The Taste of Tedious Effort
While working, I often have to wander the streets to check prices. Especially when there's a ton of unsold inventory left over.
"...This is bad."
A massive mart under Black Group, System Industry's rival. They're running a massive bleeding sale right now.
"Even if beef has a short shelf life, is there really any reason to dump it this aggressively?"
13.7kg of beef for a measly 7pt. At this rate, they won't even cover the acquisition cost. But because it's so cheap, every packaged slab sells out the moment it hits the shelves.
"The meat doesn't even look that great..."
"If you're not buying, put it down! I am!"
"Ah, sorry."
What the hell is Black Group's game? Even for perishable fresh food with a short expiration, why go this far with a bleeding sale...?
...That afternoon, at System Industry.
"...They're targeting us."
"Targeting... us, sir?"
"To put it bluntly, they're screwing everyone over. Tch."
System Industry and Black Group. Age-old rivals.
"Who got the highest share of this beef shipment?"
"Us, right?"
"And who got the lowest?"
"Black Group, obviously... Ah."
Black Group bid the least on the beef supplied by the giants. They claimed a fire in their logistics warehouse. As a result, the vaguely leftover stock ended up with System Industry, which had some financial leeway.
"The strong sales are the real problem. I never imagined it'd turn out like this."
Black Group dumped their entire stock at prices well below cost. If they couldn't sell it, it'd rot anyway. On top of that, warehouse rental and other overhead costs add up fast. Better to take a calculated loss than let it fester.
"Too late to catch up now. Beef's already flooding the market. Even if we sell cheaper, it probably won't move."
"So that means... it's turned into toxic inventory."
"Exactly. Damn bastards. No business ethics at all...!"
The Golem Manager taps his desk lightly in irritation, like a butterfly fluttering its wings—as if he'd wanted to slam it down hard but remembered the desk's price tag.
"Disposing of toxic inventory is a problem too. Disposal costs money. Astronomical amounts."
"Who could've predicted Black Group would pull this?"
"We should've. Those backstabbers don't do it once or twice... Hah. Well, at least there's some silver lining."
"What's that, sir?"
"Those special ingredients you brought in—they're pulling in way more than expected. Our department might dodge the bullet."
...Which means the other departments are funeral homes right now. A manageable loss could slide internally, but the projected damage here is astronomical—way beyond a single salaryman's paycheck. Blood might flow through the company halls.
...That evening.
"...No future at this rate."
A 10kg slab of beef now averages 5pt. Tomorrow it'll probably hit 4pt, maybe 3pt. That's why the streets feel emptier than usual. People used to head out for after-work grill sessions, but now it's cheaper to buy and cook at home.
You could argue that with beef prices crashing, restaurant prices should follow suit—but these things don't adjust overnight. It's not just beef; you need veggies, sauces, salt, sesame oil, kimchi. And once you slash menu prices across the board, hiking them back up later is tough. People build psychological barriers around their wallets.
Black Group's stunt has killed the street's vibe. Selfish bastards.
"...But tough times like these make you crave certain things."
Beef crash has everyone gloomy, but surprisingly, some spots are thriving. High-end restaurants, for one. Their menus are pricey because they use premium, high-end beef—not the cheap crap from Black Group's marts. While bargain beef plummets endlessly, premium cuts are paradoxically rising. More people discover beef's joys, then get curious about the pricier stuff. Demand swells. Or so they say, they compensate in other details too. Word from System Industry's dining division, so it's probably spot-on.
On the flip side, hole-in-the-wall spots known only to insiders are suddenly exploding. Like this one.
"...Crowded as hell. What do they sell?"
The apocalypse-vibe street suddenly buzzes with life. A line snakes out from one shop.
"This place a foodie haven or what?"
"Worth trekking here? We could've grabbed pancakes and makgeolli back there."
"Word's spread. Sold out everywhere."
"But cheap cuts, right? Any good?"
"Cheap for the labor involved~."
"Still..."
"Yeah, fair. Try it at home. The marrow just slips right out."
"...If you say so."
Some hiking club? Sun caps, trekking hats, massive backpacks, walking sticks— a horde in line. Small shop, yet this line? Looking closer, not just club members. Buff athletes, office workers—diverse crowd. Men lining up together...
"...Might as well wait."
I don't know how good it is, but thriving spots in a slump have reasons. I slip to the end of the line.
"Came early, but damn, long line."
"Still, hour or two tops."
"Good call skipping others for this."
Three students dash up behind me. Before five minutes pass, dozens more pile on...
"...No escape now."
How killer is this place? Excitement mixes with dread—what if it's overhyped? Hope it's not "all hype, no bite."
...Fifty minutes later.
"Next group, come on in! How many?"
"One."
"One! Seat available?"
"One four-top free!"
"Ah, mind waiting here? We'll seat you at a two-top ASAP! Sorry for the hassle!"
"Sure."
"Behind you, how many?"
"Three."
"You first. Take this while you wait."
"This is..."
10% OFF COUPON (Max 20pt)
...A discount coupon? 10% off, max 20pt. Tough to save even 5pt on a meal.
...But weirdly, the short wait feels like a win. Time is money, after all—a quick wait for 10% off? Not bad. Three minutes later, someone finishes paying. The door staff beckons.
"Sorry for the wait. Right this way."
"Okay."
Inside: big four-tops and tiny two-tops. Plenty of single seats with partitions. Not huge—maybe 40-50 seats total.
...Wait, no. Stairs to a second floor. Double that? Up to 100.
Packed, but orderly. Staff handle the chaos like pros—must be a regular hot spot. That smoothness takes more than a day or two.
"Welcome! First time?"
"Yeah."
"Use the kiosk to order. Trouble? Hit the call bell—we'll help."
"Thanks. Uh, this coupon..."
"Got it! One sec... Applied."
She scans it, taps the kiosk. Screen flashes: '10% discount applied (max 20pt)'—gone.
"Bell for anything. Thanks for coming!"
She zips to another table.
...Efficient flow. Pro staff.
I check the kiosk menu.
"Ah. That's it. No wonder."
Beef specialty puzzled me, but this explains the hype. Labor-intensive, tricky at home, but cheap.
"Beef Tendon. Sounds delicious."
It's straight-up beef tendon.