You Said You'd Make an Effort!

"You said you'd make an effort!"

Years later, economists and historians would all agree on one thing.

The decisive trigger that propelled the giant food company Hansang into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a quantum leap as a global powerhouse?

Ironically, it was California's worst flu outbreak ever.

Ku-ru-ru-rung—!

The ground-shaking roar of heavy machinery.

Near Bakerville, the groundbreaking ceremony for the second food production complex was underway on a vast 500,000-pyeong site provided by the state government.

"One, two, three!"

The moment we scooped up the earth with golden shovels, hundreds of camera flashes exploded.

Me. Governor Christopher.

John, the CEO running Hansang's operations. And Mark Chairman, our major shareholder and rock-solid backer.

We stood side by side, feet planted firmly in California's soil.

With contracts signed with a major American construction firm, the overwhelming sight of the land being plowed all the way to the horizon unfolded before us.

This wasn't just about building a few factories.

In America's land of consumption, a food production hub of this scale would cover not only California but spill over to other states.

"Hahaha! Looking forward to working with you, Mr. Kim."

As the event wrapped up, Governor Christopher extended a hand with a beaming smile.

I slipped off my dirt-caked gloves and gripped his hand firmly.

"Yes, Governor. I won't let you down—not after the faith you've shown in us."

"I expect great things. A healthier California, courtesy of you."

As we shook hands, business and political leaders around us applauded, while reporters scrambled for the front-page photo that would grace tomorrow's papers.

Soon, the fresh ingredients produced here would fan out to small bento factories in local areas, school lunches, and restaurants near government offices.

"Uhahaha! A day like this calls for a party!"

That evening after the groundbreaking, Mark Chairman—grinning ear to ear for reasons only he knew fully—threw a bash.

He'd rented out the finest restaurant nearby in its entirety.

Champagne glasses clinked endlessly, laughter filling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the air.

"Hoon! Get over here and have a drink!"

Mark Chairman slapped my back with a flushed, tipsy face.

"Investing in you was the best decision of my life! Uhahaha!"

He had every reason to be thrilled.

When he'd poured in 300 billion won early on, people must have called him crazy. But now, Hansang's valuation had skyrocketed to astronomical heights beyond comparison.

He probably felt like he was holding hundreds of jackpot lotto tickets.

I accepted the champagne and tossed in a pointed joke.

"Chairman, I'm glad you're happy, but don't forget our deal? All import profits reinvested into facilities for three years."

The bigger the company grew, the more money it devoured.

But Mark Chairman waved it off with a hearty laugh.

"Uhahaha! Don't worry! Just tell me if you need more—any amount!"

He threw an arm around my shoulders, eyes gleaming.

"If cash is tight, I'll sell a Manhattan building ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and reinvest! I trust you, Hoon!"

"......Thank you."

Reassuring as hell.

Having a big-money brother like him backing me up made everything feel so much easier.

Truth be told, for all my status as company owner, my personal bank account was still modest.

All profits from the business went straight back into reinvestment and expansion—no dividends yet.

My income came from the original Bapsang flagship... and Lily's allowance.

That's right.

I was a husband living off pocket money.

Lily's YouTube channel raked in surprisingly sweet revenue.

Her videos on fashion, beauty, and sweet newlywed life exploded with views every upload, ad earnings easily surpassing the flagship's net profit.

A hotshot CEO out-earned by his wife at home.

But hey, so what?

If your wife's got the skills, you win too.

A man's dream has always been to be the cameraman.

California is a massive landmass four times the size of South Korea.

A restaurant chain with 50 branches nationwide in Korea? Here in vast America, it barely registered.

California's territory was huge, but its population hovered around 39 million.

About 15 million fewer than all of Korea, yet its consumer spending power was on another level.

As the company ballooned, we became VVIP clients of major U.S. construction firms.

New stores broke ground overnight; we expanded branches like mad.

Hiring surged exponentially too.

Governor Christopher's one initial worry?

'Korean workers sending every dollar they earn in California back home.'

National wealth outflow, in other words.

But at the negotiation table, I stated confidently:

"No need to worry. Even our existing branches stick strictly to a 3:7 ratio—three Korean staff to seven locals."

Assured of local job creation, the governor grinned from ear to ear.

Once the second food base was complete and logistics blanketed the state, we projected 1,000 branches.

Not nationwide—just within California.

As Bapsang multiplied, I was stretched thinner than ever, ten bodies wouldn't cut it.

"Uwaaa! Auntie! Four meju blocks per crock, I said!!!"

I bellowed in a shrill voice.

Auntie had skimped with just three and was about to pour in the brine—I unleashed my "scolding glare."

"Aigoo, sorry, Boss Kim! Got lost in thought for a sec!"

She sheepishly grabbed an extra meju lump and crammed it in.

This was my massive sauce production base supplying all of Bapsang's soy, doenjang, and gochujang. Jangmadang.

Endless rows of crocks stretching into the distance.

Basking in California's warm sun, tens of thousands of earthenware jars breathed, fermenting deliciously.

Far bigger than my humble start—dozens of times the scale.

