The Idea That Was Stolen
Tonight’s dinner menu was nothing but home-cooked food, every dish carrying the warmth of my mother’s hands.
Because it had been ages since the three of us sat down together, the side dishes on the table looked every bit as colorful as a holiday feast.
Sofegori, jjabchae, sundae, galbi, the sashimi my father had filleted himself, a thick, fiery yellowtail soup, a rich seaweed broth simmered from the bone, and—my absolute favorite—kimchi pancake.
“Your favorite things again, huh, oppa?”
“There’s something you like too, mom.”
Mother slid the entire chicken breast salad straight in front of my little brother.
A colorful pile of vegetables on the bottom, perfectly cooked and drained of fat, topped with a bright, sweet-sour sauce of lemon and yuzu.
It was precisely the kind of meal that would please my brother’s picky stomach.
“Hehe. Mom’s lemon-yuzu sauce is legendary.”
“I made extra, so bring some when you go to Seoul and don’t forget to pack it.”
“Neung-neung!”
I still couldn’t believe how this little brother grew to be so tall on nothing but home-cooked food.
Dad’s genes must be something else.
It had been a proper family dinner for the first time in ages.
Eating out at fancy restaurants every day was fine, but nothing beat sharing a meal with the people you love.
After we finished eating, we sipped coffee and talked about everything and nothing.
“You’re going to America?”
“When?”
“Next Thursday.”
“By yourself?”
“I was planning to, but oppa said he’d go with me.”
“Really? Good for you.”
Mom had clearly been worried about sending my brother alone overseas; hearing that I was going too eased her mind.
“If your schedule isn’t too packed, would you like to come with us?”
“With us?”
“Yes. It’s been so long since the family traveled together. I saw on the news that a 250,000-ton cruise ship recently set sail from Miami. Five times the size of the Titanic, or something like that?”
The moment the ship story came up, Dad’s eyes lit up with genuine interest.
He’d spent half his life on the open sea, yet he still carried the old sailor’s heart.
“Ah! I saw that one too. Star of the Seas, was it? Our airline packages sold like crazy. The new ship looks amazing.”
“We’d love to join, but… won’t it just get in the way of your work?”
“It’s fine. Nothing that takes long. It’s built with so much money, we might as well take this chance to see it up close and come home. Mom’s always been dying to ride a cruise ship.”
Mom hesitated, but my brother jumped in with perfect timing.
“Oppaaaa, can I come too?”
“Of course. You’re the guide. What if you get left out?”
“Yay! Mom, let’s all go together. Huh?”
Mom’s eyes flicked toward Dad as my brother egged her on.
“If that’s what you want, then go. And you?”
“Me? Of course I’ll come along. Someone has to keep an eye on you two so you don’t trip and break a hip.”
Dad was clearly interested too.
Pretending he wasn’t felt secretly adorable.
“All right, three reservations. Minkyung, help me check Mom and Dad’s passports.”
“Neung-neung.”
“And you?”
“I’ll handle my work and head straight back. I only get one day off.”
I’d originally planned to send my brother alone, but he kept throwing up the argument that if I sent him instead, it would be even more expensive. With the auction deadline on the weekend, I had no choice but to agree.
I was curious about the American-style auction anyway.
On the way, I’d finish selecting the interior company and the property management firm before coming home.
While Mom and Minkyung bubbled with excitement, a quiet voice from my phone broke the silence.
[Mr. Kang Taewoong, it’s time for your medication after lunch.]
[Mr. Kang Taewoong, it’s time for your medication after lunch.]
[Mr. Kang Taewoong, it’s time for your medication after lunch.]
“Oh, it’s already that time? Honey, I need my pills.”
Mom disappeared into the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and pressed the button on the dispenser beside the water purifier.
“No pill coming out. Minhyuk, how do I make this work?”
I’d completely forgotten to tell her!
PharmCare’s smart pill dispenser requires the user themselves to scan their own ID to activate it for medication reminders.
“Dad needs to scan his own ID.”
Dad’s face immediately fell.
It was supposed to be a gift, but I could tell he hated the thought of it.
“It’ll feel normal once you get used to it.”
“Yeah…”
I probably needed to add a guardian mode too.
Especially for elderly people who couldn’t easily keep track of their own pills.
Dad scanned his ID.
A single pill dropped neatly into the little plastic tray.
“At least it comes out exactly like it’s supposed to.”
I’d better run consumer tests before the product launch.
There was still a long road ahead.
***
I hadn’t slept a wink all night.
Every time I closed my eyes, new ways to improve the pill dispenser kept popping into my head.
I wrote every flaw on a tiny notebook, word by microscopic word. By the time I finished, it was over five pages.
I read the list over and over, weighing options.
Should I cancel the acquisition?
Conceptually, the product was brilliant.
But from a practical standpoint, it was murky.
The same problem would arise even if we targeted a different age group.
“Counting pills isn’t that hard.”
The very features I’d once praised now felt like an insurmountable wall.
I went back to the beginning.
Why had I ever cared about this business in the first place?
At first it was simple.
A tool to make Han Se-ah’s failure stand out even more.
Nothing more, nothing less.
But at some point, emotion crept into my judgment.
Was it because of the future I’d seen on TV with Oh Seong-jin?
No. Not that.
It started the day I realized Lee Jung-wan had directly destroyed Kim Jun-seok’s marriage by sleeping with his wife and watching him fall apart.
