The Sweet Potato Hoarders

"There's a problem with the sweet potato sales?"

I asked back, flustered.

Branch Head Park Byung-gyu's helpless voice drifted through the receiver.

"I really don't know how to face you……"

"Let's go over the details at the Nonghyup office. I'm on my way now."

I pushed everything else aside and headed straight for the cooperative.

Seated in the office was Chairman Park Byung-gyu, looking far more haggard than he had just a few days ago.

"Please, have a seat over here, Ji-on."

He gestured to the sofa beside him.

Once I'd sat down, Chairman Park handed me a thick stack of documents.

Condensed, the situation went something like this. The sweet potatoes had begun selling across every Han-gaero Mart in the country — and then forces had emerged to hoard them. People who ate the potatoes they'd bought left glowing reviews online, but at some point the reviews simply stopped coming. Then, one day, a post appeared on the Nonghyup consumer board.

It was suspicious enough on its face.

"There was nothing the Nonghyup could do on its own?"

"Well, you see……"

Chairman Park hesitated, looking pained.

Strictly speaking, each region of the Nonghyup operated as its own independent cooperative. Every branch had its own sales policies, too. Some stores dumped their entire stock once a week, while others — like the Songgye branch — split a week's worth into daily portions. But the consumer board was mostly managed by Nonghyup Central. When problems arose, the standard procedure was for headquarters to send an official letter down to the region, and that was usually the end of it.

If Chairman Park hadn't happened to be following the sweet potato sales reviews and stumbled across the complaint himself, he might never have heard about it at all. He'd wanted to act the moment he confirmed the contents, but there was only so much he could do.

"The only measure available to me was sending official letters requesting cooperation."

He'd sent word to every branch in the country to impose per-person purchase limits. The effect? Zero. They introduced the limits, and then paid scalpers showed up.

"I take it they decided they could just tack the purchase cost on top when they resold."

The thinking of people out to make a quick buck was predictable. They'd have called it an investment and laughed — this counts as regulation? — without a shred of shame.

What had started at one or two stores was now spreading across nearly the entire country, to the point where it was impossible to tell where all this capital was pouring in from.

"I requested an on-site investigation as things kept getting worse, but……"

"I imagine you were ignored."

Chairman Park bowed his head, his face gloomy.

The answer he'd received a few days ago, after formally lodging a protest with Nonghyup Central, came back to him.

"We have taken every measure available to us, and there is nothing more we can do. If you're trying to shoulder a moral obligation out of conscience, don't bother. Strictly speaking, this isn't even our Nonghyup's responsibility, is it?"

That was the reply from Director Lee Jong-yeol, the man in charge of Songgye Nonghyup. It was an exclusive contract, after all. He had steamrolled right over Park Byung-gyu's objections, essentially saying that as long as the price was the same, all that mattered was that the product sold.

"You never know. If that farm signs another exclusive contract to supply some special crop like these sweet potatoes, we can hardly afford to be this half-hearted, can we?"

The Party A inscribed on the contract he'd so greedily attached was Director Lee Jong-yeol of Nonghyup Central.

"Honestly…… I wonder if his head is stuffed to the brim with lard."

"I truly have no face to show you."

It was infuriating, plain and simple. This was what happened when you trusted someone enough to hand things over. A fresh wave of disappointment washed over me.

That said, Park Byung-gyu hadn't thrown in his hands just because the Nonghyup had. On his own initiative, he'd hired a private detective agency, and the documents he'd just given me had arrived from them that very morning. Having reviewed them beforehand, he explained.

"To put it simply, the hoarded sweet potatoes are currently flowing into two confirmed destinations."

One was a sports community that had already been caught out, though tracing its true nature would apparently take considerable time. It operated exclusively online within the country, making it hard to track its home base. And the other one was……

"This one's a foundation?"

"Yes. A medical foundation, by name."

But scratch beneath the surface, and it was no ordinary hospital or foundation. To put it precisely — a cult. The people who had learned that the sweet potatoes were effective in treating muscle-related genetic disorders.

"Haah……"

I had considered that something like this might happen someday. I'd even thought I needed to become stronger because of it. Hadn't I seen it with my own two eyes — the moment old man Choi rose from his sickbed? Maybe, deep down, I had always known this could be abused. What I hadn't anticipated was that it would happen this fast. It hadn't even been two months since the sweet potatoes went into full-scale distribution, and already the hoarding had begun.

