DeepMind (4)
The secretary bent down, retrieved the proposal from the floor, and pressed it back into his hands.
Normally his boss would already be spouting every absurdity under the sun. The fact that the man was still standing there, utterly vacant, told her just how thoroughly the number had rattled him.
“Mr. Bart?”
“E-e-e-ei…”
“Pardon?”
“Eighty million dollars!!”
“Yes, that’s correct. The offer values the entire company at eighty million and proposes a one-hundred-percent acquisition of every share.”
Bart swallowed hard.
We closed Series A only four months ago. In four months I could double my money and exit. Converted to IRR… dear God, the annualized return is over three hundred percent!
A venture capital firm invests in ten startups; nine die, and the remaining one has to explode just so the whole fund can break even. And now a deal guaranteeing pure profit had simply walked through the door?
This is a gift from heaven!
Year-end was almost upon them. With less than two months left before he had to report to the LPs, he still needed to put out the fire called Instalink’s failure.
If I can slip the DeepMind transaction into the year-end performance report… if I can write “realized two-times return in four months”…
That alone would more than erase the entire year’s losses.
Let’s g—
He froze.
This was not a simple investment proposal. The buyer had declared its intention to own one hundred percent of the company, founders’ equity included.
Why a full buyout?
Complete acquisitions were rare in venture capital. Go all-in and the company tanks—then what? Normally you buy a slice and watch the company grow.
Is there some special value in DeepMind I don’t know about?
In the end Bart requested a video call with the Seoseong Securities representative. Seo Minjae’s face filled the screen.
After the obligatory greetings Bart drove straight to the point.
“Is there a particular reason you want a full acquisition?”
Seo Minjae’s expression turned awkward. A sharp little smile flickered at the corner of Bart’s mouth.
Knew it. My gut never lies. They’re hiding something.
Seo Minjae hesitated a beat, then spoke carefully.
“This must not leave this conversation.”
“Of course. Confidentiality is standard.”
“Our principal has… a rather unique temperament. Whenever he invests—company, anything—he only feels satisfied once he owns one hundred percent.”
“……?”
What kind of ridiculous reason was that?
Then an equally absurd scene flashed across his mind: the charity auction at the tech gala. Lee Jaseung had spent a million dollars simply to buy back the rubber ball he himself had donated.
Because it’s mine.
That single reason. It should have made no sense, yet after witnessing that man’s monomaniacal possessiveness in person, the explanation somehow started to sound almost reasonable.
The richer they get, the weirder they become. DeepMind’s founder is an idealist chasing AGI, Frontier’s guy preaches “only monopoly wins,” and the other investor, Nikola… that bastard is just insane.
A man who fires rockets because he wants to go to Mars needs no further explanation.
From that angle, Lee Jaseung’s hundred-percent obsession looked like just another rich man’s eccentricity.
Seo Minjae made an offer.
“If you’re interested, why not meet the principal in person?”
“You’re telling me to fly all the way to Korea?”
“No. He’s coming to the States shortly. There’s an AI competition, and quite a few startups he’s watching will be there.”
Hold on.
Bart’s expression shifted.
“So DeepMind isn’t the only company you’re looking at?”
“Excuse me? Of course not. Makers is interested in the entire AI sector. We’re already in contact with more than ten startups this round alone.”
Suddenly the picture snapped into focus.
The family office is expanding its portfolio into AI. That’s why they sent proposals through Seoseong Securities to multiple companies…
Which meant—
…there’s competition?
He had thought this was a monopoly opportunity. It was a competitive auction.
If another startup accepts first, Makers has no reason to insist on DeepMind.
Then the eighty million evaporates. And so does his performance number.
No!!!!
Internally screaming, Bart arranged a professional smile on his face.
“Ah, so the competition is bringing him all this way. Shall we arrange the hotel for him, then?”
“…….”
Bart activated Sequoia Capital’s network and started digging.
Seoseong Securities is trying to increase its AI-sector exposure.
They had been making investment inquiries to multiple VC funds.
So Seoseong’s clients are showing interest as well? AI is still a relatively unknown field, though… Ah! At the last party Mr. Lee mentioned he was focused on the tech sector.
The conversation came back to him.
— May I ask which sectors you invest in?
— Primarily tech.
— Oh, tech is Sequoia’s specialty.
