Fifty Percent and a Safety Net

"I want to go into business with you."

Not one-sided help, taken because he was an older brother who wasn't enough. A transaction between businessman and businessman. Park Yugeon wanted a real partnership, and for that he needed a proposal tempting enough that anyone might bite. He turned his situation over once more, then went on as carefully as he could.

"A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hundred billion won in sales means at least two million copies. Nobody is going to press that kind of volume for a rookie developer like me."

Jihoon said nothing.

"They'd ship a minimum run, watch the response, and only then send more..."

And if they did, the year Grandfather had hammered into place would be long gone.

"I need someone who can unlock the opening inventory. Development, distribution, publicity—the money doesn't stop at one or two places."

Above all—

"Two million copies means we have to aim at the American market, the one that can actually pay. You've got North American distribution locked in your fist, so for me, partnering with you is the best move there is."

Perhaps he was simply a man of few words once the talk turned to business. Park Jihoon did nothing but listen to his brother.

What startled Yugeon was that he could not read him at all. Usually the younger boy ran rich with feeling. In this moment he wore no expression whatsoever, blank as a sheet of paper.

So this was how trained a businessman he was.

It felt like striking a boulder with an egg. But what else was there? If the egg broke, he would use the shell. If the shell shattered too, he would keep knocking with the hand that had held it.

"Half of a company that doesn't even have an office. At that rate, aren't I just taking the baggage off your hands?"

So this won't be enough either.

"Then what about you? You're saying you'll work with no profit at all?"

"Hmm."

It was the first time. His little brother had shown interest.

And sure enough—

"Mind if I make a counteroffer?"

Jihoon asked it leaning toward the table by the sofa.

Yugeon's heart hammered. He felt it, clear as running feet. In this moment his brother did not seem to be treating him as a hyung at all. It was the feeling of a proper partner—businessman to businessman, eyes meeting level.

The thrill lasted only a moment. Yugeon fought to get his calm back, and answered.

"I'm not expecting profit right away either. Ten years is fine. Twenty is fine. For now I want to focus on growing the company."

"Then we want the same thing."

Were they about to sign, just as things stood? Yugeon's throat moved.

"But, hyung."

As if it were still too soon to relax, Jihoon spoke.

"A safety device?"

"This is an investment that needs a great deal of money. I don't want a blueprint and nothing else. I want to hear what you'll do to keep it from failing."

The face of a beast that hated to lose even a scrap of flesh. What must it have been like for the people who had sat across a table from his little brother? He couldn't know, but he was sure the blood had gone dry in their veins.

Yugeon let out a thin breath and took the thread back up.

"There's no such thing as a perfect safety device on an investment. You can't be the one who doesn't know that."

Jihoon was silent.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"What you want to know is how far I'll lay my own rights down, to avoid the worst case. That's why you said ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. Isn't it?"

Jihoon neither confirmed nor denied. Calm, he simply waited for the answer. The quiet stretched.

"And if the experts tell me to tear the whole thing up and start over?"

"Then I do it. If it sells even one more copy, I'll follow whatever solution they give me."

He had turned out every card he held, and the ones he didn't. All that remained was the investor's judgment.

His brother did not decide easily. The longer the silence ran, the drier Yugeon's mouth became, until it felt ready to split—worse, somehow, than waiting on Grandfather's verdict.

Right then—

"You said a professional director would evaluate it?"

"What?"

"You just said it. That you'd follow an expert's feedback, no conditions."

"I did."

"Mind if I confirm that right now?"

Before an answer could even land, his brother was on his feet.

"One phone call. I'll be back."

Meanwhile, in Park Yonghak's study.

Perhaps because the day had run so long, sleep did not look likely to come easily tonight. Nor did the book in his hands find its way into his eyes. He read the same page over, several times, and soon took off his reading glasses.

"Hmm."

If he had to name the sharpest moment of the day, it was without question Jihoon standing face to face with Chairman Jeong of Daebo. Rumors about his grandson had been so thick of late that he had easily expected the chairman to come looking for a fight. What he had wanted to see was Jihoon's answer.

The rascal had pointed out the limits of a finished-goods company and had not given a single step. Had the talk gone on, of course he could never have stood up to Chairman Jeong's years. But the presidential election had come up at just the wrong moment, and fortunately Jeong had quit the seat as if someone were driving him off.

That alone could have made an impressive day. Who would have thought the eldest grandson, Yugeon, would show a talent no one had asked for?

I fretted he'd grow into a desk-scholar who just opened his mouth and swallowed whatever he was told.

Somewhere along the way the boy had shot up tall enough to unfold a dream of his own.

I knew something was off when that rascal Jihoon said he was helping his brother.

If there had been no sprout of promise in him at all, the boy would never have said such a thing.

He snorted, soft. He had been so caught up in Jihoon that he hadn't seen it. The eldest grandson of Hyeongang, too, had been growing his own ability—slow, but steady.

Aigoo. Slow only next to Jihoon.

Set beside boys his own age, the achievement would surely look exceptional. How high that level actually reached, he would learn in time.

And then there was this.

A hundred billion won in sales.

From what he had confirmed then, Yugeon—desperate—had simply swallowed the number. The younger one would have to run himself to pieces solving it.

A broad smile lifted at the corner of Park Yonghak's mouth.

When I lifted the receiver, my brother was standing across from me.

His face was wound tight with spirit, like a private who had just been handed his unit posting. Had Grandfather's recognition weighed that heavily? Until now he had only been kind. The way he faced me had changed a great deal, and whatever the cause, I couldn't have asked for a better change.

I swallowed the laugh and dialed.

The other end was Japan. Daisho headquarters. Late as the night was, getting through was no great trouble. The trouble was that I didn't speak Japanese. So I would have to say it in the plainest English I had, each word set down clear.

Huh?

I knew that after Super Orlando became a mega-hit, Hideo had returned to Daisho headquarters. So I'd only called in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the hope of getting a home number.

He's still at the company?

Three minutes or so went by, and a familiar voice came over the receiver.

A sudden call, deep in the night. He sounded worried that something had gone wrong in the North American market. That reaction lasted only a moment.

At a single sentence from me, Hideo's voice loosened at once.

Hideo laughed lightly at the joke.

Was he trying to read what sat inside the words? It was while Hideo was still turning over what I had said.

Hideo let out a hollow laugh at that.

"It's not a joke. Our family is just unusually like that."

He laughed once more, softly. Playing the thing, at least, would be no trouble.

The short call came to an end.

"Jihoon."

Had he been waiting only for the line to die? My brother's voice came across the room.

"The expert you asked for feedback... was Miyamoto Hideo?"

Surprise and the weight of it were snarled all over his face. Well. He would be judged by the father of Super Orlando.

"What, you don't want him?"

"Th-there's no way."

"We fly tomorrow, as soon as I can get the tickets."

"Then I'd better sleep."

He nodded, and nodded again, and went up the stairs in a hurry, like a man with something at his heels.

Yes. Of course his head would be spinning. I followed more slowly, putting everything so far in order.

I had meant to help my brother so I could turn Grandfather's heart. As best I could figure, once I took Daisho's distribution onto my own shoulders, the wheel of history had rolled a little off its track. A turn I had never imagined.

But maybe it was better this way. Since things had come to this...

All I can do is push it through to the end.

Perhaps because I had decided. Step. Step. Even in one light footfall, a little strength began to gather.