
“My mask?”
“He means your face. You’re pwetty.”
“Ohhh...”
Guru lifted her lips into the same smirk Jurim had taught her.
“Gwuu know awweady.”
Woojoo blinked, caught off guard by Guru’s completely baseless confidence.
She was pretty, yeah. But the fact that she wasn’t even a little shy about it was... wild. Woojoo had suspected it before, but now it was confirmed: Guru was a total shameless queen.
Suddenly remembering how embarrassed she got when someone called her pretty, Woojoo snapped,
“...But your actin’ sucks.”
DING—!
Guru’s mouth fell open at the brutal review.
Seeing her so disappointed, Woojoo immediately backtracked.
“But, like, if you follow the director’s cues, it won’t seem like you’re that bad. Anyway, if you’re interested, lemme know. I’ll give you his number. He also directs tons of famous variety shows. If he likes you, maybe you could even do one with that Hunter unni who showed up at the set last time...”
Woojoo rambled on for a bit, then slowly leaned back.
Guru was barely listening, eyes glued to her phone.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Dis.”
Guru held up the phone.
At the top of the screen, the words Onion Market were clearly displayed. Woojoo recognized the app too.
“Oh that? My manager hyung is totally addicted to that app. You sellin’ somethin’?”
“Nu-uh. Gwuu makin’ a wequest. Da Hunters take wequests here too.”
“What kind of request?”
“To find mommy and daddy.”
Whaaat?! Woojoo froze, mouth agape.
“Your pawents? You’re lookin’ for ‘em? Why?!”
“Hmm? B’cause dey’re Gwuu’s mommy an’ daddy.”
Woojoo’s jaw opened and closed silently.
Was this... okay?
There had to be a reason Guru ended up in an orphanage... and it probably wasn’t a happy one.
Woojoo had worked on drama sets with tons of child actors. She knew the ugly truth behind the fantasy of birth parents.
Naturally, she didn’t feel optimistic about Guru’s.
“B-but... what about the Guildmastuh of Hyeonak? Didn’t you get adopted by him?”
Woojoo pictured that super handsome guild leader they’d just seen.
Earlier that day, they’d stopped by Hyeonak because the drama teaser was airing, and Woojoo had wanted to watch it with Guru. Her manager tagged along.
Jurim had been passed out in his fancy desk chair, wearing a sleep mask. But the moment Guru said she was going to hang out with Woojoo, he yanked the mask off and shot up.
“Who?”
“Woojoo.”
“Woojoo?”
Jurim gave Woojoo and her manager a slow, suspicious once-over like he was scanning their power levels. Then came the interrogation.
“Age?”
“Five.”
“Religion?”
“None.”
“Occupation?”
“...Sir, do you not have a television in your house?”
The manager silently freaked out at that question, but Jurim stayed calm. Actually, he almost looked... impressed.
“...Not the worst I’ve seen.”
“Sorry?”
“Are you this child’s father?”
“N-no, I’m just her manager.”
“Ah.”
Finally, the chilliness in his expression thawed a little.
“I’m On Jurim.”
“Yes! I know—of course I know! It’s an honor to meet you, Guildmastuh On!”
When the manager reached out both hands, Jurim gave him a quick handshake and added,
“Please keep an eye on them. This one’s a handful. I can’t leave her alone for a second without worrying.”
“Yes, of course! I’ll protect her with my life!”
The manager, squirming excitedly, clearly wanted to ask for an autograph. Woojoo yanked him by the sleeve.
Trying to get an autograph from Guru’s dad... how embarrassing.
...But wait. Is he even her dad?
Come to think of it, she never said “Daddy.” Just “Guildmastuh.”
“Da Guildjjjan’s just takin’ cawe of Gwuu. Gwuu a Hunta, an’ Hyeonak membuh.”
Woojoo was more mature than most kids her age, but when it came to tricky, complicated stuff like this, she didn’t know what to say.
“O-oh. Got it.”
“Mhm.”
“Then maybe you shouwd come wive at my house...”
Woojoo muttered it like she hadn’t really meant to say it out loud.
“Woojoo’s house?”
When Guru stared at her, Woojoo got flustered and blurted,
“Just means I wouldn’t hafta come pick you up all the time! And I could buy you all the food and stuff you like!”
