Gukmidang Hits the Limit
Kang Bitna finished placing our orders.
Even as I carried on the conversation with her, my mind was racing down an entirely different track.
Alcohol consumption is strongly defensive against economic downturns. Premium products that hit the emotions especially keep a loyal customer base even in a recession. And if the price is reasonable on top of that…
“Your order’s ready.”
The drinks and bread arrived. I quickly grabbed the tray and took the lead.
“I’ve got this. Shall we head out to the terrace?”
“Isn’t it too cold outside? I’ll grab a window seat and call the two of you over.”
“Alright then.”
We settled by the window with a clear view of the North Han River.
Kang Bitna stepped straight out onto the terrace, showing no immediate intention of bringing the others in. Instead she stood chatting with them, pointing out different spots along the river.
Even in the depths of winter, quite a few people were out on the water enjoying aquatic leisure.
There are always people who’ll go water-skiing no matter how fierce the cold.
Then it hit me—I’d promised myself a day of rest for my brain.
“Maybe I’ll get some air too…”
I stepped outside without hesitation.
The moment I crossed the threshold, a cool winter breeze brushed my cheeks. The sky was softly overcast.
The cold had kept most people away, so I could properly enjoy the scenery.
“Whoa… this is actually amazing.”
Beomjin spread his arms wide in admiration.
Junseok simply nodded in silence, gazing at the distant mountains.
Kang Bitna came to stand beside Beomjin.
“If you ever need a change of pace, just say the word. This noona will make sure you get some wind up your nose.”
“You mean it, noona?”
“Of course! Just call me.”
What is this? How long have they known each other and they’re already dropping formalities?
Are both of them just ridiculously good at making friends?
Junseok, on the other hand, stood a little apart, staring endlessly at the North Han River.
Don’t tell me this is the first time he’s seen a river in ten years… Actually, that might not be far off.
A short while later we came back inside the café.
One sip of the warm Americano and a pleasant heat spread through my chest.
“This bread is seriously good. Perfect crispy outside, soft inside. How do they bake it?”
Beomjin was all about the food.
“Ah, a cold beer would be perfect right now. But I’ve got to drive… How about we grab a simple drink with dinner once we’re back in Seoul?”
Kang Bitna was thinking about alcohol.
“……”
Junseok sipped the warm yulmu tea I’d chosen for him—mindful of his usual nutrient deficiencies—and kept staring out the window.
Then a problem arose.
Even after a fair amount of time had passed, none of the three showed any sign of wanting to leave.
Beomjin and Kang Bitna had been talking about food and drink for a solid thirty minutes, clearly enjoying themselves, while Junseok sat like a statue, blankly watching the river scenery.
This is starting to get boring…
I took another sip of coffee and carefully unlocked my phone, glancing at the three of them as I quietly opened the stock app and searched related keywords.
Emotional beer. Craft beer OEM. Distribution platforms. Manufacturers…
Right then Beomjin’s voice pulled me back.
“Hyung. What are you doing? You’re not looking at stocks right now, are you?”
“Huh? No.”
I hurriedly blacked out the screen.
If only my head could just connect to the internet at times like this.
“Come on, that’s a lie. We all know Manager Noh peeks at it even at the company.”
Kang Bitna smirked.
“It’s funny though. Even out here those thoughts still come to you.”
“Guess it’s become a habit.”
I gave an awkward laugh and brought the empty coffee cup to my lips for no reason.
“Looks like you’ve been having some fun with stocks though. Your expression’s always good.”
“Don’t even get me started. These two aren’t just about stocks—”
“No. Just dabbling for fun, really.”
The second Beomjin started spouting something crazy I cut him off and forced an awkward smile.
Kang Bitna eyed me with open suspicion.
“Doesn’t seem like ‘just’ anything…”
But it didn’t last long. Her face brightened again as she felt the sunlight that had been hiding behind the clouds.
“Still, today really turned out well. Good air, good views… This is what healing feels like.”
I nodded.
“Yeah. It’s nice. Really.”
I meant it.
Even if my head won’t stop, I don’t want to lose the refreshing feeling of this moment.
At this rate… maybe I’m actually spending an ordinary day.
And so the four of us lingered on the terrace where cooling coffee mixed with warm sunlight, each of us enjoying a brief stretch of leisure in our own way.
Deep in my mind, however, another investment idea was already stirring.
Back in Seoul we parted ways, promising to meet again soon.
Judging by Kang Bitna’s energy she clearly wanted to stick around through dinner, but tomorrow was Monday.
It was time to close out one week properly and greet the next.
Besides, I had work to do.
After a quick dinner I handed Junseok the coin list, then headed straight to my room and powered on the computer.
I did a light stretch, opened the search bar, and rested my hands on the keyboard.
When I closed my eyes, the words that hadn’t fully settled earlier rose up one after another as if lining up in order.
I didn’t miss a single thread from the café that afternoon.
Emotion. Recession. Alcohol. MZ. SNS. OEM. Craft beer. Distribution network.
First I searched related articles and scanned the market flow.
Craft beer market surpasses 500 billion won this year! Hits MZ generation tastes dead-on
Convenience store–brand collab beers hit 2 million cans in just three months
“Non-intoxicating alcohol” is rising! Emotional zero- and low-alcohol beers target MZ
Korea’s traditional “makgeolli” overtakes beer and heads overseas
Exactly as expected.
I moved on to securities firm reports. Domestic major beer brand lists appeared naturally.
