“Hmm…”
“Meowww!”
Nabi was still as active as ever. So active that she wouldn’t leave anything around her untouched for even a second. I guess that’s just how it is with kittens under a year old—full of adventure and curiosity. I patted Nabi’s head because that was the only way to calm her down.
“Meow…”
Sure enough, as soon as I gently stroked her head, Nabi quieted down. Her soft fur felt amazing, and I couldn’t help but want to keep touching it. I was watching TV at the time.
A show about someone growing plants was on. Watching it made me think.
Having a pet plant didn’t seem like a bad idea after having a pet. Sure, I already had a farm, but I only went there once a week. Going every day was just too time-consuming and, frankly, a hassle.
Why did I have to build the farm so far away that I needed to drive there? If only it were right across from this building, I could go every day.
Of course, building a farm of that size in Seoul would cost an insane amount of money. And honestly, creating a farm of the size I wanted in this concrete jungle was impossible. I’d have to demolish buildings and farm on that land.
It just didn’t add up. Plus, even if I had such a farm, I wouldn’t be happy about it. People would come to gawk every day, and without proper security, who knows what could happen.
So I just stared blankly at the TV. In my heart, I had already decided to get a pet plant.
—
“Meow…”
Nabi was circling around the cactus pot I bought. That’s right—I successfully adopted a cactus as my pet plant. It’s the easiest to take care of, and its vitality is insane.
“Meow!”
Nabi tried to throw a “meow punch” at the cactus but ended up pricking herself on its spines. I couldn’t help but laugh. Still, I checked to make sure no spines were stuck in her paw. Luckily, she hadn’t punched it hard enough for that.
“Hehe!”
I placed the cactus pot by the sunny window. It was going to be my pet plant, fed with water I’d generously give it. Of course, since cacti only need water once a month, it wouldn’t drink much.
I heard somewhere that spraying water on a cactus once a month is enough. That’s because cacti don’t need much water. In fact, too much water can rot their roots and kill them.
I stared at the cactus. I definitely made the right choice. After raising so many other plants, this special cactus was just perfect.
Nabi stayed far away from the cactus, still on high alert after her earlier encounter. If only she’d stop throwing those “meow punches,” but it’s hard to stop her—it’s almost instinctual.
I told Nabi, “Nabi, don’t touch the cactus pot! If you do, you might end up in a cat stew!”
“Meow…”
Nabi hid in the corner, scared. I laughed at her reaction. I didn’t mind, but if this pot fell, Bora, Maru, or Haru would have to clean it up, and that would definitely make them angry.
I wanted to clean it up myself, but I’d probably be kept away from the broken pieces to avoid getting hurt. My body wasn’t just mine anymore. Tens of thousands of workers at Starlight Food depended on me. Without me, the company would go bankrupt in a single day.
Of course, I had no intention of leaving Starlight Food. I didn’t feel the need to walk away from people who treated me so well.
As I looked at the spiky cactus, I thought…
—
Mir Company, which ranks third among companies importing and distributing flour, is a dinosaur in the industry when it comes to stores that handle flour. Just being in the top three in a country as big as South Korea is already a big deal.
It was safe to say that they had the weight class.
Of course, if you were to judge by academics, being third in your class would make people think, “Wow, you’re pretty good at studying!” But Mir Company was third in the entire country of South Korea.
It was the same logic as being shocked if someone ranked third nationwide on the college entrance exam. Being third in your local area or neighborhood might not mean much, but being third nationwide held immense value. After all, Mir Company, ranked third, was distributing 15% of South Korea’s wheat.
Having built the company from the ground up since the 1950s, it was safe to say they had a long and storied career in South Korea.
But CEO Yoo Gisoo was talking about selling such a company to someone else.
“Son… are you in your right mind saying that?”
His father, Chairman Yoo Gipil, looked at his son with a bewildered expression. He was aware of Starlight Food’s entry into the flour market.
In fact, there wasn’t a single person in the flour industry who didn’t know about Starlight Food’s move. And Chairman Yoo Gipil thought his son had done well in managing the company.
How often do chaebol heirs mess up the companies they inherit? The first-generation chaebol chairmen, with their sharp abilities, knack for reading the market, and exceptional skills in running businesses, were a cut above. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have been able to build companies from the ashes of war.
But the second generation was a different story. They grew up like flowers in a greenhouse—comfortable and safe. As a result, they often lacked the abilities of their first-generation predecessors. Some even managed to ruin entire groups.
However, Chairman Yoo Gipil often looked favorably upon his son, Yoo Gisoo. From a young age, he had shown more talent than other chaebol heirs, and now he was running the company well. So well, in fact, that the chairman was considering retiring and handing over the reins.
But the son he had trusted was now talking about selling their company to Starlight Food overnight.
“Did you get something under the table from Starlight Food? No… why are you saying this?”
Chairman Yoo Gipil looked at his son, Yoo Gisoo, as he spoke. It felt off to see his usually sharp son talking nonsense. But seeing his father’s reaction, Yoo Gisoo straightened his expression and said, “Father, just hear me out once.”
“Alright, I can listen once.”
Persuading a father who had dedicated his life to building a group might have been difficult. But most flour importers weren’t taking Starlight Food’s entry into the flour market too seriously. The distribution network they had built over nearly half a century wouldn’t be easy to replicate in a short time.
It would take at least five to ten years of investing heavily in distribution to even come close to matching other companies’ networks. Even if Starlight Food’s flour prices were low, high distribution costs would render it useless. Other companies thought Starlight Food would struggle in that regard.
So naturally, they were running a happy circuit, thinking that Starlight Food would end up selling wheat to them, who already had a solid distribution network. Ten years was an incredibly long time, after all.
“If Starlight Food enters the flour market, there’s no hope for our Mir Company.”
CEO Yoo Gisoo began to explain step by step. Of course, it wasn’t just his own opinion. It was a conclusion reached after discussions with executives. Starlight Food’s determination was rock solid. They were aiming to dominate the flour market entirely.
It was a fight they couldn’t win. So, the main idea was to join Starlight Food’s side instead! If they joined before other companies, maybe they could at least get some crumbs.
