The Contract, the Tasting, and the Sellout
“The sweet potato distribution contract—sounds good to me. Let's do it.”
I shook Park Byung-gyu's outstretched hand and rose from my seat. When an official sales channel for my sweet potatoes had just walked up to me on its own two feet, there was no reason in the world to turn it down. There were a few details to hammer out, though.
For instance…
“What kind of commission were you thinking of?”
“Haha, straight to the point, I see. Things like this are better negotiated before we draft the paperwork. At the current price point… I was thinking thirty percent.”
The branch head answered my question without a moment's hesitation. Thirty percent. From the Nonghyup's perspective it might have seemed reasonable, but to me it was steep.
“I'd say ten percent is fair.”
“That's far too low. We need results too—margin from distribution and the entire sales process.”
And besides, once the sweet potatoes became famous, people would be able to find them somewhere other than the Nonghyup. Run things his way, and there would be almost no margin left at all. On top of that, this was a specialty crop no one had ever seen before, one that hadn't even been through safety testing and the like yet. Watching the troubled look on Park Byung-gyu's face, I realized this negotiation was not going to wrap up quickly. I had a feeling this conversation was about to run long.
“Branch Head Park.”
“Yes?”
“It doesn't look like this talk is going to be a short one, does it?”
“No, I suppose this will take quite a while—”
I stood up, pulled out a pair of fresh work gloves, and handed them to him. He accepted them absently, then the realization dawned on his face.
“Hold on. Am I… also going to have to dig sweet potatoes?”
“You ate one earlier, remember? Think of that as the price. Let's wrap up quickly and continue the discussion somewhere cool.”
“Haha, well, this is… I can't win with you, Ji-on.”
He had to dig sweet potatoes before the negotiation had even begun. And yet, somehow, I didn't mind one bit. Maybe my body felt light from squatting down in the sweet potato field again.
We'd been at it for about an hour when Park Byung-gyu stopped, mouth hanging open, staring at the boy moving at an absurd speed beside him. The hands—the movement—were inhuman. By the time he had barely finished a single vine, Seo Ji-on had already dug up ten. No—could you even call that digging?
It looks more like he's pulling them straight out of the ground…
Thwack-thwack—
Before the thought had even finished forming, a sweet potato vine came tearing out of the earth. A load that had to weigh a tremendous amount—ten sweet potatoes, each the size of a forearm—lifted out with effortless ease.
“My, you're terribly strong, Ji-on.”
“It's technique, really, just technique.”
Technique like wrapping mana around my arms, or casting a lightweight spell on the sweet potatoes themselves, that is. I made a show of looking busy, then counted the remaining vines.
“Only five rows left to go.”
The hundred-pyeong plot was bigger than I'd expected—planted with nothing but sweet potatoes, it could hold a good hundred and fifty vines. In terms of harvest, that came to fifteen hundred potatoes. And that was only what this land could produce in a single week.
I dusted off my hands, pulled up the last five vines, and gathered all the sweet potatoes into one place. Then I applied a post-harvest enchantment so that no animal—or anyone of unknown identity—could come along and meddle with them.
“You're not going to tidy up before we go?”
“We can do that when we come back after the talk. Let's get moving.”
It was still broad daylight, the sun blazing overhead. Sweat was pouring off Park Byung-gyu's forehead like rain. Stay out here much longer and he'd be looking at a case of heatstroke.
We made our way over and arrived at my house. It had shade, and a fan that spun without any magic at all. Cool as anything—lovely. My mother and grandfather were apparently out, because the place was empty. I set two glasses of iced tea, ice cubes bobbing on top, down on the table.
Glug—glug—
Park Byung-gyu drained his iced tea in great swallows and heaved a long breath, as though finally catching up with himself. I took a few sips of my own and spoke up.
“Now that you've cooled off a bit, shall we get down to the contract proper?”
At my words, the man who had been slumped in his chair snapped upright. Properly seated at last, Park Byung-gyu asked with full professional bearing:
“Could I borrow some paper and a pen?”
“One moment.”
When I brought them over, he laid the paper on the table and began writing out the points that needed settling, one by one.
“I think it would be best to nail these down first, then draft the contract. Starting, of course, with the commission we were discussing.”
Thirty percent versus ten. Not a small gap.
“Right now it's fine, since we've been selling quietly around the neighborhood. But for official sales, we'll need a safety verification process.”
I gave it some thought, then replied.
“As for safety verification—it should be enough to simply prove that our sweet potatoes are no different in composition from ordinary ones, wouldn't you say?”
Indeed, if the composition truly matched an ordinary sweet potato, that was ample evidence that no harm to health could arise.
“Then how about this: ten percent commission, with a one-year exclusive contract—deal?”
“…!”
Park Byung-gyu's eyes wavered.
“And if the safety verification turns up a problem, I'll keep the exclusivity clause as-is and agree to your thirty percent.”
Exclusivity. What kind of merit would exclusivity bring? And if even the slightest issue surfaced in testing, the commission would be thirty percent instead. A one-year exclusive meant that for as long as the sweet potatoes were the talk of the town and flying off the shelves, they could be bought from the Nonghyup alone.
Park Byung-gyu swallowed hard. His instinct told him: that figure, that popularity, that windfall—no one could calculate it yet.
“Excellent. The terms are crystal clear.”
“Glad we see eye to eye.”
He nodded at my words, then went on.
“There's still more to discuss. Things like a—a promotion to spread the word about the sweet potatoes' effects.”