[Seoul Beer]
[Amazing Light Company]
[McCoy]
[The Mix]
Only Seoul Beer is listed on its own… the rest are unlisted or OEM contract production.
I quickly pulled up Seoul Beer (271930).
I checked the chart, sales trends, capital structure, and even its ties to distribution affiliates.
Sales were up year-over-year, but losses continued. It had SNS recognition, yet the fundamentals were weak.
I judged it better suited to short-term thematic plays than medium- to long-term holding.
My gaze shifted immediately.
Not the brands that make it themselves—who’s holding the supply chain…?
I scanned the list of major domestic liquor OEM companies.
And among them, one name stood out: Gukmidang.
It carried a strong traditional Korean liquor brand image, yet recently it had been expanding emotional packaging products aimed at younger consumers.
It was absorbing OEM demand while simultaneously growing both its manufacturing base and cultural foundation.
Gukmidang.
I typed the name into the search bar again and sharpened every sense.
Time to focus.
It felt as if my mind was being pulled straight into the monitor, something deeper becoming visible.
Gukmidang was no mere emotional brand. Beyond it ran a clearly deeper current.
I tore through the company overview, IR reports, news articles, patent registrations, and SNS exposure frequency in one go.
Founded in 1997 on a traditional liquor manufacturing base, it now produced a range of brands including “Ihwacheon,” “Baekdam,” and “Sanmijeong.”
Recently it had strengthened emotional packaging, launched a non-alcoholic lineup targeting the 20s and 30s, and was shifting distribution channels from department stores toward convenience stores and online malls.
The foundation is traditional, but the exterior has been thoroughly reinterpreted. They’re keeping pace with the times.
Label design, bottle shape, brand story—everything was aimed squarely at the MZ generation.
It was a complete attempt to escape the old image of “old people’s liquor.”
I flipped through windows and thought again.
Every condition was excellent.
Emotional liquor. MZ target. Surging OEM demand. Low-alcohol trends.
There was plenty of minor information that wasn’t strictly necessary, yet those pieces were gathering into a great river.
A jackpot current invisible to others was crystal clear to my eyes.
These were conditions where the stock could explode at any moment without it being strange.
Yet the price hadn’t budged.
Why? With material this strong it should at least be getting a premium valuation. And it’s still stuck in a low-price box range…
I rapidly retraced price flow, news timing, and report publication dates. Technical and psychological factors began to surface one by one.
First was the lingering residue of the traditional liquor image. The frame shift still wasn’t complete.
Second, most of the brands receiving OEM supply were unlisted.
In other words, no matter how much Gukmidang shipped, the effect never became publicly visible.
Finally, subtle uncertainty on the financial statements. Sales were rising, but net profit kept oscillating.
Temporary cost overruns from facility expansion and lineup conversion…
In short, they were taking one step back to take two steps forward.
From an investor’s perspective, no one jumps in lightly until a clear signal of a turn to profit is locked in.
But from where I stood, this was the absolute optimal moment.
You make money by investing before anything rises.
Alright! Gukmidang—you’re the one.
I decided to step into the middle of the infinite potential and current that Gukmidang carried.
And so the next day dawned.
The moment the Monday market opened I bought Gukmidang stock in stages with 400 million of the 560 million I had available.
Average purchase price: 5,200 won.
Roughly 77,000 shares acquired in a single day.
One week later.
With the remaining 160 million after the stock investment, I worked the coins hard.
While I analyzed coins and passed information during work hours, Junseok grew the assets while driving.
We couldn’t extract the massive profits we’d hoped for in an uncertain market, but by anyone else’s standards the returns were jaw-dropping.
Current holdings: 210 million.
About 50 million earned in a week.
Ten-million-won units were starting to look trivial.
But I could never let my sense of reality slip.
The scariest moment is when money no longer looks like money.
The Gukmidang stock I’d put 400 million into was still bobbing up and down inside the box range.
I wasn’t particularly worried. I had firm conviction it would rise soon, and a stable salary coming in meant I could hold as long as needed.
If it really came down to it, I could always tap the remaining seed money in coins.
9 a.m.
I stood at the main gate of the company building waiting for the car.
Today was the day I would visit the LK Future Technology Center.
Chief Researcher Yoon Junghyuk had actually invited me.
Apparently the visit permit application submitted a week earlier had only just been approved.
Given that this was the place where the LK Group’s technological power was concentrated, they were naturally extra careful about leaks.
I had two main reasons for the visit.
First, as Yoon Junghyuk had said, to provide an objective eye and evaluation for the internal tests currently running at the center.
I heard other LK Group employees had been invited as well.
Second, while I was there I planned to tour the technology related to the home AI project.
When I floated the idea, the project team reacted quite positively, and Chief Researcher Yoon Junghyuk readily agreed to guide me.
Of course I had a personal motive too.
I wanted to confirm the technological level of the LK Future Technology Center and grasp the current flow. Someday I would be building the same things myself.
A short while later a black SUV bearing the LK Future Technology Center logo and lettering pulled up.
They verified my identity, loaded me in, and shot out of the city center at high speed.
We had been driving for some time when, as 10 a.m. approached, my phone vibrated.
It was a notification from the LK Securities app.
I had set it to alert me whenever news, disclosures, or reports related to my watchlist appeared.
I quickly unlocked the screen and checked the content.
It’s here!
I checked only the headline and immediately pulled up the daily chart.
Ha!
In that instant I saw a red candle soaring like a skyscraper.
Even before the news fully dropped, the stock had already hit the daily limit-up of 29 percent.