Chapter 90
Chapter 90
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: Cash Cow Ranch
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The elevator dinged as it came to a stop on the second floor.
As the doors slid open, the musty stench of mold mixed with the stale odor of worn carpet assaulted my nose.
The practice rooms lining both sides of the hallway were mostly empty, with only a few rooms lit by lonely flickering fluorescent lights.
Truth be told, my plan to acquire an entertainment agency was something I'd scheduled for much later, after Silla Biotech and the gaming company had solidified their positions.
In my master plan, it was at least two years out.
Step by step, safely, after building a rock-solid revenue structure.
But today, the moment I saw Choi Yang—known back then as "Pink Angels' Areum"—at Bluesky Games, I knew I had to change the order.
I could never forget that developer's gaze.
A guy in his mid-twenties with greasy hair, reeking like he hadn't showered in days, wearing a stained T-shirt—he blushed like a teenage boy the instant he laid eyes on her.
As if time had rewound a decade, his eyes brimmed with pure admiration and excitement.
"Areum... She's really Areum..."
That one mutter sent chills down my spine.
The fandom was still alive.
Even after a one-month debut that crashed and burned over the mechanical pencil lead scandal, three years later, there were still fans who remembered her, knew her songs, and blushed at the sight of her.
In that shabby office, I'd witnessed the most powerful asset money couldn't buy.
A faint strains of music from the end of the hallway snapped me out of my thoughts.
Probably some trainee still hanging around.
But that didn't matter.
What mattered was the truth I'd just realized.
Celebrities are like starfish—as long as the spark of their "fandom" lives on, they can regenerate no matter what scandals they cause.
A flood of examples raced through my mind.
The national MC who plummeted after three DUIs slinked back and enjoyed another peak.
"The public has forgiven him," they said.
The top star caught gambling abroad repeatedly took a few years' hiatus and now thrives as a stern character actor.
Even earning praise for his "mature acting forged in hardship."
The idol busted for weed is raking in more cash on YouTube,
and the singer dragging endless controversies washed their image with one sad ballad, now worshipped as a "god of music."
Complete with the wrap of "artists are different."
The reason they can stand before the public again, spouting crap like "Please forget the old me," and live lavishly?
It's that concrete base of blind support: their "fandom."
I stood before the door to Star-Maker Entertainment's CEO office, staring at the nameplate.
It read "CEO Kim Hyun-su," but the sticker was peeling at one end, making it look like "CEO Kim Hyun."
Seemed like a sign of fate.
Their fandom doesn't buy the products stars sell—they consume the "star" itself.
If my star commits a crime, it's just "a mistake from a weak heart." If they're embroiled in scandal, it's "jealous haters' schemes."
How powerful and alluring a business model is that?
Choi Yang stood beside me, her face still uneasy.
She probably didn't cherish the memories of this building either.
But that unease, that pain—it was my greatest asset.
"President, are you really going in?"
There was a slight tremor in Choi Yang's voice.
I nodded, looking at her.
A perfect picture was forming in my mind.
Silla Biotech's new drug would secure my "power," Bluesky Games' titles my "cash."
And this entertainment agency would be the final puzzle piece completing my "fame" and "deification."
Power, cash, fame.
With those three pillars in place, I'd become this country's true "king."
The kind politicians bow to, chaebols watch nervously, and the masses revere by name.
I took a deep breath before opening the door.
The moldy air filled my lungs, but strangely, it felt refreshing. Like the smell of a new beginning.
"Let's go in, Secretary Choi. Time to conquer our final kingdom."
...
As I pushed open the door, a voice from inside the CEO's office greeted us.
"No, does that even make sense? The trainees all bolted, salaries are overdue, and you want to debut rookies...?"
The voice belonged to a man in his late forties.
His head was half-bald, his face pocked with stress pimples.
He was Kim Hyun-su, the CEO.
The office was as rundown as it looked from outside.
Papers cluttered the old desk, steeped in cigarette stench.
Wall frames hung crooked, some so dusty you couldn't tell what was inside.
But the moment we entered, his eyes locked onto Choi Yang.
His initially indifferent expression hardened, then turned awkward.
"Uh... I know that face from somewhere..."
Kim Hyun-su scanned her up and down, rummaging through his memory.
A few seconds later, realization dawned on his face.
"No way... Choi Areum?"
Choi Yang's body stiffened for an instant.
Her name from three years ago, called out again.
Complex emotions flickered across her face, but she quickly went blank.
"Ah, yeah. Pink Angels' Areum. Wait, the mechanical pencil lead thing..."
Kim Hyun-su's voice trailed off.
He looked at her with a tangled expression.
Guilt, embarrassment, and a hint of hostility mixed in.
"So, what're you here for? Don't tell me you're trying to come back?"
