The next morning, Lee Jun-hyuk arrived at the office earlier than usual.
Order forms he’d received the day before were piled up on his desk like a mountain.
The first order from ‘Gourmet Deli’ for 100 cans, a surge of 450 cans ordered by the food tasting event participants, and the regular orders from existing clients—all together, the amount they had to produce this week easily surpassed 1,000 cans.
“Can production really keep up with the pace of orders?”
It was a pleasant kind of worry, but also a realistic pressure. The current maximum daily output of the factory was just over 500 cans. Even if they started two shifts next week, the schedule would still be tight.
Knock, knock.
Just then, he heard a knock at the door.
“Come in, please.”
The door opened and Yu Ilhan entered.
His eyes were bloodshot like someone who’d stayed up all night, but his expression was more energetic than ever.
In his hand, he carried a large sketchbook and colored pencils.
“President, I spent the night thinking about the new packaging design proposal for Macy’s Department Store.”
He opened his sketchbook.
Meticulously drawn design drafts filled the pages. They were completely different from the current simple and utilitarian design. Far more sophisticated, the kind of designs that immediately evoked the word ‘luxury.’
“How about this one, to start?”
Yu Ilhan pointed to the first design.
A soft, glossy black background with gold borders. In the center, a small, refined bamboo illustration symbolizing Eastern aesthetics.
It was a perfect blend of Oriental and modern flair.
“It’s very good. However…”
Lee Jun-hyuk looked closely at the design.
“Don’t you think the Eastern vibe might be a bit too strong? To break into the mainstream market in the United States, it could be seen as too foreign right from the start.”
“You thought so too? That’s why I prepared this one as well.”
Yu Ilhan turned the page as if he’d been waiting for that.
This time, it was pure Ardeco Style.
Geometric and bold patterns, reminiscent of the architecture and art world of 1920s New York, filled the design.
The “84A+0!” logo was also newly designed in a sophisticated sans-serif font to match the sensibilities of the era.
“This one’s much better.”
Lee Jun-hyuk nodded in satisfaction.
“It fits the trends of the times and looks high-end without feeling too foreign.”
Just then, an even more urgent knock came at the door.
“Come in, please.”
Robert O’Brien entered the office, almost running. His face was pale.
“President, I just got a very strange call.”
“A strange call?”
“Someone claiming to be a newspaper reporter called and said they’d received an anonymous tip-off about a serious hygiene problem at our La Choy factory.”
Lee Jun-hyuk and Yu Ilhan looked at each other simultaneously.
It was Bancroft Company’s next move.
Since the knife of the health authorities hadn’t worked, now they were resorting to the media—a dirtier and even more powerful weapon.
“Which newspaper did they say they’re from?”
“They said ‘Brooklyn Daily Eagle.’”
It was a local paper.
Not a giant media outlet like the New York Times, but one with significant influence in the Brooklyn community.
“How did you respond?”
“I strongly denied it as being entirely baseless. But the caller was stubborn, insisting on coming to inspect the factory in person…”
It was exactly the reaction he had expected.
Lee Jun-hyuk fell silent for a moment, lost in thought.
Fighting the media often had nothing to do with the truth. Once a negative article came out, even if it was later proven to be a lie, the bad image lingered in the public’s mind and was almost impossible to recover from.
“Actually, this is a good thing.”
Lee Jun-hyuk said, breaking everyone’s expectations.
“What? How can this be a good thing?”
Robert and Yu Ilhan looked at him in surprise.
“When the reporter comes, we’ll open our factory to them, completely and without reservation. We have nothing to hide or be ashamed of.”
“But… what if they write a malicious article anyway…”
Yu Ilhan said, worry in his voice.
“That could happen. But if we refuse their coverage and try to run away, people will get even more suspicious, thinking ‘they must have something to hide.’”
Lee Jun-hyuk stood up from his seat.
“The best thing is to face this head-on, openly and confidently. And…”
He gave a meaningful smile.
“We have the contact information for those who attended the Gourmet Deli tasting yesterday, right? If necessary, we can use the vivid testimonials of New York’s upper class.”
At his words, a faint relief appeared on Robert’s face.
“Understood. I’ll guide the reporter here when he arrives.”
“Oh, and Robert.”
Lee Jun-hyuk called him back.
“Please call Kim Bong-seok as well. Let him know what’s going on, and ask if he has any advice for us.”
“Yes, President. I’ll call him right away.”
After Robert left, Lee Jun-hyuk and Yu Ilhan returned to their design discussion, as if nothing had happened.
“What about the colors?”
Yu Ilhan asked.
“The combination of gold and black looks very luxurious…”
“That’s good, but the printing cost is going to be a problem.”
Lee Jun-hyuk pointed out the realistic issue.
