True Management
Hales Food.
A foodservice franchise company that boasted the third-largest scale in the industry.
"Tokyo Pocha?!"
CEO Gwak Woo-seok's voice thundered so loudly it probably carried all the way down to the employees on the floor below.
"Looks like the report finally reached him."
"Judging by the volume, one whole department's getting wrecked today~."
It was the sort of thing that happened every now and then when things got dull.
The fifty-something CEO had a temper like a lit fuse. He never let an employee's mistake slide quietly. And Tokyo Pocha was no ordinary project.
Hell, do you know how much money I poured into that place?
He had put serious effort into it. He had even beaten out the competition. Expecting results was only natural. So when bad news suddenly landed on his desk, irritation boiled over.
"You said it was doing well?"
"Yes… it was, until recently."
"In one week the ground collapses or the sky falls? Give me a proper explanation!"
"You have to at least give me time to report, sir."
Manager Kim Hyun-woo had come to deliver the briefing. His shrinking voice was completely drowned out by the CEO's roar.
Ugh, no wonder they call him a dick of a boss.
The CEO was king. No one could stop his shouting; even offering an opinion was risky. You could easily become the target of his rage. In that sense, the content of the report was almost a relief.
"Do you remember Delicious TV?"
"Well… of course I do. I used to watch it religiously. Ahem!"
"The young man who appeared on the Hankuk University episode is the culprit."
"What did you just say?!"
The bait was set. Throw him something to tear into and at least you wouldn't take the blame yourself.
I told them over and over that he was Sonik-jwa.
After the program aired, the entire foodservice industry had zeroed in on that Hankuk University student. The kid showed real promise—usable talent right now. Worth scouting.
"Our competitor, Food Market, scouted him."
"That bastard turned down our offer, and now…"
"Yes. Apparently he's more capable than expected."
That's what I said!
It wasn't just some talented student who got a regular employee offer. He was Sonik-jwa—the star currently setting the internet on fire.
The stock market was buzzing. Appearing on a famous YouTuber's stream had only amplified the hype.
Just how big is this guy?
No wonder he turned down the scout offer. Rumor had it the money he personally handled already ran into the tens of billions of won. A mere assistant manager position? Even Gwak Woo-seok would have snorted and rejected it. Hell, a string of curses wouldn't have been out of place.
"What the hell does some wet-behind-the-ears little shit know? Huh? Who does that bastard think he is?"
"Exactly, sir."
"We'll show him what's what. We sat still and now they really think we're a bunch of sacks!"
"Right."
That particular fact never reached the ears of a CEO who didn't trade stocks. He wouldn't even try to understand.
The old man doesn't even touch a computer. What's the point of explaining anything complicated?
He had no intention of learning. That aging CEO genuinely believed the company ran because of his own brilliance, completely oblivious that it was all thanks to his father. The previous owner had handed him a solid company.
"So? What the hell did that bastard do?"
"They're running some kind of event."
"So what is it?!"
"Yes—offering unlimited refills on highballs and sake. Apparently it's been quite effective."
The current CEO had already forgotten the bigger picture. The company's scale had shrunk by nearly half, and its finances were no longer stable. He took it out on the employees, raging at them. Even when he half-suspected it was his own fault, he rationalized it by blaming the industry climate.
This bastard dares to pick a fight with a loss-leader strategy?
To Gwak Woo-seok, Tokyo Pocha was the one success story he could still point to—a franchise built during his own tenure. And now it was under threat. A green little punk was coming at him head-on.
"And that's why sales dropped?"
"Yes…"
"These bastards dare pick a fight with us? This is a declaration of war!"
In the foodservice industry, it counted as a formal challenge. When one shop ran a sale, customers inevitably got siphoned away. Especially in the same category. They had to know the impact would hit.
"It's war!"
"They're cowards."
"Yeah, those cowardly bastards need a good beating before they come to their senses."
"Yes, sir."
After all, Hales Food had done the same thing. The fact that Tokyo Pocha and Kotolizake stood face-to-face was no coincidence. It had been planned from the very start of the franchise: plant a shop right next to every izakaya Food Market opened.
That young CEO bastard has an uncanny eye for real estate, I'll give him that.
A restaurant had to serve good food, of course. But real estate mattered even more—location. You planted yourself where customers had no choice but to flock.
"It's too late. We've already locked down all the regulars."
"That's right…"
"We've taken every good spot there is. Now they want to win with a bleeding competition? Laughable."
"Exactly."
It wasn't easy. Every type of restaurant needed a different commercial district and set of conditions. Delivery spots wanted low rent and good transit. Cafés needed busy thoroughfares. Izakayas needed their own proper locations. Time and money got burned in massive quantities.
Why waste money on that? Just nest right next to the places they've already set up.
