One Last Score
Four hundred million dollars came to something like five hundred billion won. So that was Manchester United — five hundred billion. A smile had just begun to play at the corner of my mouth.
"Pretty expensive, isn't it?"
"...?"
"I looked into it. Turns out it's all the real estate. In Italy and France the stadiums belong to the state, but in England the clubs hold the rights themselves."
In other words, the price of the land was folded into the price of the club. And it was still only five hundred billion?
"That's why the London clubs run especially high. They're sitting on gold-dust land. They don't have a choice. Let's see... purely as an investment, I can't help thinking Chelsea might be the better bet..."
In the years to come, an oil tycoon would buy Chelsea. I had always wondered why anyone would choose Chelsea when there were better teams on the market. Maybe the simple fact of London had mattered more than I'd thought.
"These days the money's pouring into Italy. England's become a league where only players past their prime collect, so most of the capital going in is chasing the property..."
"Then the longer we wait, the further the price should fall?"
"That's right. Given what Manchester is, it'll be at least a hundred million dollars cheaper inside of three years."
But Manchester United was going to overturn every one of those forecasts and stand, in name and in fact, as the greatest club in the Premier League.
If I played it right... that meant I could buy that United for a "mere" three hundred and fifty billion?
Van Nistelrooy, meeting Beckham's cross and planting the header. God. I still couldn't forget the football of those years.
And that wasn't all. Ronaldo, Rooney, Ferdinand, Vidić, Evra... and Park Ji-sung besides. A United that had turned out a side like that was bound to be a club that meant something special to us.
And I would be the owner of that United?
Me?
Heh heh heh.
Maybe that was why. Simply picturing it made me too happy for words, and I was still standing there with the receiver in my hand, saying nothing, when the voice came back.
"Mr. Park?"
"..."
"Mr. Park? Can you hear me?"
"Sorry. My mind wandered for a second."
"You didn't already sign the contract in your head and finish expanding the stadium, did you?"
"Caught me."
Baker and I had a good laugh.
"Mr. Baker, I have a feeling I'll be keeping a close eye on sports for a while."
"Mm. Which is your way of saying I should study up on the football side of things?"
This was why I liked working with people who could read a room.
"If it's too much trouble, I can find someone else..."
"But working with me is still the best option. That what you're saying?"
"Of course. If it's you, Mr. Baker, I can trust you a hundred percent."
"I've been starved for a compliment. Mind giving me a little more?"
I liked that ease of his, too. We talked for a few minutes more, and then Baker gave me his answer in a voice that sounded thoroughly pleased with itself.
"Thanks to you, sir, they're going to start treating me like a heavyweight in the sports world, aren't they?"
"Don't like the sound of that?"
"Could be fun."
With that, we set the receivers down in a fine mood.
Dawn came the same night. Maybe it was the afterglow of the call. I lay down, and sleep refused to come.
Buying United...
How much would it take? A rough count put the acquisition at three hundred and fifty billion. Expanding the club, fifty billion. The youth setup, another fifty. And player signings would swallow a hundred and fifty billion on top of that.
That's six hundred billion already.
Then, if I picked up a handful of satellite clubs where the prospects could actually play — Brazil, Serie B, Belgium, Portugal, that sort of thing — that would be another three hundred billion. Add taxes and everything else that always came with a deal like this.
A trillion, then?
Of course, that was only if I meant to run the thing the way Mansour ran City Football Group, all in, with no half measures.
Hm.
I've already seen the model work. Not doing it just because it costs money would be a little ridiculous, wouldn't it?
If I was going to start, better to do it properly. A hundred times better.
Easy to say. Where am I supposed to find a trillion?
Was there a way? Some way to pull a fortune together in a short time...
Wait.
Didn't you say you were retiring?
Ugh. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. My head went thick all at once.
Jihun.
How about one last big score — just the one — and then you retire?
Right. Earn exactly enough to buy United, and wash my hands of the rest. That was the idea, anyway.
Or was it only a feeling? I had a memory of swearing this same kind of oath before...
But there was no stopping a machine once it had started to roll.
Target: one trillion won.
So much for sleep tonight.
And so I lay there until morning, scheming up ways to make the money.
The engine roared. We were on the move early.
Jo Sudeok had the wheel, and every time we caught a light he glanced over at me.
"Try to get at least a little sleep."
"I can't."
