The Heart of Technology
I closed the chart and switched back to the community and news tabs, skimming the article body at speed.
The content was better than I'd expected.
This wasn't a one-off export deal. It was a three-year exclusive supply contract locked into a premium U.S. distribution network centered on health foods.
The market scale was incomparably larger than anything domestic.
Gukmidang is leveraging traditional Korean liquor manufacturing techniques, emotional packaging, and a low-alcohol product line to target American MZ-generation consumers amid the ongoing K-food boom.
The non-alcoholic line Sanmi Bloom, developed from local consumer research, will complete pilot sales in major cities including New York, LA, and Seattle before a full launch in the second half of this year.
This wasn't simple export. It was cultural export — and a rise in brand value. The weight of it was entirely different.
Domestically, it had been nothing more than an unlisted brand doing OEM supply. Now it was beginning to lead its own brand overseas.
This was the exact starting point of a stock premium.
My grip on the phone tightened slightly.
I switched straight to the stock app and checked the order book.
The share price that had been sideways around 5,200 won through the previous day was already locked at the daily limit up.
Any sell volume that appeared was instantly consumed, and the fill speed was whipping through like a storm.
Institutions were starting to show interest as well.
If I sell now, I'll regret it.
At this level, it wasn't a surprise spike.
It was the kind of catalyst that could sustain a long, steady climb.
Once Gukmidang's real brand recognition expanded and U.S. local sales hit their stride, brand value growth plus cultural premium could easily push the stock three to four times higher from here.
My estimated holdings had gone from four hundred million to five hundred twenty million won.
With two hundred ten million in crypto, total assets sat at roughly seven hundred thirty million won.
"Not bad."
I locked the phone again, muttering to myself.
It had hit the limit up from the open, and I wasn't surprised in the slightest.
This was a prepared result — no reason to get excited or tense.
I've definitely gotten sharper than before.
My investment instincts were growing more refined, and my eye for reading the future had grown sharper too.
Outside the car window, the LK Future Technology Center was already coming into view.
Right now, I was far more curious about what was inside the LK Future Technology Center than about Gukmidang's limit up.
Getting into the LK Future Technology Center meant passing through roughly three security checkpoints.
Even after getting out of the car and heading inside, smartphone confiscation was standard, followed by a full-body scanner and a fingerprint scan for identity verification.
Only after signing a nondisclosure agreement was I finally issued a visitor pass.
Once inside, I still had to read the security guidelines.
This is practically military-base level.
That was when it happened.
"Manager Noh Hoojin?"
"Ah, yes."
"This way, please."
As soon as I finished the guidelines, a guide approached with a polite greeting and led me forward.
The armed guards at the checkpoint were still staring hard at my back.
The corridor was remarkably quiet under soft lighting, carrying a cold, almost icy feel.
The ceiling was transparent glass, leaving the data cabling and cooling pipes above fully visible, while black tiles and digital interfaces were set into the walls at regular intervals.
The floor was faintly glowing reinforced gray glass; sensors activated with every step, and the lighting flowed along beneath my feet in response.
Alien, and yet — it felt like stepping into the interior of a starship from a sci-fi film.
Had they deliberately designed the interior around that concept?
Beep—
A wall panel ahead of me slid open on its own, revealing another corridor.
And waiting there was a man in a white lab coat.
A familiar face.
"Welcome, Manager Noh Hoojin."
Chief Researcher Yoon Junghyuk spread his arms wide with a bright smile.
"Hello, Chief Yoon."
I greeted him politely and looked him over.
He was wearing black tech glasses, and several portable devices hung from his waist.
The whole look was cybernetic enough for a near-future sci-fi film — as if a monster might burst out at any second and start a fight.
"You arrived right on time. Welcome."
He held out his hand.
"I hope it wasn't too much trouble?"
"Aside from the security screening. I thought this was a military facility."
He smiled.
"It sounds like a joke… but it's half true. This isn't just a research lab. It's the heart of LK Group's technology security."
We exchanged a brief handshake, then stepped properly into Building C of the center.
Yoon Junghyuk began a short briefing as we walked.
"The test I'll be showing you today is the beta stage of the Home AI integrated control system. We're running sensors, voice recognition, IoT linkage, and autonomous control algorithms in a space built to match a real home environment."
"Not a virtual simulation — actual devices?"
"Exactly. Most of the development is finished here. What happens at Telecom headquarters, where you work, is more like packaging."
There was real pride in his tone.
He wasn't wrong. This was where all of LK's technological power was born.
But no matter how strong the technology, bad packaging meant it wouldn't sell. That was how important the role of marketing was.
We'd walked for about three minutes when he stopped in front of a door, pressed the back of his hand to a scanner, and had his fingerprint read.
"From this point, we're entering the Smart House Beta Zone."
Whirr—
The door opened with a soft mechanical sound.