By copying, they had saved on labor costs. Food Market was only now scrambling to respond—far too late. Hales Food would move as well. In a mutual bleeding contest, the winner was already decided.
"If we run the same sale, we win for sure."
"Of course, sir. You're absolutely right."
"Get out there and start the sale right now! Keep it going until those bastards shut their doors!"
Hales Food had thrown down the gauntlet.
Unlimited refills.
Not something you could take lightly.
Gulp! Gulp!
A male customer was knocking back highballs like water—straight-up one-shots.
"That guy's really putting them away."
"No kidding."
"At this rate he'll break even on highballs alone."
Sora's worry wasn't baseless. The possibility was real.
Especially in this country.
There was a long black history of companies getting thoroughly wrecked after offering unlimited refills.
Why do you think Costco onions are free?
Because from their perspective it's still profitable.
I alone spend 200,000 won every single visit.
I grab a generous pile of onions, freeze them, and toss them into fried rice or doenjang jjigae a couple times.
Our household always walks out loaded like this.
Costco poster, from your point of view is this being a beggar?
Huh?!
I dump that much money into Costco and I still don't get treated right?!
Costco onion beggars, Burger King cola beggars, IKEA pencil beggars… all sorts of bizarre spectacles had unfolded.
Back in the day, ajummas used to show up at buffets carrying Lock&Lock containers all the time.
Things had changed now, of course. Even so, unlimited refills remained a heavy burden for any company.
Gulp! Gulp!
No matter how low you drove the cost, if people drank it like water you could still lose money.
"Didn't you brag you can empty three bottles of soju without leaving your seat?"
"Well, just…"
"Just what?"
"Drinking only booze feels a bit off."
He simply couldn't. The man who had been boasting about his alcohol tolerance now wore a dazed expression as he picked at the side dishes.
Plop!
The reason: the highball recipe. Instead of fresh lemon, they used lemons cured in sugar and citric acid.
You don't notice at first.
It melted slowly with the ice. Even as time passed, the highball never diluted. The concentration stayed steady.
"No need to manage freshness, so it cuts costs too."
"You've arrived?"
"You handled it better than I imagined. Front and back."
You simply couldn't drink as much as you thought. A highball with the alcohol watered out was basically sugar water. For the sake they used a half-freezing trick. Cheap liquor hid its flaws when served ice-cold.
The back end too.
The owner knew. He was someone you could talk to. Or rather, he probably never expected me to bring it up first.
"Unlimited refills… I wondered if the demand wasn't a bit extreme."
"We do everything with a little flexibility, right?"
"Hahaha, true enough."
Unlimited refills. You couldn't accurately tally how much alcohol was actually consumed.
Meaning you can under-report taxes and no one knows.
They called it "bottle swapping"—buying household liquor and secretly selling it in the shop. If sales and inventory didn't match, you could get caught. But with unlimited refills the odds stayed low.
"And yet at the bar you cursed them out so hard…"
"And this young lady here?"
"It's my fucking joint."
"You wanna die for real?"
To Sora it must have looked absurd. The bar they had visited not long ago had also been operating illegally.
Don't you know the mid-level ninja exam?
If you don't get caught, it isn't a crime. They got caught. I didn't.
"Shall we continue the discussion?"
"Ah, if it's your fucking joint then I suppose it's fine."
"You lunatics."
Business was always like that. Anyone could break the law; not getting caught was the real skill.
Designing this BM itself is the talent.
Business model. That was why investment advisory firms existed. Ability varied wildly. Any real entrepreneur would understand exactly how much work I had done for them.
"Looks like Tokyo Pocha is copying the unlimited refills."
"They just pressed the self-destruct button."
"You calculated even that?"
"Yes."
I had the skill for it. The other side, unfortunately, did not.
A place that already sells cheap…
Running a bleeding service on top of that? Their finances couldn't hold. Especially in this inflationary period—the side effect of the Fed printing money for years. Raising rates on top of it had created a terrible environment for business.
"Labor costs have skyrocketed too."
"It's a heavy burden for us as well."
"Stop the theatrics. You're a premium store."
"Hahaha!"
Kotolizake sold expensive menu items from the start. The price included "atmosphere value."
All the initial costs were spent when we built the place.
Operating margins were high. Even if prices rose, they could weather it. No need to hike food prices immediately.
Tokyo Pocha, on the other hand, sold relatively cheap food. Without raising prices right away, operations would get painful.
"Tokyo Pocha's doing unlimited refills too!"
"No, don't go."
"Why?"
"They quietly jacked everything up by a thousand won. Might as well just go to Kotolizake."
They raised prices. And the more they did, the fewer customers came. For a thin-margin, high-volume shop, it was fatal. Demand forecasting had failed. Inventory piled up massively, and the next delivery prices climbed as well.
That's why even restaurants that look successful can go under overnight in the self-employed world.
I had simply engineered that outcome on purpose.