“Dat’s okay. Gwuu gonna find mommy and daddy by hewsewf.”
“How? You really think Hunters will help with that?”
“Mhm! Wook! Dey say dey can find anywone. Soooo many of dem say dey can!”
“Can you even twust this kinda thing?”
“Yupyup. Dis one here. Wook. Dis thingy tewws you if it’s safe. If da cowow’s warm, it’s twustwothy.”
“A mercury thermometer? We used those for that period drama shoot.”
“Oooooh. Woojoo is smawt.”
Woojoo cleared her throat and puffed her chest out a little.
“Not a big deaw.”
“Ta-daaa! Wook! Gwuu’s warm too. See? Wight here’s red.”
The screen was flooded with comments begging her to come back. What was she selling to get this kinda hype?
“IAMGROOT123?”
“Mhm.”
“What’s the 123? Isn’t it usually your birthday or somethin’?”
“It is Gwuu’s birfday.”
“January 23rd? December 3rd?”
“Decembuh thirrd.”
Woojoo opened her schedule app and typed in Guru’s birthday.
“What about Woojoo?”
“Mine’s February 11.”
“Ohh, I see.”
“...Aren’t you gonna write it down?”
“Nuh-uh, it’s okay. Gwuu won’t fowget. Febwuawy eweventh.”
“Well... all right. You better not forget.”
“Okayyy.”
Woojoo nodded.
As Guru scrolled down on her screen, Woojoo leaned in, curious.
“This one’s all weeeed. See?”
“Yeah, says to message ‘em. Gonna talk to ‘em?”
“Mhm.”
Guru opened a private chat window.
[IAMGROOT123: Hewwo.]
[cardpaycherry: lol hey]
[cardpaycherry: what’s this, a fake Saw?]
[IAMGROOT123: What’s dat mean?]
[cardpaycherry: guess you’re one of those wannabes lmao]
[IAMGROOT123: I wanna find someone. Can you do dat?]
[cardpaycherry: I can I can I can]
[cardpaycherry: but it ain’t cheap, you okay wid dat?]
[IAMGROOT123: How much is it?]
[cardpaycherry: lol going straight to price huh]
[cardpaycherry: how much you got, wannabe? you tell me first]
Police officer Shin Inyeong set his paper cup down on the table when he saw the kid pushing the door open with a grunt.
The little one hurried across the room, tiny footsteps sounding like pop pop pop, and ran up to him.
“Mister Powice Man! Hewp me!”
The child had almost platinum-blonde hair, just shy of beige, and was so visibly cute that he automatically smiled.
“What do you need help with?”
As he asked, he glanced behind her. No parents.
“You’re alone?”
“Yesh...”
Guru fidgeted with both hands and bowed her head deeply.
“Gwuu wanna wepowt a bad pewson.”
“Huh? A report?”
Was it... domestic abuse? His expression turned serious.
“Can you tell me in detail? What happened?”
He gently helped her sit in the chair across from him and took a seat himself.
Guru nodded dramatically.
“You’re here to report a bad person? What’d they do to you?”
“Yesh. Gwuu made a deaw on Onion, but den da othew pewson wun away.”
Ah. So that’s what this was. Shin Inyeong let out a short laugh.
Probably got scammed with a digital gift card or something. Kids came in for that kind of thing a lot these days. She was definitely the youngest so far.
“Oh no, poor thing. That’s a bad scammer, huh.”
“Hiiing...”
Her big round eyes shimmered with tears.
She looked so miserable that even Baeknyeonseol himself might’ve cried if he’d seen her.
God, what kind of world are we living in? What kind of scumbag steals pocket money from a baby like this?
Shin Inyeong gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with both hands.
“I’ll scold him real good for you. So don’t cry, okay? Awww, you’re so upset. Don’t cwy now. Hm? How much money did the bad man steal? Five thousand won?”
She was just too adorable. For five thousand won, he could’ve just given it back himself and sent her on her way.
“Two...”
Guru sniffled, her voice breaking as she tried to speak.
Shin Inyeong tilted his head.
“Twenty...?”
“Two...”
Guru sniffled again, inhaling sharply.
“T-t-t-two miwwion wonnnn huhuhuhuhuhu—!”

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