Two Hundred Thousand Loaves
As anyone might have expected, the dinner was pizza. These days no one even bothered to ask. They simply took it as given.
Honestly, it is good.
This was a victory celebration, so we had taken the whole shop. Someone floated the idea of splitting the bill, and Devon, as ever, dug in his heels.
"You don't like money?"
"What are you talking about. I love money!"
"People who love money don't spend it. They pile it up..."
"Ah, if that's the kind, then I don't love it. Me, I spend every last bit the moment I earn it."
"..."
As far as I could tell, I could have shown him the balance in my account and Devon would still have been the man who insisted on paying. In any case—
"Fill the glasses first!"
Devon shot up from his seat and bellowed, expansive as a festival.
"On a day like today, beer under Teacher's supervision is the only proper thing!"
He stole a glance toward the street. Through the glass door, cameras crowded the view.
"Drinking beer in front of reporters is just showing off, isn't it? So today we settle for cola."
"Are we having cola too?"
Steve asked, speaking for the Cambridge rugby side.
"You're university students. Figure it out yourselves. Why ask me?"
"You're the one paying, sir, so I thought I ought to check..."
"Drink. Today we feast, and then we die."
With that, everyone raised a glass. For the sake of the mood, we filled beer mugs to the brim with cola.
"Before you drink, the captain says a word. Pizza's getting cold, so keep it short."
Not that I had any intention of dragging it out.
I stood and made it short and thick.
"We won!"
And then—
"Waaaaah!"
The boys in my year poured out a roar. Glasses knocked together on every side, and with great gulps and chugs the most wholesome party on earth—questionable, but still—got underway.
Even Leo, quiet as a rule, seemed determined to talk, if only for today.
"I was shaking so badly before the match I thought I'd lose my mind."
"At first I only started practicing because they said it would run in a magazine. Curiosity, you know?"
He began unpacking the story he had kept to himself.
"Once the reporters clocked out, we all used to knock off and head in together. But we knew perfectly well the three aces were still training late into the night... honestly, it made me feel guilty."
"So?"
"From then on I stayed even without the cameras. I thought I'd wandered into a sports college."
If even taciturn Leo had come this far, Gary and James—already overflowing with spirits—never stood a chance. They chattered like drunks, while Steve, who had actually been drinking, wore the soberest face in the room.
Ah. And since the subject had come up, I passed Steve the shopping bag I had prepared in advance.
"What's this?"
"Ah... well... Ultimate. One of their people said there was a single one left. They asked me to pass it along to whoever helped with the training."
"Really?"
A complete lie, of course.
"Haha."
I scratched my head, awkward. Help with the training, and model the Queensman cover while he was at it. Set against everything I had already taken from him, one outfit was nothing at all.
"Whoa!"
Steve's face was the happiest in the world. He liked it so much that I was the one who felt grateful.
"Ah, hyung, there's something I wanted to ask."
"If this is about getting into Cambridge, I'd be delighted."
I cleared my throat.
"It's something else. You said your father runs a food company?"
"Yeah."
"And that it's quite large..."
"The biggest in Britain."
"If you ran the factories flat out, how much could you produce in a day?"
Perhaps the question had come too suddenly. A question mark seemed to rise over Steve's head.
"Why, all of a sudden?"
"I want to try making bread. I was thinking of commissioning your father's company."
"Hm. That's... I hate to say this myself, but."
"...?"
"Like I said, it's a big company. They're not really in a position to take private orders and that sort of thing."
"The volume is fairly substantial."
"Come on. However much volume you've got, our minimum unit starts at a hundred thousand."
"Then that's a relief."
"A relief how?"
"I need two hundred thousand a day."
Steve only blinked, as if he might have misheard.
"Bread... it isn't as if the stuff keeps for months... two hundred thousand? Does that even make sense?"
If it were only bread, it wouldn't. There was a sticker inside each one.
And that's the conservative figure...
Once the craze caught, they might have to multiply production several times over.
"Two hundred thousand, every single day. Do you think you can manage it?"
"Ev... every day?"
I nodded.
"No—what on earth are you planning to do with them?"
"What else? Sell them."
I had no intention of turning a profit on bread that children eat. Make them as big and as good as possible, so that everyone buys one, and once they are collecting the stickers as well, the advertising will peak all on its own. When the sales come pouring in from every side, I meant to use them to acquire Guccio.
"Jihoon."
"Yes."
"Say I close a contract for two hundred thousand a day."
"...?"
"Then at least one Ferrari falls to my share."
"A classic?"
"Mm... that might be a bit difficult."
"That's all right. If it picks up momentum, we may have to turn out five hundred thousand at a time."
Perhaps the number was moving even as a thought.
"Ha!"
For a long while Steve could not shut his mouth. I grinned.
Maybe it was because I had only just seen Grandfather. This was the hour when I ought to have been resting easy, and yet I had gone and started talking business without meaning to.
Hm.
Maybe Grandfather was only an excuse, and the truth was that I was half mad for the work—nonsense!
Don't even joke about a disaster like that!
That aside, Tennessee seemed to have grown used to gatherings of this sort. Even with people watching. Gulp, gulp. Cola, at least, he appeared to drink with hardly a scrap of guilt. Good. I'm proud of you, Tennessee!
Had he caught my look? He turned his head, just slightly, toward me. The boy who had been quiet the whole evening spoke for the first time, and it was nothing I had expected.
"There was a great war in Korea, wasn't there?"
