🌙 A City Ablaze with Drama Fever
The neon signs of Busan’s Haeundae-gu shimmered, reflecting off the damp streets. Thanks to the massive, ongoing popularity of the K-drama ‘Starry Seas of Haeundae,’ which was partially filmed here, the neighborhood was absolutely buzzing. Young tourists and local date-nighters filled the streets, transforming what used to be a quiet seaside district into a late-night hub.
Inside ‘The Nine-Tails Café,’ a chic establishment known for its specialty coffee and modern Hanok-inspired interior, the atmosphere was electric. Even at 11:00 PM, closing time, the sound of the espresso machine and the murmur of conversation were constant.
As the last customers shuffled out, Minjun, the 32-year-old manager, flipped the sign. The exhaustion was a familiar weight, but tonight, an underlying buzz of nervous energy kept him going.
“Alright, team,” Minjun called out, already prepping the Chemex for a celebratory staff brew of a high-altitude Ethiopian Yirgacheffe. “Let’s toast to another record night!”
Cheers erupted from the baristas and kitchen staff, who were busy tidying up. The coffee, bright and floral, was a welcome counterpoint to the rush.
🤔 A Private Concern Amidst the Success
Within the hour, the staff, energized by caffeine and camaraderie, bundled up to head to a nearby Hof (a Korean-style pub) for post-shift beers. Only Minjun and Jihye, the 35-year-old floor leader, remained.
Minjun settled at the polished oak counter, opening the POS system to record the staggering digital and cash sales. The café’s success was undeniable, a true Hallyu phenomenon beneficiary.
Jihye approached quietly, her expression thoughtful. “Manager, may I ask… you seem a bit more exhausted than usual tonight. Are you feeling unwell?”
Minjun glanced up, a genuine smile replacing his look of concentration. “Thank you for your concern, Jihye. I’m fine, truly. But you’re right about the reason for the exhaustion. It’s a happy kind of fatigue.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Actually, our third child is due soon. My wife and I just found out last night.”
Jihye’s eyes widened. “Wow! That is wonderful news! Congratulations, Minjun-ssi! When is the due date?”
“Around late May next year,” Minjun replied, his voice softening with pride.
👨👩👧👦 The Blended Family and Financial Realities
Three years ago, Minjun had met and married Sora, who is 35 (three years his senior), a talented florist who runs the charming ‘Sora’s Garden’ just two blocks away. Sora had a daughter, Yuna, from a previous relationship. Minjun had immediately, unconditionally, and proudly embraced Yuna, now a delightful seven-year-old, treating her as his own.
A year into their marriage, they welcomed their son, Jiho, who is now two. Seeing Yuna and Jiho grow up together—the half-siblings bonded by love, shared toys, and Minjun’s goofy bedtime stories—was the greatest joy of his life.
The news of a third baby was a thrilling surprise. However, the initial shock had quickly been replaced by a looming question: Can their business sustain a third child in the current economy?
Minjun ran a specialized business in a high-rent area. While the K-drama boom provided a temporary windfall, the costs were substantial:
Labor Costs: Maintaining his specialized staff required paying competitive wages, often exceeding the Busan minimum wage, to prevent turnover.
Ingredient Procurement: Importing high-quality green beans (e.g., specific Arabica varietals like Geisha or Pacamara) and maintaining expensive equipment (like the La Marzocco Linea PB espresso machine) was costly.
Childcare and Education: The expense of three children in Korea, particularly for private academies (hagwon) which are considered essential for educational success, was enormous. The current child allowance (아동수당) from the government was helpful, but not enough to cover the increased family size.
Minjun sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m thrilled, Jihye, but I have to be pragmatic. Our profitability is strong, but the increase in our fixed costs at home is significant. I need to ensure The Nine-Tails Café isn’t just surviving on a temporary trend but is positioned for long-term, sustainable growth.”
Jihye, a veteran of the service industry and a mother herself, understood the unspoken weight of his words. She knew the professional distance required; a floor leader cannot simply give personal financial advice or encourage the manager casually. Her encouragement had to be professional, focusing on the business’s strength.
She nodded slowly. “Minjun-ssi, you have built an exceptional brand. You have a staff that is highly efficient and loyal. And your specialty coffee program is what keeps the real connoisseurs coming back, long after the drama tourists move on. The solution, I believe, lies in maximizing your unit economics and diversifying your revenue stream.”
She paused, looking him directly in the eye. “You have the data right there. Show me the sales report for the last quarter. Let’s look at your product mix and see where we can improve the gross margin of our top-selling items.”
Minjun felt a surge of professional relief. This was the encouragement he needed—a plan, a focused task. “You’re right. Let’s look at the takeaway bottled cold brew sales. I think we can increase the price point on the specialty blend, given the market demand…”
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms
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