Head-On Confrontation (1)
Back then, no one anticipated the Soviet Union's collapse. Sure, there were signs, and a few scholars and analysts mentioned the possibility, but most dismissed it as nonsense. People in that era simply couldn't fully accept that the Soviet Union—a superpower rivaling the United States, armed with thousands of nuclear weapons—could fall. Even in December 1991, when the official dissolution was declared, plenty of folks denied reality with a "no way" attitude.
"R-Ramen as a lunchbox? That's impossible!"
The image people had of a lunchbox was a neat, balanced meal: rice as the main dish, accompanied by various side dishes. The idea of packing ramen into a lunchbox was, to them, a bizarre notion that upended the very concept of a meal.
Even Dr. Lee couldn't readily grasp what I was saying.
"It's possible. Putting ramen in a lunchbox."
"You really mean a lunchbox ramen like you said, little miss?"
"Yes. Though it'll be different from regular lunchboxes."
Paldong Foods was the first to enter the Russian market with ramen. Even I, knowing ramen history, was impressed by their moves. They quickly adjusted flavors to local tastes and targeted the struggling Russian economy by focusing on market needs: a filling meal that suited Russian palates, cheap, and in the most essential form. In the end, Paldong captured over 80% market share, nearly monopolizing the Far East and Siberia regions. In a word, they raked in massive profits.
"There's not much difference between cup ramen and lunchbox ramen. It's all about simple thinking."
"...How?"
"What image comes to mind when you think of cup ramen, Dr. Lee?"
"Well, ramen and soup in a round container—that's cup ramen, right? Like eating ramen from a cup..."
"Exactly. Now, what about lunchbox ramen?"
"...!"
Dr. Lee's eyes widened. Lunchbox ramen was simpler than it seemed. If cup ramen went in a round container, lunchbox ramen just needed a rectangular one. Depending on the shape, ramen could be cup-style or lunchbox-style.
But I didn't stop there. Domestically, powerhouses like Hansung, Nongwon, and Sanmi dominated the ramen scene. For Paldong to go head-to-head would be tough. So after long research, they developed lunchbox ramen—a new breed that diverged from the pack, capturing both convenience and deep flavor.
Right now is pre-independence, so Paldong's name starts gaining traction around 1986.
I only had three years left.
Before their mega-hit lunchbox ramen conquered overseas markets.
I'd already planned Korea's first convenience store chain. To preempt Japan's 1989 Olympic Village debut and secure a domestic distribution network.
Hiiing...
Acquiring Changbong Foods had left my wallet perilously thin. Money really is better the more you have, huh?
"Ahem!"
Jeong Haewon, sitting next to me, waved several King Sejong notes in front of my face. We'd been assigned different seats, but homeroom teacher Oh Sejun had kindly seated class president and vice-president together.
"I got a ton of New Year's money this time but don't know what to spend it on."
Those fluttering cabbage leaves were crystal clear in my vision. Roughly 500,000 won?
Good lord. In my past life, my New Year's money was just pocket change snuck to me by my part-time boss.
Chaebol families were on another scale entirely.
"H-Hmph! How much New Year's money did you get this Lunar New Year?"
"Me?"
"Yeah! I got about 500,000 won~ My uncles wanted to give more, but I took just a little so I wouldn't seem spoiled."
A working adult's monthly salary as "just a little"...
"I got..."
Did Haewon know? Mine wasn't cabbage leaves—it was Grandpa's blank check: one wish, no matter what.
Depending on the wish, it could be a 100-won coin... or something priceless, beyond a fortune.
After much thought, I held up five fingers.
"H-Hmph! 50,000 won is pretty good."
Amusingly, she took my five fingers as 50,000 won.
Nope. Those five fingers meant at least 50 billion won...
If it was a wish Grandpa granted, it'd be worth at least that much.
Of course, I kept that to myself. Say it wrong, and I might hit sage mode and wail my way out of the classroom.
Or could a little girl even comprehend 50 billion?
Ding-dong-dang!
The bell rang. The chattering classroom fell silent in an instant.
Drag!
The math teacher entered. This was the class kids hated most: arithmetic.
Yeonhwa Elementary treated subjects separately, with different teachers each—like middle or high school. How could one teacher handle the first school experience of future elites?
"Today's lesson is counting and basic operations. I'll put some problems on the board—listen and understand."
"Yes~!"