Using special gold ink is much more expensive than standard four-color printing. Especially in mass production, the costs would be significant.
“For now, let’s just make a sample to show Macy’s.”
Yu Ilhan closed the sketchbook.
“I’ll look for a capable print shop today.”
At that moment, a commotion sounded from the floor below.
The two men looked out the window.
A man in a dark coat was arguing with Walter and the staff at the factory entrance. He was holding a large camera and a notebook.
“Looks like the reporter is already here.”
Lee Jun-hyuk said.
“That’s much faster than expected.”
The two hurried downstairs.
At the entrance stood a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties.
Sharp eyes and a cynically mocking expression, as if scoffing at the world.
The textbook look of a third-rate gossip reporter, at least to Lee Jun-hyuk’s eye.
“I’m Mike Sullivan from the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.”
The reporter arrogantly handed over his business card.
“I’ve come to cover the reported unsanitary conditions in your factory.”
“I’m Lee Jun-hyuk, the representative here.”
Despite the man’s rudeness, Lee Jun-hyuk calmly extended a handshake.
“Welcome, Mr. Sullivan. You’ve come at just the right time.”
Sullivan looked surprised.
Usually, in such situations, most factory owners would be flustered or refuse to be interviewed, but to welcome him so confidently like this—
“Would you like to take a tour of the factory?”
Lee Jun-hyuk offered first.
“We’ll guide you around and show you every corner you wish to see.”
“Alright.”
Sullivan seemed a bit caught off guard, but soon regained his cynical composure.
The group entered the factory.
The employees worked with tense expressions.
But there was nothing to hide or be ashamed of in their actions. After all, they had just passed Bancroft Company’s thorough health inspection yesterday with flying colors.
“This is our Raw Ingredient Storage.”
Lee Jun-hyuk personally guided the tour.
“All ingredients are received and used on the same day, and the temperature is always maintained below 40 degrees Fahrenheit as required.”
Sullivan raised his camera and snapped shots all around.
Flash.
But no matter how many photos he took, he couldn’t find anything shocking or sensational for his article.
“This is the processing room.”
They moved to the next space.
Employees, dressed head to toe in white sanitary uniforms, worked diligently. Everyone wore regulation sanitary caps, masks, and gloves.
“How do you handle hygiene training for employees?”
Sullivan asked sharply, as if hoping to catch something.
“We conduct five-minute hygiene training every morning during Workplace Inspection. I do it personally.”
Walter answered.
“I’ve worked in this industry for over thirty years. I know better than anyone how important hygiene is in a food factory.”
Sullivan took notes and looked around. He even lifted the drain covers on the floor and checked the vents in the ceiling.
He looked inside trash bins in the corners.
But he couldn’t find any problems anywhere.
If anything, the factory was so clean and systematic that his expression grew stiffer the more he looked.
“I’d like to observe the production process directly.”
Sullivan requested.
“Of course.”
Yu Ilhan led the way.
“We’re just starting the second batch right now.”
In the work area, staff were blanching Broth Water in large vats.
Clouds of hot steam rose.
Yu Ilhan showed the thermometer and explained.
“The temperature is exactly 100 degrees Celsius, 212 degrees Fahrenheit, and we blanch for precisely two minutes. If it goes even a second longer, the crisp texture we want is lost.”
Sullivan took out his stopwatch to check the time.
Exactly two minutes later, the staff took the Broth Water out and plunged it into a giant tub of Ice Water.
Sizzle!
With a loud noise, white steam billowed up.
“Why put it into ice water so suddenly?”
“To rapidly contract the fibers while hot, so the crunchy texture stays perfect even inside the canned food.”
Yu Ilhan replied confidently.
“This is one of La Choy’s core techniques.”
Sullivan jotted down notes.
But his expression only darkened.
He had come expecting unsanitary scenes, but what he saw was a state-of-the-art food science facility.
“How do you conduct quality control for your products?”
It sounded like his last attempt.
“We collect a Sample from every Batch and inspect it in our own Research Lab.”
Walter brought over neatly organized inspection records.
“Temperature, salinity, Brix, even Sensory Test. If even one of these items doesn’t meet our standards, the entire Batch is discarded.”
“The entire Batch?”
Sullivan asked, surprised.
“Yes. Even if it’s wasteful, we don’t compromise on quality.”
Lee Jun-hyuk said firmly.
After more than an hour of meticulously searching the factory, Sullivan had found nothing.
Instead, he looked amazed by the spotless and systematic operation—so different from what he had imagined.
“I just have one last question.”
Sullivan closed his notebook.
“Do you really think it’s appropriate for an Asian to be running a food business in the United States, serving American consumers?”
It was a question full of prejudice, blatantly provocative.
