The Relentless Pursuit of 'What's Next': A Strategic Troubleshooter's Journey
- Jimmy Cho
- Jan 2
- 22 min read
Inhoo Cho: The Execution-Focused Growth Story of a Strategic Architect
As someone whose profession revolves around asking questions, I am turning the lens on myself today—not to showcase a grand success story, but to candidly document the "unsteady steps" I’ve taken while navigating obstacles and finding my way.
Henry Ford once said, "When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it." I live by the belief that adversity and obstacles—the headwinds of life—are often the very forces that provide the most powerful lift for takeoff.
Every time I stepped outside my comfort zone, the resulting anxiety and sense of lack became the very "headwinds" that sharpened my resolve. My journey—transitioning from Finance to Marketing, and from the stability of a global corporation to the volatility of a startup—is marked by the scars of those battles. My recent tenure at Sweet-bio was no different. Scaling a one-person operation into a high-performing team of fifteen while building a marketing infrastructure from scratch was a process of creating an "environment" where my colleagues could thrive, even when I, as their leader, felt the force of the wind myself.
Now, I am preparing to leave this place where all metrics have reached a point of comfort. I’ve decided to move away from what others call the "peak" to face a blank canvas once again, throwing myself into the even greater headwinds of the global stage. I hope that this journey—of using lack as a catalyst to forge my own path—offers a small measure of comfort and resonance to all of you fighting your own battles on your respective fronts.
Q. Transitioning from Finance to Marketing is incredibly rare in the conservative manufacturing industry. What was the decisive moment—and the underlying drive—that allowed you to break through such an impossible barrier?
My move from Finance to Marketing at Nestlé started less from grand ambition and more from a physiological aversion to "ambiguity."
The catalyst was a meeting I happened to overhear. A brand manager was giving a directive to an ad agency, saying, "Please make it a bit more... edgy." After the meeting, I asked the agency staff what that actually meant. Their response? "It just means 'figure it out and do it well.'"
I couldn't help but smirk, but it was a wake-up call. That was the moment I saw the vacuum of logic hidden behind the glamour of marketing. I became convinced that if I could define my objectives in clear language and set concrete goals that allowed others to take immediate action, I would have a significant competitive edge.
Of course, the process was far from smooth. HR shook their heads, telling me there was "no precedent" for such a move. But that didn't bother me. I believed that if there was no precedent, I would simply become the first; if there was no path, I would walk it until one was made.
The opportunity finally came during a company-wide project presentation. A Marketing executive found my pitch intriguing and proposed a hybrid role. This launched a grueling chapter of my career where I managed capital in the morning and immersed myself in new product launches in the afternoon. Yet, that extreme schedule granted me a unique, multi-dimensional perspective. While marketing focused on the creative, I was simultaneously reading the underlying resource efficiency and profit structures.
This allowed me to structure and communicate missions to cross-functional teams in the language they understood best. By backing up persuasion with clarity that went beyond mere numbers, the organization finally began to see me as a marketer.
What I realized through this intense transition is that no experience in life is ever wasted. I never expected that my seemingly dry years in Finance would become my "secret weapon" for commanding a room in the marketing world. As Steve Jobs famously said, the dots eventually connect. The key isn't necessarily where you are headed, but how you weave the fragments of your past into your own unique, original narrative.
Q. At Nestlé, you managed new product launches while collaborating with the Swiss headquarters and various international branches. What did you learn from working within such a massive global organization?
What I learned from collaborating with a global headquarters was simple: it all comes down to "overwhelming diligence and a 1% edge." Many Koreans on the global stage tend to act with excessive caution, as if they are representing their national dignity. Out of a desire to be polite, they often swallow the sharp, critical questions that need to be asked. I didn’t have the luxury of relying on such romantic notions. My "relentless tenacity" had already been proven during my time in Finance, when I successfully recovered overseas receivables that everyone else had written off as a lost cause.
