Life's Reversal in One Shot
“Hahaha! I've turned my life around. Long live Hansung Food!”
A man on TV shouted three cheers, proclaiming, “Long live Hansung Food!”
“Wow!”
I clapped my hands watching the man on the screen. It was great news. The event had wrapped up without a hitch. Thanks to all the people who threw themselves into the Haeguri Event, it had been a resounding success.
I'd gotten to read the stories of the winners that Dad had shared with me.
The first winner was an orphan youth. Having lost his parents in an accident as a child, he'd been a hardworking young man scraping by in tough conditions. But coming from rags, no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn't escape the chains of poverty. Naturally, that meant cheap ramen was a staple, and he'd beaten odds of 1 in 150 million to win an apartment.
The second winner was even more astonishing. He'd been scammed. This Park Elder had lost his life's savings overnight. The nest egg he'd trusted to someone vanished without a trace, leaving only debt collectors and deep sighs. Not wanting to burden his kids, he'd collected scrap paper, metal, and bottles from the streets, selling them to junk dealers just to get by. Of course, like the first guy, he had to skimp on food too, so he was a big fan of Haeguri. Thanks to that, the elder snagged a brand-new Gangnam apartment—one worth tens of millions now, but set to balloon to billions later.
And we'd even sorted out his legal troubles on top of that.
Corporations live on image. How could we ignore a VIP customer's story like that? I pitched it to Grandpa: let's help the elder and plant the seed of Hansung as a good, caring company. He accepted my proposal without hesitation.
The TV was flooded with heartwarming stories about Hansung Food day after day.
Yes. This was exactly the kind of company I wanted. Sangbusangjo—mutual aid. Helping each other out. Image is everything, really. The elder bought tons of Hansung ramen, boosting our sales, and I returned the favor to someone who'd loved our product.
The third and fourth were good folks too.
Of course, the fifth story blew them all away.
Dad had told me about the fifth winner, a guy named Jin-su. In my past life, I'd seen countless ramen fiends. Some ate it out of hardship, others because cooking alone was a hassle, or like me, experimenting with recipes. Reasons varied. But this Jin-su? None of the above.
I hope he's healthy...
He seemed possessed by ramen. What to call it? Stress-eating instant noodles or something. He admitted to eating them at least four times a week. Dad, handing out the Gangnam apartments personally, was especially impressed by Jin-su. Most people get sick of eating the same thing all the time. But Jin-su didn't just love Haeguri—he devoured every Hansung ramen without discrimination. A die-hard fan, totally hooked.
“Woooow!”
Having heard all six winners' stories, one thought hit me.
If people loved ramen this much, didn't they know it inside out? Better than anyone. After all, I'd eaten my weight in ramen across two lifetimes.
The next morning, Grandpa was still in his study.
“Has Seoyeun come?”
The Haeguri Event's huge success had him in high spirits.
“Hehe~ Grandpa, have a great day today too.”
His one and only granddaughter clasped her hands neatly and bowed. Grandpa chuckled heartily.
“Heh heh heh. The only reason Seoyeun shows up at this hour is to make a wish to her old grandpa, right?”
I'd won our Olympics bet. Nailed six gold medals exactly. Our national team finished a stellar 10th overall at the Los Angeles Games: six golds, six silvers, seven bronzes. The whole country was buzzing—it was festival vibes rivaling the 2002 World Cup. Even after it ended, people marched with Taegukgi flags, and prime-time news replayed highlights nonstop.
“Hehe~ You knew?”
“Heh heh heh! Who knows my granddaughter's heart better than this grandpa? So, what wish do you have for me?”
I plopped into the custom kid's chair opposite him. I'd grown a bit; it felt snug now.
“Grandpa!”
“Speak your mind, child.”
“My wish... I want to do something.”
“Something my granddaughter wants to do... What might that be?”
“Well...”
My mind raced. To convince the big boss, you need a noble cause.
“I want us to start a business with people at the center.”
“A business with people at the center?”
Grandpa repeated it slowly, thoughtfully. The study fell so quiet, even the rustle of papers stopped.
“Seoyeun.”
