In a neighborhood where you’d expect to find a village head, there are thousands of people…
“Thanks to Hana, so many people are able to make a living. If it weren’t for Hana, they’d probably be job seekers or unemployed, huh?”
“Ah-ha.”
I could hear the boss talking. Originally, Starlight Food had fewer than a hundred employees, but in just half a year, they’ve hired nearly thousands. All of them are full-time employees, and I couldn’t even imagine how many people are working there.
Wait, is there really that much work to hire so many people? And it’s not just the thousands of full-time employees. Considering the nature of our country, where non-regular workers are common, there are probably even more subcontractors working below them. The number of subcontractors might be 3-4 times that of a large corporation.
From running the factory to cultivating cherry tomatoes and even growing coffee, the primary industry seems to require a lot of labor. And now, with rice in the mix, they’re still short on manpower. No matter how much farming machinery they have, farming still needs a lot of people.
The boss probably never expected this to happen. Just last year, he was probably worrying about how to keep the company running. He couldn’t have imagined this much work pouring in.
If I suddenly disappeared, 10,000 to 20,000 people would be out on the streets. And since some of them are married with families, if you count their dependents, around 30,000 to 40,000 people are working because of me. Thinking about that made me feel a mix of emotions.
I’m just a kid, yet I’m responsible for the livelihoods of so many people! I felt a sense of pride, but also a wave of anxiety.
I used to think I was just an ordinary kid, but seeing my special abilities in action made me realize I’m something special. It’s not delusions of grandeur or anything. If I disappeared, tens of thousands of people would lose their jobs.
“Shall we go somewhere else, Hana?”
The boss, having finished organizing his desk, grabbed my hand and spoke. I nodded and said,
“Yes!”
What’s done is done. All I can do is pray for the crops to grow better. And since they’re like my children in a way, it’s fun to walk around and see how they’re growing.
As we left the building, the sun was shining brightly. I walked toward the busy work area, wearing the straw hat the boss gave me. Security guards had quietly followed us. The boss was dressed as usual, but there was something different about him, like he was subtly asserting his status as the boss.
As we walked, I could feel the workers glancing at us. I noticed the rice plants growing well. It’s not like plants can be assaulted or yelled at, so the rice was thriving.
Out of curiosity, I brushed my hand over the rice, and it trembled happily, like a soldier meeting their parents on discharge day. Watching the rice grow filled me with pride.
I wish this rice could be distributed domestically… It’s frustrating to think only the Japanese get to enjoy this delicious rice. I heard there’s some regulation preventing it from being sold in Korea.
“Boss!”
“Yes, Hana, what is it?”
“Why can’t we sell this rice in Korea?”
“Well… that’s…”
The boss seemed hesitant to explain. Maybe he thought it was too complicated for a kid to understand the political issues and fallout involved. So, puffing out my cheeks, I said to him,
“I want to eat Starlight Rice too!”
Of course, I think of them as my children, but still, delicious food… And unlike vegetables, rice has a structure where the grains form on the stalks, so I felt less guilty. I’m not eating the rice plant itself, right?
“Really? I’ll take care of that!”
The boss told me to trust him.
After I spoke to the boss, Starlight Rice started being supplied to our research institute. I don’t know how he got the approval, but it was a bonus that the popularity of our Starlight Research Institute’s cafeteria skyrocketed.
——————————————————————-
The P Bank branch in Icheon was as quiet and peaceful as expected today.
When people think of Seoul, they imagine shiny skyscrapers reaching endlessly into the sky. But in reality, Seoul…
It was a fair point, but just an hour or two drive from Seoul, the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province welcomed you with scenery that naturally brought rural landscapes to mind.
Icheon City was one such area. It was on the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province and not a particularly important region, so there weren’t many people around. The branch of P Bank here was, in a way, performing so poorly that it could be considered for consolidation with other branches.
It wasn’t a good kind of performance—this bank was struggling. The branch wasn’t in a great location either, so it didn’t attract many customers.
Might this be the lowest-performing branch in the entire country?
“Today’s unusually quiet. Still no customers.”
“Yeah, even bank robbers would skip us.”
It was a fair point since there wasn’t much financial asset deposited here. The amount of assets deposited in a busy urban branch versus a quiet, rural one like this was vastly different.
“Does it even make sense that it’s been two hours since we opened and there’s still no one?”
Today was especially dead. Normally, customers would start trickling in 30 minutes to an hour after opening, but today, even after two hours, not a single soul had shown up.
This was the kind of situation where you could just leave. Even a small, quiet village convenience store would probably have more customers than this bank right now.
“Is our branch really going under?”
No matter how bad it got, P Bank as a whole was fine. But those working at the Icheon branch could very well be in trouble. The branch could be consolidated or even shut down entirely.
“Yeah, but we just merged not too long ago.”
Honestly, with so few customers, this was the result even after merging. The headquarters probably sighed, realizing there were no more branches left to consolidate. Shutting it down entirely was the last resort.
“You know, being a legal salary thief feels pretty good.”
“Yeah, but the problem is not knowing when we’ll get fired. If only we were civil servants, huh?”
“True, if we were civil servants, we could slack off without worrying about getting fired.”
The employees joked half-seriously about the looming threat of layoffs. Isn’t it said that people show their humorous side when they’re in the most critical situations?
As they chatted, the automatic doors slid open, and the first customer of the day walked in.
“Welcome.”
The security guard greeted the customer entering the bank. Today’s first customer appeared to be a mother and daughter—though, judging by the child’s green hair, maybe not.
“Please take a number.”
Of course, with no other customers around, it was a meaningless gesture, but procedures had to be followed.
As soon as the number was taken, the bell rang.
“Customer number 1!”
Kim Sehee, holding Hana, checked the number on her ticket. The bank opened around 9, and now, past 11, there hadn’t been a single customer?
“Am I the first customer today?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Wow, this place feels like the countryside, but it’s surprising that there’s no one here even at 11.”
“It’s a quiet village.”
The female employee responded, continuing the conversation.
“How can I assist you today?”
“Ah, I came to adjust the transfer limit on Hana’s account… I’ve prepared all the documents.”
“Ah, I see.”
The employee, having handled many requests to increase children’s account transfer limits, took the documents without much thought.
As the employee entered the account number from the documents and checked the account, her jaw dropped.
She had never seen such a bank balance in all her years of working.
‘What… what is this amount?’
Seeing a balance in the trillions, she momentarily forgot how to breathe. She was certain that no minor in Korea could possibly have this much cash.