At the time, a joint venture was being liquidated, making the recovery of those "abandoned debts" virtually impossible. When I volunteered to go after them, my colleagues looked at me with pity. But I didn't back down. I worked my way up the chain of command—from the European branch managers of our partners all the way to their CFO—literally shaking the decision-making tree as I went.
"If I don’t hear back from you, my next discussion will be directly with your superior."
By issuing warnings that were polite yet chilling, I pressured them for a resolution like a predator that never loses sight of its target. On the day the foreign currency finally hit our account, I had a profound realization: In the world of business, a person who proves results despite any obstacle is far more powerful than someone who is merely "nice."
That tenacity became my core competency even after I transitioned to Marketing and began managing global product launches. If an overseas contact delayed sending data, I was more than willing to become their "difficult partner." I utilized time zones to ensure my emails were the first thing they saw upon arriving at work, and I aimed to overwhelm them with information by knowing the product ingredients better than they did.
As a result, the products launched exactly on schedule, and I received feedback from HQ that I was a "Reliable Partner." Goethe said, "Kindness is the golden chain by which society is bound together," but in business, I believe that chain only holds value when it is reinforced by the result of "success."
On the international stage, there is no practical benefit to being remembered as just a "polite Asian." It is far better to be the colleague who is "tiring to work with, but always gets the job done." I wasn't diligent because I had a pleasant personality; I was diligent because I was desperate for success. And I found that tenacity—born from that desperation—is the only language that truly carries weight on the global stage.
Q. You won the InGenius accelerator program in 2017. What was the innovative idea you proposed, and how did you bring it to life?
When I participated in "InGenius," our in-house accelerator program, I genuinely believed that a single idea of mine could shift the market.
I proposed a model that seamlessly integrated brand content into gaming. It involved weaving brand narratives into the storylines of casual games, allowing users to exchange points earned in-game for physical products at offline retail stores. While this sounds like the common "Play to Earn" (P2E) model today, it was quite a radical concept at the time.
However, when I tried to put the idea into action, my supervisor’s response was cold. I was told, "If you have time for that, just go home and rest." I didn't let it stop me. After work, I personally visited gaming companies to pitch the proposal and persuaded managers at Emart to integrate our systems. My desperation must have been convincing; the gaming company responded so enthusiastically that they produced a demo video even before we had signed a contract.
On the day of the final presentation, while other teams recited rosy futures with flashy PPT slides, I played the actual working demo. The judges were astonished. "With the budget in place, we could launch this tomorrow, couldn't we?" The result was an overwhelming victory.
But the joy of victory was short-lived. Just as we were about to execute the budget, I was notified of a budget freeze due to poor quarterly performance. I had to watch the results of months of legwork—running back and forth between the game studio and the retailer—collapse instantly, blocked by the rigid budget cycle of a massive organization.
That was the moment of realization: Global corporations are stable, but they are also heavy and slow. No matter how sharp an innovation is, it becomes obsolete if it cannot catch the wave of timing. I wanted to release my ideas into the world faster and more proactively.
People around me tried to stop me, asking, "Why leave such a great job?" But I was certain: Innovation is not the idea itself; it is realized only in an 'environment' where that idea can be executed immediately. Instead of staying within the fortified walls of Nestlé, I chose to head out into the wild fields of startups. That reckless conviction was, in hindsight, the bravest decision I ever made. Q. Your Joonggonara April Fool’s Day campaign was featured in major national news outlets like JTBC and SBS, engaging 16.8 million members. Could you walk us through the entire process, from planning to execution?
To be honest, the start of this campaign was close to a disaster. It was a project pushed onto me just three days before April Fool’s Day. My initial suggestion was to mimic the success of other companies by posting "absurd fake listings" ourselves, but the feedback was immediate and cold: "That’s not very Joonggonara."
