Canned Sikhye, the Friend Who Revolutionized Distribution
Canned sikhye would become the blockbuster product that etched a mark in the distribution world—a mega-hit that, by 2023 standards, achieved cumulative sales of 1.8 billion units. Of course, all that fruit wouldn't go to Baekje Beverage but would be snatched away by Taesung Distribution. If he sat idle, Min-ho would lose a friend who was like family once again. He'd also miss out on canned sikhye, the golden child product that could skyrocket A-Mart's sales. He couldn't repeat the same mistake.
Min-ho cut straight to the chase. "These are extremely favorable terms for Baekje Beverage. Take your time to read it over and sign."
"And if I refuse?"
"Just keep in mind that opportunities like this don't come twice."
President Gong Tae-han didn't look at the contract. Instead, he stared intently into Min-ho's eyes. What puzzled him more than the contract terms was how canned sikhye—a product under utmost secrecy—had slipped from Min-ho's lips. No matter how he racked his brain, he couldn't make sense of it. He cooled his frustrated chest with a sip of iced coffee and asked again. "Forgive me, but I need an answer before we discuss the contract."
"You're wondering how I knew about canned sikhye?"
"Exactly. We'll keep developing products in the future, but if secrets leak out like water from a broken jar every time, that'd be a problem, wouldn't it?"
Min-ho pondered how to broach the topic. After organizing his thoughts, he spoke. "The core technology for canned sikhye lies in converting the malt extract and rice starch-decomposing enzymes into sugar."
It was a pinpoint accurate answer. Feigning mild surprise but playing it cool, he continued. "You know it in great detail."
"Unlike other drinks, sikhye has one fatal flaw: its short shelf life."
"Do you happen to know the solution to that as well?"
"For nationwide distribution, long-term preservation is essential. You've solved it with retort sterilization."
In simple terms, it meant removing all air from the product and sterilizing it at high heat. President Gong nodded, listening intently to Min-ho's explanation.
"Baekje Beverage is the only one capable of production based on this theory, and that's why I'm here."
How could Min-ho know such specific details that only a practitioner would grasp? In his previous life, during breaks, he'd worked part-time here with his friend Gong Cheong-ho. Thanks to that, he had a perfect grasp of the production process and product features.
The suspicious questions were met with crystal-clear answers. President Gong couldn't hide his astonishment. "You sound just like someone who's worked in our factory. Are you saying you deduced the development of canned sikhye from these circumstances?"
"Yes. Of course, I only know the theory. The only one who can turn it into a real product is you, President Gong."
The president, who'd been fretting over a possible security breach, let out a sigh of relief. "From the moment you walked in, I knew you weren't ordinary, but I didn't expect this level."
"I hope it sways you toward the contract."
"Forgive me, but I have one more question."
"Please, go ahead."
There was one lingering doubt: Athena Distribution's direct development. With far more employees and R&D funding, if they knew the theory, developing canned sikhye themselves would be just a matter of time. Yet they'd come in person with a contract instead of producing it. From the president's perspective, it was baffling.
"If you know it that well, you could produce it yourselves. Why come all this way?"
"As you said, we could develop it directly. But I won't choose that path."
The unexpected response made him tilt his head. "You want to make Athena Distribution a respected company, not one pointed at with fingers. You've chosen symbiosis over monopoly."
"Does that mean you won't trade veteran small businesses for short-term gains?"
"Exactly. Greed might bring immediate profits, but looking ahead, it'd be foolish."
"You're wise beyond your years. Alright, I'll review the contract carefully and get back to you."
The terms were irresistibly attractive, but the cautious President Gong held off on deciding. Contracts required prudence, but there was no need here. Delaying judgment gained nothing. Min-ho slid the contract toward him. "This offer won't come again after today."
"As someone running a business, I have to be cautious with contracts. Give me a little time to review it calmly."
"Once canned sikhye hits the market, copycats will flood out like bamboo shoots after rain. How do you plan to counter that?"
"I've anticipated it to some extent, but no one can replicate canned sikhye exactly."
That complacent thinking was why Baekje Beverage vanished into the dustbin of history. A single mistake, fatal as venom, irreversible. Without securing the signature, he'd make the same call. Min-ho began tightening the noose with specific examples.
"You know Taesung Distribution well from long dealings."
"They pay with promissory notes, but they're not that vicious."
"What if one canned sikhye product sustains Baekje Beverage going forward? If consumers love it, won't Taesung get greedy?"
Min-ho pressed relentlessly. "The terms are simple. Lawyer Choi, please explain."
Choi Jong-hoon, who'd been sitting quietly, explained methodically. "Once you sign, Athena Distribution gains exclusive distribution rights to all products developed by Baekje Beverage from this moment."
Despite the great terms, the president still hesitated. "We've also added a clause at the end stating we won't produce copy products."
Contracting with Athena, which was hard even to approach, would be a boon for Baekje Beverage itself. No poison pills in any clause, no matter how closely examined. He wanted to stamp it right then, but remained cautious. "My eldest son is in law at Korea University, prepping for the bar exam. He'll stop by the factory soon. Could you give us a bit of time?"
"Of course."
At that moment, the office door opened, and in walked Min-ho's best friend, Gong Cheong-ho.
