19. Setting the Standard
“Boss. Shouldn’t you go home?”
It was Park Minseok again.
“I’m fine. Please, just stop.”
“I’m not fine. Gyeongsuk keeps asking me whenever she sees me, ‘When is big brother coming?’”
Today was October 8th.
So it had already been well over a week since I’d been staying at Yeongdong Foods instead of going home.
In the meantime, I had been keeping in touch with Yeongdong’s Agricultural Research Institute by phone, but there were limits to conducting business over the phone. So Park Minseok had been going back and forth, serving as a messenger on my behalf.
“Gyeongsuk growls at me every time she sees me. As if I’m holding her brother captive and won’t let him go...”
“I’ll go once I’ve cleared my head a bit. You know full well what might happen if I go home like this, Director Park.”
When I said that and gave Park Minseok a bitter smile, he let out a deep sigh and nodded as if he understood.
“I know. I only said it because I’m frustrated too.”
While I’d been staying at Yeongdong Foods for over a week, the prototype development had been proceeding smoothly.
It was thanks to Park Minseok busily running around among the factory workers, passing on technical knowledge and managing things as if they were his own work.
Of course, Factory Manager Kim Chunsam’s efforts had also been significant.
Neither Park Minseok nor I had even turned thirty yet. It was the times we lived in—no, precisely because it was such a time, age was both an undeniable advantage and a weakness.
—“That young rich master might treat this like a game, but won’t we end up on the streets?”
The words “rich young master” brought an involuntary chuckle out of me. I had lived my whole life thinking of myself as middle class, never really straying far from that, yet here I was being called a rich young master.
I set aside those thoughts and asked Park Minseok,
“How is the soup development coming along?”
“We’ve been paying close attention to that too. It’s nothing particularly unusual. We’re just adding red pepper powder to the existing flavor to give it a spicy kick, so it’s almost complete.”
Park Minseok smiled confidently.
“I’ll head down to the development team as soon as I’m done with this, so please go ahead and gather the people.”
“Yes, sir.”
Park Minseok answered and turned to grab the office door handle.
“Ah. And another letter came. Since you couldn’t go to the Agricultural Research Institute, I brought it with me.”
He took a thin letter from his breast pocket, placed it on the desk, then turned and left the office.
I checked the envelope and tore it open.
[We haven’t found it yet. We are continuing to search.]
That was all that was written in the short note.
I held the letter and stared blankly at it for a long while before unconsciously biting my lower lip slightly.
“Ah...”
The wound on my lip that hadn’t fully healed yet throbbed.
I folded the letter away again and opened the bottom drawer of my desk to put it inside.
*
“Let’s get straight to the point.”
I looked at the gathered development team members and spoke. It was called a development team, but for now it was barely enough to constitute a proper team.
“Director Park, how much are you thinking per package of instant noodles?”
I started by directing the first question to Park Minseok.
“Since Myojo Foods’ Chicken Ramen is 100g, we were thinking of doing the same at 100g.”
“Then what about the price?”
“You told us not to take too much margin, so we’ve agreed that 10 won would be an appropriate price.”
Park Minseok’s clear answer drew nods from the development team members. They were good people.
In the era I’d originally lived in, the culture of identifying oneself with one’s company had long since disappeared.
After the IMF crisis, full employment had vanished, and companies had reinvested their profits into internal reserves or reserve funds, or into buying land and buildings, all in the name of preparing for crises.
Naturally, the idea that a company was not a lifetime employer—that it could discard me at any time, or that I could leave whenever I wanted—had taken root in people’s minds.
But this era was different.
People worked with blazing eyes, as if the company were their own. The people gathered here were no different.
“About how much does a meal of rice and soybean paste stew cost?”
“Well... wouldn’t it be about 30 won?”
Factory Manager Kim Chunsam, who had come with the development team, answered.
“Exactly. And since bus fare within Seoul is about 5 won, that means you can eat for the price of two bus rides... Not a bad price. But let’s increase our portion a bit.”
“By how much?”
Park Minseok quickly responded. His position seemed to be changing him for the better. Ever since returning to Korea with the title of director at Yeongdong Foods, he seemed to have grown considerably. You could tell by how sharply he reacted to changes in price or quantity.
