Yu Ilhan finished his report.
Lee Jun-hyuk nodded and took another sip of his coffee.
The deep aroma slowly pushed away his fatigue.
“But, sir.”
Yu Ilhan spoke as if something had just come to mind.
“You just spoke to Grandpa Kim Bong-seok on the phone, right? What did he say?”
“He warned me about Bancroft. Called him a viper.”
“A viper?”
He said once he bites, he never lets go.
Yu Ilhan’s expression darkened.
At that moment, there was the sound of someone hurrying up the stairs from below.
Knock, knock.
“Come in!”
The door burst open and Mary Anderson entered.
The Typewriter, she had never looked so excited before. In her hand was a Memo that seemed freshly written.
“Sir! We just got an incredible phone call! It’s great news!”
“What is it? Calm down and tell us, Mary.”
“We just received a call—from a very famous Gourmet Deli in Manhattan. They contacted us because they want to see our La Choy products!”
Lee Jun-hyuk shot up from his chair.
“Manhattan? What’s the name of the store?”
“It’s called ‘Gourmet Deli (90008108)’ in Greenwich Village. It’s run by a Frenchman, and they say it’s one of the top high-end grocery stores in all of New York.”
It was an unexpected opportunity.
Until now, La Choy’s main customers were Asian stores in Chinatown and Brooklyn.
But a high-end grocery store in Manhattan meant a completely different market.
“How did they hear about our products?”
“Well…”
Anderson looked a bit embarrassed, but she couldn’t hide her pride and smiled.
“Yesterday, at Heungseong Store, a customer bought our product, and he turned out to be a famous French chef in Manhattan. He was so impressed by the taste, he strongly recommended it to the Owner of this store!”
It was a stroke of luck.
Fortune favoring the prepared.
“When are we supposed to go?”
“They asked us to come at 2 p.m. today. The Owner will taste the products himself and decide whether to carry them.”
Lee Jun-hyuk checked the clock.
It was only 9 a.m.
“Alright. Let’s prepare our best Sample and go.”
“Sir, may I go with you?”
Yu Ilhan’s eyes sparkled like a child’s.
“Of course. You explain the product far better than I do, after all.”
Just then, the phone rang sharply again.
What is it now? Today, the calls just wouldn’t stop.
“La Choy Food.”
“Is this Lee Jun-hyuk?”
A low, icy-cold voice.
That crazy Bancroft.
Lee Jun-hyuk’s expression instantly hardened.
Standing beside him, Yu Ilhan also caught on and tensed up.
“What is it?”
Lee Jun-hyuk asked calmly.
“About last night… I’m truly sorry.”
Bancroft’s voice was filled with suppressed rage.
“You dare drag in the Mafia? Such cowardly, filthy behavior.”
“I never called them. They showed up on their own.”
“Don’t lie, you yellow monkey.”
Bancroft spat out sharply.
“If you think it ends here, you’re gravely mistaken. You’ll pay the price for daring to insult me.”
“I’m tired of your threats.”
Lee Jun-hyuk replied as evenly as he could.
“Is this really all you can do?”
“You insolent monkey…!”
Finally, curses flew out.
“If you keep this up, I’ll respond legally.”
Lee Jun-hyuk said firmly.
“I’ll report everything that happened last night to the police, and, if necessary, proceed with a lawsuit.”
“Ha ha ha!!!”
Bancroft laughed like a madman.
“A lawsuit? An Asian suing a white man? You really think that works in New York?”
It was a bitter reality.
In 1920s America, the legal system was thoroughly centered on white people. Especially if you were white and wealthy, the law was nothing but a maid to you.
“I’ve warned you. If anything happens to your factory or the people around you, it’s all on your own head.”
Click.
The call ended abruptly.
Lee Jun-hyuk slowly set down the receiver.
His palm was damp with sweat.
“Another threatening call?”
Yu Ilhan asked worriedly.
“Yes. But let’s not let it bother us.”
Lee Jun-hyuk forced a smile.
“We’ll focus on our work. We can’t let a piece of trash ruin our opportunity.”
But inside, unease gnawed at him.
He couldn’t predict what dirty trick Bancroft might try next.