Further digging revealed that Makers was reaching for AI startups not only in DeepMind’s orbit but across Europe, the United States, Hong Kong, and India.
They’re going all-in on AI for real.
Capital was finite; competitors were many. Growing impatient, Bart called a meeting with DeepMind’s major investors and came out swinging from the first second.
“I’ll be direct. We’ve received an acquisition offer from Makers, and I intend to exit on this opportunity.”
The first to react was the CEO of Frontier—the shadow power of Silicon Valley with threads running all the way into the Department of Defense.
Peter Quill asked, almost lazily, “Year-end performance numbers?”
With a single sentence the sly bastard dragged in the most difficult person in the room: Howard Nikola.
Nikola, still half-obsessed with electric cars and Mars, rounded on him like a dog.
“What? You’re selling us out for a year-end bonus? I’ll pay the damn bonus myself. How much? One million? Two?”
It’s ten million, you son of a bitch!
Bart swallowed the scream and snorted instead.
“Bonus? You think I’m that cheap? This is a legitimate exit. Since when is a venture capital firm exiting considered betrayal?”
“Even an exit has to consider the counterparty. You’re going to sell the shares to that dangerous bastard?”
“Mr. Lee isn’t dangerous. He’s just an investor—”
“Naïve. Why do you think he wants a hundred percent of DeepMind?”
Bart dressed Lee Jaseung’s possessiveness as carefully as he could.
“Because of the principal’s unique investment philosophy.”
“Investment philosophy? You believe that?”
A curse rose all the way to Bart’s throat. More believable than your own circus acts!
“Then what’s the real reason?”
“To monopolize AI and rule humanity.”
“…….”
It was astonishingly close to the truth, yet to Bart’s ears it sounded like pure conspiracy-theory garbage.
Nikola launched into a full speech.
“The future of AI must never be monopolized by one person. Why do you think I invested in DeepMind? Because Dr. Demian is developing AI too damn fast. I have to monitor and control it before his AI starts ruling humanity. And now that same DeepMind is about to fall into the hands of an idealist and a dictator? I’m here precisely to stop that!”
…Fuck.
Bart decided further conversation with a conspiracy theorist was worthless. He turned his eyes to the founder.
The key is still Demian. His sixty percent plus my twenty is more than enough to trigger the drag-along clause. Even if the other two kick and scream, Sequoia can handle them. It’s a contractual right. What are they going to do about it?
“Dr. Demian, what are your thoughts?”
“Me?”
Caught in the crossfire, Demian tensed.
“Well… I think we should take the long view. An exit right now feels premature.”
Bart smiled gently. Softening academics was his specialty.
“Doctor, that ‘long view’ is exactly what I’m talking about. DeepMind isn’t a company that can prove itself with revenue.”
“Of course not. We’re a basic-research lab.”
“Precisely. Which means even an exit has limits.”
He paused, then continued.
“Shall we be honest? Do you know the best possible path for DeepMind? Getting absorbed as a research team inside a Big Tech company—once you’ve produced results Big Tech actually respects. Looking at the current progress, do you really think that’s realistic?”
Demian’s voice rose in protest.
“I trust my research team. AGI isn’t easy, but we’re heading in the right direction.”
“Demian. Every AI startup in Silicon Valley dives in with that same faith. Not all of them get to keep it. But if you exit right now, you walk away with forty-eight million dollars.”
“……Forty-eight million.”
Conflict flickered across Demian’s face. Outside capital was still other people’s money; every piece of equipment came with sideways glances.
But forty-eight million…
Nikola cut in.
“Doctor, don’t listen to that capitalism-blinded bastard. Getting acquired by Gugol isn’t that hard. Hey, Peter—you can make the introduction, right?”
“Obviously.”
“See?”
The hesitation drained out of Demian. He nodded.
“I’m not ready to give up on a Big Tech acquisition yet. And Makers is Korean capital. It’s too far from Silicon Valley.”
His tone hardened.
“Even if Sequoia Capital leaves, these two will stay. Their networks can still connect me to Big Tech. Of course, as you said, we’ll still need the results.”
“Demian!”
My performance numbers!
Bart called after him, but Demian was already rising from his chair.
“Sorry, but I have to go. We’re buried in preparations for the AI competition.”
“?”
Bart froze. That name sounded familiar.
“……Is it the ImageWeb competition?”