That rejection triggered a total shift in perspective. Joonggonara’s greatest "Achilles' heel" had always been fraudulent or "fake listings." Within the company, it was a taboo subject. However, I noticed a dual perception: while the public hated scams, they consumed the most absurd fake posts as a form of "play" or "memes." So, I pivoted and made a new proposal:
"Instead of banning them, let’s give them a stage—just for one day. Let’s allow the users themselves to post the most witty fake listings in the world."
We held an emergency session on a Saturday and created the "National Eccentric Listing Contest." We couldn't even get help from the design team, so a marketing staff member had to handle the Photoshop work themselves. Paradoxically, that raw, unpolished aesthetic perfectly matched the community sentiment—people were craving authentic fun that didn't feel like a polished corporate ad.
On April Fool's Day, the response was explosive. From Donald Trump’s autograph to a giant magpie robot in Bundang, and the crown jewel—an "Unopened Egg of Bak Hyeok-geose" (the mythical founder of an ancient Korean kingdom)... the users' imagination far exceeded my expectations. By evening, press inquiries were pouring in, and by 9:00 PM, Joonggonara was featured prominently on the JTBC and SBS nightly news.
What was even more shocking was the cost. The only assets invested were two staff members working a weekend and 500,000 KRW ($400) for prizes. For just 500,000 KRW, we landed in the center of the national media spotlight—a reach that even multi-million dollar TV ad campaigns struggle to achieve.
The insight from this campaign is clear: the most powerful marketing begins when you stare the essence of the subject and the public’s perspective straight in the eye. When you take a weakness you want to hide and transform it into the language of the users, the impact is beyond imagination.
Joseph Campbell, the American mythologist, once said: "The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek." For Joonggonara, fake listings were the cave we wanted to avoid, but it was only by walking into that cave that we found the treasure: the enthusiastic engagement of 16.8 million members.
I believe this success wasn't just luck; it was the inevitable result of a deep, accurate understanding of our users.
This translation captures the shift from frustration to inspiration, highlighting your evolution into a thought leader who finds value where others see waste.
Q. I’m curious about what led you to start writing seriously. How did it all begin?
My journey as a writer didn't start with grand ambition; rather, it was born from a deep, lingering sense of "regret."
During my time at Joonggonara, while planning new business ventures, I spent my days immersed in innovation cases from around the world—US platforms, Chinese e-commerce models, Japanese subscription services. I would spend sleepless nights researching and analyzing, only to have my proposals consumed in ten minutes during a meeting. A brief "Sounds good, let's look into it," and that was it. Every time the brilliant insights I’d uncovered vanished into thin air, I felt a physical ache of missed opportunity.
To soothe that frustration, I began organizing those "gathering dust" research papers and posting them on platforms like Brunch story and Tistory. Then, something strange happened: readers began responding enthusiastically to the very information that was meant to be forgotten in a corporate drawer.
In writing, the hardest part is often enduring the uncertainty of whether anyone will actually read your work. I got through that period simply by being driven by the sheer satisfaction of the craft itself. To be honest, I still don't fully understand why so many people resonate with my writing. I’m just grateful for the warmth that is exchanged when the depth of my ordinary reflections touches someone else’s heart.
The biggest turning point in my journey was moving beyond analyzing international cases to conducting my own interviews. When I relied solely on overseas articles, I was left with mere speculation. By meeting founders face-to-face, I could ask deep, tenacious questions.
I still remember the trembling in my fingertips when I sent out my first interview proposal. Once we sat down, I couldn't stop. "Why that specific problem?" "Exactly how did you feel in that moment?" If an answer was vague, I dug deeper.
I worried I might be overstepping, but surprisingly, many founders thanked me. They told me my questions helped them redefine their own business models. As Walter Benjamin said, "Language is not just a medium for communicating thought, but a process for shaping the form of thought itself." Through these interviews and the act of writing, I finally felt I was encountering the true substance of my ideas. It wasn't just Q&A; it was a shared journey toward an answer, and it became my most valuable form of learning.
