Why Manners Were Invented
Hyung-jun’s piercing question hung heavy in the air.
The impassioned fire that had animated our guests just moments before sputtered and died, replaced by the hollow resignation of people who had run headfirst into an insurmountable wall.
When Sarah Wilson spoke again, her voice was laced with bone-deep exhaustion.
"We're being subjected to Startup Killing."
"Startup killing?" I asked. "What's that?"
I had heard the phrase tossed around on the news whenever lawmakers debated antitrust regulations, but I had never encountered it used to describe a real, living nightmare.
"We believe in SAACMC," she said, leaning forward. "Just like your Magician, it has the potential to become a market-defining game changer." She glanced down at her tablet before meeting our eyes again. "More than that, the technology is already on the verge of commercial production. We've solved nearly every technical hurdle. We developed a proprietary process to disperse the PCM nanoparticles evenly, and our phase-change precision yielded completely satisfactory results at the simulation level."
Beside her, Ethan White reached into his bag, pulled out a small glass vial, and set it on the table.
"This is the powder we produced on our pilot line."
Inside the vial rested a fine, grayish-brown powder.
Hyung-jun and I exchanged a startled look. Setting up a pilot line and producing actual batch samples meant they had already cleared the hardest engineering hurdles. At that stage, why would they be starved for capital?
Unable to rein in my curiosity, I asked, "If you've already established a pilot manufacturing process, hasn't the core development basically wrapped up? Why are you having so much trouble attracting investment?"
"Like I said," Sarah Wilson replied with a heavy sigh. "We're being targeted for startup killing."
She paused, the weight of the name pressing down on her shoulders.
"By Nockheed Martin."
One of the undisputed titans of the American aerospace and defense industry had entered the picture.
Sarah’s gaze drifted toward the vial on the table, her expression fraught with bitter frustration.
"As you pointed out, the R&D is practically finished. But the truly astronomical costs begin now. To produce enough of this composite for real hypersonic airframes, we have to construct an industrial-scale manufacturing plant."
She began ticking off points on her fingers. "Securing land, fabricating cleanroom and furnace facilities, sourcing raw materials, hiring specialized personnel... It demands an investment of hundreds of millions of dollars at minimum. For a startup like ours, that barrier is simply impassable."
I had never run a manufacturing startup in the conventional sense, but I could easily grasp the scale. If Arcane Technology had tried to commercialize Zero-Interface bonding without magic, the capital expenditure would have been just as dizzying. Ex Forge was staring into that exact abyss.
"The very first company we pitched for investment was Nockheed Martin," Sarah said, anger beginning to seep into her voice. "Their engineers looked over our data and gave us an enthusiastic thumbs-up on the spot."
Her jaw tightened. "And that was where our nightmare began."
Suppressing a wave of helpless indignation, she pressed on. "The moment Nockheed Martin recognized the value of our technology, they moved to choke off every other avenue of funding. They leaned on venture capital firms to stay away, planted hit pieces, and raised frivolous doubts at technical conferences to trash our reputation. Eventually, they even threatened us with patent infringement lawsuits."
Her trembling fists clenched against the table.
"And through it all, their message has been crystal clear: You can't mass-produce this on your own, so hand over the technology. Or better yet, sell us your entire company for pennies. They're nothing but corporate highwaymen!"
Beside her, Ethan White placed a consoling hand on her shoulder. "All we ever wanted was to engineer safer, more efficient technology... but the real world proved utterly merciless."
His voice cracked, and he bowed his head.
A stifling silence descended over the terrace.
Two brilliant minds who had birthed revolutionary technology, only to be crushed under the heel of a predatory conglomerate. Their suffocating despair hung thick in the cool night air.
So this is what they call startup killing.
I tapped my fingers thoughtfully against my knee.
"We understand your situation completely," I told them. "And we have a very clear picture of what your technology can do. Would you mind giving my partner and me a moment to confer?"
"Of course," Sarah said, managing a faint, grateful nod. "Thank you just for hearing us out."
I nudged Hyung-jun, and he rose without a word.
