Certainty

I looked into the project.

The title was K-Pop Evil Slayers.

"K-Pop Evil Slayers, huh..."

If a movie came out under a title like that, would I even watch it?

Animated film or not, I probably wouldn't.

"K-pop fans might go for it, but for regular people the barrier to entry seems pretty high..."

This wasn't ten or twenty billion won—it was a full hundred and thirty billion.

Could this project really pull that kind of money?

No matter how I turned it over, I stayed skeptical.

But other investors were after it too, and Metflix had already paid out a hundred and thirty billion.

Sure, headquarters policy had them scrambling to claw the investment back, but that still meant they had at least some confidence it would succeed.

"Or did they just write it off ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as money thrown away in the war with Dazni?"

To me it was basically my entire fortune. To Metflix, a hundred and thirty billion wasn't that big a deal.

If they were planting a flag to expand into animation, they could make the bet regardless of whether it paid off.

Wiiing!! Wiiing!!

A call from Kim Seon-ho, CEO of Alpha Partners.

"Yes, this is Yoo Eunho."

"No problem. Go ahead. For the record, I'm still thinking about the consortium."

Take my worry off my plate?

Kim Seon-ho really did come with a proposal that lightened the load.

That was why I was sitting here.

"Pleasure to meet you. Kim Seon-ho."

"Yoo Eunho."

We shook hands lightly and traded business cards.

Alpha Partners.

From what I'd dug up, they had a solid track record.

Their specialty just wasn't this kind of project.

They were a venture-capital shop—early-stage startups.

"I'll be blunt."

"Please."

"If I invest, I won't be doing it with Alpha Partners."

"Have you received another consortium offer?"

"No."

"Then... you're saying U-INVESTMENT will shoulder the entire hundred and thirty billion alone?"

"Yes."

"Ha... ah, excuse me. I was just surprised—you're running far more capital than I expected."

"Sorry I didn't mention it earlier."

"No need. You could have verified it without this meeting anyway."

"Appreciate the understanding."

"Shall we head up?"

"Let's."

We rode the elevator up to Alpha Partners' office.

Unlike the empty shell that was U-INVESTMENT, the place was packed with staff, everyone moving with purpose.

I needed to start hiring people myself one of these days.

Even after sinking a hundred and thirty billion, I'd still have more than twenty billion left.

"This way."

"Excuse me."

We stepped into the conference room. Kim Seon-ho followed, closed the blinds, and cut us off completely from outside eyes.

Fair enough—the project still hadn't been announced. Caution was only natural.

I was here to watch the unreleased K-Pop Evil Slayers.

Only the short sample reels Metflix had provided, of course.

"Ah—put these on first."

"..."

Couldn't they just turn the volume down?

Did we really need headsets? Still, he'd handed them over, so I slipped them on and stared at the big screen.

The moment the sample started playing, I understood why he'd given me the headset.

"Whoa..."

A grin spread across Kim Seon-ho's face the second he saw my reaction. Our eyes met for a beat, then I locked back onto the screen.

No—onto the sound.

The song pouring through the headset.

The sample footage itself looked good.

But these songs—what the hell were they?

They were too good, weren't they?

Was it just me?

No.

Kim Seon-ho was riding the rhythm without even thinking about it.

And those shoulders of his—why did they keep bouncing?

"You're my fizzy pop..♪ My little fizzy pop..♪"

"You're my fizzy pop♪ My little fizzy pop♪"

"..."

"..."

Good thing we both had headsets on.

Without them this would have been mortifying.

Our eyes met for a second. From the shape of his mouth, Kim Seon-ho had been bouncing his shoulders and singing along just like me.

"Ahem..!!"

"Ahem!!"

We cleared our throats, pulled the headsets off, and the sample froze.

"That's all the footage Metflix provided."

"I see."

"Pretty addictive songs, right?"

"They are."

"So—did I manage to lighten that worry a little?"

"You did lighten it. But I think you just made a mistake, CEO."

Kim Seon-ho had made a very big mistake.

If this project succeeded, that is.

"You're going to invest alone?"

"It lines up well with our side of the business."

"Are you already planning projects that tie into this one?"

"Might be worth a try."

"Hmm... in that case, I should step aside."

Giving up that easily?

What was this sudden sour taste about investing?

"You're fine with that?"

"The most we could have put in was around thirteen billion anyway. That's why we were building a consortium. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Now an investor shows up ready to drop ten times that—cleanest move is to walk away. I can't exactly beg for a single bite of the pie."

Well, if that was the reason, the quick surrender made sense.

"But isn't Art Company an actor-focused agency?"

"Idol agencies pick up actors all the time. Nothing stopping us."

"Fair enough. If you ever need extra capital, call me anytime. I'll be waiting."

"I will. Hope we get to work together someday. Say, under the same company."

"Excuse me??"

"If you're ever interested in merging with U-INVESTMENT, give me a call."

"Are you serious?"

"Completely. As long as my money holds out."

Hiring people one by one and trying to run a real company would be brutal.

If that were easy, I would have founded something new instead of buying Art Company.

It was ridiculously cheap, after all.

But a working system, capable staff, someone to lead them, plus infrastructure built over years—starting all of that from zero would be no joke.

Maybe even beyond what I could do alone.

Which was why I needed help.

Help from people sharp enough to turn my ideas into reality.

"Let's raise some idols."

"Yes, President. Idols. I'd like them debuting around next summer."

"I am. I'll be waiting for your call."

"You already know."

"President? President Hong Mincheol?"

"Sure. After the work's done."

He would figure out what we needed and how to get it, then report back.

I would just fund whatever he asked for.

"Money really is the best. Work is pure honey like this."

"Hahaha... I'll hang up first."

I ended the call and went straight home.

If I set foot in the office, Hong Mincheol would grab me and make me work alongside him.

Even if I was going to learn the business, better to take it slow.

Still, one thing kept nagging at me.

That was why I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hesitated to head home right away.

"Ah... this is driving me crazy...!"

I scratched my head hard, wrestling with it.

But that song wouldn't leave my skull.

Not the one I'd just heard—that other song.

Damn it.

I'd sworn I'd never come back here, yet here I was again after only two days.

Busan.

Standing right in front of the house where Han Jihyun and Yoo Serin lived.

"Yeah, just leave. Don't get tangled up any further."

"Yoo Eunho...?"

"..."

The timing was almost supernatural.

The second I turned to go, Yoo Serin's voice came from the side.

"Hoo..."

I let out a small sigh, turned, and the moment I faced her again the sticky, unfinished feeling—like forgetting to wipe after taking a dump—vanished.

"..."

"...Did you have something to say...?"

"When did you start singing?"

"Huh...?"

"Singing. When did you start?"

"W-well... I mean... but how did you even know I sing...?"

"Try this one."

"Huh...?"

I pulled out my phone and played the track ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠file Kim Seon-ho had given me.

I had the lyrics too, so I just handed her the phone.

Serin took it, read the words while listening, then suddenly grabbed my hand and started dragging me.

Toward the walking-path bench where I'd once read her diary and letter.

And right then, I was certain.

This would work.