The Power of Words

After returning to Berkeley, we spent a busy but warm end of the year.

The LA charity event had been a resounding success. It was broadcast on TV for fundraising, and my scene holding up the bokbunja wine while talking became quite the hot topic.

Thanks to that, I was bombarded with questions from the male bosses around me asking where they could get some bokbunja. No matter the country, men's seriousness about virility seems to be universal.

I asked Dong-hyun, who had come over to our house for the first time in a while.

"How'd it go?"

"Don't ask. I tried turkey for the first time in my life."

The turkey dish eaten at Christmas or Thanksgiving. He must have been treated to a huge feast at his girlfriend's place.

Actually, since Dong-hyun spent so much time at the shop, he and Sarah were already familiar as a regular customer and cafe owner.

But suddenly meeting again as her daughter's boyfriend must have been incredibly awkward and embarrassing.

You should be grateful you even have a mother-in-law. They say a mother-in-law's love for her son-in-law is the best.

Then Lily, munching on fruit nearby, suddenly chimed in.

"Dong-hyun! So when are you getting married?"

"Pardon?"

Unlike Dong-hyun's bewildered expression, Lily's eyes were dead serious.

Since Lily and I had skipped dating and gone straight to marriage, she probably thought everyone who met did the same and got married.

Lily was still stuck to my side like a piece of gum.

"Uh... um. Lily. You date first, see if you click, make up your mind, then you get married."

Lily tilted her head at Dong-hyun's words.

"Why? If you're not gonna marry, why meet?"

A pure, innocent question. To Lily, who had no concept of dating, meetings without marriage in mind just didn't compute.

"Well... you're looking for a lifelong partner, so you gotta be careful."

Dong-hyun glared at me as he added,

"You guys got married way too fast! That's not normal!"

He had a point.

"Really, honey? Are we the weird ones?"

Lily looked up at me, shocked. I chuckled and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stroked her head.

"I knew the moment I saw you. But usually, people take it slow like Dong-hyun says, get to know each other, then marry."

"Oh?"

Lily nodded as if convinced, then turned back to Dong-hyun.

"Dong-hyun! Marriage is so great~ Why drag it out? Do it quick!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll handle it."

Dong-hyun shook his head with a fed-up look.

Lily and Dong-hyun must have gotten pretty close. That's why she could ask so bluntly and joke around like that.

Dong-hyun slurped his tea and changed the subject.

"Anyway, when are we updating the menu?"

"Hmm... not sure."

"Got the recipes?"

"Yeah."

Seasonal ingredients were tricky to source, and menus needed periodic refreshes for sides and mains.

"Talk to HQ first, check procurement reports, then decide."

"Sounds good."

Dong-hyun nodded.

"Next year'll be busy, right?"

"Company's growing, so yeah."

It hadn't even been a year since founding, but Mark Chairman's massive investment had ballooned our size.

And we had a deal with Mark Chairman.

'3 years.'

No dividends for three years—all profits minus labor costs reinvested in facilities.

Smooth ingredient supply was key for expanding catering or branches, but building infrastructure took longer than expected.

"Gotta take it slow. Eat too fast, you'll choke."

I set down my teacup. Next year looked busier than this one.

Surprisingly, Ji-hoon's Bapsang Flagship Store wasn't under Hansang Corp.

It was purely his personal business. Ingredients were formally ordered from Hansang HQ.

Honestly, Ji-hoon started the company more for self-realization than money.

Spreading delicious Korean food worldwide, just as he'd dreamed.

One step at a time toward that goal.

The deal with Mark Chairman was simple: '3 years.'

No dividends to shareholders for three years— all profits minus labor costs into 'facility investments.'

Tax issues were huge. Realizing immediate profits meant massive taxes; reinvesting grew the company with benefits long-term.

Ji-hoon lived lavishly off the flagship alone, and Mark was drowning in wealth anyway.

Both eyed the future over quick cash.

Bapsang's popularity soared daily.

Simple reason: scarcity.

Hype outpaced supply—just California spots. Catering limited to Berkeley schools.

Tiny scale for the buzz. US catering cartels and chains ignored it.

'Just a local eatery.'

Their fatal miscalculation.

Quietly building foundations now. Once farms and logistics were ready...

