2: Chapter 2 Setting up a stall

Chairman Wang Shunyi sat on his bed, staring blankly ahead as his mind continued to process what had just happened.

A system.

The kind that could replicate products from parallel worlds.

It sounded like something out of a web novel, yet it had actually landed right in his lap.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. Regardless of whether it was real or fake, he had to try it first.

"System," he called out in his mind.

[The system is present.]

"You said you can replicate products. Can I see the catalog?"

[You may. Focus your attention and think 'Product Catalog'.]

Chairman Wang Shunyi closed his eyes and tried to focus. A second later, a translucent interface actually appeared in his mind, resembling the homepage of an online mall.

It was divided into many categories: Food & Beverage, Daily Necessities, Electronics, Apparel, Medical & Health, Industrial Equipment...

Each category had a multitude of subcategories. There were so many products he couldn't take them all in at once.

He casually clicked on "Food & Beverage" — "Instant Food."

A list of items scrolled down the screen, each marked with the amount of points required for replication.

[Samyang fire chicken noodles (Original Flavor)] — 10 Points

[self-heating hot pot (Beef Flavor)] — 15 Points

[river snail rice noodles (Classic)] — 12 Points

[traditional Korean rice wine (Various Flavors)] — 8 Points

Chairman Wang Shunyi stared at the "fire chicken noodles" for a moment. He had never heard of this brand before. The packaging featured flames and the Korean text "불닭볶음면."

"System, these noodles really don't exist in this world?"

[According to the scan, this product does not exist in the current world. The host may sell it exclusively.]

Exclusive sales. Those two words made his heart skip a beat.

But on second thought, so what if it was exclusive? He had no shop, no channels, and no money. Even if he could replicate it, who would he sell it to?

Furthermore, replication cost points. He only had 1,000; once they were gone, they were gone.

"How much does it cost to replicate one pack of fire chicken noodles?"

[Replicating 'Samyang fire chicken noodles (Original Flavor)' × 1, consumes 10 points, generating 100 sample units.]

10 points for 100 packs.

He did the math: if one pack sold for 2,000 Korean Won, 100 packs would be 200,000. Meanwhile, according to the system, 10 points were worth roughly 100 million Won in profit—since he only earned 1 point for every 1 million Won in profit.

Compared that way, it didn't seem very cost-effective?

No, wait.

He suddenly realized that the system specified "profit." Since his replication had no cost, everything he sold was pure profit. A sales volume of 200,000 was 200,000 in profit, which could be exchanged for 0.2 points.

It was a bit low, but what if he sold a lot?

Ten thousand packs would be 20 million in profit, yielding 20 points. What about a million packs...

He shook his head, telling himself to stop dreaming. He hadn't even sold a single pack yet.

First, he had to see if this system was actually real.

"System, replicate one pack of fire chicken noodles."

[Command confirmed. Replicating 'Samyang fire chicken noodles (Original Flavor)' × 1, consumes 10 points, generating 100 sample units. Replication complete, items have been stored in the Storage Space. Current points: 990.]

He held his breath and thought, "Take them out."

The next second, a cardboard box appeared out of thin air on the bed.

He was stunned.

It was real.

With slightly trembling hands, he picked up a pack. The packaging looked quite nice, the flame design standing out under the dim light. He tore it open; inside were the dried noodles and two sachets—one spicy sauce and one sesame seaweed garnish.

This really was something from a parallel world.

At four in the afternoon, Chairman Wang Shunyi made a decision.

He would see if he could sell them.

He took 20 packs from the Storage Space and stuffed them into a plastic bag. Changing out of his graduation gown and into his usual cheap T-shirt and jeans, he left the semi-basement apartment.

He was heading to the Dongdaemun Night Market.

It was one of the liveliest night markets in Seoul, popular with both young people and tourists. He had heard that there were all sorts of stalls there, and if one was lucky, they could make quite a bit in a night.

But he had never set up a stall before.

He didn't know how to set up, what to say, or if anyone would even buy anything.

He could only grit his teeth and try.

It was three subway stops from where he lived, plus a ten-minute walk.

By the time he arrived, the night market was already buzzing. Both sides of the street were lined with stalls selling clothes, accessories, snacks, and toys. The air was a mix of the smells of grilled meat, spicy stir-fried rice cakes, and various other foods.

Chairman Wang Shunyi stood at the entrance, feeling a bit lost.

Where should he set up? Did he need to pay? Would he be chased away?

He walked slowly along the street, watching and learning. Some stalls were permanent, while others were temporary. The permanent ones had fixed spots, while the temporary ones were scattered in various corners.

He found a relatively empty corner next to a trash can; it smelled a bit.

"This will do," he muttered to himself.

He found a clean patch of ground, set down his plastic bag, and began squatting to lay out the packs one by one.

As he arranged them, he watched the reactions of the passersby.

Most people didn't even give him a glance. Occasionally, someone would peek over but then just keep walking.

His heart began to sink.

He realized he had made a mistake—no one knew what he was selling. Other stalls had signs and vendors calling out to customers, while he just squatted there waiting.

It would be a miracle if he sold anything like this.

He stood up, thinking of a strategy.