“A promotion?”
At my question, he elaborated.
“To be perfectly honest, to someone who knows nothing, 120,000 won for a single sweet potato is extremely—no, absurdly—expensive.”
To the uninformed, a sweet potato was nothing but a famine crop traded by the kilogram. Nobody bought them one at a time; taste mattered, sure, but no one would ever imagine hidden powers lurking inside one.
“So we tell them. About the sweet potato's effects. We let them eat it themselves, through a promotion.”
“You mean like a tasting event?”
“Exactly. Then we start with a small-scale sale to spread the name.”
The effects were obvious enough to see with your own eyes, and anyone who ate one would feel benefits unlike anything they'd ever experienced. So if people just tried it—if word got around—there could be no better marketing in the world.
“You're asking me to supply the sweet potatoes for the tastings, then? How many?”
“I was thinking around twenty.”
Twenty was easy enough to spare for samples.
“And there's one more matter to settle: volume. Can we fix the delivery schedule and quantity in advance?”
“I'd like to try planting other varieties too, so I think I can only sell about seven hundred.”
I wanted to grow other crops, and with no land to expand into at the moment, keeping just seventy sweet potato vines was the best I could do. At my words, Park Byung-gyu looked pained.
“Seven hundred is your limit at harvest season?”
Harvest season? It wasn't as if there was some special season for—ah. Right.
“That's, um—seven hundred per week.”
“Yes? Ah—ah… I see.”
“And I should be able to keep growing through the winter, too.”
“Are you planning to put up a vinyl greenhouse?”
A greenhouse? Why on earth would I need one of those? All it would take was a bit of magic to keep the ground from freezing. Seeing the bewilderment on my face, Park Byung-gyu laughed and waved it off.
“Haha, no need to explain your plans to me. You'll surely handle everything just fine on your own.”
Apparently he'd taken it as me asking why he was butting in. That wasn't what I meant at all…
After that, Park Byung-gyu chatted with me about this and that, then rose from his seat with his notes in hand.
“Then I'll prepare the contract and bring it with me.”
“Sounds good. Thanks for your hard work today.”
I stood up as well to go sort out the sweet potatoes spread across the field. And I also brought out a gift from the kitchen for the man who had driven all day and sweated over pulling up sweet potatoes.
“Please, take these with you.”
Sweet potatoes I'd set aside for my family—five, maybe six of them? I tucked them into a paper bag and handed it over, and Park Byung-gyu's face flooded with emotion.
“Y-you're giving me all of these?”
“Of course. You've had a rough day.”
Digging sweet potatoes he'd never done in his life, driving my whole family back and forth in his car—his business suit, worn for what was supposed to be a field visit, was caked head to toe in dirt. It was only right to see him off with something, I figured.
“Ahem—thank you. Still, I'll be using one of these for the safety analysis, if you don't mind.”
“Oh, getting that done early would be a big help. Of course.”
And so, after seeing me off at length, Park Byung-gyu climbed into his car and dialed someone from the road.
“Yes, I have a crop I'd like to commission a compositional analysis on.”
His lifelong motto: handle every task as fast as humanly possible. This sweet potato, too, stood ready to be processed faster than anyone else's, transformed into a golden goose that would rake in staggering profits.
“Branch Head. The registered mail is here.”
“Oh. Finally.”
By cashing in every favor he had, Park Byung-gyu had gotten his hands on the analysis report in just half a day. Half excited, half anxious, he tore open the envelope.
Compositional Analysis Results
—— No anomalies detected. ——
Judged equivalent to a standard sweet potato.
Yes!
No safety issues meant no obstacles to sales.
…Wait. Was this actually good news? Because it also meant the commission was locked in at ten percent. Park Byung-gyu let out a sigh that was somehow both miserable and happy, then turned to the contract.
One signature, and tomorrow the promotion would begin at Songgye Han-Gae-Ro Mart—and beyond that, dreams of distribution to branches across the whole country. He found the retail clerk in the office and handed over the paperwork with his instructions.
“Assistant Manager Lee, remember that promotion I mentioned to you earlier? We're moving forward with it, so please get it processed.”
“Ah—yes, right away, sir!”
And so, after lightning-fast processing and a hastily planned event, it was the next day at Songgye Han-Gae-Ro Mart.
“Come and try it! A brand-new variety of sweet potato—one bite of this little fellow and every ache of a long day just melts away!”
At the cheeky sales pitch, people plucked up little pieces of sweet potato, one by one, and ate. And immediately—
“What… what is this?”
“Oh my goodness, this is insane.”
“Ma'am, how much is this?”
One bite was game over. Ten out of ten—a hundred out of a hundred—nearly everyone who tasted it reached for the sweet potatoes. The price tag? Nobody cared. A moment later, an employee shouted urgently:
“The event sale has ended! Full sales begin tomorrow! New variety—Muscle Strengthening Sweet Potatoes—thank you for your interest!!”
The small-scale sale sold out in an instant. Those who had tasted but couldn't buy scrambled for their phones, fingers flying.
'Nonghyup muscle sweet potato—what is it really?'
'The sweet potato that gives you strength'
'Songgye Nonghyup sweet potato'
The rumor spread like wildfire across social media. And then came the first day of full sales.
“…They're reporting a complete sellout. Every last one.”
A blissful scream from Park Byung-gyu, head of the Songgye Nonghyup, rang through the office as he read the business report.
“A big one—we've hooked a whopper!!”