Lee Jun-hyuk went downstairs with Yu Ilhan and Anderson.
The workshop was full of energy.
The staff were deftly making canned goods. Watching their lively movements, his uneasy heart calmed a little.
“Sir!”
Walter spotted them and hurried over.
“The first batch is complete. Exactly 200 Hangna.”
“How’s the quality?”
“Perfect. Even better than yesterday. Everyone’s getting the hang of it now.”
He was right.
The freshly made cans gleamed on the shelves.
The Labels were affixed flawlessly, not a single one out of place.
“Good work. Please set aside about twenty of these and pack them separately.”
“For Sample use?”
“Yes. We’ll need to take them to Manhattan today.”
Walter’s eyes widened.
“Manhattan? Are we finally breaking into that market?”
“We’re only at the meeting stage for now. But if things go well…”
Lee Jun-hyuk trailed off.
If things went well, it would mean a completely new market was opening.
It would be the first step beyond the fence of Asian stores, into the vast mainstream American market.
“I’ll put them in our finest box.”
Walter said with enthusiasm.
“We need to show those high-nosed Manhattan folks just how good our La Choy products are.”
At ten o’clock, the delivery truck arrived.
It was the same Driver as yesterday.
The red-haired Ireland-descended Youth got out and tipped his cap.
“Please take good care of me today!”
“Thank you for your hard work yesterday.”
Lee Jun-hyuk shook his hand.
“Are you alright handling more goods than yesterday?”
“Don’t worry. As long as this old truck holds up, I can haul anything.”
The staff started loading the boxes.
They were much more coordinated than yesterday. Maybe it was experience, but everyone seemed to have found their own groove.
“Careful with those!”
Walter still supervised closely, his sharp eyes missing nothing.
“Our products must always maintain the highest quality!”
Lee Jun-hyuk double-checked the delivery list.
Heungseong Store, 100 cans. Taeguk Store, 100 cans. And two new clients from yesterday.
“Sir, here’s the specially packed Sample.”
A female employee carefully brought over a neat wooden box. Opening the lid, twenty La Choy cans were lined up, each wrapped in a clean cloth.
“Such careful packing. Thank you.”
“I paid special attention since you’re going to Manhattan.”
The employee’s face was full of pride.
Everyone truly wanted the business to succeed. This was no longer just a job—it was becoming something they were building together.
“I’ll bring back good news, carrying all of your hopes with me.”
They finished loading the truck.
This time, Yu Ilhan was going with him.
They planned to make the deliveries in the morning, then head to Manhattan in the afternoon.
“We’ll be back soon!”
Lee Jun-hyuk called out to the remaining staff.
“Fighting!”
Someone cheered.
The others, as if on cue, joined in.
“La Choy, fighting!”
The truck set off.
The first stop was, of course, Heungseong Store.
They navigated the narrow alleys of Chinatown and parked in front of the shop.
“Welcome!”
The Owner greeted them warmly.
“You know, we sold twenty cans yesterday? And this morning, another ten already gone!”
“Really?”
Yu Ilhan asked in surprise.
“Of course! The word’s already spreading. Even though it’s canned, everyone’s amazed how fresh and crunchy it is.”
It was great news.
As they unloaded, the Owner spoke in a worried voice.
“But I heard something happened last night?”
Rumors had already spread throughout the neighborhood.
“Bancroft came by.”
Lee Jun-hyuk answered calmly.
“That bastard…”
The Owner let out a deep sigh.
“We had trouble with him once, too. Didn’t pay his protection fee, and overnight, he smashed every window in my store.”
“And the police?”
“We reported it, but it was no use. Said there was no evidence or something.”
Just as he expected.
The Owner patted Lee Jun-hyuk on the shoulder.
“In any case, be careful. That guy is persistent—a real viper. Once he sets his sights, he won’t stop tormenting you.”
“Thank you for the advice.”
They left the shop and headed for the next delivery.
Everywhere they went, the reaction was similar. Praise for the product, and worry and advice regarding Bancroft.
“I heard the Chinese Community helped you? That’s a relief.”
“They say the Italian Mafia even showed up. Is that true?”
