Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 6

by javabeans

We wrap up one case and acquaint ourselves with another, while relationships get cookin’—and on multiple fronts. This show is deftly juggling its brisk rom-com-iness with its subtle character moments, and I’m really loving the balance. There’s the risk of bogging down a show like this too much with the client cases because that plotting occupies so much of the screentime, but in a good show you find ways to make those those matter. Thus far I’m classifying Cyrano as one of those good shows because its main characters remain at the heart of the story, even when they’re working to make other people fall in love, though I’m not blind to the fact that there’s no guarantee it’ll stay this way. But hope springs eternal.

SONG OF THE DAY

Standing Egg – “Miss Flower” [ Download ]

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

 
EPISODE 6 RECAP

Min-young watches Byung-hoon dashing into a shop to confront Yi-seol with his feelings, and she wonders if the sudden tight feeling in her chest is indigestion. So close, but so far.

Byung-hoon prods Yi-seol to recall what she’d said as she’d given the Sherlock pendant to him. A flashback shows us Young Yi-seol offering it and asking, “Do you know what the gift of a pendant means?” Hearing that now, Yi-seol laughs at her youthful innocence, like it’s all so silly. Her reply takes the wind out of Byung-hoon’s sails, poor guy. His reaction also proves that Byung-hoon hasn’t actually lost that sense of youthful romance; he’s just buried it way, way, way down under a teflon-coated armor of cynicism.

So now he blusters that he didn’t come all the way over here just to tell her that, nuh-uh—he was in the neighborhood. He pretends that the old pendant just made him think of buying one from her (I guess she makes them) and returns to the car in a huff.

Min-young complains about him ordering her around without explanation, and he holds out a necklace to her: “Your driving fee.” Ha. She scoffs, “I see you couldn’t say what you went there to say. You just did something dumb and came right out.” She’s got his number, that’s for sure.

Yi-seol watches him go and calls him a dummy: “If you were going to ask, you should have asked then.”

Min-young wonders if Arang is doing okay after losing the girl, and Byung-hoon tells her he’ll be fine—just think of it like getting vaccinated. Uh, against love? Which makes her scoff, of course, calling him Empty Can again.

He makes a jab at her history of being dumped, and she retorts that at least she experienced it rather than doing nothing. Byung-hoon says, “Oh, I’m sorry for getting it wrong—so being dumped is something you’re proud of?” HA. I’m about to give him the point here, but she bounces right back by saying it’s better than being a coward like him, leaving him without rejoinder.

Moo-jin takes Arang home on his motorcycle, and during the ride Arang thinks of how he sent off the girl to the other guy. She had left him with a sweet comment—that liking Arang proves she had good taste. It’s a nice thing to say, albeit still a rejection.

We move on to a new scenario, joining a TV studio for the final reveal of a Top Chef-like reality show. One finalist is a gangly, nervous man (Lee Kwang-soo), the other a mean-looking woman (Gu Eun-ae). The announcer says, “And the winner is…”

Cut to: Cyrano Agency, where the male finalist is now a client. “At first, I wondered how such a terrible woman could exist,” he starts to explain. “I thought I had met my worst nightmare.”

Back to the final, where the judges taste dishes. The woman, Mi-jin, gets some nods for her dish, but it’s our client Dal-in who gets the big “Wow” reaction. Incensed, Mi-jin barks at the judges for having (literally) no taste.

Dal-in wins the competition and Mi-jin shoots him a hateful glare, just before she takes her losing dish and dumps it in the trash. Wow. Now there’s a sore loser.

It’s a wonder that the nice guy would fall for someone like her, and in fact Dal-in is trying to wrap his head around it too. He says that he intended to never think of or see her after the competition, but fate kept thwarting him: Her restaurant was in the same neighborhood as his bakery, and he kept thinking of her. Finally, he had to admit: “I fell in love with that terrible woman.”

Min-young points out (having watched the reality show) that Mi-jin really hated him, which he knows. Still, he was recommended to the agency by his uncle… who turns out to be one of their loan sharks. Haha. It’s a clever way to force the agency to take on an impossible case, because the loan shark happily threatens them with pain if they don’t make his nephew happy.