……The audacity. Messing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠around with the sweet potatoes that my family and our village had poured their sweat into growing.

"There sure are a lot of clever little schemers in this country too."

At my muttering, Chairman Park bowed his head even lower.

The surest way to stop hoarding like this was to halt sales altogether. But……

"If we breach the contract as things stand, we'll be hit with penalty fees."

It wasn't an ordinary transaction — the contract had been drawn up with exclusivity as its condition. By standard practice, the penalty would be triple the average monthly sales. Sweet potatoes commanded a high unit price and were selling nationwide, so that average monthly figure was already absurdly large. In other words, unless I had an obscene amount of cash on hand, I'd be obligated to supply the Nonghyup for a full year, like it or not.

Chairman Park watched me with worry in his eyes, which had grown moist.

"The penalty fee is not my concern right now."

The contract payment I'd received from Taeram alone was substantial, and I had cash ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠coming in from the potatoes as well. Seeing the firm look on my face, Chairman Park only grew more despondent. In truth, he desperately wanted to cling to my pant leg and beg. The problem was that he had no right to.

"Then the contract termination……"

"I'm not terminating the contract."

"Yes, of course you wouldn't……. I'm sorry, what?"

It was an unexpected answer. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠question slipped out of Park Byung-gyu before he could stop himself.

"Wh-why not?"

He studied the expression of the boy sitting across from him. Angry — visibly, seethingly angry. He'd fully expected Ji-on to accuse the Nonghyup of gross negligence and march straight into contract termination.

"The Nonghyup is certainly infuriating. But right now, I'm angrier at the ones doing the hoarding. Because of those bastards, victims are being created who never needed to exist."

"Th-that's true."

"And if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that when you let a pathetic stunt like this slide once, it just keeps repeating. Once you've grabbed the tail, you tear at it until you drag the whole body out with it."

I wasn't about to let this pass. Contract termination? I'd do it, obviously — just not right now. The Nonghyup's greed would make a perfectly useful piece of bait.

"Wasn't there talk of wanting a contract for other crops?"

I asked with a faint smile. As it happened, the groundwork for a deal involving another crop was already laid and waiting.

"I have a different method."

"……A different method?"

"Let's run an event where we give away sweet potato greens alongside the sales."

"Sweet potato… greens?"

"That's right. I checked yesterday, and it turns out the greens have a special property of their own."

Park Byung-gyu's face filled with genuine astonishment. He'd been so preoccupied with the miraculous sweet potatoes that the greens had never crossed his mind — despite the two being the very same plant!

"What kind of effect?"

"Muscle relaxation, this time. It works even better when eaten together with the sweet potato."

"Relaxation!"

Park Byung-gyu's eyes trembled. The muscle strengthening alone had erased the back pain that had plagued him his whole life — but his body still moved as stiffly as ever. If he could eat sweet potato greens with a relaxation effect alongside them? He might end up with the body of his youth. No, of his childhood.

Ji-on brings miracles with him every time we meet, and treats them like they're nothing at all……

But worry soon clouded the chairman's briefly flushed face again.

"But what if these get hoarded too……"

"That's exactly what I'm counting on."

"……Counting on it? What do you mean?"

I leaned forward and explained, calm and measured.

"A few days from now, let's announce that a problem has been found in the sweet potato greens we provided as a gift. Say that anyone who brings back the greens — just the greens — gets a refund, no returns required. What happens then?"

The hired scalpers would hand over their greens without a second thought. After all, the things had no noticeable effect and were a pain to cook. But then we tell them: bring back only the greens, and your money comes back? Individual buyers would flock to get their refunds. And the organizations sitting on dozens, hundreds of bundles of greens? With the per-person purchase limit in place, they couldn't possibly haul all of them to the counter at once for a refund. They'd either give up — or show up sparingly, drip-feeding their requests.

"I see! It would certainly be effective for identifying exactly which stores are doing the hoarding."

"Exactly. And once we've isolated the branches, we can take more specific measures. Say, for instance, that sales have been temporarily suspended due to some issue in the logistics and distribution process?"

