We Don't Leave Until They Sign

After Carl left as if something were chasing him, I went over to Tennessee.

"You're going to need to hurry that acquisition."

"Why? Somewhere you suddenly have to spend money?"

I'd said it half in jest, and Tennessee answered in the same spirit.

After that, we moved. And class, somehow, was... ahem. Skipped again.

An empty ground, and the smell of grass whenever the wind stirred. Not long ago I had lived half out of my mind on rugby, and now I was ready to bury myself in work as if none of that had ever happened.

"So you're buying the company itself?"

I nodded.

"Want help?"

Don't even start.

If the Grosvenor family stepped in, the thing would be settled in no time. But then I'd have to split the shares with his father.

With your father. The shares.

He must have read my face.

"Thinking big, aren't you."

"It's an oil field."

"Put it like that, and I don't have much of a comeback."

Heh.

"You free tonight?"

At the question, Tennessee tipped his head.

"You said you needed someone in your corner. We could eat, and the two of you could get a look at each other."

"Hm."

"Why? Busy?"

"Not that."

"...?"

"A hamburger, on a first meeting. Is that a bit much?"

After school, McDonald's.

"Do you like hamburgers?"

"Of course. I could never get enough."

Jo Sudeok met Tennessee's question with a bright smile at once.

"What will you have?"

"A cheeseburger..."

"To drink, a milkshake and a cola, one of each. Large fries, plenty of salt. How does that sound?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Pass.

Had Park Jihoon tipped him off? How could an order be this perfect?

"If you'll sit, I'll bring it over."

"No, we can go together..."

"Better to sit first, if you want a good spot. A corner out of other people's sight, if we can manage it. I find places like that easier on the mind."

"If that's the reason, I'll go ahead..."

"Yes, yes. I'll be right there."

A little later Jo Sudeok came back with the hamburgers.

"Please, eat."

He opened his mouth wide and took a happy bite, then gulped the cola down in great swallows. Tennessee had expected a professor's title to come with a great deal of stiffness. The man was plainer than he'd thought, and easy to be near.

"How do you and Jihoon know each other?"

"The beginning of the bond. Is that what you're asking?"

Tennessee nodded.

"A most extraordinary story, mind you. A work of art brought us together. That is the short version."

"Art?"

"We went through absolute misery in America, the president and I, trying to find a single painting. By the end of it we were practically family. Yes."

Family. Tennessee, who did not have particularly good memories of family, found his head tilting at the answer.

Anyway.

"Then you must know Jihoon's style of business pretty well."

"He is not a man one dares to take the full measure of. Still, I have had a little experience."

"Then what do you make of this?"

"...?"

"An energy drink. It doesn't take any special technology. Honestly, Jihoon could just found a company himself."

"And yet you can't see why he would spend the money and the effort to acquire one. Is that what you mean?"

"Exactly."

"I can't claim to know for certain. But if I had to guess... might he want a person?"

"A person?"

"Yes. Let us suppose there is someone talented enough to astonish the president."

Tennessee was just about to ask why they couldn't simply offer the man a job.

"Ah! An employee, of course, you can scout, but..."

"And if the one you want is the founder himself?"

"Then there is no answer but an acquisition."

So that was it. All this trouble over a little drinks company.

"Has that been of some help?"

"More than enough."

"Then shall we move, and talk about the work in earnest?"

It was nothing like studying under his tutor. Tennessee grinned, bright all the way through, and got to his feet.

Meanwhile, I was touring the food factory Steve's father ran.

They said it was the largest in Britain, and the scale did feel enormous.

"At our size, we can swallow domestic demand and still have room to spare."

"That's true, but..."

"...?"

"The moment people stop buying to eat and start buying to collect, it goes in a flash."

"Collect... bread?"

At first his face said he wasn't sure the words even made sense. The look didn't last. He had checked the piece in Forbes, and now, even hearing something odd, he nodded first and thought later.

"We do what we're told. That's all."

"There'll be a sticker in every package. It adds a step to the line. Is that a problem?"

"Eh. That much is nothing."

What Britain needed looked more or less settled. The problem was what happened if orders started piling in from the countries next door, and how anyone was meant to swallow that volume.

"We've got factories in Greece and Portugal, too. Put the two together and they can match this place."

"So at the maximum, even a million a day is possible?"

"Possible, and then some."

The face of a man for whom merely imagining it was happiness.

"Oh, and after what you said last time, I had them develop a few kinds of bread. Want to try?"

Nothing revolutionary. A chocolate roll, a cheesecake, a strawberry cream bun. My own taste ran to the dense chocolate roll.

"Ah, hyung. Actually, this is what I came to give you."

"Hm?"

"It's called Capsulemon. The collected volume just came out."

"What is it?"

I nodded.

"Then I'll have to read it."

"Just as I'd expect from a great chairman Forbes picked to lead the world..."

"I'll be going."

I skipped the useless talk and hurried off.

As a rule I preferred the Bentley. The Bugatti drew far too much attention, and I liked the Bentley's particular quiet, so the car almost never changed. Today was the exception. The engine roared. On Grandfather's recommendation—exclamation point and all—I had come out in a Honda sports car.