Byung-hoon makes a dramatic promise to fulfill this love, and the adorable geek hugs him in gratitude.

Of course, the minute he’s gone, Byung-hoon is punching the wall (wearing Hulk gloves), growling, “Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit!” It’s not looking great as a financial choice, since he can’t gouge this client for expenses and failure means nonpayment. So he tells his team that this mission’s keywords are low-cost and efficiency. If any of them make a mistake that ends with him on the roof, he’s taking them with him. I love Min-young’s very practical response: Then they can just quit.

Next door, the two loan sharks cackle as they inform Seung-pyo about the case. Byung-hoon is going to have to suffer to make this love connection—especially since they sent the client to him purposely knowing it’s an impossible task.

Heh, then waitress Hye-ri arrives and the three jump up to disperse the cozy scene. Seung-pyo immediately goes from nonchalant boss to penitent debtor, and the loan sharks growl at him to pay up or die. It’s adorable how the gangsters strut their way out, but turn back to quickly bow to Seung-pyo behind Hye-ri’s back. I love these little details.

Byung-hoon takes to his planning board, while Min-young asks if it’s possible to change loathing into love. He snaps at her not to be so impatient, because he’ll figure it out. Her cheeky response: “I’m not at all impatient. It isn’t me who’ll have to go up on that roof.”

Step one: surveillance. Byung-hoon and Min-young scope out the neighborhood where Mi-jin and Dal-in both work, taking note of the target’s habits and mannerisms. They deduce that Mi-jin is efficient and in charge, never betraying weakness or faltering.

Min-young recalls that Mi-jin was cool all throughout the surprises on the TV show, while Dal-in had sweat up a storm. Too bad Min-young explains this just as Dal-in arrives and says defensively that he was sweating because of the studio lights.

Byung-hoon sends him down to engage with Mi-jin so they can observe the interaction. As he commences with small talk, she’s curt and dismissive, then turns fierce when her employee is late yet again. As he watches her scold, Dal-in starts fidgeting and sweating nervously.

Byung-hoon asks a few follow-up questions about the client’s personality and confirms his hunch: He’s an “M.” I laughed out loud at Min-young’s response: “An M? Like with the green eyes and everything?” (She’s thinking of the ’90s horror drama titled M where Shim Eun-ha was possessed and her eyes famously glowed green.) Byung-hoon clarifies: He’s a masochist.

Min-young asks if that makes Dal-in a pervert, and Byung-hoon chides that everyone’s got a little of that in them. She muses, “Well, I do know one sadist…” He balks to be named as such and threatens to show her what a real sadist is, and she chirps, “You pervert ajusshi.” LOL. I do enjoy their banter.

Then as they watch the disgruntled assistant complaining about wanting to quit, a gleam enters Byung-hoon’s eye. Min-young takes this as proof of his twisted mind. He tells her she’s about to get very busy.

Byung-hoon assigns tasks to the team members, and Min-young is sent out to make contact with the target. She sidles up to her while Mi-jin is on a shopping run and calls herself a fan from watching the show, while Moo-jin futzes with her car so that it won’t turn on.

So Mi-jin is stuck with fresh groceries and an insurance company that’ll take an hour to respond, and starts to walk instead. Min-young drives by and offers her a lift, and somewhat against her better judgment, Mi-jin ends up accepting.

Introducing herself as an aspiring chef, Min-young works her way into the target’s favor by complimenting her talents and referencing a dish Mi-jin unveiled on TV. Right on cue, Mi-jin gets a call that her assistant quit. Convenient opening, that. (They were tipped off by Dal-in, who knew the assistant was planning to skip out for a new job.)

Byung-hoon isn’t too worried about sending Min-young into the kitchen—they need her since Mi-jin only hires women. Plus, Min-young had assured them her cooking skills were at least average. Moo-jin points out that she had said her drinking tolerance was also average, and that induces a brief flash of panic. Hee.

