Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Long-Term Contracts and Nuclear Chicken Feet
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“Wow~. It was incredible. The moment it happened, his eyes completely changed, and he said, ‘This will give you the strength to endure the winter~.’”
Kang Yuha scratched her neck with a groan, letting out an exclamation of admiration.
“Aren’t you hyping it up a bit too much?”
This person was exaggerating. It was just that he’d chatted well with the village elders, making the negotiations go smoothly. Why was she turning it into some heroic tale?
“How ingratiating he was with the elders—you wouldn’t believe how many grandmas today said they’d introduce him to their sons or grandsons.”
“That’s just basic business sense.”
“You’re amazing.”
Kang Yuha spun around dramatically as she spoke. She sure talked a lot.
“Most people who say they’re in ‘business’ act all stiff, like they’ve got a neck brace on. They think bowing their head even once is a big deal.”
I’d seen plenty of people like that. Countless, in fact.
Even among franchise owners. After opening three or four stores, they’d start strutting around and looking down on customers.
But that doesn’t last long.
Business is all about relationships, first and foremost. If you ruin the basic relationship with your customers, what kind of business are you even running?
‘...That sounds too much like an old-timer’s lecture?’
Ahem. I swallowed the words and double-checked them inwardly. No matter the outward appearance, with decades of business experience inside, I’d almost let slip plenty of age-inappropriate advice.
“But you, Reporter Kang—you managed to butter up the village head and secure a place to stay.”
“Ha ha. That’s the least I can do. I can’t burden President Song with everything. Luckily, the head mentioned an empty storage room, so I can crash there tonight.”
Kang Yuha grinned, adding that growing up with her grandparents had made her good at this sort of thing.
“Don’t leave without me when you head out tomorrow.... I don’t even know the bus schedule!”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to take you along.”
“Thank you.”
Kang Yuha let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. Being a reporter, she was great at getting along with people.
“But hey, can I ask you a few questions?”
“Depends on the questions.”
“No need to worry. It’s just personal curiosity.”
Well, as long as she wasn’t out to pick a fight with me, she wouldn’t break her promise and run a story right away. I gestured for her to go ahead.
Emboldened, Kang Yuha launched into a torrent of chatter.
“About that ‘long-term contract’ thing. It sounds like such a great deal from what I’ve heard. Do other franchise operations use similar methods? I’m pretty clueless about running a company.”
Ah, that was what piqued her interest.
Makes sense. Anyone would think the same. If it’s such a good method, why isn’t everyone doing it to get cheap supplies?
“Long-term contracts definitely have a lot of advantages. But there’s one fatal flaw.”
“A flaw...?”
“It only works under the assumption that the number of franchises stays constant.”
“Ah!”
Kang Yuha let out an exclamation laced with realization.
That’s the trap of long-term contracts.
“Exactly! You promise to buy in bulk for ten years, but if the number of franchises drops in the meantime, headquarters has to shoulder all the excess inventory.”
“Spot on. That’s why it’s a risky choice unless you’re confident you can keep the franchise count stable.”
Everything has its pros and cons. Even long-term contracts can’t be all upside.
“It sounded like you were buying in pretty large quantities.”
“We’re taking everything produced in this village.”
The village head’s smile had been so wide I thought his ears would split.
“All of... this?!”
Kang Yuha’s jaw dropped as she asked. That’s because vast fields and paddies stretched out on both sides of the road where we walked side by side.
A flat plain extended all the way to the mountain ridge, growing all sorts of crops. Those up ahead were onions, and over there, potatoes.
I could tell just from the leaf shapes.
“Even so, is that okay? From what I know, The Song doesn’t have that many official franchises yet.”
“For now.”
But I was confident.
“By the time these are harvested, we’ll need the whole village’s output and then some.”
Kang Yuha stared blankly as I pointed at the fields ahead.
“...You’re certain. Certain it’ll happen that way.”
“Of course.”
“Amazing. A salaried worker like me could never... never have that kind of guts.”
Kang Yuha swallowed hard as she spoke.
“Right? It’s a business just getting started, no one knows what’ll happen, but you’re seeing one step ahead, betting big on massive growth....”
Ordinary people might not get it. But to me, it felt like following a perfectly natural sequence of events.
Walking a path you’ve already tread once before—that’s what it means.
Kang Yuha pondered deeply for a moment before asking cautiously.
“But... if long-term contracts have those gains and risks, wouldn’t it be better to go with the usual approach others use? Confidence is great, but maybe long-term deals call for more caution?”