***
Lying peacefully in a shroud—that was the last image of his friend Gong Cheong-ho. Min-ho wanted to greet him warmly, but he wasn't Cheong-ho's friend anymore. So many questions, so much to say, but he swallowed it all. Seeing his friend after decades made his nose tingle; he averted his gaze, pretending otherwise.
President Gong beamed happily at his son's entrance. He'd delayed the decision needing his reliable son's input. After poring over the contract, the son replied. "Dad, no poison pills at all. The terms are too good."
"Really?"
"Yes. We can sign right now, no issues."
"If our firstborn says it's fine, it is. Good work."
Smiling awkwardly, he turned to the group. "I once signed a contract impulsively and got burned, so now I always call my eldest—the top admit to Korea University Law—for help."
"Better safe than sorry with contracts."
"I hope there's no misunderstanding."
Glancing around the office, Min-ho found an excuse. "Could we tour the factory?"
"Of course. Let me wrap this up, and I'll guide you myself."
"We'll give you time to review the contract. Could your son show us around?"
"Sure, go ahead. Cheong-ho, give them the factory tour."
Leaving the rest to Lawyer Choi and Yang Sang-pil, Min-ho left the office—not for the factory, but outside. Bewildered, Cheong-ho asked, "Uh... why are we going outside?"
"I came empty-handed."
"No, that's fine."
"It's polite to bring something. Where's the nearest mart?"
"Ten minutes on foot. I'll drive."
"Let's walk—get some sun."
"Yes."
Matching steps with his friend after so long, Min-ho glanced sideways at Cheong-ho. It was his fifth year grinding for the bar exam. Unshaven beard, gaunt face—it said it all. He broached casually. "Heard you're studying for the bar. How's it going? Tough, right?"
"I... uh..."
Reading his friend's heart without words was easy. "Call me President, or better yet, like a friend."
"No, we're not that close."
"Relax. Pretend you're just going to the mart with a buddy."
"Yes, got it."
To save his friend, he had to change the situation somehow. Heart racing, but he stayed calm. "How long have you been at it?"
"Exactly five years since I moved to Sinrim-dong."
"Your dad seems to have high hopes."
"Before I came in..."
"He was already bragging up a storm."
They chatted amiably en route to the mart. Cheong-ho was on the brink. He'd chosen law to meet parental and societal expectations, unsure of his own desires. Unable to betray those hopes, he clung to the bar exam. It was inefficient, proven by five failures.
As he let out a long sigh, Min-ho struck the core. "Dragging on something you don't want and don't know why is tragic."
It pierced his soul. Cheong-ho stopped, staring at Min-ho. "How... did you... know?"
Min-ho hadn't known his shadowed heart before. When his friend vented frustration, he'd offered vague encouragement: "Just keep at it, good results will come." That comfort had pushed him toward ruin. He'd regretted it later, beating his chest, but it was too late.
Without change, tragedy would repeat. "You're coasting on inertia, but deep down, no confidence, no clue why, books won't stick... yet you can't let down your parents. It's a bind."
Thoughts he'd never shared. This stranger read him like a psychic. "Did you investigate me?"
"I'm busier than I look. No time for chit-chat."
"True... but how?"
"Know-how from interviews and such. Faces tell the story."
It hit like water after choking. Habitually reaching for a cigarette, he stuffed it back. "It's fine. Smoke if you want."
Cheong-ho lit up silently. Exhaling what might have been sigh or smoke, he spoke heavily. "Thought hard work would do it, but no. And it's not what I want."
"When did you realize?"
"Around last year. Passed the first round once, failed the rest. Books stopped registering. More staring out windows blankly."
Min-ho delivered the essential line. "You lack the courage to quit?"
"Yes. Dad's expectations are huge."
"Quitting can be smart. Your law knowledge doesn't vanish."
"But... imagining Dad's disappointment silences me."
"Not easy, but say it. He won't live your life for you."
You don't have to finish the race. Bold surrender can be wisdom. For the first time, someone got him despite being a stranger. Cheong-ho hung his head, tears flowing.
Min-ho patted his shoulder. "Baekje Beverage needs a successor. With your law smarts, it'd thrive. Athena will back you fully."
He played every card. The choice was Cheong-ho's. "Don't say you'll think about it. You've already decided."
Wiping tears, nodding, Cheong-ho replied. "Thanks to you, President, I've resolved it. I know where to go now."
"We'll see each other often, so treat me like a friend off-duty. Shall we head back?"
Back in the office, the contract bore President Gong's seal. "How was the factory tour?"
"Your son explained so well—I learned a ton."
"Oh, no need... Well, let's do great things together."
"Any funds or manpower needed, just say. I told your son the details."
"Really? My goodness... How to thank you..."
"See you next time."
"Yes, take care."
Min-ho glanced once more at the resolved Cheong-ho's face and shut the office door. The rest was up to those two.
In the car back to Seoul, Lawyer Choi asked, "Young master, something happen?"
"What do you mean?"
"That son... his eyes were all puffy like he'd been crying."
"Just your imagination. Don't worry."
Lowering the window for fresh air, a heavy pager beep sounded. He checked the voice message.
-It's Gu Eun-chae. I think we need to talk. Call me even if you're busy.-
This was the first private contact from President Gu Eun-chae. Sensing something, Min-ho changed destination. "Lawyer Choi, to Soseonjae, please."