“Let’s add 30g. Make it 130 grams.”
“Boss!”
As expected, Park Minseok objected.
“I had considered lowering the price at first, but I thought increasing the quantity would be better than that. You’ve all eaten plenty of the prototypes during production, right?”
When I looked around and asked, everyone nodded confidently.
“When you boiled just one package and ate it, how did you feel?”
“It felt... lacking.”
“Yes... the quantity was definitely a bit disappointing.”
The development team members answered one by one.
“But then we won’t have much profit left?”
After hesitating, Park Minseok spoke, and everyone fell silent at once. Interesting people. The boss was suggesting reduced profits, yet here the employees were looking regretful that profits would decrease.
“I’m a businessman too. I’m not running a charity. But even with an additional 30g, our profits will be sufficient.”
I didn’t mention it to them, but with the flour support promised by Kim Heungsu and the nearly confirmed $30,000 in aid, increasing the amount of noodles wouldn’t be too difficult.
In my previous life, when I was living alone and cooking instant noodles for myself, the quantity had always been the most disappointing thing.
When Samyang Industrial released instant noodles in ’63, 120g had virtually become the Korean standard. It was definitely more than the original Chicken Ramen, yet still slightly lacking. Two packages were too much, but one was never quite enough.
Since this was my first time in the instant noodle business in this life, I decided to change the standard a bit here. Prices could change over time, but once a set quantity was established, it would be hard to arbitrarily reduce it.
“Hoo... if the boss says so, we have to do it. Since that’s how it is, we’ll just have to sell a ton!”
Park Minseok answered with deliberate disappointment. He was a good man. He was answering first to deflect any objections from the others.
“Our profits will grow larger and larger going forward, so don’t worry and hurry up with production.”
Bagged instant noodles were just the beginning. The real profits would come after the bagged noodles hit it big.
In the end, the instant noodle quantity was decided at 130g, and we moved past the sample production stage, organized our lines, and began pushing forward with initial product production.
And then.
Kim Heungsu came.
*
“So this is the instant noodle sample.”
“Yes. But it’s not a sample—it will be sold exactly like this.”
The KCIA agents were waiting outside, and only Kim Heungsu was sitting in my office. It was proof that Kim Heungsu was showing me his trust.
Before Kim Heungsu sat packaged instant noodles, and beside them, a pot with only a little broth remaining.
“The taste has definitely improved.”
Kim Heungsu said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Yes.”
“Have you no intention of going directly to His Excellency to explain the product?”
“I’m sorry, but I am not yet worthy of appearing before His Excellency.”
Kim Heungsu looked at me with shining eyes.
“Usually, you know. By this point, it shows.”
“What shows?”
When I asked back, Kim Heungsu leaned forward and spoke.
“Greed, I mean. Greed.”
When I didn’t answer, Kim Heungsu continued as if he didn’t mind.
“If you present this directly to His Excellency, he would likely be very pleased. Why would you pass up such an opportunity?”
“I am merely a businessman. I have no other desire than to make and sell as many packages of instant noodles as quickly as possible.”
“Even though you would receive many benefits by meeting His Excellency? Moreover, aren’t you working toward rice self-sufficiency as well?”
Kim Heungsu’s temptation was persistent.
But I had no intention of falling for that enticement.
Those near vermilion turn red; those near ink turn black.
This was the optimal distance I could maintain. It couldn’t be helped, but if I drew closer to the political sphere from here, there would certainly be many gains. Though his words were meant for my benefit, the process would clearly involve all sorts of expedient measures and special favors. If that happened, getting inevitably entangled was the natural course of events.
I would succeed on my own if just left alone, so it was better not to do anything that would grab me by the ankle.
Hadn’t they said the bear performs the trick, but the man earns the money?
I was the man, and Kim Heungsu was the bear.
As long as Kim Heungsu protected me from various temptations and pressures, I could continue to rise.
“I prefer to simply remain a businessman. Instant noodles. And rice.”
I met Kim Heungsu’s persistent gaze and spoke.
“It’s all thanks to you, Chief. I just need to make money safely like this. That’s enough for me.”
But it was best to let Kim Heungsu think that I was the bear and he was the man.
“Please perform plenty of tricks for me from now on.”
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