OWWHM 00-01
Office Worker Who Hears Memories – Episode 1 & Prologue
<Prologue of Office Worker Who Hears Memories>
Prologue: Objects Store Memories
8 a.m., Sindorim Station.
The subway arrived, and people began lining up to get off.
A man with a black cap pulled low pushed through the crowd and dashed up the escalator.
“Excuse me! Excuse me!”
As I was going up the escalator, I was shoved by the man and had to grab the handrail.
At that moment.
<What should I eat for lunch?>
<I’m still hungover.>
<Ah… My head hurts. Should I just call in sick and go home?>
<If I stop by the bathroom, I’ll be late, won’t I?>
I don’t know when this ability began.
Or why.
It’s been with me since I was very young.
I stretched out my right hand slightly and brushed the hem of a woman’s clothes beside me.
<She’s pretty.>
<Why is this so expensive? Should I buy it or not?>
<It’s not like it costs anything to try it on.>
<It said six months interest-free, right?>
These were her thoughts when she first encountered the clothes.
Thanks to that, the countless voices buzzing in my ears stopped.
I gave a faint smile and slipped my right hand back into my pocket.
.
.
Episode 1 of Office Worker Who Hears Memories
2. A Whole 2.2 Billion Won
On the third floor of a small building near Sindorim Station.
I tapped my security card and entered the office.
“Team Leader, you’re here?”
Lee Eun-ji, who had come in early, smiled and bowed her head.
Lee Eun-ji.
She was a fresh recruit, two months into the job. Positive, hardworking, and likable.
But that’s about it.
She had the kind of talent where, if you taught her ten things, she would understand only one. Her pretty face was all she really had going for her.
“Good morning.”
After greeting her, I turned on my computer and walked over to the pile of return boxes. Placing my right hand calmly over them, I began to feel them.
<That’s it?>
<Why’s the packaging so big?>
Every returned item had its reasons.
Not enough quantity.
Not the right shape.
Sometimes, even because they didn’t like the model in the advertisement.
“Eun-ji! How many returns did we have yesterday?”
“Seventy-six packs of hotteok mix, twenty-four king dumplings.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“All from Cham-Mat Foods?”
“Yes. Should I file a claim?”
“No, I’ll go over later.”
The company had only six employees.
Last year, we reached annual sales of 10 billion won, but our stingy CEO never spent money.
Cheap desks, partitions yellowed with age.
A refrigerator that looked like it was picked up off the street, and dried-up potted plants.
No one would believe this was the office of the fourth-largest social commerce company in Korea.
“Um… Team Leader.”
“Yeah?”
“Why do you always check the returns first thing in the morning?”
Most online commerce companies deal with around a 20% return rate.
But our company, OneSmall, had only 3%.
Thanks to my right hand, which could hear customers’ thoughts.
“Because consumers’ thoughts are more accurate than a manufacturer’s words.”
“Sorry?”
Eun-ji scratched her head, looking confused.
Just then—
“Hey! Team Leader Won, you’re in early.”
CEO Kim Jae-yeol.
The only person above me in this company.
His slicked-back pomade hair was neat, but the man himself had become a different creature.
The guy who once said he couldn’t throw away his old sneakers was now wrapped in luxury brands.
The man who used to love weekend soccer now went golfing every day.
The guy who swore by his rugged Galloper SUV had recently leased a Bentley worth over 300 million won.
And maybe to ease his guilt, he leased me a brand-new Sonata. Said it was better for taxes that way.
“What brings you in so early?”
“Where are the others?”
“They’ll be here soon.”
“It’s already 8:30. Lazy good-for-nothings…”
Official start time was 9.
Embarrassed, Kim coughed into his fist.
“Anyway… Team Leader Won! I noticed sales dropped yesterday. Any issues?”
Here we go again.
He checked the admin page in real time, and if the graph dipped, he’d immediately call.
“You saw the bundle sale with instant rice and ramen, right?”
“Oh, that?”
So he’d only looked at the sales graph, not the actual products.
I turned my monitor toward him and calmly explained.
“Yeah. They were near expiration, so I canceled all the orders.”
“Why not just sell them?”
“If we take that risk, it never ends. And once the returns start coming, it’s an even bigger headache—you know that.”
“Uh… right, good call. Anyway, can I see you for a minute?”
Kim lacked even the basic sense of e-commerce.
From the start, he had drawn a line, saying he would focus only on management and networking.
I followed him into his office. First thing he did was carefully dust the leaves of his favorite orchid.
“Sit. Shall we have some coffee?”
“Sure.”
He pulled out the company card, handed it to Eun-ji outside, and sent her on an errand. Once she was gone, he leaned in and lowered his voice.
“Team Leader Won. You know BO Foods, right?”
One of Korea’s top three food companies, known by everyone in the country.
“Why BO Foods?”
“What if we worked with them?”
Social commerce usually sourced cheap goods, selling five to ten items as timed events. That’s why we mostly worked with vendors holding leftover stock, not big manufacturers.
