Doctor, You Owe Me One
Dr. Uncle, you owe me one.
Dr. Lee couldn't collect his thoughts. She was just barely past her first birthday. How could this be possible? Common sense dictated she should be taking her first wobbly steps, barely mimicking speech. For a child who couldn't even fully express her emotions to exude an aura that overwhelmed him—it simply didn't compute with reality.
The pressure bearing down on him now. Dr. Lee felt cornered. Like he was teetering on a cliff's edge, one step away from plummeting into the abyss.
Are all chaebol kids like this?
-Heh, you don't believe me, do you, Dr. Uncle? Mind if I ask you something?
"W-what is it?"
-The oil-frying process numbers on the blueprint were off by exactly 3% from your calculations. Right?
"What do you mean by...?"
Dr. Lee couldn't concede that point. His calculations were flawless. That very formula had cemented his status as a key figure in Hansung Group. Stabilizing dozens of lines, navigating countless crises—it was all thanks to the numbers from his hand.
Yet here was the chaebol family's only daughter, not even a year and a half old. Comparing her to him in know-how or experience was absurd.
So why can't I tear my eyes away from this child's gaze?
His mind raced for a rebuttal, but his mouth wouldn't move. He swallowed dryly.
-When running the process, you need some buffer in the next stage. The oil-frying equipment imported from Japan handles peak loads well, but its recovery time isn't short.
"Are you saying my numbers left no buffer?"
-Even 3% overload in the oil-fryer creates micro-tension in the rolling mill right after. It builds up, and the noodles tear in the cutting stage.
"…!"
Dr. Lee's fingertips trembled like they were spasming. He'd been so focused on the big picture he'd missed what was right in front of him. Shame burned in front of this child.
-Not that your calculations were wrong, Dr. Uncle. I just tweaked the numbers slightly to build in buffer between front and back processes.
Her hand moved faster across the sketchbook. Cold, precise advice unbefitting a child. How could someone not even up to his waist pierce decades of life-or-death judgment in this field so accurately?
"You're what they call a genius—one who knows ten from one taught. Or... are all chaebol kids like this?"
-I don't think of myself as a genius.
"Haha, is that so? Do you know that formula you just calculated is college-level?"
She neither affirmed nor denied it. With that knowledge, she could jump into the field and soar. Dr. Lee's mind cooled to ice. He realized that if time passed like this, it might shift Hansung Group's succession lineup.
"For you to reveal your brilliance to me like this means you want something from me."
-Sharp as ever, Dr. Uncle. Exactly. No matter the cause or result, Grandpa and Dad think you came up with the numbers I wrote.
"Haha, true enough. For that, I should apologize to you..."
-No need for apologies. Who'd believe a one-year-old talking oil-frying and noodle-making? Instead!
Han Seoyeon’s eyes sparkled as she scribbled furiously on the sketchbook.
-How about working with me? It’ll benefit everyone—if it succeeds, Hansung Food becomes Korea's top food company, and you'll be the hero behind it.
Dr. Lee's eyes shook wildly.
Hansung Food's first project was doomed to fail. History proved it.
They'd simply imported Japanese ramen and launched it as-is. Forcing foreign tastes on people just gets rejection. The broth was too oily, the noodles overly chewy. Unfamiliar flavors felt alien, not novel.
I need the next ramen suited to this country.
And I had to make it myself.
But as direct chaebol blood, I still had the limit of being a child. Every word, every proposal would carry the tag of childish whimsy. Even if I gave answers, decision-makers were Dad and Grandpa above him.
Would they fully accept my words? Honestly, I doubted it.
No. It'd just spark suspicion.
Grandpa would love it. His one granddaughter far beyond normal. But the rest of the family wouldn't see it that way. Especially those from the eldest and third son's lines.
Through Dr. Lee, I'd secretly probed Hansung Food's internals.
Ugh...
As expected, first impressions were lackluster. Ramen recipes spring from daily life. Inflation rises, wages stagnate. Commoners' wishes for hearty meals on tight budgets become mass trends. That's how diverse ramens flood the market later.
This report was flashy on the surface, empty inside.
I'll watch for now.
Countless future hits awaited my touch. Richer recipes than history's. If I made my ramen and launched it through Hansung Food, maybe the world's first unprecedented food giant would rise.
Sorry, other companies...
Business ethics? Couldn't keep 'em. Survive first.
Three years flew by in a blink.
I was now four.
In those three years, countless private tutors came and went. "Hansung's forbidden fruit," "the granddaughter to shine on future Hansung"—lavish titles floated around.
Grandpa spotted my smarts and hinted strongly.
"Our Seoyeon will grant her grandpa's wish, right?"
"Hehe, yes..."
Entrance to Korea's top university. No other chaebol kid had that title. They all spent fortunes abroad under "donation" pretexts.
If Hansung's golden child topped Korea University, it'd steal every headline. Free image boost for the company.
I knew it inside out—I'd topped entrance and graduated top. In my SAT era, perfect scorers barely hit three. One was me!
Minus the tutors who'd long given up, it was a smooth three years.
"Chairman, I'm sorry. I can't teach Baby Seoyeon anymore with my skills..."
Or like this.
"Baby Seoyeon's level is far beyond her peers. I'd just be a burden."
Or this.
Ugh...
Even playing moderately smart was trouble. At least Dr. Lee from Hansung Food kept me company—the only one who knew my true abilities.
"You're too harsh, little miss."
"Why?"
Dr. Lee handed me a new technical book and spoke.
"Your questions sometimes fluster me."
Were they that advanced? Scratch.
"Anyway, didn't you say you're going somewhere with me today?"
"Yes. We have a place to go, Dr. Uncle."
"...Where?"
The chaebol heiress's outing. Driver standard, plus Grandpa's bodyguards—full entourage easy.
I smiled slyly.
"Where else? The neighborhood jjajangmyeon joint."
In the 1980s, every neighborhood had its go-to Chinese spots. Jjagong was the hottest one near Bukchangdong Mansion.
The place buzzed. I led Dr. Lee to a quiet room.
"Order?"
"Two jjajangmyeon."
"Two jjajang, tangsuyuk?"
Hmm, couldn't resist tangsuyuk.
"Large tangsuyuk too."
"Yes~ Wait a sec."
Server gone, I turned to Dr. Lee.
"You're wondering why the chaebol daughter came here, right?"
Busted? He dabbed sweat with a handkerchief.
"Never thought a four-year-old would drag me to a jjajangmyeon place..."
I heard that mutter. Sure, not your typical kid outing. But I had my reason.
"Dr. Uncle."
"Yes?"
"What do you think ramen is?"
"...Ramen?"
He pondered, then answered.
"Cheap eats, right? With the government's mixed-meal push, it filled bellies alongside tteokbokki..."
His eyes quivered fiercely.
"No way, you mean...?"
"Yes. Just as you think. I'm planning ramen to replace jjajangmyeon."
"…!"
Dr. Lee froze mid-air with chopsticks, staring.
"Ramen... to replace jjajangmyeon?"
"Yeah. What do you think? Can it work?"
His face hardened unexpectedly.
"Little miss."
"Yes?"
"Sorry, but that ramen to replace jjajangmyeon..."
He paused, inhaling.
"...Is it even viable?"