The Chaebol Family's Only Daughter Is a Genius
The Hansung family's only daughter was a genius, they said. The whole house erupted in chaos right away. Dad, who was at the office, rushed straight home.
Now's the most critical time, and he ditches work without permission just to see me?
"Seoyeooon!"
A wild boar covered in beard charged straight at me. Han Seongu, president of Hansung Food—one of the Hansung Group affiliates and my dad. Mom's name was Yoon Chaeun, a former singer who'd once swept the music scene. Before marrying Dad, she was Korea's top female vocalist. Grandpa had really disapproved of her, though. "Mixing the sacred Hansung bloodline with some no-name entertainer?" Anyway, it seemed my parents had gone through hell to get married.
"Where's my Seoyeon?!"
I plugged my tiny ears with my even tinier hands. Dad had this bandit vibe going on—booming voice, Im Kkeokjeong-level rugged looks. People often sighed in relief that I didn't take after him.
"Seoyeon's a g-ge-genius?"
"Aigoo, President. You'll rupture our little miss's eardrums. Tone it down!"
"Oops!"
Dad clapped a pot-lid-sized hand over his mouth. I shook my head gently and nestled into his arms. Time for some adorable charm—it was like icing on the cake.
"Hehe~"
I flashed my biggest smile, and his eyes melted like a honey-drenched bee. My cuteness really was a lethal weapon.
"But our Seoyeon reading Japanese? Is that really true? She's not even a year old yet!"
"President, it's true! Our little miss is so smart..."
The nanny pointed at me. I just stared back blankly.
"She was reading that Japanese paper in her hand... Huh?"
Her finger pointed not to a Hansung Food report, but to a baby toy.
"H-how? She was definitely reading it!"
"Hoho, maybe the nanny should get a checkup? Can't have the family caretaker falling ill. Want me to find a hospital?"
"No, President! She really read it!"
"I get how excited you are. Our Seoyeon's a genius, sure thing."
"She really did! I'm going crazy here. For real!"
Pretty lively exchange between boss and employee. Good thing, too—I'd already sensed the huge expectations on me. The one and only granddaughter of the Hansung family. Their precious only daughter. Grandpa kept demanding I visit, while my parents fended him off. It was like a daily siege warfare straight out of a game.
"I'll head back to the office then. Call if anything happens to Seoyeon—even the smallest thing."
"...Got it."
"I know how you feel, Nanny. Uhahat!"
Dad handed me back to the nanny and strode out with a hearty laugh.
"......"
"......"
Suddenly, the nanny eyed me suspiciously. I met her gaze.
I grinned.
"!"
She gasped. Our little secret started today.
Kakakaka!
＊
My cute charms won the nanny over. After that incident? She didn't care if I read books or whatever. If it was good for the brain, she'd tell my parents and stock up.
"Little miss, this toy..."
"Little miss, this formula..."
It bordered on obsession—straight-up mania. I got why, though. Chaebol succession follows strict primogeniture. Dad gave up everything to marry a singer. Without the food company Grandpa handed him, he'd have vanished from the Hansung name by now.
While my parents worked, I devoured books freely. Especially from Dad's study "Treasure Trove"—I'd already grasped the whole Hansung scoop. Know thyself, win every battle. Grandpa's autobiography gave the basics, but details? Only firsthand experience.
Dad was pushing a project: tweaking Japan's top ramen for the Korean market. But it was doomed to fail. Different country, different people, different culture. Food culture's part of that. Japanese ramen doesn't suit Korean tastes. In my past life as a ramen researcher, successful cases were rare. Even those ditched the original recipe big-time for local palates.
This won't work...
I could see the future. Hansung Food's downfall... And Grandpa had poured a fortune into it. Latest Japanese equipment. Massive R&D budget.
Ramen production's trickier than it looks. Just the basics: mixing, rolling, cutting, steaming, oil-frying, hot-air drying, cooling, soup prep, packaging. Importing that setup? No small change.
1963: One ramen line cost 10 million yen. This scale? Multiples of that.
Japan's bestseller as the base for our market. Showed how high Grandpa's hopes were. That's why Hansung Food tanked—reckless expansion, no risk assessment. Slapped a foreign hit into Korean ramen form without tweaks. No wonder it flopped.
I stared at the ceiling, then jolted. Hansung Food failing meant my family failing. Reborn as the chaebol heiress, only to end up homeless? No way.
Grandpa had big expectations for Dad. We couldn't let him down.
Not happening!
Some say business needs ethics. Screw ethics! Survive first.
I listed successful Korean ramens in order. Especially ones soon to launch from rivals.
Hehe, perfect.
I pulled every scrap from my past food industry knowledge, fleshing out a ramen idea in my head. Weirdly, my brain never forgot anything once recalled.
＊
I turned one. The doljanchi was lavish.
Chairman Han Seongcheol came himself, hugging and kissing me nonstop.
"Kyarrurur!"
Translation: Gonna marry Grandpa later!
He saw my irresistible cuteness and slipped a huge lollipop into my arms. Too big for me, though.
"Mommy."
"Yes, Chairman."
Mom—Yoon Chaeun—clasped her hands at her navel politely.
"Not bringing Seoyeon over much? Been having fun without me?"
"Pardon? B-but she's still too young..."
Mom was ex-singer. Han Seongcheol had scorned her—until I was born. Treatment changed overnight. Hansung Group was cursed, see. Sons galore, but he didn't want more boys. He had four already.
Why envy daughters? His best friend had one and bragged daily. Han Seongcheol burned with jealousy—his friend's girl was so lovable.
[I'll give a huge gift to the mother who bears me a daughter!]
Hansung house echoed with baby cries—for years. All boys. Then Mom had me.
"Ceremony starting soon?"
"Yes, Chairman. The doljabi should begin shortly."
"Good. You've worked hard entertaining the VIPs, daughter-in-law."
"N-no, Chairman..."
"You've suffered because of me all this time, right?"
"...!"
Tears welled in Yoon Chaeun's eyes. Han Seongcheol cleared his throat loudly and glanced around. Anyone seeing would think he was bullying his youngest daughter-in-law. It was the only daughter's doljanchi for a conglomerate chairman—seats short for all the politicians and tycoons.
"Showtime soon. Take Seoyeon."
"Yes. Excuse us."
As Yoon Chaeun withdrew quietly, Han Seongcheol reverted to his ironclad chairman face.
＊
The doljabi began.
"Ooh, what'll Seoyeon pick?"
"Chaebol girl—she'll grab money, right?"
"Nah, only daughter? Chairman'll give her everything. Bet on the thread."
"Thread? Long life? Top docs check her health monthly—why thread?"
"What're you all saying? Baby won't think that deep. Random grab."
Jealousy seeped from corners now that I monopolized Grandpa's love. Before me, objects lined up neatly.
"Seoyeon, wanna grab this?"
Mom and Dad subtly eyed the brush or scale. Brush for scholar; scale for judge or justice.
But I reached past them—for the massive Hansung Group flag billowing behind.
"Gasp!"
"W-what's that?"
"A baby grabbing that? Someone put her up to it?"
Chairman Han Seongcheol bolted up, stunned.
"Kyarrurur!"
Amid Korea's elite on TV, I snagged the flag.
"What? Kehahaha!"
Han Seongcheol roared with laughter. His face screamed: A true Hansung granddaughter needs that guts!
The flag I grabbed? The Hansung Group emblem.