Stepping a few paces away where our voices wouldn't carry, I looked at him. "What do you think?"
"I can't verify every single detail off the top of my head, but their plight is definitely heartbreaking," he muttered.
"And that's all?"
Hyung-jun shrugged. "Do we really need to make an enemy out of the American defense industry? Stirring up a hornets' nest doesn't sound like the smartest move."
"Fair point."
I stroked my chin thoughtfully.
Having recently stared down armed mercenaries sent by an arrogant domestic conglomerate, their predicament struck a raw nerve. It didn't feel like someone else's problem. And assuming everything they said checked out, the composite itself was genuinely remarkable.
What if I combined their material with my magic? What kind of breakthrough could we pull off?
After a moment's contemplation, my mind was made up.
"I just thought of something fun."
"Fun?"
"That composite is built for hypersonic craft," I said. "Doesn't the thought of building the fastest aircraft in the world get your blood pumping?"
"Talk about a wild leap," Hyung-jun scoffed. "Look, I get that high-speed jets are every boy's dream, but where the hell is this coming from all of a sudden?"
"To be honest, I've been wanting to weave magic into cutting-edge aerospace for a while now. Ever since I broke through to the 5th Circle, I've found myself wondering: what are the true outer limits of magic?"
I flashed him a grin. "If I fuse modern cutting-edge engineering with magic, how far can we push humanity's boundaries? That question has been burning in the back of my mind. And right on cue, the perfect technology just dropped into our laps."
"Sounds lofty," Hyung-jun said, narrowing his eyes. "What's the real reason? You're just bored, aren't you?"
"Watch your mouth. This is pure, noble scholarly curiosity from an archmage, thank you very much."
I let my focus sharpen, shifting my vision.
A faint, luminous weave of mana drifted across the night sky. In the world of Retnia, reaching the 9th Circle and transcending spatial constraints had unlocked an entirely new horizon of magic. In that life, my physical vessel had perished before I could explore beyond that threshold. But in this life, on this Earth, I wanted to reach out and seize the far edge of that horizon.
And the key to that pursuit lay in synthesizing arcane mysteries with modern science.
"Let's take their tech."
"You mean invest in them, not rob them blind like Nockheed, right?"
"Obviously. And we bring them to Korea."
"Are you sure about this?" Hyung-jun asked, his gaze searching. He was asking if I was truly ready to poke the American military-industrial complex in the eye.
I smirked. "It's not like we're building armed fighter jets—what can they possibly say? If they wanted it so badly, they should have paid fair market price. Besides, it hits too close to home. Have you already forgotten what happened to us just weeks ago?"
"Look, I sympathize with them, I really do... but man, what else can I even say to you?" Hyung-jun sighed, shaking his head in mock defeat. "At the end of the day, you're the brain and the heartbeat of our company. If you want it, we do it." He paused, leveling a stern look at me. "You do know aerospace R&D burns through cash like a blast furnace, right? Pocket change from a few license deals isn't going to cut it."
"Look at you, worrying over pennies," I chuckled. "Bring me anything with commercial value. I can conjure profitable tech out of thin air whenever we need it."
"Fine. Let's go wrap this up."
We walked back over to where the two founders of Ex Forge were waiting.
I cut straight to the chase. "We're going to invest."
"R-really?!" Ethan White's face instantly lit up, eyes wide with disbelief.
I held up a hand. "Under one condition."
"A condition...?" His buoyant excitement faltered, nervous apprehension flashing across his features. He was clearly dreading some predatory catch.
Sarah Wilson stepped in, composed but alert. "What kind of condition?"
"Ex Forge must relocate its headquarters and research operations to South Korea. If you agree to that, we will structure the investment terms entirely to your satisfaction."
Hyung-jun chimed in, offering context. "It's also designed to shield you from Nockheed Martin's direct pressure and domestic jurisdiction. I'm sure you understand the strategic necessity, Ms. Wilson."
"Of course," she murmured, glancing sideways at Ethan. "However... moving an entire company across the Pacific isn't a decision we can make lightly. Could you give us a little time to consider?"
"Naturally. How much time do you need?"