Even now, the fuel for my writing remains that same "regret." I write because it’s a waste to let research be discarded; it’s a waste to let insights fade; and it’s a waste to leave a founder's true heart unheard. Fixing that regret into words has become a lighthouse for others in the dark—and for me, a new lens through which to read the world.
Q. As an interviewer, what is your secret to drawing out deep inner thoughts and genuine insights from your subjects?
If I have a unique skill, it isn’t flamboyant eloquence; it is a relentless curiosity, meticulous preparation, and a fierce, singular focus on the person in front of me.
Before meeting an interviewee, I trace every footprint they’ve left in the world. I comb through their websites and articles, of course, but I also dive deep into past interviews, videos, and social media posts. My goal is to avoid the predictable and pull out stories from the depths.
For instance, if I anticipate a formal answer like "We aim for customer-centric service," I won’t ask a generic question. Instead, I might say, "You’ve emphasized that in previous interviews, but when was the moment that decision caused the most intense internal pushback?" The moment a question that sharp is posed, the interviewee's eyes change. Once they are certain that I’ve "done my homework," they stop reciting PR scripts and start sharing their true narrative.
However, even more important than the questions is the "calibration" during the interview. I am highly sensitive to the specific words they choose and where their voice gains strength or grows quiet. If they say, "It was really tough back then," I immediately fold up my prepared script. I follow up on the spot: "What kind of toughness was it? Was it the capital, or was it the people?" This makes them pause. Then, they say, "Actually..." and the real story begins.
If a subject responds abstractly, I ask for a concrete example. Conversely, if they only list examples, I ask for the underlying principle that connects them. I strive to read the texture of a single word. A person who says they "succeeded" and a person who says they "survived" have walked two completely different paths.
Stephen Covey, the master of self-development and management consulting, once said, "Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply." While many interviewers close their ears because they are busy thinking about the next question, I listen entirely to understand. By keeping my questions brief and my listening deep, I see it as my role to help the interviewee encounter truths about themselves that they might not have even discovered yet.
Ultimately, a great interview is the byproduct of a "tense rapport" achieved through deep understanding. I love the vivid process of taking the raw insights salvaged from that understanding and shaping them into a warm, resonant story that readers can connect with.
Q. Out of all the startup founders you’ve interviewed, who stands out the most in your memory?
Many have inspired me, but the stories that truly touch the depths of my heart are never the flashy tales of success. Instead, they are the accounts of their most desperate "lean years"—the times they spent in the trenches of survival.
I remember interviewing Yang Jun-young, the CEO of Kinolights. As he recalled the agony of his early days, his voice dropped. He confessed, “With tears in my eyes, I had to carry out layoffs, and in the end, I even had to resort to private loans.” The moment the words “private loans” hung in the air, a chill ran down my spine. It was the moment I understood—not just intellectually, but with my whole heart—that entrepreneurship isn't just about selling an idea; it’s about betting your entire life.
Another founder once posed a question to me: “Do you know when the hardest moment is? It’s not when your bank balance hits zero.” He fell silent for a moment, the ghost of a harrowing past flickering in his eyes. “The most painful thing is when the colleagues you shared dreams with all night—the ones who vowed to change the world with you—leave one by one. You can endure having no money, but when the world of trust you built collapses... that’s something else.” The silence following those words was heavy with an immense sense of emptiness and loneliness.
Strangely, when I organize my interview notes, the "victories of numbers"—like revenue figures or investment rounds—tend to evaporate quickly. Instead, the stories of enduring the most vulnerable and fragile moments remain, burned into my memory like a brand. I suspect it’s because the raw emotions—the desperation of taking a high-risk loan, the betrayal of a departing colleague, and the courage to rise again regardless—become deeply ingrained in me through empathy.
This is why I always tell founders: "Tell me your story of survival, flavored with sorrow and joy, rather than a perfect story of growth. That is what truly proves your character."