Staff buzzed everywhere.

Groups washing and straining well-raised meju, adjusting brine salinity, adding charcoal and peppers to brew the sauces.

I could barely walk through; I zipped around on a golf cart.

Pop-pop-pop-pop—

The cart weaved like a maze through the narrow paths between crocks.

I stopped here and there, prying open lids of long-fermenting jars.

Pok.

Dipped a finger in the deep brown soy sauce for a taste.

"Mmm~ Perfectly aged."

Rich, profound flavor. A pass.

Fermented sauces shipped out daily from here loaded onto massive trucks, distributing to branches everywhere.

Emptied crocks went straight to the cleaning team for the endless rotation of refilling.

Every two weeks, I made time to inspect quality personally.

Sauces needed time to mature, but without the boss's watchful eye, flavors could go off.

But...

"Hmm... Should I ask hyung to send some people?"

I muttered, gazing at the endless sea of crocks.

Scale demanded not just recipe followers, but true sauce experts.

Hyung, raised making sauces in Korea, might know reliable folks.

Managing this alone was nearing impossible.

Time to SOS my brother.

Back home, I sank into the sofa.

Grabbed the tablet PC on the table.

10 a.m. Korea time.

Perfect moment for hyung to be sipping tea leisurely.

"Whew... Please let this work."

With grim determination, I hit the video call button.

Ring-ring— ring-ring—

Before many rings, the screen lit up.

The screen filled with the familiar tiled hanok floor, rows of crocks behind, and hyung's stoic but pleased face.

"Hyung! Doing well? How's Dad and Mom?"

"Oh, you know... hanging in there. How about you? Work manageable?"

Jackpot.

I cheered inwardly and laid the groundwork.

"Oh yeah? Lots of eager learners?"

"Hyung, then... um..."

I paused dramatically, mustering my most pitiful, desperate face before dropping the bomb.

"Could you send a few of those sharp ones to America?"

Hyung's eyebrow twitched.

"No, see, my sauce factory here's exploded in size. Can't handle it alone. Kids trained under Dad? I could trust them. Pay won't be stingy."

My bold pitch.

But hyung just scoffed.

"Come on, hyung! America experience is gold! I'll handle visas, everything!"

"Me?"

Hyung was firm.

He had a point.

But my situation?

Stores jumping from 50 to 1,000, state contracts binding me—ten mes wouldn't suffice.

I started whining.

"Agh, hyung!! Help me out just once!"

I clasped my hands in plea at the screen.

"I'm dying here! Stores hitting over 1,000, me carting around tasting soy—I'll drop from high blood pressure!"

Even hyung looked shocked at the number.

"Just two from your crew! One even! Please!"

"Uwaaaang."

Hyung wouldn't budge.

"Whew... Didn't wanna pull this card."

Time for the ace.

I tilted the screen, shoving in Lily—who'd been eavesdropping with perked ears.

"Uncle!"

Lily popped into frame; hyung's eyes went wide.

Hyung's stoic face melted instantly.

"Heehee, doing well? Looking even handsomer~"

Hyung coughed awkwardly, lips twitching up.

Sure enough, weak to Lily.

I cheered silently.

Lily pressed the attack.

"Uncle~ Can't you help just once? Hubby's face is so~ hard to see lately!"

Not entirely true.

No matter how busy, I made time for meals, walks, weekend dates.

But Lily saw my plight and fired support.

Hyung scratched his head, flustered.

But Lily didn't let up.

"Hweung~ Uncle, pretty please!"

Hyung squirmed at her pleading pout.

He was wavering.

Then Lily landed the killer blow.

"Uncle! Can't see hubby's face much—means no time to make nieces or nephews!"

"Huh?"

Nephews out of nowhere?

Lily cupped her flushed cheeks shyly.

"We gotta have kids soon, right? We'll try hard! Promise pretty nieces and nephews!"

Hyung was speechless at the bombshell.

He stared into space, sighed deeply.

Surrender.

"Heehee, yes! That's plenty—thank you!"

Lily waved cheerfully, beaming.

The unbeatable hyung, defeated by Lily's charm and nephew bait.

I swung the screen back.

"Hyung, thanks!"

Hyung tsked in annoyance and ended the call.

Click.

Screen went black.

"Heehee, success!"

Lily flashed a V-sign with a grin.

I couldn't help but marvel.

"But what was that nephew talk? Just to sway hyung?"

"Huh? Dead serious."

"Eh?"

Lily blinked wide-eyed at me.

"Married over two years now—time for kids! Want a daughter like me, son like you."

"Ah..."

"Heehee, step it up, hubby."

Her eyes sparkled.

We'd skipped birth control since the honeymoon, but no news yet.

Just not the right time?

I nodded at her earnest face.

"Got it. I'll try harder."

"Heehee, good. Go wash up."

"Huh? Wash up?"

I blinked at the curveball.

Lily said casually:

"You said you'd make an effort?"

Her bold demand drew a helpless chuckle.

"C... Can it wait? I'm beat right now..."

Her face soured instantly.

Lips pursed, she glared.

"You said you'd make an effort!"

"Ah."