The staff’s expressions hardened.
Walter and Yu Ilhan clenched their fists in anger.
But Lee Jun-hyuk stayed calm.
“I heard the United States is a land of opportunity.”
He looked Sullivan straight in the eyes and spoke steadily.
“Isn’t this a great country where a person is judged not by skin color or country of origin, but only by their effort and ability? We do our utmost to make the best products. I think that’s enough.”
Sullivan looked at Lee Jun-hyuk silently for a moment.
Then he gave a faint nod.
“Understood. The article will be in tomorrow morning’s paper.”
He turned to leave the factory, then paused.
“But if I may give you some advice…”
Sullivan looked back.
“Be careful of Bancroft Company. He’s not someone who gives up easily.”
An unexpected warning.
“Why would you say that to us…?”
“I’m a reporter too. I have a pretty good idea where this tip-off came from.”
Sullivan gave a bitter smile.
“But I can’t write an article about something that doesn’t exist. At least, I’m not that kind of reporter.”
He left the factory.
The staff finally let out the breaths they’d been holding in relief.
“What a relief.”
Walter said.
“Our factory is so clean, there’s no way he could write anything bad.”
But Lee Jun-hyuk couldn’t relax yet.
Even if Sullivan wrote a fair article based on conscience, there was no way Bancroft Company would just let things go.
He was surely preparing another, dirtier scheme.
“Everyone, thank you for your hard work.”
Lee Jun-hyuk said to the staff.
“Because you all carried on with confidence as usual, we were able to show our best side.”
A sense of pride appeared on the workers’ faces.
When he returned to the office, Robert was waiting for him.
“President, I spoke to Kim Bong-seok.”
“What did he say?”
“He praised your decision to open up the factory to the reporter. But he also said we need to be even more careful from now on.”
Robert read from his notes.
“There’s a rumor that Bancroft Company has been meeting frequently with Brooklyn Councilmembers lately.”
Councilmembers.
If they got involved, things could get much more complicated. They could change ordinances that were more frightening than the law, order special crackdowns on specific factories—there were plenty of legal ways to cause trouble.
“And one more thing.”
Robert lowered his voice.
“We also got word from Joe Petrucci’s side. Apparently Bancroft Company is reaching out to other organizations.”
Other organizations?
“It’s said to be the Irish gangs in Brooklyn. As you know, Petrucci’s Italian Immigrant family has a very old feud with them.”
The situation was becoming ever more complicated and dangerous.
This was no longer just business sabotage; it could drag them into a mafia rivalry in Brooklyn.
“We’ll just have to watch for now.”
Lee Jun-hyuk let out a deep sigh.
“For now, all we can do is keep our business running and growing.”
By afternoon, the production team was busy non-stop, working to fill the surge of orders.
Lee Jun-hyuk and Yu Ilhan headed to a print shop in Manhattan. They needed to request production of a new Label design to propose to Macy’s Department Store.
“Gold Printing, huh…”
The print shop owner stroked his chin as he looked over the Ardeco Style design.
“It’s quite expensive, but not impossible. How many do you need?”
“For now, we’re thinking about 10,000 sheets for Samples.”
“Ten thousand… at two cents a sheet, that’s $200.”
Definitely expensive.
Their current Label cost only half a cent per sheet—this was four times more.
“Can you have them ready in a week?”
“Three days, if you’re in a rush. But I’ll need 50% down payment in advance.”
Lee Jun-hyuk hesitated briefly.
It was a necessary investment for getting into Macy’s Department Store. But $200 for a down payment was no small amount, especially when nothing had been confirmed yet.
“Please proceed.”
In the end, he made his decision.
“But I want the quality to be the best in New York.”
“Don’t worry. There’s a reason we’re known as the best print shop in New York.”
On the way out after sealing the deal—
Yu Ilhan spoke in a worried voice.
“The packaging alone is eating up so much money.”
“It’s an unavoidable investment.”
Lee Jun-hyuk replied.
“If we make our product cheap, the world will treat us as cheap. Especially at a luxury department store like Macy’s, that’s even more true.”
The two men returned to the factory.
By evening, the day’s products had been packaged.
Boxes scheduled for early morning delivery tomorrow were stacked up in the warehouse.
“Great work today, everyone.”
Lee Jun-hyuk greeted the departing staff.
“Tomorrow will be even busier than today. Get plenty of rest.”
One by one, the staff left for home, and the factory became quiet again.
Left alone in the office, Lee Jun-hyuk worried about how tomorrow’s newspaper would turn out.
Would Sullivan, the reporter, keep his conscience and write a fair article about what he saw?
Or would he eventually cave to Bancroft Company’s pressure and write a malicious, false story?
That answer would only come with tomorrow’s dawn.