POV: Lee Jae‑woon
The morning light filtered through the towering glass façade of LJW Group Headquarters, illuminating the stark angles of the boardroom like a cathedral of progress. As Chairman, Lee Jae‑woon arrived early, his reflection trailing behind him in the polished marble floors. Around him, the building hummed with the synchronized rhythm of corporate purpose: security officers checking badges, assistants delivering the day's briefing packets, and concierge robots silently transporting trays of espresso to waiting executives.
He paused at the head of the conference table—an expanse of obsidian stone—and surveyed the room. The twenty board seats were already half‑occupied: CFO Seo Phillip reviewing spreadsheets on a tablet, Director Shin tapping a fountain pen against his notepad, and Park Eun‑sook standing off to the side, ready with her tablet and ever‑watchful gaze. On the far side, Kang Ha‑young took her place, setting a sleek laptop on the table with the poised confidence of someone who had already mastered the stakes.
Jae‑woon allowed himself a small, approving nod. She was punctual—a mark of respect in this world of divided loyalties—and her attire, a tailored charcoal sheath, struck the ideal balance between corporate seriousness and quiet elegance. Very few juniors earned an invitation to the merger‑vote meeting; even fewer commanded attention purely by presence. He made a mental note to commend her later.
He returned to his seat and tapped the edge of his leather portfolio. "Good morning," he said, voice low but carrying across the table. "Today, we finalize the merger plan between LJW Foods and MiraWell. Let us begin with Ms. Kang's presentation of the merged brand‑strategy outline."
Across the table, Ha‑young nodded, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She clicked the remote, and the dual screens flickered to life with the familiar "Fusion Flavors" deck. The same slides she had refined after last night's gala, each one meticulously updated with merger‑specific data: combined revenue projections, supply‑chain integrations, and brand‑positioning scenarios for global markets.
She started at the beginning. "Thank you, Chairman Lee. Board members, I'm Kang Ha‑young of MiraWell. Today, I will present our proposal for Phase 1 integration: deploying 'Fusion Flavors' across LJW's distribution network to maximize both market penetration and philanthropic impact through the Community Kitchens initiative."
As she spoke, Jae‑woon listened intently. The boardroom's minimalist décor caught her image on each wall‑mounted display, doubling the effect of her composed confidence. He evaluated her pacing, the modulation of her voice, and the data points she chose to highlight. For a junior strategist, her judgment was sound.
She advanced to Slide 7: "Phase 1 Pilot Markets: Seoul, Tokyo, Singapore, and Hanoi." Each city was marked in glowing circles on a world map. Next to the map, a chart compared per‑capita snack consumption across the selected regions, showing potential year‑one revenue growth of 32%–45%.
Phillip raised his hand. "Ms. Kang, why prioritize these four markets over Shanghai or Kuala Lumpur?"
Ha‑young met his gaze. "Shanghai's complex regulatory codes and local competition create higher barriers to entry. Kuala Lumpur has strong market potential, but our existing influencer partnerships there are less robust than in Tokyo and Singapore. These four pilot cities offer the optimal blend of brand awareness and logistical feasibility."
Phillip nodded, satisfied. Jae‑woon tapped his pen once, signaling for Ha‑young to continue. She moved to Slide 9: "Supply‑Chain Synergy: Sourcing Fusion Ingredients from MiraWell's Supplier Network." The slide displayed a flowchart of ingredient procurement—from Jeolla Province kimchi manufacturers to Jeju Island green‑tea farms—integrated with LJW's refrigerated distribution lines.
He studied the chart. Impressive. Yet something gnawed at him: risk management in the case of supply‑chain disruption. He leaned forward. "Ms. Kang, the Jeolla Province roads are prone to monsoon‑season landslides. What contingency plans exist for ingredient sourcing in the event of a natural disaster?"
Ha‑young responded without hesitation. "We've mapped alternative routes through Gwangju's inland highways, and we're contracting with a logistics backup provider for air‑lift capabilities if ground routes become impassable. Additionally, we've earmarked local warehouses for temporary ingredient storage to buffer a 72‑hour disruption window."
He inclined his head. "Excellent. And how do you propose we align supplier incentives, given MiraWell's existing tiered pricing versus LJW's flat‑rate contracts?"
Her lips curved into a faint smile—she relished this challenge. "We'll offer tiered rebates based on volume and quality metrics, ensuring suppliers meet both our food‑safety standards and cost‑efficiency targets. This hybrid approach honors MiraWell's quality assurances while leveraging LJW's purchasing power."
He briefly caught her eye. She was quick, analytical, but also creative—she found solutions where others saw barriers. He valued that.
She moved on to the final slide: "Proposed Merger Timeline & Vote." A Gantt chart displayed a six‑month roll‑out plan, culminating in full brand‑alignment and the public launch event at the Han River Park in March.