Hearing this, Park Byung-gyu spoke up with a troubled look.

"Central won't cooperate that easily."

"No — they will cooperate. Because they'll need to win the sales contract for these sweet potato greens."

"You mean……"

Park Byung-gyu's eyes flashed all at once.

"Central will want the greens as an exclusive supply. And to get that, they'll have to show me some 'sincerity,' won't they?"

Of course, showing sincerity wouldn't actually guarantee a contract. Sincerity was sincerity — not a promise. Checkmate, in other words. Once I'd milked everything I could out of them, I'd terminate the sweet potato contract too. And I'd cheerfully swallow the penalty fee. They were the ones who'd told me to open new deals if I wanted their help, so they'd have no grounds to refuse this request.

While I was at it, I planned to have the Nonghyup run the sweet-potato-and-greens bundle marketing as a pilot program. Zero testing costs, all the results to observe — what was not to love?

I rose from my seat.

"Please pass a message along to the chairman. I'll be taking my leave now. And don't forget to tell them: nothing is confirmed — this is merely a show of sincerity that's required."

"Yes, understood! Leave it all to me!!"

"I'm counting on you."

I was just about to step out of the office when Chairman Park called after me.

"Ji-on, I—"

"Yes?"

"I'm truly sorry. And truly grateful."

"The thanks should be mine."

Because in the end, it was entirely thanks to Chairman Park Byung-gyu's proposal and help that the crops from my fields could be sold properly at all.

"Let me know once you have results."

"Yes, I'll be in touch."

And then, not many days later — after school, I received the call I'd been waiting for.

Ring, ring—

"Hello?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Ah, Ji-on. You know the cooperation we requested from Central?"

"Yes, how did it go?"

"It worked. They've agreed to help us — once — on the condition that they get first crack at a contract for the sweet potato greens."

Good news. I'd deliberately told him not to explain the specifics of the plan to Central. If there happened to be a mole inside, that would be a problem.

"That's a relief."

"Now you can put the plan you prepared into full motion."

"I'll ship the sweet potato greens out on the early morning run tomorrow."

"Yes, thank you."

I hung up and headed for the fields. Everything had to be finished before tonight.

The plan I'd explained to Chairman Park was the foundation, sure. But there was also something I intended to do on my own. I would cast a tracking spell on the sweet potato greens before sending them out. Naturally, I couldn't pinpoint the location of every last bundle sold. But the location of the mountains of greens that would pile up, un-refunded, in the hoarders' hands? That I could find. And once I'd located the places……

"Heh, heh-heh…… You people have walked right into it."

I made my way to the corner of the vinyl greenhouse where the sweet potato greens were stacked. Along with what I'd harvested earlier and never gotten around to disposing of, an enormous mountain of them sat waiting. What I needed to do was cut them into small pieces and bundle them up, handful by handful. Magic would handle all of it, of course. And then, one more thing.

'Besties—'

A basic spell that traced a target's trail with mana. This part was a bit tedious. Since I needed to track individual locations, I had to cast the spell on each bundle separately.

"Tonight's going to be a very long night."

Well then. Let's see who drops dead first.

The next day, Han-gaero Mart stores across the country opened their doors.

"We're open! This week's sweet potato sales begin now!"

With a rumble of shuffling feet, the waiting crowd poured inside, eyes gleaming. A tall man among them was no different. For the past month, he'd been taking commissions from a certain medical foundation to purchase sweet potatoes — a so-called sweet potato hunter. One day of standing in line, and nearly a week's living expenses landed in his bank account. There was no reason not to do it.

"……Hm?"

Soon the man felt an odd flicker of déjà vu and examined the sweet potatoes. Green stalks he'd never seen before were packed into the bag alongside them.

"We're running a gift-with-purchase event — sweet potato greens grown together with the potatoes."

The cashier explained helpfully at his question. Sweet potato greens, huh. Those were awkward to cook with, to say the least.

Well, doesn't matter.

The order had come from his client, so delivering the package unopened, exactly as received, would be best for his credibility. He paid for the sweet potatoes and, on his way home, immediately posted the parcel. The sweet potatoes would now make their way to them — and he'd get his money.

Humming a cheerful tune, the man headed home, his spirits higher than ever.