In "Toy Story 3," protagonist Andy grew older, developed other interests and ultimately gave his toys away to a little girl before leaving for college.

But not everyone finds themselves able to say "goodbye" to their toys like Andy. And when years of wear and tear take their toll, those toys often find their way to Kim Kap-yeon, the CEO of ToyTalez.

For Kim's clients, her work is about far more than just repairing stuffed animals.

"Our customers come in and say, 'Please save my little brother. I don't care how much it costs,'" she explained during her interview with The Korea Herald. Crying when leaving a stuffed animal for repair is very common, she added.

Now in her 60s, Kim herself never experienced such attachment to a toy in her own childhood, and at the beginning of the toy repair business, she had no idea what kind of emotions she would be facing.

However, she has grown to empathize with her clients' feelings.

"This is not simply repairing a doll. It is fixing their owners' minds," she said. "If you can't understand those feelings, you shouldn't be in this business."

Her experience has also given her insight into the psyche of Koreans in their 20s and 30s -- the children of “nuclear families.”

"Our main customers are in their 20s and 30s. After hearing their stories, I realized that they are from a generation where both parents started working, leaving stuffed animals as comfort companions. They would spend days with their stuffed animals talking to them, sharing meals with them and all that. No wonder they became so attached — it's really their family," she said.

This is also why she sticks with the "hospital" concept for her business.

At her toy hospital, she is the doctor, stuffed animals are her patients and the clients their guardians. The repair process mirrors hospitalization for surgery.

"When patients first come in, we send a notification via KakaoTalk to their guardians that they have been hospitalized. Then, after it's washed, we send them a photo of it lying down. We do this for each step,” she explained.

“Clients love this; it makes them feel less anxious about leaving their toys here," she added.

It may seem a little too ambitious, but she envisions a more professional, hospital-like system in the future. In this system, each toy would receive a dedicated hospital room, complete with a camera so guardians could monitor their toys' condition online in real-time. “But for now, it costs too much, so we can't,” she added excitedly about her plan.

Kim said she makes sure to follow her clients' specific instructions during repairs.

Once, a couple visiting Seoul from France came in with a small stuffed rat. It had lost fur here and there, and the mouth was squeezed and tilted.

When the repaired toy was sent to France, they were unsatisfied because they wanted the mouth to remain squeezed, just like it used to be.

“So we sewed it to make it look squeezed again," she said.

Kim's path to becoming an empathetic "stuffed animal doctor" was far from straightforward.

A former civil servant in South Gyeongsang Province, she quit her job and moved to Seoul, where she tried various roles at local firms but struggled to find her true calling.

Then a friend told her about a job opening at a local toy company.

"She suggested I interview as well. I got in, and she didn't,” she said.

After her initial experience in the toy industry, Kim started her own trading firm that exported stuffed animals in 1999.

However, about 10 years ago, the market shifted.

"It became difficult to continue trading as a Korean company," Kim explained, noting that buyers preferred working directly with companies in China, Indonesia and Vietnam, where the toy factories are located.

Seeking new revenue streams, Kim's company launched a website to sell stuffed animals in Korea. Through the website, people started asking for warranty services. So, they began offering services like replacing the stuffing.

Soon, clients began requesting similar services for toys not purchased from her company, which led Kim to offer these services for a fee. Initially, these repairs were minor, such as replacing stuffing or sewing small parts.

Over time, the business grew into its current form of a stuffed animal hospital.

The business gained significant attention, especially after a high-profile case involving a green bear with a nearly destroyed face.

"We posted the case on Twitter, and within a week it blew up," she recalled.

The company's post in March, which features a compilation of diverse “surgery” cases done at the stuffed animal hospital, including the green bear case, had over 3.6 million views as of Sept. 2.

As a stuffed animal doctor, Kim's work varies.

"At times, I'm an ophthalmologist, audiologist or dermatologist."

One notable project involved performing "plastic surgery" on a stuffed doll modeled after Kai, a member of K-pop group EXO, she said.

"It's a bearlike character produced in China. Fans felt the quality didn't meet their expectations, so they came to us for plastic surgery," she explained.

For example, the doll's cheek should have a bump, but many were made with a straight line.

"I've heard that these toys, originally sold for around 15,000 to 20,000 won ($11-$15), were being resold at premium prices above 70,000 won after going through our surgery,” Kim said.

Despite her expertise and skills that helped her sustain her business for over two decades, Kim acknowledged that her business has been struggling recently.

"The economy isn't doing well, so the number of people wanting their stuffed animals fixed has decreased. Also, we are more widely known for repairs, but our main business is to produce designed character toys for firms and government offices, but those budgets are also often the first to be cut as well."

Although there are challenges, Kim keeps going because of the pride she takes in her expertise. "I'm old, but I started this from nothing and made it happen," she said. "Also, I have the talent of making a difference with details. Even when I was doing trading, people used to say 'I can trust Titi's eyes,'" she added, referring to her English name.

Her main concern now is finding someone to pass on her techniques.

"I'm in my late 60s. Four employees who work with me here are all around my age. I might continue until my 70s or 80s, but there has to be someone," she said.

Will young people be interested in repairing toys? Kim is not very hopeful.

"The market is relatively small in Korea,” she admitted. It’s natural that money, and young people’s interest, flow to high-tech businesses.

"It might be difficult to keep this business alive for long."

Standing for living, loving and growing, LLG goes beyond the realm of daily news, exploring the vibrant tapestry of modern life, as told by real people. -- Ed.