Bibimmyeon Mania and the Minister's Award

Bibimmyeon launch! "Seoyeon, what do you think of Mommy?"

"Hehe~ Mommy's the prettiest in the world!"

"R-really? Hohoho~"

Mom spun gracefully in front of the mirror before the ad shoot. Watching her smile so brightly after so long, I couldn't help thinking that entertainers truly shine brightest when they're active on screen. Before her comeback, she never showed it outwardly, but she'd felt like someone who'd lost her spark, frozen in time. That's why I pushed so hard—despite all the opposition—insisting that her image was perfect for the Hansung ads. And that's how she made her return to showbiz.

I sat facing Mom.

"What role do you have in the ad, Mom?"

"Hmm, just mix it vigorously."

"Mix it hard? Is that all?"

"Yep. Hansung Bibimmyeon lives up to its name—you've gotta mix it deliciously for people to snap it up."

It wasn't for nothing that the CM song had lyrics about mixing.

Humming along~ The ad concept was simple as ever. Just show consumers mixing it so tantalizingly that they'd swallow hard, imagining the aroma and flavor. That'd be a smashing success, right?

"Shooting starts now!"

We took our positions. The original cast was Mom and Yoo Harin, but I'd been added fresh. Harin and I looked like sisters, and with Mom, we passed for a cozy mother-daughter trio. Viewers would probably see it as a warm family gathering for a laid-back weekend meal.

"Cut! Perfect!"

Director Kim Wooyoung called out in a bright voice. The whole shoot wrapped in under two hours. No wonder he stuck out his tongue, saying it was the fastest ad wrap ever.

"Must be because we've got such a brilliant director, right?"

Praise moves even whales. When the Hansung royals themselves showered him with compliments in unison, his shoulders naturally squared up.

"Y-you think so? Haha!"

Suddenly in full bootlick mode, Director Kim rubbed his hands eagerly.

"Hahaha! On a day like this, it's a shame to part ways—how about a quick after-party?"

"Hohoho, sounds good."

"I'll join today too!"

Even Yoo Harin, who always dodged with her packed schedule, signed on this time.

"Ooh! With Harin joining, is the sun rising in the west today?"

"Director, come on…."

Ah, of course, I footed the bill. Why? Because I was the richest one there. Back then, they called rich folks millionaires, but hilariously, at just six, I was a ten-millionaire. After-party tab? Pocket change!

"Baby miss, maaaan-se!"

Maybe Director Kim's fondness for me wasn't just my imagination.

＊

The after-party wrapped up, and the next day as planned, with the ad shoot safely done, I had a one-on-one with composer Nam Geonwoo. There was something specific I wanted to ask.

"By any chance, Uncle Geonwoo…."

"W-wait! Uncle? I'm just…."

"Hehe~ Once you do military service, you're all uncles."

"Huh? What do you…."

No way he wanted me to call him oppa? His tone sounded awfully wistful as I tilted my head. Nah?

"Anyway, I've got one question for you, Uncle Geonwoo."

"What is it?"

"Uncle Geonwoo, you speak Russian, right?"

"Gasp! How'd you know I speak Russian?"

"Well…."

Because I was reborn from the future.

Of course, I kept that to myself. In my past life, Nam Geonwoo became a CM song legend in Korea. But beyond that, he had one killer talent: exceptional language acquisition and local adaptation skills. Paldo Yakult fully spun off in 2012. Having ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exploded via ramen from the '80s, they restructured in 2011, gradually splitting off their ramen and food divisions into independent entities.

Vice President Nam Geonwoo…

Eventually, he'd rise to key exec at the independent Paldo. Who'd have thought a mere CM composer would end up corporate brass? Without past-life memories, no one would've seen it coming.

It's 1983 now. Eight years till the Soviet collapse.

Diplomatic ties between Korea and the USSR weren't established yet. Formal Russian education was basically nonexistent outside a few departments. I planned to target Russia post-dissolution. Korean firms won them over by sticking it out through economic hardship—unlike others who bailed—offering solid value and holding the market to the end. No wonder lunchbox ramen dominated there….