I was wide awake. Fully locked in. Imagine someone filling a swimming pool with energy drinks and letting you splash around in it for an hour — that was the feeling. Far from sleepy, I was only coming up sharper.
One reason.
Because I'd thought of a way!
Heh heh heh.
Once we parked, the first place I went was Editor-in-Chief Kazuhiro's office. The serials had been doing so well lately that he seemed to have inherited the company president's own room. He was buried in a drift of manuscripts, and the moment he saw me he shot to his feet.
"Oh — sir!"
"It's been a while."
"I heard from Mr. Tezuka. He said you met yesterday."
Kazuhiro made for the sofa in the middle of the room and was only too happy to steer me to the seat of honor.
"Would you care for some warm tea?"
"I'm fine."
He turned to Jo Sudeok next, and only after Jo shook his head did Kazuhiro lower himself carefully into a seat. It had been some time, after all. On an ordinary day we would have traded a few pleasantries. Today I was wide awake, and of course the point came out at once.
"I'm looking for someone."
"...A person, sir?"
His face asked why I had come to him. He wasn't a private detective. He smoothed the look away almost at once.
"Someone connected to this line of work, I take it?"
"You mean doujinshi?"
"Yes. Handwritten, photocopied, and bound. That's all it is. Even so, I hear it sold rather well."
"And the contents of the book..."
"Ah, sir, i-it's a little forward of me to say this, but..."
"...?"
"In Japan, a doujinshi does sell well now and then. Finding someone on that much information... it would take some time."
He knew how I was. He couldn't come out and refuse, so he circled around to how long it would take.
"But... it's urgent, isn't it?"
"..."
"Even if it weren't, I'd have to take care of it quickly for you. Of course. Goes without saying. Ha ha."
The awkward laugh didn't last.
"A little more information would make it easier. A magazine title, for instance..."
I nodded.
"Can you find him in half a day?"
"H-half a day?"
Maybe the Suzuki business had come back to him.
"I'll get going."
The editor rose without a second's hesitation.
It was exactly half a day. Kazuhiro came in out of breath and held out a thin little booklet.
"Would you check whether this is what you were looking for?"
I opened it. Clumsy handwriting packed the pages, the sort of thing you might find in an older brother's private setting bible — page after page written for no one's sake but his own, because he loved it. Still rough. And packed solid with energy.
Most of it is a guide to Xevious.
I clicked my tongue at the sheer volume, then turned to the very last page.
First edition, first printing.
Price: 500 yen.
Orders accepted by mail only.
Telephone inquiries......
There was a number. The address was in Tokyo, too. This wouldn't take long. At the very bottom I found the note about the author.
Editing, publishing, and design — every bit of it the work of one single person: Tajiri Hitoshi!
An introduction anyone else would have laughed off. But I knew the future, and every word of it landed with a weight that was hard to ignore.
Insect collecting. Japan's Fabre.
So he did make the dream come true.
Tajiri Hitoshi checked the money that had landed in his account. One million yen. For someone who had only just left school, it was an absurd sum. Who would ever have imagined that selling doujinshi could bring in that much?
Still not enough.
For the goal he had in mind, he needed to buy Daisho's development tools as soon as he could. And those, as it happened, were rather expensive. Even if he scraped the equipment together, that was only the starting line. The road ahead was ten thousand miles long.
Even so...
Honestly, Tajiri had confidence. One reason.
The concept is a killer!
Ever since elementary school he had been hooked on collecting insects and raising them.
This is going to be huge!
Of course, the beginning had been full of wrong turns. A game about actually collecting the bugs in the grass — ladybugs, rhinoceros beetles, mantises — and his friends had all scolded him for how disgusting it was. Somewhere in that process, Tajiri found a compromise. Insects, yes, but cuter.
They're still bugs, though!
When the reaction still wasn't good, he came back with a compromise one step further.
If insects are the problem... what if I add animals?
Cats, raccoons, bears, and the like. Maybe it was the designs, cuteness pushed as far as it would go. The mood had definitely changed.
While I'm at it, I might as well throw in a few dinosaurs.
And if he was doing this, imaginary creatures too. The cast kept growing.
But how do you catch them?
Back when they were insects, swinging a bug net had been enough. Catching a dinosaur with a bug net was a little...
That was when he thought of the capsule. Yes. Throw a capsule, and trap the thing inside it.
Capsule Monster.
Right then — knock, knock, knock. A knock, as if to tell him to get out of the daydream.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
At this hour... who?
"Mr. Tajiri, are you in?"