Not even Jack. Why was Tennessee suddenly talking about a war...
"Right after the war, it must have been a complete ruin?"
"It would have been. Unfortunately."
"Then your grandfather raised an entirely new empire on that barren ground?"
Something like that, yes.
"Why are you asking?"
"I've taken a bit of an interest in business lately."
What?
"So, about that. The wish ticket I mentioned before. May I use it now?"
Meanwhile, guided by Jo Sudeok, Park Yonghak made his way to Queensman.
It was a thoroughly old-fashioned tailor's shop. They followed the famous paintings along the wall, and when he drew Hamlet from the bookcase, a hidden room appeared. In the magazine it had left him unmoved. Experiencing it himself was another feeling entirely.
Not bad.
Park Yonghak loved art, and his eye was beyond anyone's imitation. With that sharp gaze he looked the shop over.
"Who did this?"
"Olivia?"
"She is the daughter of Ralph Warren, America's foremost designer."
Only then, as if he understood, did Chairman Park begin to nod.
"Welco—ghk!"
A man caught sight of the two of them and startled. It was none other than James Paver.
"P-Professor, how did you suddenly... why are you here..."
Perhaps it was because he had been put through the wringer, start to finish, in New York. Their eyes had only met, and already Paver's were trembling. But it was far too soon to be shocked. Jo Sudeok stepped forward and introduced Chairman Park.
"...!"
Paver's eyes went round. The words grandfather of President Park Jihoon seemed to seize him and shake him.
"This fellow made all of Ultimate by himself?"
"Yes, so I'm told."
When Park Yonghak asked the secret of it, Paver laughed, awkward. Frankly, the man himself was standing right there. He could hardly file a report that Jo Sudeok's mental training had done the heavy lifting.
"And that place. The department store..."
"Harris."
"Right. I heard this fellow turned down their offer to scout him."
When Jo Sudeok asked in his place, Paver added a brief explanation.
"I'm told the president offered a vision greater than money."
"Where's a vision greater than money."
"Sir?"
"A vision for making money. That'd be the one."
"Ah, yes. I—I suppose that's about it. Haha..."
In any case.
"So he turned down a fortune they were ready to hand him, and stood on Jihoon's side. That what you're saying?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Where's the rascal staying?"
"At present, I'm told, in a hotel suite."
"And a car?"
"He says a taxi is more comfortable..."
At that, Park Yonghak's brow crumpled hard.
"Tomorrow, soon as it's light, find him a house in a good neighborhood first. No loan. In the boy's own name. Clean."
"Sir? Ah—yes."
"The car. A young fellow who made Ultimate... a sedan sits wrong on him."
"...?"
"How about a Bentley coupe?"
"Heavens... a Bentley, given for nothing. Who in the world would refuse?"
Once the interpreting was finished, Paver hurriedly waved them off. In many respects, he meant that he was comfortable as he was. Park Yonghak's manner, however, was firm.
"When an elder gives, you take it without a word of complaint. That's courtesy."
I got home before it grew late, because Grandfather was waiting. Who knew the light leaking past the windows could feel this dear? I, who had only ever looked at dark ones, stepped inside in a good mood.
"Grandfather, I'm home."
He was sitting in a chair in the living room, reading. When he saw me he took off his reading glasses, set them on the table, and spoke.
"Empty hands would've done. What'd you go and buy this time."
"Ah, this."
Jo Sudeok came over at once and took the things from me.
"I didn't buy it."
"...?"
"My friend, the one you saw earlier?"
"Tennessee Edward Churchill Grosvenor?"
Aigo. He had the entire name by heart. Anyway.
"He asked me to bring it to you, Grandfather. A wine that only the royal house and the ducal family are specially permitted to buy. He even took me down to the family cellar to choose it."
Grandfather studied the label without a word. It was just like him, a man with a deep knowledge of wine.
"This is still around?"
A pleased smile rose at the corner of his mouth.
"Is it all right to simply accept a thing like this?"
"Is it expensive?"
"It'll come to more than a car, easily."
Hm.
"That much is fine. I had a uniform made for him that was worth a car, too."
"That was a compact. This is about an S-Class. You all right with that?"
What? An S-Class?
There had been a mountain of bottles, so I had assumed that however dear they were, the lot might come to eight thousand dollars at the outside. An S-Class, for a single bottle? My head went light all at once.
"Professor Jo, come here."
"Yes, Chairman."
"This is old. Yank the cork and it'll crumble, no question. You have to open it with an opener made for old bottles. Understood?"
"Are... are you going to drink it now?"
"Course I am. You're standing there drooling. You think I'll keep my mouth shut?"
"Aigo, you saw that too?"
"Bring it out. Quickly."
Jo Sudeok headed for the kitchen with the happiest face in the world. Thanks to that, I had a moment alone with Grandfather.
"You're acquiring Guccio?"
"Yes. That's the plan."
"The money?"
"I'll have to earn it."
Anyone overhearing would have thought it a very easy thing to say. Grandfather's face, though, was entirely serious.
"These days they say that capsule whatsit makes money."
"Capsulemon."
"Right. You mean to earn it with that?"
Grandfather truly missed nothing.
"You sell that capsule thing and buy the company. Then what?"
"..."
"Jihoon, you're not the sort to be satisfied with Guccio alone. Well? Planning to swallow Luy Vuitton while you're at it?"
At times like this, I wanted to ask.
Grandfather. Be honest with me, and only me. Truly, as one person to another... this isn't your first life, is it?