Why this, of all things.

Surely it wasn't some command to beat Honda.

Grandfather, I'm sorry, but I have no intention of accepting a single thing with the Hyeon-gang name on it.

The unfilial son... no. The undutiful grandson weeps.

Tch.

Since the subject had come up, maybe I ought to eat with him before I went back in. Yes. Days like this were for catching up on neglected filial piety.

I asked the chauffeur.

"Grandfather's home, isn't he?"

"Yes. The meeting ended early, so he's resting."

"Then take me to the house."

"Have you eaten?"

"I already did. When Professor Jo gets here, we'll eat together."

Aigoo. Since when had they become that close?

"The professor has a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dinner engagement."

"He what?"

"You know my friend."

"The boy I saw that time?"

"Yes. He wants to do business, but he said he doesn't have anyone he can trust, so..."

"You sent Professor Jo."

"Yes."

The talk was fine, but food first.

"Would you like to go out?"

"Go out, and what is there but fried things."

"If we ordered a proper course..."

"One meal, and they drag it out forever. I can't stand it."

"Then..."

"Boil some ramyeon."

"Ramyeon?"

"I brought it. Knew it'd come to this."

Oh? On the counter, red packets were stacked five deep. He'd really brought them.

"You know how to boil ramyeon?"

Please. How old do you think I am?

"Look on the back. The instructions are right there, aren't they?"

I hadn't even asked, and Grandfather's philosophy of ramyeon rolled on.

"Hearing you say that, it looks a little different."

"...?"

"They must have spent a fortune in development just to write those few lines of recipe."

"I hear it takes months just to get the flake ratio right. So imagine the rest."

This was dinner between businessmen(?). Maybe that was why. Even one pot of ramyeon kept tossing up talk of work.

The broth bubbled.

"Ah. Kimchi would make it perfect."

I was carrying the pot to the table when Grandfather opened the refrigerator.

"And why wouldn't there be kimchi?"

"You brought kimchi, too?"

"Brought the ramyeon and left the kimchi behind? As if."

Aigoo.

"Brought doenjang, too. Soybean paste. Make a stew ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with it later."

Ack. The undutiful grandson weeps again.

We ladled the ramyeon into our own bowls. Every time we blew on it, steam fogged his glasses, so Grandfather took them off and set them aside.

"How'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that meeting yesterday turn out?"

"Still under review. It isn't easy."

"Why?"

"The brands are all so famous. Hard to put a finger on just one..."

"Bragging to your grandfather?"

I nodded.

"Well. Not even a year in fashion, and they're lining up like that. Worth a brag."

He'd taken the joke as gospel. Ahem.

After that, the talk turned ordinary. The sort of thing a grandfather and grandson might say in any ordinary house. It didn't last long, of course.

"Professor Jo is meeting your friend?"

"Yes. They'll be talking business, so he'll probably be quite late."

"So you and the friend are going into it together."

"I think so."

"The split?"

"Fifty-fifty."

"Since when do you hand over half?"

"He put up all the money."

The face that said, well, that figured.

"You don't know how it'll go between the two of you later. Keep the papers tight."

I thought it was only an old man's fussing. Grandfather went a step further.

"People's business, you never know how it breaks. Say it plain. A fight starts between me and that boy's father. What happens to the two of you then?"

"...?"

"Answer me. I go up against his father. Which side do you stand on?"

"Yours, obviously."

"He'll say ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the same."

"Sorry?"

"Doesn't matter how close you are. Family gets in the middle, and the hand bends that way. It has to. That's what I mean."

It sounded like nagging, at a glance. It was a warning offered in earnest, out of worry for a young grandson.

"Yes. I'll make it certain."

That was why I nodded.

At the same hour, Jo Sudeok was blinking at nothing, wondering if this could possibly be right.

He had thought today was a light meeting, a hello and nothing more. Look at this. The moment the talk seemed to warm, they had run straight for the airport. Even then, he assumed a domestic hop, a quick trip somewhere and back.

Wait. What?

He was boarding a charter with the Grosvenor crest planted square on the fuselage. He asked where they were going. Austria, he was told. For a moment he wondered if this was a loyalty test of some kind, and simply endured. Along the way he showed his passport and did everything asked of him, sunk in the easy thought that the plane surely wouldn't take off, and that even if it did, it surely wouldn't go all the way to Austria.

But this was the second hour of the flight, and Jo Sudeok had to accept reality. He said nothing for a while.

"Don't you have to be at school tomorrow?"

"Jihoon told me to hurry the acquisition."

"Even so, he wouldn't have told you to skip class as well..."

"Miss a few days, and you think they'd hold me back?"

"A few... days?"

"Being generous. If they sign the contract on the spot, we're back before dawn tomorrow..."

"And if it fails?"

"We don't leave until they sign."

He groaned.

Have I... maybe... been kidnapped?

The one small mercy was that he had, just in case, already looked into the founder of Mad Bull.

Mercy, my foot.

Jo Sudeok stared blankly out the window. Maybe the wanderer's star had him. His life was an improv set, every single time. His heart was a restless mess.

The night view of Austria, unlike his heart, was pointlessly beautiful.