They'd regret it bitterly.

New Year dawned before they knew it.

Last year, Ji-hoon had been insanely busy: met and married Lily, survived terror attacks to become a hero, founded the company, ended nagging lawsuits.

Truly tumultuous.

But Bapsang Flagship's routine stayed the same. Crowds came; Ji-hoon mingled and ran the place.

His sole worry lately: 'How to spend more time with Lily?'

Honeymoon phase burned hot, but he never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tired of her company.

So he'd vented to Mark Chairman during his California year-end visit.

True billionaire advice helped.

Mark's four tips:

First, build a team of top talent.

Second, buy time with money.

Third, set deadlines and push.

Fourth, show with actions, not words.

Once money hit critical mass, buy time via people and cash.

Delegate to free up time. More talent meant less hands-on for Ji-hoon.

"Ah~ Don't wanna work. Wanna roll around in bed intensely!"

"You're fucking insane."

Dong-hyun, basking outside post-prep, eyed Ji-hoon like a lunatic.

"Dong-hyun."

"Yeah?"

"Hire another manager?"

"Why? It's running fine."

Dong-hyun looked puzzled at the sudden suggestion.

"This year'll get crazy; I might not make it in. You need days off too. Anyone reliable?"

"Plenty of people. Language barrier's the issue."

Yeah.

High barrier. Managers needed fluent English for locals.

Cash handling, oversight—referrals safest, but tricky.

"Ugh, whatever. Worst case, hire an American."

Then—

"Honey~!"

As they chatted blankly, Rossi appeared from across with two coffees. She often brought them like this.

"Rossi, morning~"

"Hoon, morning~"

After greetings, she sidled to Dong-hyun for a quick peck.

Mwah.

Morning girlfriend boost left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dong-hyun beaming.

"Ahh... miss Lily."

Ji-hoon shooed them to have time alone and headed inside.

Need to staff up fast, he resolved again.

A bizarre new term popped up in Korea: 'Youth on Break.'

Not in the job market, no job hunting or training.

Plain 'unemployed.'

Why invent such nonsense?

Korean bureaucrats' specialty: wasting tax money repackaging words.

By that logic, low birthrate's 'women not breeding,' orphanages 'kids no one wants'?

Wordplay has limits.

Korea's job crisis was historic. Top education, elite degrees—still nowhere to go. Even factory jobs like stars in the sky.

They wrecked the market, then blamed 20s-30s men.

Dubbed 'Youth on Break.'

Words wield terrifying power.

Sneaky brainwashing tools shifting thoughts and actions.

'Job crisis, domestic collapse' imply systemic failure.

But 'Youth on Break'? Blames lazy, full-bellied youths slacking off.

Sly framing.

Furious Stock Gallery. One term ignited it.

Gender wars peaked; now generational clashes cornered 2030 men.

Then, a post rocked the whole gallery.

Poster: DoomedYouth

It was Ji-hoon.

Short and punchy.

Impact beyond imagination.

Ji-hoon's mind already sketched a massive project.

'Need manpower? Make it myself.'

Korea's discarded 'Youth on Break'—diamonds in his eyes.

He tapped out the next post slowly.

Military preference: respect for enduring 2 years of group life. Valued surviving newbie barracks under strict control.

Not for nothing companies favored vets.

English speakers: needed hordes to root Bapsang in all 50 states, talking to locals.

Lacking? Factories or farms were repetitive—no English required. Basic survival English minimum.

They'd pick it up living there anyway.

Korea's 2030 men learned English since elementary—not total illiterates.

Unique skills: special tech fits, etc. Resumes would tell.

Curious if any would catch Ji-hoon's eye.

Simple conditions.

Jobless rage at country, chanting 'leave Korea'—but acting? Tough.

Strange land, no sure job: end up like Aussie farm-hoppers returning broke.

Now, a lifeline dangled.

Guaranteed by 'Kim Ji-hoon,' American success myth.

A chance. Shed 'Youth on Break' helltag, soar to American Dream.

Ji-hoon couldn't imagine his post shaking Korea's youth society to the core.

Stock Gallery spilled over; all communities buzzed.

English academies and study abroad agencies flooded with sudden inquiries.

Korea's unprecedented youth exodus curtain rose.