The Hansung Family's Fixer
"If you're looking for the Hansung family's fixer, it's right here—Han Seoyeon."
Chairman Han Seongcheol glared mercilessly at the white-haired man chattering away before him. Flames seemed to blaze in his eyes.
"Lee PhD, say that again. What? You can't run the equipment right now?"
"W-Well..."
"You—you!"
Hansung Food was facing a massive crisis. The plan to improve Japan's top ramen and launch it domestically sounded great, but the equipment flat-out refused to cooperate.
"Ch-Chairman, sir, perhaps we should postpone the launch for now..."
"What? And you're saying that's acceptable now?!"
His voice boomed through the room.
"We've set a launch date with the market right around the corner, and you're telling me to delay because the equipment isn't ready? You calling that an excuse?"
"B-But..."
Chairman Han Seongcheol wasn't wrong. Companies live on trust. The moment you break a promise to consumers, that trust crumbles in an instant. It meant losing any foothold in the market.
"No more excuses—fix that equipment by any means necessary. If you're feeding off my money, you better damn well deliver!"
Lee PhD backed away in a panic.
At a time when every minute and second counted, Han Seongu, who had been watching quietly from the side, stepped in to calm his father.
"Father, if you keep this up, your blood pressure's going to take you down."
"Guh, what a mess this is. Equipment failing at the final stretch—who in this world is competent? All a bunch of street rats, guhmun."
Han Seongcheol's eyes bulged. Once they cleared this crisis, he'd purge the incompetents. He slumped heavily into the plush chair.
"This is bad. You know the ramen business from Japan isn't just ours, right, Seongu?"
"...Yes. It's a massive investment."
"If the market had just given us a cold reception, we'd have some excuse. We could've said Korean and Japanese tastes differ, and we'd plan better next time."
The real problem? No excuse would fly this time. They couldn't even start production, let alone launch, and the promised date loomed closer. The blame would fall squarely on Hansung Food.
"Seongu, recite the domestic ramen market shares."
Han Seongu answered without hesitation.
"S Company dominates at an estimated 60%. N is around 20%, O about 10%. The rest from small firms totals roughly 10%."
"Right. So if Hansung Food keeps going like this, what's our share?"
"...Under 3%."
"You know what that means, Seongu?"
"Yes."
Within the group, disdain for Hansung Food was already an open secret. Pouring huge sums into something as trivial as ramen to fight hunger struck some shareholders as an incomprehensible gamble.
If the ramen business tanked here? Hansung Food would quietly vanish from the world.
"Seongu, stake your life on this. Hansung Food's fate hangs on this project. Got it?"
"Yes, Father."
Han Seongu bowed his head and replied curtly.
The mansion was in an uproar.
I spotted the white-haired man rushing out and instantly sensed something serious had gone down in Grandpa's study on the second floor.
What could it be?
Contrary to my thoughts, a tender piece of meat slipped smoothly into my mouth.
"Seoyeon, yummy?"
I nodded vigorously.
"Try this too. If you want to grow into a pretty lady, no picky eating—gotta eat a balanced diet."
Mom, oblivious to the chaos upstairs, focused solely on whether I was eating well.
Someone approached the table. It was Dad.
"Honey, you okay?"
"Huh? Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Not much appetite for dinner tonight. Can you two eat without me?"
"Even so, you need to eat on time..."
Dad's face was deathly pale, as if the upstairs commotion had been etched right onto it.
Huh?
Looking closer, a large sheet of paper caught my eye at his side. And on it, a familiar blueprint diagram.
That's... that, isn't it?
I'm a ramen researcher and developer. Meaning, I've built tight ties with food industry folks everywhere, and I know recipes inside out—not just that, but noodle-making processes and equipment structures too.
That late night, when everyone was asleep, I rubbed my eyes with both tiny hands and sneaked into Dad's workspace.
Thank goodness, no sign of him.
On the fancy hardwood desk sat the blueprint I'd seen earlier.
Up we go!
Climbing onto the chair taller than my head, I finally checked it out.
This is the noodle line equipment blueprint, right?
Rolling's fine. Steaming's normal too.
I squinted hard at the blueprint.
The gap between the boiling and cooling processes is way too short. At this rate, the noodles won't stabilize before moving to the next step.
The blueprint's specs were overall too aggressive, you could say. Prioritizing speed and efficiency for mass production, with zero margin for the equipment to handle the load.