Those who initially hesitate, fearing they are exposing their weaknesses, often tell me after pouring their hearts out, “I finally feel relieved, like I’ve told my real story.” Readers feel the same way. Flawless success only breeds envy or distant admiration, but the narrative of a fallen person finding the strength to stand back up creates deep empathy and profound comfort.
Life sometimes scratches us and leaves us depleted, but paradoxically, I believe people are reborn at their strongest in those very broken places. That is why I love asking founders about their most painful moments. It is through those cracked, scarred openings that a person’s unique, original light truly begins to shine.
Q. After interviewing so many founders, you suddenly shifted your focus to Venture Capitalists (VCs) and even wrote a book about them. Was there a specific reason you sought to document the inner thoughts of these often-mysterious figures?
This project began with a humble desire to level the "uneven playing field" between investors and entrepreneurs. What I noticed while interviewing founders was a stark information asymmetry: investors walk into meetings knowing everything about a founder’s business model and background, but founders often stand at the "judgment seat" without knowing anything about the person or the philosophy of the partner sitting across from them.
To bridge this gap, I met with twelve Venture Capitalists to capture their authentic voices. The world of VC remains a mystery to the public, often veiled in secrecy. Through this record, I wanted to shatter common misconceptions and prejudices. I aimed to shine a light on the human struggles and passions hidden behind the cold image of the "ruthless judge," and to highlight the vital role they play in sustaining the startup ecosystem.
While conducting these interviews, I realized that the VC world is as full of human elements as it is of logical calculations. As Daniel Kahneman’s research suggests, our decisions are ultimately heavily influenced by intuition and emotion. Seeing their records of failure and the emptiness hidden behind flashy success stories—and witnessing their genuine efforts to ensure that even when an investment fails, people and experience remain—gave me the conviction I needed for this project.
Ultimately, this book is a raw, on-the-ground record of people chasing a 1% glimmer of hope. It is not just a manual on investment techniques; it captures the essence of business—how to manage risk and make decisions amidst uncertainty, and how to draw massive success from a tiny possibility. I hope this record serves as a reliable guide for entrepreneurs and a window for the public to understand the front lines of innovation.
Q. How did you come to join Sweet-bio, and what was your role there?
My connection with Sweet-bio traces back four years to "COMEUP," an event hosted by the Korea Institute of Startup & Entrepreneurship Development. When CEO Jong-min Oh learned of my background at Nestlé while we were exchanging business cards, his reaction was quite intense. He expressed deep admiration, stating that "Nestlé is the ultimate role model that Sweet-bio aspires to emulate."
That meeting was far from a one-time encounter. Later, I wrote about Sweet Bio’s founding narrative for the Dong-A Business Review (DBR), which allowed us to explore each other’s philosophies deeply as interviewer and interviewee. Built upon that long-standing trust, the company's business needs and my personal timing reached perfect resonance last year, leading to my decision to join the team.
Upon my appointment, my mission was clear: to redesign the strategy and marketing framework from the ground up. Over the course of a year, I expanded a one-person operation into a strategic division of fifteen. My focus was on transplanting the advanced processes of a global corporation into the agile framework of a startup. I boldly stripped away inertial meetings and completely overhauled the organizational culture, ensuring that "execution" became the default setting over mere "deliberation."
This ripple of change was validated by remarkable numbers, fueled by the dedication of the marketing team. Revenue from our D2C mall and Smart Store grew by 700% in a short period. We showcased our market presence through collaborations with leading brands like Artisée, Gong Cha, and Haitai Confectionery. In particular, Marketing Team Leader Yuri Lee, with whom I have worked since my Nestlé Korea days, was the cornerstone of this team-building effort. Leveraging her expertise in home shopping, our first broadcast—led by her and the sales team—achieved a record-breaking sell-out of 110,000 units in just 28 minutes. Thanks to her constant efforts to stay in sync with my vision, we were able to create the ultimate synergy.