He needed a sign. But he wasn't prepared; he hadn't even brought a pen or paper.

Looking around, he saw a stationery store not far away. He ran over and spent 2,000 Korean Won on a marker and a stack of A4 paper.

He returned and squatted down, writing on the paper: "Super Spicy Instant Noodles Never Seen Before in Korea — fire chicken noodles! 2,000 Won per pack!"

He wrote the characters carefully. But the A4 paper was too small; passersby couldn't see it clearly at all.

He wrote a few more sheets and used stones to weigh them down next to the noodles.

This was better; at least some people stopped to take a look.

By seven in the evening, the crowds were getting thicker.

Chairman Wang Shunyi stood behind his stall, feeling nervous.

It had been three hours, and he hadn't made a single sale.

People would stop to look and ask, "What is this?" and he would reply, "Super spicy instant noodles, not available in Korea," but they would just nod and walk away.

No one was buying.

He started to doubt himself: Was the price too high? 2,000 a pack was more expensive than regular instant noodles, but the portion was generous, so it wasn't outrageous.

Was the location bad? Being next to a trash can, who would want to linger?

Was there a problem with his sales pitch? He was just standing there waiting, not engaging with people.

He watched the successful stalls; the owners were all very enthusiastic, actively greeting people, introducing their products, and offering samples.

And him? He had done nothing.

He had just waited.

Running a stall wasn't as simple as he had imagined.

At eight o'clock, he decided to take the initiative.

He picked up a pack of fire chicken noodles, walked into the crowd, and started striking up conversations with passersby.

"Hello, would you like to try fire chicken noodles? Super spicy instant noodles, never seen before in Korea."

Most people waved him off or simply ignored him.

But some did stop to look.

"How much?" a young man with bleached hair asked.

"2,000."

"That's expensive. Regular instant noodles are only around 1,000."

"These are different. The portion is larger and the flavor is unique. Why don't you buy one pack to try? If you don't like it, you don't have to buy it again."

The young man hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "Forget it, I'll keep looking."

He handed the noodles back and walked away.

He tried with a few more people, but the results were similar—too expensive, no interest, or just being ignored.

He began to feel that he really wasn't cut out for business.

Maybe he should just honestly look for a job; the pay might be low, but it would be stable.

Just as he was about to pack up, a voice came from behind him.

"Are these fire chicken noodles of yours really that spicy?"

He turned around to see a girl in her early twenties, wearing a white hoodie, with long hair draped over her shoulders and light makeup.

"Yes, very spicy," he nodded.

"How spicy?"

He thought for a moment. "About three times spicier than normal spicy instant noodles. Your lips will swell and you'll sweat after eating them, but they have a sweet-and-spicy flavor that's quite good."

The girl's eyes lit up. "Interesting. How much?"

"2,000."

"Okay, I'll take one." She pulled 2,000 Korean Won from her wallet and handed it over.

Chairman Wang Shunyi took the money, his hands trembling slightly.

His first sale.

"Thank you," he said, his voice a bit raspy.

The girl smiled, took the noodles, and walked off. Before she left, she looked back at him and said, "Good luck!"

He watched her silhouette disappear into the crowd, feeling a warmth in his chest.

That was the only sale of the night.

But it proved at least one thing: fire chicken noodles could be sold.

At eleven o'clock, the night market began to close up.

He squatted on the ground to take stock. He had brought out 20 packs and sold exactly one.

Revenue: 2,000 Korean Won.

He had spent 2,000 on stationery and 2,800 on the subway, leaving him with a net loss of 2,800.

He felt a bit dejected.

But what discouraged him more was the realization that he didn't know how to do anything—he didn't know how to pitch, how to attract customers, or how to set prices.

Setting up a stall wasn't that simple.

He put the remaining noodles back into the plastic bag and stood up to leave.

"Jun-ho?"

He turned and saw Zhang Junhao.

They had known each other for seven years, since high school. Since being discharged from the military, Zhang Junhao had been looking for a stable job, but like him, he had no background and could only work odd jobs at small companies.

"Jun-ho? What are you doing here?"

"Just buying a few things." Zhang Junhao walked over and glanced at the plastic bag in his hand. "What's this?"

"fire chicken noodles. Super spicy instant noodles."

"You're selling these?" Zhang Junhao's eyes widened.

"I gave it a try, but I didn't sell many," Chairman Wang Shunyi said with a bitter smile. "I don't think I'm very suited for this."

Zhang Junhao looked at him and patted his shoulder.

"Don't lose heart, it's always like this the first time. Are you coming back tomorrow?"

Chairman Wang Shunyi was silent for a moment, then nodded.

"Yes."

Since he had started, he couldn't just give up halfway.

Back in his semi-basement, he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, his mind filled with the events of the evening.

He had made many mistakes, but he had also learned a lot.

He knew that promotion was important, that he had to be proactive, and he knew how to attract people.

He also knew that people really would buy fire chicken noodles—even if it was just one pack, at least the product itself was fine.

The next step was to change his methods.

He pulled out his phone and searched for "stall-keeping tips" and "how to attract customers," watching various articles and videos.

He kept watching until two in the morning before finally putting down his phone and closing his eyes.

Tomorrow, he had to do better.