The math teacher drew apples: white chalk for outlines, red for shading to give depth.
"How many apples do you see?"
"Seven!"
The class roared back. Yep, seven apples. Haewon next to me was focused too.
"Right, I drew seven. If four friends each eat one apple—four total—how many left?"
She erased four apples.
"Three!"
"Good. Now take four more from the remaining three—total apples?"
"Seven!"
Yeonhwa wasn't your average elementary school! Top kids nationwide could solve basics blindfolded. In under 20 minutes, we breezed through addition, subtraction, multiplication, division—the four operations.
I thought it'd be filler time teaching basics to kids who'd studied ahead. Wrong.
After wrapping arithmetic in 20 minutes, the teacher advanced.
"Seoyeon, class is flying, right? Korean was fast too, and now math?"
"Yeah, it's quick."
Even Haewon, who was at middle-school math level, said so. Yeonhwa really felt special.
After class, I headed to Hansung Food. Lots to review personally.
Hansung Cheongmyeon launches next quarter. Rumor has it Nongwon times Ansimtangmyeon to match us.
Fail against Ansimtangmyeon, and no Russian lunchbox ramen.
"Little miss, welcome!"
"Hi, Dr. Lee."
Research Team 1 gathered. About five members—fewer than others, but all industry veterans.
Among them, one woman stared intensely at Dr. Lee. She didn't look Eastern at all—curves in all the right places, the epitome of voluptuous.
Song Yeongmi from Research Team 1. Pulled from Team 3 after Manager Ko Seoksu's fraud dismissal.
Heh~ I glanced between Dr. Lee and Yeongmi.
Surprisingly, Dr. Lee showed zero fluster under her gaze. Ironclad walls.
Her laser eyes battered his defenses, but the fortress stood firm, flaunting solidity and scattering her assault.
Whoa! Was Dr. Lee impotent?
"Then, a quick briefing on Hansung Cheongmyeon's development direction and market strategy."
Business is business, personal is personal. The room shifted to focus mode, eyes locked.
"Our rival is Nongwon's soybean paste ramen—Ansimtangmyeon? Likely their big push after the last project flop. We counter by making Hansung Cheongmyeon our quarterly flagship for a head-on fight."
Details flew. All ideas from my head.
"Um, but..."
"Yes, speak."
A man with bedhead stood.
"I heard little miss Seoyeon proposed Hansung Cheongmyeon herself—is that true?"
"Yes. Not just this—all previous ramyun too."
"Wow! Amazing! How do you come up with that?"
Easy—past-life ramen researcher.
Outside Team 1, employees didn't know my deep involvement. Only these folks knew I pulled Hansung Food's strings.
"Little miss has words on Hansung Cheongmyeon."
Dr. Lee sat; I took his spot.
"Hello?"
"Good day, little miss!"
Hansung Group's sole heiress, Han Seoyeon. They knew impressing me secured their future. Even Yeongmi turned to me, eyes sparkling.
"Hansung Cheongmyeon uses non-fried noodles with soybean paste and dried tofu for a health focus. Most ramyun uses oil-fried noodles."
Nods all around—ramyun pros knew.
"Neighboring Japan sees ramyun as unhealthy. We go beyond tasty to healthy with Cheongmyeon."
"Any way to spread the word widely?"
Ideas bounced from bedhead guy.
"Rehire actress Yu Harin? National little sister fits us."
"Nah~ Same actress every ad gets stale. Little miss, new approach?"
"Olympics marketing like Haeguri?"
"Sounds good, but pricey..."
Hansung elites: practical yet creative. But I went further—I'd planned ads and cast.
"We'll film at a military base."
"Military base?"
"Yes. Models: our 600,000 soldiers."
"Whaaat?!"
Shocked faces everywhere. Military ad?
Seo Jieun nearly fainted hearing Hansung acquired Changbong. Even she hadn't predicted it.
"Jieun."
Despite Division Head Jang Sehun's comfort, her face stayed pale.
"Uncle, what's Hansung thinking? Crazy to buy Changbong for billions? Do they have that much cash?"
"Jieun..."
"If I'd known, we'd have bid too—jacked the price, stalled them."
Too late. Bus gone. Hansung owned Changbong; next card would be stronger.
"To survive, we spare no means—make Ansimtangmyeon a hit. Or else..."
Seo Jieun couldn't finish. Failure meant irrecoverable damage to Nongwon.