These dazzling metrics are not my doing; they are the fruits of labor from team members who executed their tasks far more brilliantly than I could have. I simply trusted them entirely and delegated authority boldly. I believe the essence of a leader is not to be a player on the field, but to be the "architect of the environment."
My top priority was to create the fertile soil where the potential of each member wouldn't go to waste but instead explode to its maximum, and to clear the path so they could move forward without hesitation. Management scholar Peter Drucker defined management as "the art of getting things done through people." In that arena of art, meeting team members who responded to my delegation with such overwhelming results is the greatest pride of my career.
This translation captures your journey from a hands-on leader to a mentor who cultivates loyalty through radical trust and character-focused recruitment.
Q. After joining Sweet-bio as the Head of Strategic Marketing, you built a team of fifteen from scratch within a year and maintained an incredibly low turnover rate. Could you share your team-building strategy and leadership philosophy?
The beginning and end of team building lie in "hiring the right people and taking full responsibility for them until the end." I value character and growth potential far more than a flashy resume.
I remember hiring the manager who eventually led our D2C revenue to 700% growth. There were many candidates with more impressive backgrounds, but I offered them the position because of their attitude immediately after the interview: they asked me for direct feedback on their weaknesses. That courage to stare down their own shortcomings and face uncomfortable truths gave me all the conviction I needed. Practical skills can be taught, but that kind of character is rare and difficult to learn.
In response to the trust I placed in them, they delivered overwhelming results, and we developed a deep sense of mutual gratitude that went beyond being mere colleagues.
I believe leadership is surprisingly simple. Its essence is for the leader to move first and create an environment where the team feels safe to run. Rather than standing back and observing, I want to be on the front lines with my team. I personally carried boxes and served customers at our pop-up stores. I believe you must feel the pulse of the field yourself to make the most accurate and responsible decisions when the team faces a problem.
When rebuilding the organization, I put the most effort into increasing the "density of trust." When I first arrived, the cynicism from the Design Team Leader was beyond imagination. When I suggested we prove our capabilities externally by winning a design award, he scoffed with a cold, indifferent reaction. However, I saw the heavy sense of responsibility and the pride in his skills hidden behind that stubbornness. I knew that trust built through difficulty is the hardest to break, so I never gave up and continued to offer my support and interest.
To broaden his perspective, I personally arranged a meeting with the design team of "Living Crafts" (Saenghwal Gongjakso), a brand that had swept global design awards. At the same time, I constantly stimulated his professional pride as a designer, telling him, "If it's to protect our brand philosophy, we must be willing to endure any friction." The result of that process was our "Brand Guidebook." Recently, other companies we collaborated with were stunned by the sheer level of detail in that guidebook.
Ultimately, his cynicism transformed into the most fervent conviction. Appointing him as the official Team Leader when the design team was formalized was my way of showing sincere respect for his potential. When I shared the news of my departure recently, his expression of deep regret was the clearest evidence that I had successfully drawn out his latent talent.
Fear only makes people submit, but sincere trust makes them move on their own. I believe that a solid bond built this way is the most powerful axis that sustains an organization.
Q. From Finance to Marketing, and from global corporations to startups—your career path has been unconventional, to say the least. While a hiring manager might view such a non-linear trajectory with skepticism, what is the underlying necessity that ties these experiences together?
From an HR perspective, my resume might look like one they’d want to avoid—it shows a lot of significant shifts. I suppose I wasn’t destined for a "comfortable" corporate life. Even at Nestlé, where I stayed the longest, I went through six completely different roles in just six and a half years.
I once asked my CEO, "Why do you always turn to me whenever a new mission comes up?"
His answer was clear: "Because whenever a new opportunity or a complex problem arises, you are the first person I think of. I have total confidence that you won't say no and that you will break through any obstacle."