His tone dripped with clear rejection.
As if saying, "Our company's image took such a hit because of you."
I stepped forward with a smile, like I'd been waiting for this moment.
"Hello, CEO Kim Hyun-su. I'm from Bluesky Investment..."
I handed over my 18K gold-plated business card with my most professional smile.
Like at the gaming company, it gleamed gold under the fluorescent light.
But Kim Hyun-su's reaction was worlds apart from the naive game devs.
He took the card, examined it closely, then sized me up.
His battle-hardened face was full of suspicion.
"Bluesky... Investment?"
He tossed the card onto the desk with a snort.
It landed with a soft thud amid the paper piles.
"Never heard of it. So, what brings you here?"
I kept my smile steady.
"To propose an investment in your company... or more precisely, an acquisition."
His eyebrows shot up. He paused, chewing over my words.
"So... you want to buy out our company?"
"Yes."
Silence fell.
Only the hum of the AC filled the room.
Kim Hyun-su glared at Choi Yang once more, then turned back to me. Calculation flickered in his eyes.
"......Got the money?"
I grinned at the question.
Same as the game company, but far more blunt and skeptical this time.
"How much should I offer?"
Kim Hyun-su pretended to tap a calculator, stalling.
The clicking heightened the tension. Then, with cold, dead eyes, he spoke.
"Ten billion."
I couldn't help but laugh.
"President, have you lost your mind?"
"What?"
His face twisted. But I pressed on undeterred.
"You know better than anyone what state your company's in. Trainees gone, can't pay staff, debts in the tens of billions. And you want ten billion for that?"
"Star-Maker's still a ten-year-old company with existing infrastructure..."
"Infrastructure?"
I sneered, gesturing around.
"This moldy building? Or those debt-ridden record distribution deals?"
Kim Hyun-su's face flushed red. Veins bulged on his neck.
"Then how much you offering?"
"Five hundred million."
"What?! Five hundred million? Hey, you!"
He shot to his feet, yelling. His chair scraped back and slammed the wall.
"The building alone's worth two billion!"
"It's leased, isn't it? What's the deposit again?"
"......Still, five hundred million's insane!"
"Then one billion. That's my limit."
I said coolly.
Kim Hyun-su gaped like a fish, speechless.
He was surely calculating the company's real value in his head.
Moments later, his gaze shifted to Choi Yang. Something clicked in his eyes.
"Hmmm..."
He scanned her again, then turned to me with a sleazy grin.
"Rich kid from a chaebol family wanna play around with idols, huh? Skip the acquisition hassle. I dabble as a broker—how about it?"
He leaned back in his chair casually.
"Plenty of cute young ones these days. Rookies are especially naive. Promise 'em a debut, and they'll do anything."
Choi Yang's expression subtly hardened.
Disgust flashed, but no shock or rage. Like hearing a familiar story repeated.
I pondered his words briefly.
Honestly, denying the offer tempted me would be a lie.
But now wasn't the time to indulge.
"Intriguing proposal."
I replied with shameless grin. I felt Choi Yang's gaze chill, but ignored it.
"Business first, though. Fun like that... we'll consider when there's time later."
Kim Hyun-su looked disappointed.
"Fine? Then that one billion you mentioned?"
"Hold on."
I raised a hand to stop him.
"Add one condition, and I can go up to two point five billion."
His eyes lit up. His greedy nature shone through.
"Condition? What?"
"Round up the Pink Angels members again. Clean up the contracts and hand them over to me."
"What? That flop group?"
"Yeah. You know where the others are, right? You have their contacts."
Kim Hyun-su thought for a bit, then nodded.
"Areum was underage back then, so she terminated. But I still manage the rest."
"Manage?"
Choi Yang asked, her voice trembling. Her face paled slightly.
"You know how it is—once they've been on TV, their price skyrockets."
Kim Hyun-su grinned sleazily.
"Jiu's shacking up with some rich landowner uncle, Soyoung's with a politician's son... They're all eating well. If Areum had been a bit older back then..."
Ahh... So this wasn't an entertainment agency—it was a prostitution ring.
I nodded, figuring as much.
Not surprising at all.
If anything, perfect. Cleaning up this filth would be ideal.
"Makes it simpler then. Two point five billion for the company, transfer all those 'management' contracts to me. Nice and clean."
"Oh, you get it."
Kim Hyun-su beamed with satisfaction. Two point five billion sparkled in his eyes.
"Tomorrow, call a lawyer for the contracts. But..."
He eyed me meaningfully.
"You really just buying it? Keep the 'services' going, and it'll make bank."
I smiled back.
"Acquire first, think later."
Choi Yang's face grew even paler.
She stared out the window silently.
As if trying to detach herself from it all.