It looked nothing like the research lab I'd imagined.
The space had been designed like a cutting-edge luxury smart house.
A living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom were fully laid out, modern interiors fused perfectly with sensors, cameras, AI speakers, and wall panels.
Environmental sensors lined the ceiling; windows had autonomous open-and-close mechanisms; and the indoor lighting adjusted its brightness naturally according to a person's position and movement.
Of course, it wasn't a normal environment.
Every smart device was monochrome, with internal components left exposed.
No attention had been paid to design at all.
That was only natural. They researched science and technology here — not design.
"Impressive. At this level, it could go into real use, couldn't it?"
"That's why we call it the Beta Zone. Dozens of technology modules are running simultaneously in this single space."
When Yoon Junghyuk gestured, an interface expanded into the air from a wall panel.
"There are two main test categories. First: contactless user behavior recognition. Second: multi-device situational response computation."
"Ah, right."
I nodded awkwardly in reply.
I already knew it was a test of AI recognizing a user's movements and intent, then having the entire house respond accordingly — but I didn't bother saying so.
"Before we begin, there's one thing I need to tell you. You've already heard this once, but from this point on, our conversation and actions will be streamed in real time for research purposes."
He pointed to the cameras mounted all around, then to the glasses he was wearing.
Apparently those glasses had a micro-camera built in as well.
"I understand."
"Good. Then we'll begin."
He tapped a few times on the smart pad attached to the sleeve of his lab coat, and the entire space responded as if it were breathing.
The lighting shifted intensity, the air purifier changed strength, and real-time log data began scrolling across the wall screens.
"Now, Manager, please move around and experience for yourself how the system responds."
He guided me inside, and I slowly stepped toward the living room.
And so, for about an hour, I began experiencing the Smart House Beta Zone.
In the Center Director's office on the fifth floor of the LK Future Technology Center's main building, a tall man with a striking appearance was staring blankly out the window.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass, a blue lawn stretched out — looking distinctly artificial.
He wore a slim suit with a neat hairstyle, stood close to 180 centimeters, and had a sharp jawline and deep-set eyes that left an impression.
His name was Kang Jinsu. Currently thirty-five years old.
Grandson of LK Group's founding chairman, and the youngest Center Director of the LK Future Technology Center.
He was the very icon of a generational genius.
After early graduation from KAIST, he had gone through a Harvard master's program researching humans, machines, and interfaces, then earned a doctorate from MIT while publishing countless papers on artificial intelligence and bio-interfaces.
Consecutive awards from the world's three major AI conferences, appointment as LK Center Director at thirty, and the youngest executive in the group.
Beyond genius, he was called the "aristocrat of engineering" — his name itself regarded as the future of LK Group.
When the time came, he was already designated as the one who would lead LK.
Even now his grandfather kept trying to pull him into the company proper, but he stubbornly remained at the LK Future Technology Center.
That was when it happened.
"Hmm…"
He let out a sigh, returned to his desk, and fixed his gaze on the hologram display floating in the air.
On the screen floated LK Electronics' next-generation flagship smartphone — the V-Proxima.
It had been planned as a future-facing device with flashy AI performance and full IoT integration, but the problems still to be solved were far too many.
From self-optimization errors in the AI engine to heat generation, inter-device latency issues, and the risk level of security protocols if confidentiality failed — and more.
With so many technologies fused into one small device, even a slight misalignment could bring the entire system down.
Of course, that might have been because he was chasing perfection a little too hard.
He reviewed these problems dozens of times a day, running experiments and endless debates over video with the test engineers, but answers still weren't coming.
"We're short on talent. Talent…"
Kang Jinsu muttered absently and set down the coffee in his hand.
In that moment, a single-line notification appeared on his private panel.
[Real-Time Internal Test — Smart House Beta Zone] has begun
Lead: Chief Researcher Yoon Junghyuk / External Evaluator: 1 included
(LK Telecom Marketing Team 3 — Manager Noh Hoojin)
"Junghyuk himself? Hmm?"
Ordinarily he wouldn't have paid it any attention, but this time something was different. A familiar phrase had caught his eye.
LK Telecom Marketing Team 3? That's definitely…
That was where his youngest sister worked.
Kang Jinsu had two younger sisters.
One was Kang Hanna, who handled the entertainment side. The other was Kang Bitna, who had never once shown her face to the outside world.
In truth, Kang Bitna had not been born from the same womb.
Of course, Kang Bitna still didn't know that fact — but Kang Jinsu already knew everything.
Was it guilt? Or was it simply his nature? From childhood, Kang Jinsu had taken particular care of Kang Bitna.
Even now, amid constant busyness, he kept an eye on his younger sister. She was the kind of sibling he wouldn't mind putting in his eye.
He quickly tapped the button to open the test video feed.
Real-Time Feed: Beta Zone
Multi-angle footage began streaming across the hologram.