His voice was low.
“Don't businesses revolve around people by nature?”
“Right. Companies run on people.”
“Then why single it out?”
He had a point. Companies and people are inseparable, like he said. To convince him, I had to be straight about what I really wanted.
“Grandpa, to develop great products, don't we need the right talent?”
“That's basic for any manager, isn't it?”
“Yes. But managers often get it wrong. Companies do center on people, but...”
I took a breath.
“The ones shouting 'people first' usually just exploit them. I mean the opposite.”
“Opposite?”
“Yes! There's an old saying: what comes must go. I realized it during the Haeguri Event.”
Locking eyes, I put weight into every word.
“Someone said one person can feed ten thousand. I want Hansung Group to find this country's hidden talents.”
“Hidden talents?”
“Yes. So many skilled people buried without a chance.”
I clenched my fist, speaking clearly.
“People too poor for education, those who gave up dreams for family, geniuses the world ignores.”
Grandpa's gaze deepened.
“Give them a shot, and one could feed ten thousand— inventing tech, great products, creating jobs.”
“Hm...”
He stroked his chin, humming low.
“So I want Hansung not just selling goods, but unearthing and nurturing people.”
I caught my breath for the clincher.
“A company that spots overlooked gems first. That's the Hansung I want to build.”
“So this is where I'm gonna live now?”
A young man gazed around the brand-new apartment interior, eyes brimming with awe. The entrance hit him first: high-rise walls blending glass and metal. Sunlight danced off the windows like ripples, the whole complex sharp lines and subtle curves. At a glance, it screamed luxury—way beyond what he could ever afford.
“Ooooh!”
The living room was stadium-sized. For someone who'd huddled in a closet-like studio his whole life, the scale was overwhelming.
“Kiyaaahoooo!”
In the middle of the apartment, the excited young man—Jin-su—curled up on the living room floor and rolled like a kimbap rice triangle. He rolled and rolled, never hitting a wall. And the bathroom? Hotel-level setup. Jin-su had always envied apartment dwellers' bathing facilities. His old place? No proper bath—the rickety faucet barely worked, and winter pipe bursts meant no hot water, often no water at all.
“Euhahaha, ehehihihi!”
But the real shocker: separate living room and kitchen. His old spot? Two steps from living to cooking. Boundaries between cooking, sleeping, breathing—all blurred. He'd never even thought of inviting friends.
And separate bedroom? Bliss. He touched the doorframe. Closed, total isolation; open, seamless flow.
“Sleeping and eating spaces... separate now?”
Summers meant bugs galore. Winters, faulty briquettes left him surviving on hot ramen broth for years. Heavy rains? Leaks everywhere—buckets galore, mold stench giving headaches. Then the boss's blunder tanked the company.
1 in 150 million. Sane people wouldn't bet on it. If he hadn't watched the Olympics at the corner mart, if that regular elder hadn't asked if he'd checked the Haeguri draw on his way home, Jin-su might never have known he won.
“Heh heh heh! What a fun young man. I like you.”
“Straight to the point. My daughter told me to pass this on. You know. House prices will skyrocket, so never sell it—live there and hold it forever.”
“You might wonder why I'm saying this. Just know it's from my cute, adorable, apple-of-my-eye daughter. Don't brush it off. Absolutely, never sell that prize apartment. If someone pressures you to...”
“That person's a dog in human skin.”
To Jin-su, the man spouted weird stuff. But he wore a fancy suit and was none other than the youngest son of Hansung Group, a top chaebol.
Cute, adorable, can't-hurt-her-with-my-eyes daughter?
Jin-su tilted his head at the odd image. Then the bombshell proposal from the chaebol heir.
“Since you're here, how about working at Hansung Food?”
“If you love ramen that much, you must know it better than anyone. You've tried all brands, so pros and cons stand out, right?”
“Plus, fancy apartment fees need a steady job. And you're job-hunting.”
“My daughter wants you. What do you say, Jin-su?”
Jobless from his boss's screw-up, Jin-su found himself hired at Korea's top food giant in a daze.
Guess life really does turn around in one shot.