"Seoyeon, okay, I speak Russian—but why do you ask?"

"Ah! Practically no one in Korea does, right?"

"Y-yeah…."

"Hehe~ I'm planning to set up a local corp in the Soviet Union later."

"Huh? The Soviet Union?"

"Yep. Their economy's tanking now—if we push in with ramen, it'll sell like hotcakes."

"Uh…."

Nam Geonwoo's eyes darted in confusion, clearly missing my point. Did he know? The USSR's end was near, and its fall would unleash a whole new world.

"So, here's the thing. Uncle Geonwoo, ever thought about working in the Soviet Union someday?"

"Me? There?"

"I'd love for you to head the local branch."

"Me, as rep…? I couldn't!"

Couldn't? You went there yourself and turned lunchbox ramen into a mega-hit for Paldo.

Securing distribution. Building local factories. Flavor localization. Packaging tweaks. All reborn under his hand. That was the real reason I shelled out 100 million to acquire crumbling Harmony Sound. To ship ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Composer Nam Geonwoo to the USSR and hand him the reins.

"I-I'm not cut out for heavy responsibility like that…."

"Oh? Well, can't force you. No point pushing someone who hates it. Hmm, what was the local rep salary again?"

"…!"

Composer Nam Geonwoo's eyes bugged out at the figure on the paper.

"Y-you're really offering this much?"

Old sayings never lie. Money makes even ghosts dance. His gaze shifted instantly at the sight of that fortune.

"Seoyeon, if I go to the Soviet Union, you pay me this?"

＊

Finally, Hansung Bibimmyeon launched. Even the papers splashed it across the front page.

Woooah! Another record-breaker. Well, it had to be, but daily sales kept shattering norms. Especially beloved by the troops.

Military bases had weird weather. Hotter than anywhere in summer, bone-chilling in winter. Come summer, soldiers battled sweltering heat that pierced even thick uniforms like mosquitoes. Appetites tanked naturally—until Hansung Bibimmyeon fixed that, in a scene straight out of a dream.

"Seoyeon, come to Gramps."

Grandpa set down his paper and called me over, his voice merrier than usual.

"Here."

"Grandpa, what's this?"

"A thank-you letter from Minister Woo Jaeha. Says it's a commendation for helping our sacrificing soldiers."

"Huh? A commendation?"

"Seongu'll receive it, but it's all thanks to our granddaughter, isn't it?"

He handed me the letter with a smile. I took it in a daze. Never dreamed developing ramen would earn a Defense Minister's award.

Whaaat?

"Grandpa, can I accept this?"

"'Course! Seongu insisted you should get it—I had to shove him out the door. All Hansung's ramens are your masterpieces, aren't they?"

True, a six-year-old girl getting a commendation would stir chaos. And I wasn't ready to step into the spotlight. I wanted to keep my role as Hansung Food's shadow power hidden as long as possible—especially from rivals like Nongwon!

Bzzz….

Looked like ramen development had snagged something too big to handle. A Defense Minister commendation, no less.

"Naturally. For a granddaughter precious enough not to hurt our eyes, a hundred commendations wouldn't be too many! Heh, exactly!"

"G-Grandpa…."

"Seoyeon. Remember what you once told Gramps?"

"Huh? What?"

"Ramen isn't food. It's a culture!"

"Ah!"

"Thinking on it, you were right."

Grandpa smiled slowly at me.

"This little bowl seeps into daily life, sometimes soothing a weary day. How could we dismiss it as mere food?"

His words hit heavy today. The ramen I'd devoted my youth to—now validated by none other than Hansung Group's chairman. Pride swelled endlessly.

"Hehe~ Just words?"

"Oho, greed in our girl's eyes. Kehkehkeh~"

His booming laugh echoed as he patted my head lightly. Call it the special Gramps pat service.

"Wait and see. The day the world truly knows the worth of your bowl is coming soon."

Eh? Grandpa, what did you just mean? No way!