Hearing that made me realize he was right. I have never once said "it can’t be done" to a mission I was given. Perhaps the CEO saw me more clearly than I saw myself back then—he understood that I’m the type of person who gains energy only by constantly challenging myself and consuming new experiences.
If you ask me whether all these paths were part of a pre-planned strategy, my answer is "no." I was simply being true to my primal instinct of curiosity. I find assembling a "smooth" resume for show to be incredibly tedious; instead, I genuinely enjoy the grueling process of deriving my own answers in unfamiliar territories.
Some might look at my history of not "digging a single well" with concern. However, I believe it is far more like me to plan and execute the future than to look back at the past with regret. The sharp numerical sense of Finance, the strategic vision of Marketing, and the flexible adaptability I’ve gained by navigating diverse industries have become a unique, one-of-a-kind arsenal that only I possess.
Though it hasn't been a planned, straight line, this winding trajectory has become the most multi-dimensional and powerful narrative proving my professional expertise.
Q. Do you have a specific know-how for balancing your primary career with your activities as a writer?
People often ask for a "secret," but for me, my primary career isn't an obstacle to writing—it is my most fertile source of inspiration. It’s on the front lines—leading organizations, persuading stakeholders, and engaging in intense collaborations—where countless thoughts and insights intersect. If I only sat behind a desk, I would have run out of stories long ago.
The process of organizing my experiences into writing is a form of "purging" for me. Once I pour out the tangled thoughts in my head onto the page, I create space to fill with new experiences. Within this infinite cycle, I am constantly thinking about how to improve. I know all too well that if my thoughts stop, my growth stops—and my writing will naturally cease as well.
This is why I strive never to remain stationary. I am convinced that I grow stronger only when I continuously expose myself to new challenges and trials, throwing myself into unfamiliar environments. As long as I keep moving, there is always another story waiting to be told.
Of course, time is always scarce and energy has its limits. Nevertheless, I believe that if I don’t constantly discipline myself, I cannot properly fulfill my role as either a leader or a writer. I want to live my life learning and colliding with reality on the ground until my very last breath. Documenting the traces of a life lived that intensely—that is my only secret to balancing my career and my craft.
Q. You are now leaving the familiar behind to challenge a new horizon. What are your plans and ultimate goals for the future?
Paradoxically, I decided to leave Sweet Bio because all the metrics were absolutely perfect. With the shift to profitability, steep revenue growth, and a solidified brand, everything was cruising on a stable trajectory. But as the system grew more rigid, my entrepreneurial instincts began to ring an alarm. Rather than discussing the efficiency of optimization within an already completed structure, I realized I needed the adrenaline of drawing a new blueprint on a blank canvas once again.
I finally truly understand the intent behind CEO Jong-min Oh’s earlier invitation when he said, "I want to meet you as founder to founder." Perhaps he saw the untamable entrepreneurial wildness hidden inside me even before I did.
After deeply reviewing several options recently, my conclusion is clear: I am at my most effective, and my choices are most regret-free, when I take the helm and forge my own path.
Using that conviction as a springboard, I plan to enter a completely different industry this year—one I haven't experienced before. With the global market as my stage, where domestic and international boundaries disappear, I intend to challenge myself with the work I do best and have longed to do most. To that end, I am currently fully focused on exploring the next steps for this new stage. I am meeting with stakeholders in unfamiliar territories, debating with them, learning their language, and essentially starting again from the bottom. Beyond just acquiring information, I am investing the most effort into digging into the essence of this new field and reinterpreting it through my own lens.
As long as my career continues, I want to keep learning, colliding, and remaining flexible and agile. My essence lies in surpassing limits and expanding my territory rather than settling for past achievements. This time I’m spending now, laying the foundation in an unfamiliar domain, is not a period of wandering—it is an inevitable preparation for a broader market. I believe this journey of forging a path where no "right answer" exists will be the most certain engine to keep me awake and driven.
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