“With BO Foods headquarters?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re planning to take their products?”
“No. It’s a better deal than that.”
“What kind of deal?”
“Ji-hoon.”
He suddenly used my name.
That meant he had something sensitive to ask.
A bad feeling.
“What is it?”
“We’ve been at this two years now. Remember how I knew nothing when you suggested social commerce, but I trusted you?”
“And now we’re doing great.”
“Doing great? Nah, this is all just a façade. I’m struggling every day…”
He always said that.
As if he had no memory of how things used to be.
“You went from a Galloper to a Bentley. I’d call that success.”
“All that money’s just for keeping up appearances. Do you know how much I suffer, playing golf even though I hate it? You’ll never understand…”
“Let’s get to the point. I’ve got meetings today.”
My curt reply made him grin widely.
“BO Foods is betting 2.2 billion won on us.”
“2.2 billion?”
“Yeah. They’re offering that much to acquire this tiny site!”
During the social commerce boom, over a hundred companies popped up in a single month.
They probably thought one hit product would make them blow up.
But the outcome was brutal.
After just a year, only 14 survived.
Three of them grew big with massive investments and started acquiring others.
We had received offers too.
Back then, Kim wanted to sell for only 300 million.
I opposed it—that’s why we’re here now.
But BO Foods’ 2.2 billion?
That was different.
And this wasn’t just rich fools’ money—it was from a giant domestic food company.
If true, it made sense to accept.
But could Kim, who always chased false leads, really land a whale like this?
“Why would a conglomerate like BO target a small company like ours?”
“You know ChainMarket?”
“Yes.”
“They signed yesterday too. BO is buying up all the food-specialty commerce sites like ours.”
“Hmm…”
So BO was starting their own commerce business?
That would explain it.
I hesitated, and Kim’s face lit up.
“They were impressed. A small company like ours making 10 billion in sales and surviving. Plus, they liked how we turned down TopMall’s acquisition offer.”
“But why are we the second? We’re number one in food commerce.”
“Because I held out. That’s why our price went up to 2.2 billion! Ji-hoon, do you know what my dream is?”
“What?”
“To retire before I turn forty.”
“Think that money’s enough to retire on?”
I owned 20% of the company’s shares.
When I first proposed the business, he told me to invest 10 million won.
Eighty percent of 2.2 billion was about 1.7 billion.
With his old spending habits, that might’ve been enough. But now? Impossible.
He shook his head with a smile.
“No, not a chance.”
“Then?”
“Twenty percent in cash, eighty percent in stock. BO Commerce stock—the new company they’re creating.”
“It’s not even listed.”
“The parent company is BO Foods. What’s there to worry about? They said once results come in, they’ll go public immediately. Ji-hoon, this isn’t just for me. You’ll get over 400 million won in shares too. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance!”
“What about the other employees?”
“They’ll all transfer to BO Commerce. BO agreed to take everyone, with a 20% salary increase. And Ji-hoon, there’s a final meeting next week. You’ll need to be there too.”
“Why me?”
“Off the record—but Director Choi Gu-yeol will be there. You even bought his book.”
Choi Gu-yeol.
A legend among the boom-and-bust social commerce crowd.
He was the first to launch social commerce in the U.S. At one point, his sales even surpassed giants like Amazon and eBay.
I’d started this business partly because of his book.
“He joined BO?”
“Yeah. Soon it’ll be front-page news. BO is going all-in. The new company’s capital is 30 billion.”
“Thirty billion…”
I swallowed dryly and nodded.
Kim patted my shoulder and put on his jacket.
“I’ve got an appointment. Call me if anything comes up!”
.
.
A week later.
I entered a luxury Japanese restaurant’s VIP room with Kim.
Inside sat Choi Gu-yeol, looking just like his photos, and a white-haired man in his sixties.
They stood and held out their hands.
“Mr. Kim, long time no see.”
“Oh, Director Choi himself—what an honor!”
CEO Kim bent at a 90-degree angle.
He always said business was 99% lobbying, bowing deeply to the strong.
The white-haired man shook Kim’s hand, then extended it to me.
“You must be Team Leader Won Ji-hoon. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“About me?”
“Haha, they say you’re the second coming of Director Choi here.”
“You flatter me.”
For two years, I had hustled, meeting countless manufacturers and distributors.
Each time, I heard their hidden thoughts—and because of that, I had absolute confidence in building client relationships.
“I’m Jung Geun-young. I’ll be in charge of BO Commerce.”
Jung Geun-young.
He had the warm tone of an uncle from the neighborhood.
If not for the sharp rimless glasses, he could’ve passed as ordinary.
As I hesitated, he gestured for me to sit.
“Please, have a seat. The food’s already ordered.”
I quickly took Kim’s jacket to the coat rack.
There, I brushed against a gray jacket hanging on it.
<Betting 2.7 billion on something with only 200 million profit? The chairman’s lost his mind.>
2.7 billion.
So that’s the ceiling set for us?
No subject, but it seemed worth probing.
I sat down with a faint smile.
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