Collaboration! Ramen Monopoly at the Ballpark

Choi Youngseok recoiled in shock at the demand for exclusive rights. This was the freshly launched Korean Professional Baseball league. Asking for exclusive rights to pro baseball?

"You must be too young to understand, but it seems you don't really know what exclusive rights mean."

"No, I know exactly what they are. Exclusive rights mean you get to do it all by yourself, without any competition."

"You know what they are, and yet you're asking me, the association president, for exclusive rights?"

"Hehe, to be precise, it's not exclusive rights to baseball."

Choi Youngseok tilted his head in confusion. This was the Korea Baseball Association. What would a baseball association do? Obviously, baseball. I knew exactly what worried Choi Youngseok, the association president. This exclusive right was... well, what should I call it? Something incredibly innovative that no one could even imagine right now.

"What I want isn't exclusive rights to baseball."

"Then what exclusive rights do you want?"

"Ramen exclusive rights."

"...Ramen exclusive rights? Here at the baseball stadium?"

"Yes~"

"Hah, I have no idea what you're talking about."

The reason I'd come to the Korea Baseball Association was to set up a collaboration with Korean pro baseball. And this idea was closely tied to the Olympic lottery we'd done in the Haeguri ad.

A collaboration with Korean pro baseball. If buying ramen also got you a sticker of your favorite pro baseball player, wouldn't it sell like hotcakes?

Korean pro baseball started gaining momentum around 1982, and after the gold medal at the 2008 Beijing Olympics, it became a national sport on par with soccer. Later, the soccer association fumbled, and baseball absorbed all that attention. Anyway, baseball's success was a given.

Baseball and ramen. This is a mega, ultra, super hit!

Lost in thought, I noticed Choi Youngseok frowning deeply at me. Of course, people in this era would find the concept of a collaboration pretty alien. I explained calmly.

Choi Youngseok's face twisted in near-disbelief as he listened.

"So, you're saying you'll put small stickers of our players in ramen cups, sell them at the stadium and in stores?"

"Exactly. And a portion of the sales goes to the association as support. After all, the association manages the players' likeness rights."

"...Y-Yes, that's true."

Around this time, Korean pro baseball desperately needed money. It was a brand-new league. Stadium facilities were subpar, and attendance was still spotty. The association wouldn't turn down money from any source.

"But who are you? Your face looks familiar."

"I'm Han Seoyeon."

"Han Seoyeon? The only daughter of the Hansung family?"

"Hehe, you know me."

"Now I get it. I must've seen you on TV."

The Hansung Jjapaghetti and Haeguri ads had aired on TV multiple times already. No wonder my face was familiar.

"Alright. Hansung Group can definitely support our baseball."

He stood up and gazed out the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠window, his face calculating. "Ramen exclusive rights means no other ramen sold at our stadiums?"

"Yes."

"Hah, you're quite the sly one. As expected from the Hansung family."

He nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll grant you the ramen exclusive rights. But in return!"

Choi Youngseok, the association president, turned slowly to face me. "I can attach a condition or two, right?"

Seo Ji-eun arrived at the Korea Baseball Association by car. As soon as she got out, she spotted the man next to her and spoke. It was Nongwon's Jang Se-hoon, the division head.

"Uncle, you're here."

"...You're really going to sell our ramen here?"

"Yes. Baseball will soon become the representative ball sport of this country. We need to get in first."

"That baseball?"

"You'll see when you go."

She had visited a baseball stadium herself not long ago to check it out. The immersive thrill of the game that kept you glued to your seat. And the countless fans eating all sorts of food while watching. That's when it hit Seo Ji-eun: Baseball makes money. Securing baseball first would bring huge profits to Nongwon.

That's how the two met with association president Choi Youngseok.

"Wh-What? You've already granted exclusive rights? To whom?"

"I can't disclose that. It's a strict contract, and confidentiality is key."

Seo Ji-eun bit her lip hard. Who could have beaten her to an exclusive deal with the Korea Baseball Association?

Th-This can't be!

Now she was the one getting desperate. "W-We’ll pay double... no, triple the royalty of whatever that company offered."

"Hahaha, that's a sweet offer. But how can you promise triple?"