That was when the smart pill dispenser became important to me.
It was the perfect chance to send both Han Se-ah and Lee Jung-wan straight to hell.
Then Oh Seong-jin’s tragic story added fuel to the emotional fire.
Business should never be swayed by feelings.
Of course, there are failures in business, but when they pile up, that’s when you hit a wall.
I didn’t want to start Zeroes Group with a failure.
My heart was slowly leaning toward scrapping the acquisition.
More accurately, scrapping the commercialization after acquisition.
“If only TV could show me the future right now, I’d have more confidence in my decision.”
The thought barely left my lips before a whirlwind appeared on the screen and a message popped up.
[Are you adapting well to your new life?]
“Wha—?! How?!”
The message answered me.
[The medium doesn’t matter. The important thing is that I can reach you exactly when you need me.]
“Ah, so… can I use my phone too?”
[Correct! You wanted to see the future, right?]
“Yeah. Can I also see the future for the exact time and target I choose?”
[Unfortunately, that isn’t possible. This service is designed to show only select future moments once you reach a major life branching point.]
A game? In real life?
How would I know when I’d be in what situation?
[Still, you can accelerate the branching point.]
“Accelerate the branching point? What does that mean?”
[It means you can reach the next branching point sooner than scheduled, depending on your efforts.]
“So I can know exactly when the next one is?”
[Of course. The next branching point is]
The message paused, then changed.
[Confirmation of Lee Jung-wan’s corruption plan.]
“Corruption?”
Pop.
The black-and-white whirlwind vanished.
Corruption?
I’d never even considered that.
I’d just assumed he wanted to climb the ranks by kissing up to his boss.
So was he planning to build corruption through this pill dispenser?
How?
‘There must be something I’m missing.’
I flipped back through my notebook to the notes I’d written while watching the TV video.
The date jumped out at me.
“January 2025?”
In the video of the stranger’s misfortune I’d seen on TV, Oh Seong-jin had recognized Iljin Group’s Healthy only in January of next year.
The desk calendar I’d copied from clearly showed January 2025, so it had to be right.
“Definitely. Both Oh Seong-jin and Oh Seung-won were wearing winter clothes. But Iljin Group only just approved the business last Thursday. How could they launch Healthy in January?”
The approval had come just last Thursday.
No matter how advanced Iljin Group’s manufacturing was, from concept to design it would take at least six months.
Unless they were buying the product outright and reselling it, January launch was impossible.
“But there is one way.”
Buy a similar product, add a few upgraded functions, and swap the case.
Repackaging.
Normally, a product with good core performance but outdated packaging might see sales drop. Companies sometimes do repackaging to improve consumer perception.
But as far as I’d researched, nothing like this existed in Korea.
That was because PharmCare’s pill dispenser was patented.
Patent—something the law protects to let the inventor monopolize their invention for a set period.
If someone copied it and the patent was discovered, the product would be confiscated and the company forced to withdraw.
Who in their right mind…
“Ah…”
Thinking about it, there was a country where people were crazy enough to do this.
China—the land of knockoffs.
‘I’ll have to dig through their shopping malls.’
***
“Hmm…”
In the dead of night, Kang Taewoong paced in front of his son’s bedroom, then finally returned to his own.
When his wife heard him tossing and turning, she woke up.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“I didn’t say a single word all evening.”
“What?”
“About the daughter-in-law.”
“What?”
“She’s so slow. Minkyung didn’t say a word about the daughter-in-law all evening.”
“……Oh my.”
Yoon-hee shot up in bed, startled.
“D-Don’t tell me something happened?”
“I think it’s already happened. Minkyung seems to know too.”
“Wait, why didn’t you tell me? Is Minhyuk asleep?”
Yoon-hee tried to get up, but Taewoong blocked her path.
“Just pretend you don’t know. He’ll be the one suffering the most.”
“But…”
“It’s fine. When the time comes, he’ll say something. A paper cut hurts for days, but how much worse must his heart be?”
“Ah…”
Yoon-hee lay back down, turning away from her husband.
“Actually, I’m glad. Honestly, I’m glad you didn’t say anything. I never liked that marriage. In this day and age, taking a trip overseas isn’t even a big deal.”
“……”
“Less household worry, and your face looks brighter and more energetic. It suits you. So stop worrying and go to sleep.”
Taewoong had thought the same.
Sometimes overdoing concern was poison.
He’d simply pray his son’s wounds healed quickly.
***
“Found it!”
After searching Chinese shopping malls and websites all night, I finally located it.
A product that looked exactly like PharmCare’s pill dispenser.
It was being sold in China by the same contract manufacturer that Oh Seong-jin had hired.
As soon as the sun rose, I texted him.
— CEO, did you subcontract the production to a Chinese factory?
A reply came at 7 a.m.
— No. It’s a domestic company.
A domestic company?
Then how was a product identical to ours being sold in China?
Did they just look at the exterior and mistake it for a knockoff?
My eyes narrowed in suspicion.
— Is the company you’re talking about the one you personally found?
— No. I was introduced.
‘Introduced? Did the person who introduced it…’
Before I could finish the thought, a new message arrived.
— Sunnytronics. When I consulted through the Iljin Group startup incubation program, I was introduced to this subcontracting company.
The thief had been revealed.
Lee Jung-wan!
But what shocked me even more was the identity of Sunnytronics’ CEO.
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