Protein Factory in Rainy Season
A quality inspector and equipment engineer at an alternative protein ingredient plant grow closer as they handle a power outage during monsoon season. In the gap between production line rhythm and human rhythm, hearts stir.
When the rainy season began, the hygrometer inside the factory responded first. Seo Jin, a quality control officer at the Chorok Danbaek Chungcheongbuk plant, had just finished the third sample collection of the morning. The moisture content of the soybean protein extraction line was 0.3 percentage points higher than standard. It was within tolerance, but if the trend continued in the same direction, she needed to raise a warning flag. That was Seo Jin’s job.
At the same moment, Han Jun from the equipment team lay underneath the extruder on the lower floor of Building B. A single bolt had loosened slightly, and the vibration pattern had shifted. Machines don’t speak, but their sounds change. He often said it took three years to learn to notice.
At 2:16 p.m., lightning struck.
The alarm took half a second to sound, and the fluorescent lights went dark in even less time. Emergency lights glowed red. Three extrusion lines stopped simultaneously. The protein dough was hardening inside the molds. If it couldn’t be extracted before the mold temperature dropped, everything loaded that morning would be scrapped. At unit cost, it was roughly three million won worth.
Seo Jin stepped into the hallway. Han Jun was walking toward her from the control room, a flashlight tucked under his arm.
“I’ll open the mold on B-line,” she said.
Han Jun paused, then nodded. It was rare for the quality team to get their hands directly involved.
The mold cover was heavy. The two of them each grabbed a handle. Seo Jin’s hand reached first, and Han Jun’s came beside it. The dough was still warm.
For an hour and a half, they manually released the three lines in sequence. When the sound of the generator coming online was heard, they had salvaged more than half the dough. Han Jun filled the recovery log, and Seo Jin organized the rescued dough samples in numerical order. The two of them sat side by side on the same plastic chair. The generator noise filled their ears.
“Moisture content will go up,” Han Jun said, almost to himself. It was obvious—they’d had the mold open that long on a humid day.
“It’s already been going up since this morning,” Seo Jin replied.
Han Jun looked at her. There was a moment in which the weight of her words seemed to be measured. That she’d known since morning, and yet still rushed out before filing a report. These two things seemed to connect in his mind in a sound that Seo Jin could almost hear. Though it was probably her imagination.
“Let’s look at the sample report together later,” Han Jun said.
Seo Jin glanced toward the window for a moment. The rain was still falling hard. Summer 2026, and heavy rain advisories in North Chungcheong had been issued for three days. The line would run tomorrow under the same humidity, and the samples were likely to drift in the same direction.
“Yes,” she replied. Her answer was brief. Han Jun seemed satisfied, lowering his eyes back to the report.
The generator noise quieted slightly. The rain continued.