"Nongwon's products sell anywhere in the country. We have massive production and a wide distribution network. A new league like yours must need funds badly."

Choi Youngseok narrowed his eyes. Her logic didn't add up. "I heard Nongwon's under fire because of that Tado-myeon mess?"

"I have nothing to say about Tado-myeon. But Nongwon won't sink over one product. And our upcoming product is on a whole different level."

"......"

"I don't know who you contracted with, but we'll pay more than them. No—in fact, we'll cover the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠full penalty for canceling that contract!"

It was all or nothing. To arrange this meeting today, Seo Ji-eun had made countless calls and persuaded people. Backing down now would waste it all. She knew better than anyone how big baseball would grow.

"Well, now. I don't know what strategy Nongwon's cooking up, but let's pretend this conversation never happened."

"...Pardon? Even if we offer more royalty than your current contract?"

"Hahaha, do you know what conditions that side offered?"

"?"

Choi Youngseok had finished his calculations long ago. Short-term, Nongwon's offer was tempting. But...

When he thought of that little girl he'd contracted with, a smile naturally crept onto his lips. She hadn't offered the present—she'd offered the future. And he loved that.

A girl not even up to his waist had boldly laid out the future of Korean pro baseball without blinking. That image was still vivid.

"So, no deal. Thank you for the proposal."

"Ah, n-no, Association President?"

The two stared blankly up at the Korea Baseball Association sign. They'd been kicked out.

Was this a dream or reality? They couldn't tell.

"Ji-eun."

"Uncle..."

Seo Ji-eun clenched her fists until her knuckles whitened. "Investigate. Find out which company signed with the association."

"Got it. I'll look into it separately."

"And."

She was personally curious who had visited here. Who had seen Korean baseball's potential so early?

"Find out who met with Association President Choi Youngseok."

"What for?"

"What else? We scout them."

"Scout them?"

"Yes. Someone with that kind of insight—we need to bring them into Nongwon. To overtake Hansung and claim the top spot domestically."

The ramen Nongwon was pushing hard required true vision. Ramen was a product to conquer hunger. A simple everyday idea could dominate the market—like jjajang ramen, or cup ramen for even easier eating.

"We must pull them to our side. Uncle, you handle it personally."

"Alright. I'll make it happen."

"Quickly! We don't have time!"

"Got it."

Seo Ji-eun had no intention of falling behind a rival. Nongwon had bet everything on one product right now.

Finally, Chilgyejang Bowl Ramen officially launched. It was Hansung Food's new product following Hansung Jjapaghetti and Haeguri.

"Woooow!"

It flew off the shelves right away. Especially beloved by soldiers, who stocked crates in every barracks.

"Krhehehe, krahahaha!"

Grandfather laughed so hard the mansion seemed to shake, nearly out of breath. Dad's face beamed with uncontainable joy, unlike his usual self.

"Our Seoyeon's the luckiest charm of the Hansung family—a real blessing. How does she look like a little honeybee to this old man's eyes?"

"Hehe~"

Grandfather's special pat gently stroked my hair. I scratched my cheek, a bit embarrassed. I knew Chilgyejang would be big, but I hadn't expected this level of explosion.

The baseball collaboration was a stroke of genius.

The remote clicked, and the TV turned on. A baseball game was in full broadcast, with fans in the stands holding our Hansung Food Chilgyejang.

"Seongu, Seoyeon. Look at that! Everyone's eating our Chilgyejang!"

"Father, I can't believe these Chilgyejang numbers. It's outselling even Hansung Jjapaghetti."

"Yes. Chilgyejang hit the right era."

Grandfather gazed at the TV screen with a satisfied glint. "Seeing Hansung's flag rising across this nation..."

-Woooaaah!

Right on cue, the batter crushed a home run. Amid the massive cheers, Chilgyejang cups filled the broadcast camera's view in the crowd.

Normally, promotion meant pouring money into ads. But getting free exposure through baseball broadcasts? It was the best of both worlds—eating the pheasant and keeping the egg, as they say.

Just the sight of people eating Chilgyejang was promo gold, rivaling any ad.

"Krhehehet!"

Grandfather danced around the study with a grin from ear to ear. It was a historic mega-hit.