After a brief calculation, she looked back at us with resolved eyes. "Tomorrow. We will have our answer by tomorrow evening."
"Fair enough. We'll see you tomorrow."
The next morning, Hyung-jun and I headed down to the hotel's breakfast restaurant.
"The directory says they serve an authentic, full American breakfast," Hyung-jun remarked as we walked.
"Can't pass up an authentic American breakfast when you're actually in America."
"I've already had one, though."
Hyung-jun blinked at me. "Wait, you told me you'd never been to the States. Where were you sneaking off to eat high-end American food without me?"
"Camp Humphreys."
"...Oh."
Fair enough. Camp Humphreys really was a slice of America transplanted onto Korean soil.
"Still, won't the mainland be different?"
"Only one way to find out."
Bantering back and forth, we stepped into the dining hall.
The moment I took in the scene, an appreciative whistle escaped my lips. "Now this is impressive."
It exuded an entirely different brand of opulence than the dazzling party hall from the night before. Laid out across antique, polished display counters were towering arrangements of fresh fruit and mountains of freshly baked artisan bread. Chefs stood ready at live cooking stations whipping up custom omelets and fluffy pancakes, flanked by platters of smoked salmon, artisanal cheeses, and every conceivable variation of egg.
It was a quintessential, unapologetic spread of American abundance.
"Okay, I take back what I said," Hyung-jun mumbled, making an instant about-face as he grabbed a plate. "The mainland really doesn't mess around."
Not wanting to be outdone, I grabbed a plate of my own and loaded it up with whatever caught my eye.
Settling into a table by the sunlit window, we dug in with serious dedication.
"Is it because we're in the States, or because it's a luxury hotel? This is in a totally different league from Camp Humphreys."
"Well, the mess hall there is designed to feed active-duty soldiers, isn't it?"
"Makes sense."
Back at Camp Humphreys, after a few days, I had found myself desperately craving a side of spicy kimchi. Here, the flavors were so rich and refined that the craving never even crossed my mind. We spent the next fifteen minutes trading enthusiastic commentary on every dish we sampled.
Then the interruption arrived.
"Excuse me. Are you the gentlemen from Arcane Technology?"
An uninvited guest stood beside our table.
Unlike the two of us, dressed down in comfortable morning wear, the newcomer wore an immaculate, tailored three-piece suit. The gaze looking down at us carried a chilling, calculating sheen.
Who is this guy? Did I see him in the ballroom last night?
Hyung-jun took the lead, his tone cool and dismissive. "I don't know who you are, but we'd prefer not to have our morning meal disturbed. If you have business with us, please direct it to our official corporate email."
Despite the firm brush-off, the man didn't yield an inch.
Blatantly ignoring Hyung-jun's dismissal, he produced a crisp business card and laid it squarely on our table.
"I am John Smith, with Nockheed Martin's Strategic Investment Division. I came because I have a matter to discuss with you two."
What's this guy's deal?
Displeasure instantly washed over both our faces.
We had anticipated that Nockheed Martin might make contact eventually. But not like this. Not by ambushing our breakfast table.
Hyung-jun's voice dropped an octave, dripping with frost. "You are being exceedingly impolite. Whatever your business is, we have no intention of hearing it right now. Let me repeat myself: if you have something to say, contact Arcane Technology through official channels."
Yet the man—John Smith—remained utterly unabashed.
"Come now, gentlemen. Surely you can spare just a moment of your time. This won't take long at all. I simply wished to have a brief word regarding the people from that quaint little company you were speaking with on the terrace last night."
Well, look at that.
He was brazenly confessing to having surveilled us.
I studied his face. He wore a practiced, oily corporate smirk, devoid of the slightest hint of remorse for his appalling lack of basic decency.
Staring at that smug, self-satisfied mug, every bit of good cheer I had built up over a wonderful breakfast evaporated into thin air.
Yeah. No. I can't let this slide.
I set down my silverware with a quiet clatter and let out a long, deliberate sigh.
Slowly, I pushed my chair back and stood up.
It was high time someone taught this insolent bastard why manners were invented in the first place.