The kind of everyday mistake folks in the 1970s commonly made.
Of course, I knew the solution.
I jotted the key values neatly beside the blueprint. This should be enough to iron out the equipment issues.
"Yaaawn..."
This damn body wouldn't give me a break. No matter how sharp my mind, a baby's body still demanded sleep.
No choice. Time to head back to my room and hit dreamland.
I erased all traces of my visit and slipped quietly back to my room.
Hehe.
After all that effort, maybe our family's fate had shifted just a tiny bit? With a satisfied smile, I closed my eyes.
Soon, I was frolicking in a flower field with Mom, Dad, and Grandpa.
Early morning.
Han Seongu gasped at the blueprint.
"Wh-What the...?"
A number he hadn't seen yesterday was meticulously noted.
Someone's graffiti? He calculated the new values step by step.
"Gasp!"
It matched. All the nagging problems solved at once.
How? Who came in the dead of night and left the answer?
"Lee PhD, maybe?"
No one else in Korea could handle such complex calculations but him. Must've snuck in late and figured it out.
"Father! Father!"
Han Seongu rushed to Han Seongcheol's study-cum-office.
The chairman, who rose before anyone else, sat at his desk with the lights on.
"Racing around like a wild colt this early?"
"Father, it's solved! The equipment problem—we fixed it!"
"What? For real?"
The two pored over the blueprint's figures.
"Lee PhD's doing?"
"Yes. Who else in this country could crunch numbers like this?"
"True enough."
Han Seongcheol had lured him with a hefty salary. Finally paying his keep.
He was famous for wielding carrot and stick. A rod for mistakes, but lavish rewards for heroes who saved the day in a do-or-die crisis.
"Where's Lee PhD now?"
Lee Jeonghun PhD. Or just Lee PhD.
As a kid, he'd been called a prodigy. Before even starting national school, he'd mastered arithmetic—fractions and ratios too, all self-taught.
While neighborhood kids rolled marbles, he used sticks and pencils to calculate errors in the rice shop's scale.
At ten, he pinpointed why the village millstone kept jamming—a feat that stumped adults. After days observing water flow and rotation cycles, he nailed the cause.
Fix it that way, and the mill ran like new.
Yet here he was, agonizing over Japanese-imported equipment.
"What's the damn problem?"
He couldn't betray the group chairman's expectations. Not after climbing this high, earning top pay as the Hansung Group's fixer.
No answer in sight, he groaned at the blueprint.
Then a call from Woo Shijang: the chairman wanted him.
"Ch-Chairman!"
The deadline had passed. Failure.
He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the roar.
"Hahaha, I trusted you, Lee PhD. Indeed."
"...?"
He stared, baffled. What nonsense was this?
"Of course—with all my money you've eaten, you better wrap this up quick. Right?"
"...Yes?"
"Hahaha, look, Seongu. Lee PhD's so humble. Others would've bragged about saving the day."
"Exactly, Father. Classic Lee PhD."
He had no clue what was happening. But Lee PhD was quick on the uptake. Denying it now meant an uncertain future. Not getting fired was a win.
Swallowing hard, he played along.
"Thank you. I'll work day and night for you from now on, Chairman."
"Hahaha, good. I believe in you, Lee PhD."
Under Han Seongcheol's praise, Lee PhD forced a smile. Swept up in the moment, he'd stolen someone else's credit.
As Lee PhD headed out of the mansion, a tiny hand tugged his coat.
"Hello?"
His trials weren't over. Before him stood a cute girl not even reaching his waist, clutching a sketchbook far too big for her frame. Her wobbly, childish scrawl stood out boldly.
"...Baby Seoyeon?"
"Hehe, you recognize me?"
"O-Of course. How could I not know the Hansung Group's one and only princess? Your first birthday party left quite an impression. Haha..."
I beamed innocently at his flattery. Though I had my real reason for seeking him out.
"Did it work out okay?"
"...Pardon?"
Lee PhD couldn't process it. No way this toddler just past her first birthday was for real. The genius rumors weren't hype after all.
"The blueprint."
"?"
"Grandpa praised you for it, right?"
"H-How would you know that?"
"How? I wrote those values."
"What?"
His face drained to blue-green as realization hit.
"Uncle PhD, how's it feel stealing someone else's credit like that?"