The ladies make a stop at Dal-in’s bakery, and Mi-jin does allow that although she dislikes the man, he makes great bread. She cuts off his attempt to converse and flatly declines his request for her to appear on his upcoming show; she’s cold, yet Dal-in looks blissful. Masochist indeed.

Min-young doesn’t have the job yet, but she broaches the subject of the assistant opening when Mi-jin thanks her for today’s help. I’m warming to Mi-jin, who seems to have a niceness hidden deep under that steely exterior, and she’s pretty friendly to Min-young by this point.

Thus Mi-jin allows the help and gives her small tasks. Too bad Min-young is terrible. Watching in the van, Moo-jin wonders, “Should we dress Arang as a girl and send him in?” Haha. Byung-hoon calls her to order her to leave asap.

Min-young does, however, prove to be inadvertently helpful. Mi-jin’s assistant failed to prepare ingredients that needed to be done in advance, and Min-young offers a common-sense approach that Mi-jin supposes might work. As a result, Mi-jin offers her the job, starting tomorrow.

At the agency, Arang has unearthed some rumors about Mi-jin, though they sound like tabloid gossip. Byung-hoon says any info is worthwhile and keeps him on the task. Meanwhile, he watches clips from the cooking show and seems to appreciate Mi-jin’s no-nonsense, prickly nature (he would, wouldn’t he?). He also realizes, “It wasn’t only the client she disliked.” I’m getting a suspicion…

Min-young returns to the agency feeling mighty proud of herself, calling herself a potential genius in the making, and Arang thanks her for sparing him a crossdressing excursion. Still, Byung-hoon sets her before a table of ingredients and orders her to practice her abysmal knife skills. “Have you only lived eating ramyun?” he asks. She banters back, “We’re a delivery culture. What is there that isn’t delivered these days?”

Moo-jin gets an idea and goes digging through supplies to find a heart-rate monitor worn like a wristwatch. He jumps up and down to test it out, but the number remains stuck at a modest 80 beats.

On his way out, he stops by Min-young’s workstation and surveys the vegetable carnage there. Basically, she’s got zero shot in hell of not getting fired on the spot.

She concedes that her innate genius is clouded by her lack of actual experience, and Arang laughs that it seems like she’s turning into Byung-hoon with her bravado. She protests: “I’d rather you cursed at me.”

Bravado notwithstanding, Min-young knows she’s doomed tomorrow and wonders what to do. And gets an idea. She heads next door to ask Seung-pyo to be her teacher, saying that she needs to learn how to cook quickly. Perchance he can clue her in to a secret that’ll turn her into Dae Jang-geum overnight. Oh, is that all?

Moo-jin heads to a restaurant supply store, and Hye-ri happens by and offers a hand. I love the way he reacts to her presence, wary and nervous but in his robot-alien-boy way. Like he’s waiting for his processor chip to compute what to think about her.

Seung-pyo begins the lesson with knife skills, showing Min-young how to cut vegetables. She tells him of their unusual client, who likes when the target is being mean, which she finds curious. Seung-pyo offers the point of view that it doesn’t have to be viewed as sado-masochism when a similar dynamic is present in many relationships. At the outset when one side’s feelings are much stronger than the other, it’s easy for the smitten side to become debased while the other side becomes cruel. Sad truth.

Min-young says it would be better if everyone could treat each other equally and lovingly. If only it were so easy.

As Moo-jin and Hye-ri walk back from their shopping trip, she comments about the client being in love with such a woman—she’d always thought men didn’t like women who were so tough. What about Moo-jin, then? What’s his ideal type of woman?

He’s never thought of it before, so he asks which type Hye-ri is. She calls herself a cute type and urges him to think it over, I suspect while hoping that she’s it. Instead he peers into his shopping bag just as she trips, and thus gives absolutely zero reaction when she tumbles out of view. HA. I love that shot.

She has to call out to get his attention, but he does turn back to help her (in his plodding robot way). As he reaches to help her up, he stops, confused: “It’s strange.” He checks his wristwatch monitor, and now his heart is beating like crazy.