“Huh? How did you know? Most people haven’t even heard of it.”
“…….”
Outwardly he had refused with confidence, but Demian’s mind was a mess.
It had to be.
Eighty million means forty-eight million lands in my pocket. With that kind of money I could research whatever I want without looking over my shoulder.
Maybe the future would explode with success. But that was still only a maybe. The forty-eight million sitting on the table was cold, hard reality.
Bart isn’t completely wrong. Big Tech won’t buy a company with zero results. We need results. Absolutely.
That meant either a paper that set the academic world on fire or a prize at a major conference.
He would take first place at this competition no matter what!
And then he failed spectacularly.
“…….”
The image-recognition algorithm he had always trusted performed catastrophically. Demian stared blankly as the winners were announced.
“The champion team is DNN Research from the University of Toronto!”
That podium should have been mine…
For a moment even the entire research direction he had pursued until now began to feel hollow. Then his gaze snagged on one figure.
The man congratulating the winners looked familiar. Impeccable suit, unhurried nod…
No way. Mr. Lee?
He wasn’t seeing things. It really was Lee Jaseung.
The man who had offered eighty million for DeepMind was now casually congratulating a completely different AI startup on its victory—and looking so natural it seemed they had known each other for years.
What about the eighty-million offer he made me? The serious conversation we had on the terrace at the gala?
He knew the startup world was a bloodbath where nine out of ten companies died. Paying attention to the winners of an academic competition was only natural. He himself had been about to reject the offer.
So why does it feel like I just got dumped without even dating?
While Demian was still frowning over the sour feeling, Lee Jaseung finished speaking with the winners, turned, and their eyes met.
The instant their gazes locked, Lee Jaseung paused—exactly long enough for recognition and mild surprise—then called out with genuine warmth.
“Dr. Demian!”
His expression said “what a coincidence,” yet every step he took toward his target was utterly deliberate.
“Running into you here—small world, isn’t it?”
Demian floundered. Of all moments to meet again, right after being knocked out of the winner’s circle.
“I, uh… didn’t expect to see you here either.”
“Same. I came because a team I was interested in was competing. Turns out you were here as well.”
“Ah, yes. It’s an important conference for deep learning.”
This year’s conference mattered more than usual. The two great mountain ranges of AI research had both gathered under one roof.
Lee Jaseung intended to uproot both ranges today and transplant them into Makers.
The first was Demian standing right in front of him.
The second was the winning team, DNN Research.
That winning team will one day become Gugol Brain.
If Gugol DeepMind handled pure foundational research, Gugol Brain would handle applied research that could ship into products tomorrow. Fortunately the “startup” was still little more than a research group, which made them far easier to court than DeepMind.
Demian asked, “You were talking with the DNN team earlier. Did you already know them?”
“Yes. I’ve been sponsoring them recently. I didn’t expect much, yet they took first place.”
Lee Jaseung deliberately mentioned the victory, then asked, “Did you also compete, Doctor?”
“Yes…”
Hearing the dejected trailing-off, Lee Jaseung smiled inwardly.
Exit pressure from investors, zero results when results were desperately needed, and the would-be acquirer had just watched the whole thing. Perfect timing to shake the tree.
“By the way, have you had a chance to review the acquisition proposal we sent?”
“Oh—ah, that… I’ve been so buried in competition prep I haven’t been able to read it carefully yet.”
A lie. He had been wrestling with that single document for days—accept or reject. He had already consulted lawyers. He had agonized until the night before and only barely dragged himself to the venue.
“I see. Sequoia actually contacted us already.”
“Already?”
“Yes. They asked whether they could sell their stake separately—regardless of what the other investors decide.”
Demian exhaled.
After all that fighting they’re still going to walk out alone.
“So only Frontier and Nikola will remain.”
“Will you be all right, Doctor?”
Demian looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Your research is so pure that…”
Lee Jaseung let the sentence hang, studied Demian for a moment, then released a breath half a beat too late—long enough for worry and heavy thought to color it.
Then he planted the seed of division.
“Yes. That’s what worries me. The blanker the canvas, the more other people want to paint their own picture on it.”
This work is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, place names, and events appearing within are entirely fabricated and bear no relation to any real entities. Specialized knowledge described in the narrative has likewise been reconstructed and dramatized to serve the story and may differ from actual information.