As she concluded—"With your approval, we can begin execution immediately"—there was a collective exhale. Directors scribbled notes; graphs glowed on their tablets in reflection of the screens around them. Jae‑woon cleared his throat.
"Thank you, Ms. Kang. Your proposal is thorough." He paused, listening to the faint hum of elevator doors opening outside the boardroom. "However, before we proceed to vote, I'd like to address a recent development."
He tapped his intercom. "Security, status report on the NovaTech protest."
A uniformed officer entered, tablet in hand. "Chairman Lee, protestors have assembled outside Lobby Entrance 2, bearing 'Stop LJW Monopolies' banners. They've blocked vehicle access, but our security has formed a barrier. No escalation yet."
In the rhythm of corporate wars, a public protest was the equivalent of a skirmish. He exchanged a glance with Ha‑young. They had anticipated corporate sabotage—Han Seung‑woo's NovaTech faction had tried hostile bids before—but a public demonstration indicated a new level of aggression.
He addressed the board. "It appears NovaTech has initiated a protest to disrupt our merger proceedings. They aim to undermine our public image and create shareholder unease." He steepled his fingers. "Given this, I propose a brief recess to assess security risks and manage the narrative. Ms. Kang, would you outline our contingency communications plan?"
She nodded, rose, and leaned in toward her laptop. With practiced efficiency, she projected a new slide: "Crisis Communications & Brand Shield Strategy." The slide detailed a three‑tiered approach: immediate internal bulletins to employees, proactive press releases emphasizing community‑benefit narratives, and social‑media seeding with positive testimonials from rural‑pilot participants.
She clicked to Slide 2: "Key Messaging Points."
Community‑First Narrative: Highlight how the merger expands Community Kitchens to vulnerable populations.
Transparency: Provide real‑time updates on protest negotiations and safety measures.
Stakeholder Reassurance: Emphasize board unity and long‑term vision for sustainable growth.
She clicked again: "Tactics & Channels." A breakdown of internal email blasts, targeted press briefings, influencer Q&As, and a 24‑hour crisis hotline.
Jae‑woon noted the precision of her plan. Even under duress, she remained composed—steering narratives rather than reacting to them. This would serve them well in the media maelstrom that always followed public protests.
"Thank you," he said when she finished. "This plan will minimize reputational damage and reinforce our philanthropic focus. Let us reconvene in fifteen minutes."
He rose and gestured toward the door. "Board members, we'll pause briefly. Security and PR teams will coordinate with your offices."
As the directors filed out, Ha‑young lingered at the head of the table. Jae‑woon approached, his expression measured.
"You handled that smoothly," he said, voice low. "A public protest could have derailed this entire session."
Ha‑young gave him a quiet smile. "Disruption is inevitable. Preparation is optional—and I prefer to be prepared."
He nodded appreciatively. "Your strategic mind is impressive. You've earned my respect."
Her cheeks warmed, though she remained businesslike. "Thank you, Chairman Lee."
He inclined his head. "Call me Jae‑woon."
She met his gaze. "Jae‑woon. Understood."
He turned toward the partially open door, where security and PR specialists were already conferring. He placed a hand on Ha‑young's shoulder. "Let us manage this, together."
She nodded. In that moment, she felt the full weight of their alliance: her creativity and his authority, combined to weather any storm—corporate or otherwise.
Lobby Entrance 2
Fifteen minutes later, Jae‑woon and Ha‑young stood side by side at the entrance, flanked by uniformed guards and PR officers. The protestors—dozens strong, waving black placards and chanting slogans—glared from behind a metal barricade. Television cameras whirred, capturing every moment.
Jae‑woon raised his hand, signaling for calm. He pressed a wireless mic to his lips. "Good morning. I'm Lee Jae‑woon, Chairman of LJW Group. Today, we pursue our merger not for profit alone, but to strengthen communities across Asia. I welcome dialogue with concerned parties, but I will not allow baseless disruption to impede our mission of service."
Ha‑young watched as his voice—measured yet firm—echoed through speakers. The protestors faltered, their chants losing momentum under the weight of his authority. She felt pride swelling in her chest: he was unflappable, commanding respect even amid chaos.
After a minute, he set down the mic and turned to Ha‑young. "Shall we return?"
She straightened, smoothing her skirt. "Yes, let's finalize the vote."
Together, they reentered the boardroom, where directors resumed their seats, emails of reassurance already in their inboxes. The screens displayed a social‑media feed with hashtags like #JointImpact and #CommunityKitchens trending upward. The protestors' messages had been drowned out by strategic communications.
Jae‑woon closed the door and sat, nodding to Ha‑young. "Proceed with the vote."
As the directors signed the merger documents, he caught Ha‑young's eye. In her steady gaze lay partnership—and a shared promise: no obstacle, not even a public protest, would derail their course.
He leaned back, satisfied. The fusion of vision and execution had prevailed once again. With Ha‑young at his side, LJW's next chapter would be written in both balance sheets and community kitchens—a testament to a new era of corporate purpose.