“You’d better be careful at night from now on.”
Everyone was genuinely concerned for him.
By the time noon approached, they had finished all morning deliveries.
The truck Driver, hands on the wheel, spoke up.
“Heading to Manhattan now?”
“Yes. Please take us to Greenwich Village.”
“Oho, that’s a really rich neighborhood.”
The Driver whistled.
“You’re finally swimming in the big pond.”
The truck began to cross Brooklyn Bridge.
Lee Jun-hyuk placed the carefully packed Sample Box on his lap.
A heavy wooden box.
Inside it lay the future of La Choy.
“Are you nervous, sir?”
Yu Ilhan asked from beside him.
“To be honest, a little.”
Lee Jun-hyuk admitted.
“Up until now, our customers were Asian stores, who supported us out of a sense of community…”
“Stores serving whites, especially the wealthy, will be completely different.”
“Yes. Especially if it’s a high-end grocery run by a Frenchman, he’ll be much more strict and cold about taste and quality.”
As they crossed the bridge, the enormous Manhattan Skyline filled their view.
Countless tall buildings glittered coldly in the sunlight, as if they could pierce the sky.
Manhattan, 1920.
There was no Empire State Building or Chrysler Building yet, but it was already grand and imposing.
They arrived in Greenwich Village.
It was a world completely different from Brooklyn.
The streets were unbelievably clean, with beautiful, well-kept trees. The people walking by were dressed far more elegantly and fashionably.
“There it is.”
Yu Ilhan pointed to a sign that read ‘Gourmet Deli.’
The sign, written in elegant French script.
In the large shop window, all sorts of gourmet foods imported from Europe were displayed like works of art.
“Wow…”
Yu Ilhan couldn’t help but exclaim.
“It’s so high-class… I wonder if we even belong here.”
Lee Jun-hyuk felt tense as well.
He could feel his heart beating faster than usual.
Would they really accept Sprout Canning made by Asians in a place like this?
He carefully carried the Sample Box and entered the store.
Ding-ling.
The small bell on the door chimed clear and bright.
Inside, the shop was even more luxurious than it looked from outside. The floor gleamed with polished marble, and the display shelves were made from quality mahogany wood.
And in that space, where soft classical music played, the air was filled with the scent of fine cheese and freshly brewed coffee. It felt less like a grocery store, and more like a jewelry shop or museum.
“Bonjour, may I help you?”
From behind the counter, a middle-aged man appeared.
Neatly groomed beard and a spotless white apron—the quintessential Frenchman.
“Hello. I’m Lee Jun-hyuk of La Choy Food.”
Lee Jun-hyuk bowed politely in greeting.
“Ah, the canning company.”
The man’s face lit up.
“I’ve been expecting you. I am Pierre Dubois, Owner of this store.”
The two men shook hands.
“My old friend, Grand Chef Jang, praised your product to the skies. He said, though it’s a can from the East, it was the most unique and fresh-tasting food he’d ever had.”
Grand Chef Jang. That must be the French chef who bought La Choy at Heungseong Store yesterday.
“So, I wanted to taste it for myself.”
Pierre led them to the back of the shop.
“Please, come this way.”
They went to a small area in the back, apparently set up for tasting, with a clean marble table and chairs.
Lee Jun-hyuk took a deep breath and opened the Sample Box.
The carefully packed La Choy cans came into view.
“Oh, the packaging is so neat and tidy.”
Pierre exclaimed with genuine admiration.
With trembling hands, Yu Ilhan picked up a can opener and opened one of the cans.
Chiiik.
With the hiss of escaping air, the rich, savory aroma of sprout filled the small space.
Pierre took a small silver fork, already set on the table, and picked up a strand of sprout.
He didn’t put it in his mouth right away.
First, he brought it to his eyes, examining its state under the light.
Then he brought it to his nose, savoring the aroma deeply.
Like a sommelier appraising fine wine, every movement was careful and deliberate.
Lee Jun-hyuk and Yu Ilhan held their breath, watching his every move.
It felt as if, like a prisoner awaiting sentence, their fate rested entirely on his lips.
At last, Pierre slowly put the sprout into his mouth.