While finishing their dish, Min-young asks if there was ever a person Seung-pyo wanted to cook for. He says that there was, but he hadn’t been able to because (s)he “disappeared from this world.” Hmm. Note that he doesn’t use a gendered pronoun so he could be talking about a guy, although the assumption is that he means a girlfriend.

Byung-hoon heads next door to peek at the cooking lesson, scoffing like this totally means nothing to him. And that’s how he sees two very suspicious figures lurking outside the restaurant, crouching just outside the windows. At least they’re terrible at the lurking, and scatter the moment he calls out to them.

Everything Seung-pyo does has a tendency to creep me out (or at least make me suspicious), but I think it’s fair to say he’s working a suspicious vibe as he opens the window, then asks Min-young, “Would you like to date?” And standing just outside the open window to hear this is Byung-hoon.

 
COMMENTS

Hm, so what is Master’s deal? He’s definitely rockin’ a shady vibe and I think we’re supposed to be suspicious of his motives, though the question may be(come) about where the line gets drawn between his real feelings and whatever plot he’s cooking up. There have been enough curious shots of Seung-pyo looking at Min-young with an inscrutable expression that I’m sure this is all part of his master plan, but I do also think he finds her amusing and cute and entertaining to be around. Will he fall for her too? (K-drama rules say: It is decidedly so.)

I do hope that it takes Byung-hoon a while longer to fully realize he has any interest in Min-young, because tracking his jealousy and denial is half the fun. She’s had her moment to feel twinges of envy (with Yi-seol), so now it’s his turn. Let’s just see if he thinks it’s indigestion, too. Given that she’s the airhead and he the genius, I’d say no… but I wouldn’t put it past him to consider it a mental condition.

I liked that we got a glimpse into Byung-hoon’s softer underbelly, though not too much—just enough to show us that it’s there. He worked up his gumption, finally, to head over to Yi-seol and do something, only to be deflated the minute she kept him at arm’s length. And the fact that he deflated was hugely telling, because the indifferent “love is fantasy” Empty Can persona he projects would have laughed at the high school boy who walked in there, who couldn’t muster up the courage yet again and bought a dumb necklace to cover up his embarrassment. Here’s a lesson he could learn from actual high schooler Se-kyung: You doesn’t make a confession for the sake of the listener, but for the sake of yourself. You do want a positive result, of course, but mostly you confess because you can’t stand NOT confessing.

Even so, I’m glad we didn’t spend much time on the first love. It’s part of Byung-hoon’s story, but I’d rather it didn’t constitute the whole of it. He’s too interesting for that.

I’m also really liking the pacing of the show, with two or three episodes dedicated to a case before moving along. I don’t have any problem with the clients’ cases depicted thus far, because I’m not being told to buy into their love stories; they aren’t being sold to us as happy ever afters with nice neat endings. The agency gets the ball rolling and allows the relationship to begin, and then they take their paycheck and step out of the picture. There are no guarantees for the future. What the stories do is act as devices that draw out our main cast’s characters and spur personal development, so they have a purpose other than the romances themselves.

So for me, I enjoy the cases as cute, cleverly executed little examinations of human nature. My favorite part is seeing where the machination meets real human response, because I don’t think those two things are mutually exclusive. There’s a spectrum, and inasmuch as you can’t force anybody to feel something they don’t feel, the agency can’t manufacture a love connection. They’re paving the pathway for the romance to take root, only covering their tracks carefully so you don’t see the road.

Is it manipulative? Oh hell yeah. I’m not arguing that it’s natural or without ethical questions, not at all. But I do find it a fun exploration of how people can be steered into a certain mindset or pathway by the power of suggestion. (The Shape of Things is a great example of that concept.) Are they con men or salesmen? What constitutes trickery, and what constitutes persuasion?

RELATED POSTS

• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 5
• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 4
• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 3
• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 2
• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 1
• Dating Agency Cyrano releases first stills
• Poster and teasers for Dating Agency Cyrano
• The flower boys join tvN’s Dating Agency Cyrano
• Lee Jong-hyuk headlines next tvN Flower Boy series