Let's Sell Some Grapes
"Wasn't that fun, Bora?!"
Hana spun in giddy circles around Bora, chattering without pause. Just as she said, the theatrical film of Little Magician Rumi had been well worth the watch. Even to Bora, a grown woman, the battles had been dazzling and grand—and there'd been a little extra prize besides.
In the restroom Hana had changed into a Little Magician Rumi costume and entered an event, and for her trouble she'd walked away with a poster from the movie. The picture set inside the frame was razor-sharp, its colors clean and vivid, and Hana was clearly smitten; she beamed as she clutched it to her chest.
It looked heavy, and Bora even offered to carry it, but Hana shook her head firmly from side to side and insisted she would hold it herself.
Grrrgle—
One movie later, hunger set in. Bora turned to her.
"Hana, want to grab something at a restaurant nearby before we head back?"
"Yeah!"
Hana must have been hungry too. She nodded as if she'd been waiting for exactly those words—the timing couldn't have been better—and rubbed her stomach as she asked.
"Bora, what are you gonna eat?"
"We'll eat whatever you want!"
"Then I want tonkatsu!"
Hana's favorites never changed, whether she was in the company cafeteria or out on the town. If meat was involved, that was all that mattered, and she liked her plates light on vegetables besides. On days when a meal came loaded with greens, she simply avoided that part of the spread. The last time someone had set a bowl of bibimbap in front of her, she'd nearly fainted.
Perhaps it had something to do with her plant-related abilities. She would eat fruit, and a little vegetable now and then, but she had no love for chewing on the plants themselves—seasoned greens, stems, and the like.
With Hana in tow, they headed for a nearby shop famous for its tonkatsu. Bora fully intended to enjoy the perks of looking after her. This was a perfectly legal chance to slack off while still on company time, and since Hana's wishes were to be granted whenever reasonably possible, taking her to the pork-cutlet place she wanted didn't even count as playing hooky.
It was, to the very last, part of the job!
Having talked herself into that victory, Bora got in the car and made for a well-regarded spot nearby. Hana was the quietly big-eater type, so they needed a place that served generous portions.
After tasting the grapes, Kim Sehee made her decision at once. There were plenty of wineries in the country, and among them she acquired one factory already sunk in financial trouble, at a fair price. Building a plant from scratch might have been simpler in some respects, but time was money, and letting grapes of this caliber rot would have been an unforgivable waste.
Raising a winery from bare ground would have taken far too long. In a sense, buying one might even have been the wiser path. Once the harvest was properly underway, Kim Sehee watched the winemaking itself. Turning grapes into wine demanded a great deal of time: the manufacturing steps were quick enough, but the aging that actually drew out a wine's flavor needed half a year at the very least.
Hana's grapes, however, shortened that aging dramatically. Full maturity didn't even take a few weeks. They'd learned as much by securing the fruit early and making wine from it as a test. Other grapes had to age for more than half a year before they became something worth drinking. Hana's wine was different.
In a way, it was only to be expected. Hana's plants always delivered excellent results. Someday, when she grew up, she might well become a princess presiding over a vast corporate empire—she was already the largest shareholder of a company whose market capitalization ran into the trillions of won. By the time she came of age, around twenty, she would probably rank among the very wealthiest people in the country.
"This is the wine we made first, as a test?"
"Yes, Chairman. It's made from the very first grapes we harvested."
"Hmm..."
Kim Sehee studied the bottle on her desk, wrapped in luxurious packaging. They still lacked the time, the brand, and the public recognition to turn out wines worth hundreds of millions of won a bottle, but she didn't mind. On flavor alone, the game was already over.
She eased the cork free, and the fragrant aroma rising from the bottle nearly stole her senses. Bring the most expensive wine in the world, and it still wouldn't hold a candle to this one—Hana's wine.
Because the wine needed a little time, Starlight Food began by selling the grapes themselves. It was still early days, so they didn't distribute nationwide.
The moment the fruit hit the shelves, it sold like wildfire. It tasted wonderful, and the price wasn't even high. The grape farm was thrown into complete chaos.
Cherry tomatoes were another matter. A single one packed enough calories to fill you up, so demand for the ones already on the market had held steady. There was no need to eat many of a cherry tomato that delivered two thousand calories in just two.
Coffee, for its part, was a crop that couldn't be grown in Korea at all. Fruit that thrived only along the coffee belt had no business growing here, and people were pleased, if anything, that Starlight had helped keep coffee prices in check.
Starlight Rice was different again. Government regulations and the market's reaction had kept Starlight Food from releasing it domestically, which was perhaps why some people said it was easier to find Starlight Rice in Japan than in Korea. Citizens insisted they'd never seen anything like it. How could rice grown at home be more visible overseas?
Grapes were another story. There were already a great many farms in the country growing them.
Rumor took off at a gallop—and that was with the grapes being sold only in a handful of places in Seoul.
"Starlight Food is planning to enter the grape market."
"So now they're out to conquer grapes too?"
"I heard it from a relative. They're going to sell nationwide before long."
To small farmers, the news that Starlight Food was moving into grape growing hit like a bolt from the blue.
"How are we supposed to beat the number-one conglomerate in Korea? From what I hear, their market cap is already up in the trillions of won."
"Worse than that, people say the flavor is outstanding and the volume is explosive. There's even talk that what they've released in Seoul so far is only a probe."
"What does a corporation that size even want, coming after little guys like us?"
The grape farms wore long faces, and the worry ran deep. Until just last year, Starlight Food hadn't spared farming a second thought. Lately, as if they'd stumbled onto some extraordinary seed, the food company was turning into an agricultural one. And the crops tasted so exceptional that they were selling rice capable of winning over even the notoriously picky Japanese palate. In truth, people had been watching Starlight Food with uneasy eyes ever since the cherry tomatoes went on sale.
"They're going to distribute grapes nationwide within three months? That's as good as telling us to shut down."
"Still, at least they gave us warning. Any other conglomerate would've charged in without a word and bankrupted grape farms one after another. At least this way we can brace ourselves."
"Did Starlight Food pay you off or something? I've farmed grapes my whole life, and now I'm supposed to fold the business and find something else? Does that even make sense?"
Whenever grape farmers gathered, the talk inevitably turned to Starlight Food's grapes. A smallholder beating a conglomerate was out of the question.
The distributors who sold the grapes, however, saw it differently.
"Starlight Food is entering the grape market too?"
"Has Starlight Food been growing grapes? That's the first I've heard of it."
"Apparently they've pulled it off. I went to Seoul and bought a bunch of Starlight Grapes—the berries were huge, and the taste was incredible."
"Then what happens to the grapes already out there?"
"What do you think? They said they're giving us a three-month grace period, so we sell everything we can in that time."
From a distributor's perspective, the damage was lighter than what the farms faced. Their job had only ever been to buy grapes from growers and sell them on, and if anything, life might get easier. They'd worn themselves out calling on farms scattered across the country; now they could buy from a single source. They might even take a shot at overseas sales. Crops grown by Starlight Food were extraordinarily good.
Even so, a confusion just shy of the farmers' despair settled over them.
If Starlight Food reached into the distribution network as well, the distributors' livelihoods would hang by a thread. So far there'd been little word about distribution, so they could still afford to watch and wait.