“Well, there are various reasons, but a big part is to increase our liquid cash flow.”
“Hoo. Is that so?”
I turned the question back on Kang Yuha.
“How does a franchise headquarters make money?”
“Huh? Um, I’m not sure, but probably takes a cut as a brand fee or something, and...”
“Consulting, interiors, and material supply. Those three are the main revenue streams for headquarters.”
That’s the usual flow.
“Of those, material supply is actually the juiciest regular income source. Up until now, our scale was small, so we’ve basically given it up, but don’t we need to start cashing in now?”
That’s probably what Choi Yeohae meant by pointing out a ‘revenue source.’
For now, the priority has been helping franchises establish themselves, even if it means trimming headquarters’ profits.
But we’ve passed the tender sprout stage. Time for headquarters to build its own profit structure.
Kang Yuha nodded, seeming to grasp it.
“Just one more thing I’d like to ask. Why this village, of all places?”
Kang Yuha pulled a notebook from her pocket and scribbled furiously with her pen.
In no time, our casual strolling companion had vanished, replaced by Reporter Kang, eyes locked on her subject.
I tossed out a curt reply without explanation.
“There’s nowhere else.”
“...?”
I chuckled and swallowed the rest. No point explaining—she wouldn’t get it anyway, and it might just complicate things later.
Why here, of all places? Because...
‘Next summer’s record-breaking downpour will ruin most farms’ crops.’
But Jihyang Township here dodged the worst of it.
The elevation was high enough to avoid flood damage from swollen rivers, and the monsoon front had veered just slightly off, keeping crop losses relatively low.
‘Before the regression, crop prices skyrocketed around this time, giving me endless headaches.’
Buying from supermarkets just wasn’t viable with our already slim margins. So I’d gone straight to farms, hoping for better deals, only to find transaction partners.
But with the poor harvest, most refused, saying they didn’t even have enough for their regular buyers.
‘The place I found after asking around was right here.’
No connections, an outsider—nearly got chased out of the village. The rain cut the buses too, so I hunkered down for days, winning over the locals bit by bit until the deal went through.
‘High quality, cheap prices, and relatively steady production.’
The best farm option I had.
So, to brace for the impending crop price surge, contracting with ‘this place’ ‘right now’ was the right call.
‘But I can’t say that. Can’t prophesy rain that hasn’t even fallen yet.’
I flashed a bright smile and quickened my pace.
“Let’s go. The sun’s almost set. No streetlights around here.”
“Huh? ...Wait, what do you mean nowhere else?!”
“Hurry up~.”
I changed the subject without answering and kept walking. Even as Kang Yuha pressed for reasons, I gave no special reply.
Ding!
- Song Uyeon: Jo Team Leader, want to come try the new menu?
Jo Iruk set aside the stack of documents he’d been reviewing and picked up his phone. These days, a message from Song Uyeon was starting to scare him a little.
He always handled things on his own whim, and the results were so outstanding it was hard to complain. But that left Jo Iruk sweating bullets over the sudden curveballs.
Tap, tap.
[I’ll be right there.]
He sent a curt reply and stood up. Happiness Snacks, run by Han Miae, wasn’t far.
He remembered Song Uyeon saying he’d gone there to develop a new menu.
‘A new menu, huh...’
Still, this request was pretty tame. For some reason, this young president whipped up any dish with ease.
‘Was it the gukbap or spicy chicken feet that came from President Song’s recipes?’
The thought made saliva pool in his mouth at the anticipation.
He drove over in a flash, and Song Uyeon greeted him with a beaming smile.
“Here you go!”
What he served was chicken feet slathered in an intense red sauce. The spicy aroma wafting from it was striking.
The vivid, mouthwatering look alone made his salivary glands kick in—but dread welled up too.
Jo Iruk glanced at Song Uyeon’s expression. The man smiled innocently, without a hint of mischief. Jo Iruk finally picked up his chopsticks gingerly and shoved a piece of sauce-drenched chicken foot into his mouth.
And then...
“Ssssp!”
A tongue-searing spiciness!
He couldn’t help but gulp down water, tears welling in his eyes.
“It’s too spicy!”
Jo Iruk practically whimpered. Song Uyeon replied as if he’d been waiting.
“That’s exactly it!”
“Huh?”
“That’s what I was going for.”
Song Uyeon grinned.
“Let’s call it... ‘Nuclear Chicken Feet’ for now?”