5. Victory Belongs to the Obsessed
Always aim for the top!
Truly excellent words.
They meant that no matter what you did, you had to be prepared to become the best.
Without that resolve, you'd inevitably get swept away by the current of life's river, drifting aimlessly like duckweed, tossed here and there in a hazy existence.
Of course, not everyone could reach the peak.
But did that mean giving up? Fleeing in fear from seizing a proactive, ambitious life? Everyone knew paradise didn't wait at the end of retreat anyway.
In the end, what mattered was facing life with pride and dignity.
Whether you became the best or not wasn't all that crucial.
Of course... it would be even better if you did.
And I had the qualifications to claim that summit.
The qualifications to stand at the pinnacle of the internet streaming world.
"What on earth does that mean...?"
After wrapping up my short vacation, I returned to Korea.
-Beep!
Once immigration cleared and I stepped out into the arrivals hall, burly men in black suits and sunglasses swiftly surrounded me.
They weren't National Intelligence Service agents trying to dissuade the multi-trillion-won Super Powerball winner from emigrating to America—no, they were simply my close-protection security detail.
I looked up at the head of the security team trailing beside me.
"Chris. Where's David?"
The team leader, Chris McNair—a hulking black man three times my size, ex-special forces—flashed a goofy grin utterly at odds with his menacing face. Word was he came from some elite unit called DEVGRU or whatever. His eyes suggested he knew a thing or two about killing.
"Kim, passport problem. Need, little time."
Unfortunately, his Korean skills were lacking.
"...You'll have to work harder on your Korean. Keep at it, Chris."
"What? Got it. Korean, will effort."
"Sigh."
I let out a light sigh.
As I glanced at the travelers sneaking peeks, wondering if some celebrity had arrived with bodyguards, I spotted David Kim panting and sprinting toward us from the far end of the hall.
"You're late."
"My apologies. There was a minor issue during passport control that delayed me."
What kind of passport problem could a guy like him even have? Suspicious. Very suspicious.
"Just to double-check... you're not into drugs or anything, right?"
I asked once more, just in case, and David Kim recoiled like I'd struck him.
"Absolutely not! How many more times are you going to bring up drugs?!"
"Hey, I'm just worried, that's all."
But drugs were dangerous, after all.
The third demon god used powers related to drugs.
Because of that demon god's abilities, not only the empire but even the priests of the central church in the Holy Land turned into junkies.
I'd personally lopped off that demon god's head to stop the spread, but the massive number of addicts remained. If the Saintess hadn't poured her power into purging them, the world might have ended right there.
"Well, as long as you're not, it's fine. Right?"
"...Please, never mention it again."
I thumped somewhere between David Kim's waist and back—his shoulders were too high for that. Truly tragic.
So, let's think of something satisfying instead.
"How's my house coming along?"
At my question, David Kim's dazed expression sharpened instantly into that of a Yale-educated elite financier.
"The interior work and furniture placement for the Trimage penthouse you instructed us to purchase has been completed as of yesterday. You can move in today."
"Perfect. David, you get things done."
He spoke good Korean, too.
David Kim's face turned subtly awkward at the praise. Did he know that old folktale about Prime Minister Hwang Hee? It wasn't meant as racial humor.
"Ahem. Additionally, we're scouting land in Yongsan-gu for building your private residence. Estimated cost..."
"I'll review that in the written report."
"...Understood. But do you actually read the reports I send, ma'am?"
David Kim eyed me with open doubt.
"I trust you're not just skimming them."
...Of course I read every single report from David Kim. I was still learning the relevant knowledge, so I didn't grasp everything yet, but I never skimmed.
How dare he doubt me?
I knew the perfect remedy for times like this.
I flashed a bright smile and stared him down.
"Curious? Why don't you try slacking off and find out?"
Embezzlement or breach of trust, maybe?
I shrugged, channeling the soul-crushing gaze I'd honed in my past life. He flinched under the pressure and quickly averted his eyes.
"...No, ma'am."
Good boy. Who dares doubt the lofty chairman?
"Heh."
That's right—I was now a chairman. Precisely, the chairwoman of Top-Star Inc., having recently assumed the position. Not a pop star, mind you.
It sounded grand, but really, I'd just set up my own company to manage my fortune. David Kim would roll my trillions diligently, and without incorporation, the income tax bomb would drop.
"No matter how I think about it, the company name Top-Star feels off..."
"Should I take that as you calling my name ridiculous?"
My name: Seongwon.
(accomplish) and (prime/origin).
Translated meticulously into English: Top Star.
Hence, Top-Star Inc.!
"No, I didn't mean it that way, but still... Top-Star as a company name?"
David Kim grumbled. He seemed embarrassed by the "David Kim. CEO. Top-Star Inc." on his business cards. Couldn't fathom why.
"More importantly, where did 'Star' even come from? I'm no expert in Chinese characters, but I know 'Seong' doesn't mean 'star'."
"Accomplish has a weird ring in English."
David Kim covered his face at my response.
"Think positive. You're the CEO, after all."
Flanked by our security detail, David Kim and I exited Incheon Airport's arrivals hall. Outside waited a sleek black limousine and SUVs.
Ignoring the stares brimming with curiosity, I boarded the limo as the driver held the door.
The plush leather seat enveloped me softly, melting away the fatigue from the long flight.
Of course, it wasn't quite as comfy as the first-class recliner on the plane—but that was inevitable. Those seats actually reclined fully backward.
-Whirr
"...This one reclines too."
All the way back, enough to lie flat. But safety first—I'd just recline it a bit.
"By the way, when do I get to see my butler?"
David Kim rifled through his documents at my question.
"Hm... She's already entered Korea. The hotel's nearby, so you should meet her soon."
"I see. But what's she like?"
David Kim's face stiffened for a moment.
"I sent you her personnel file last time, ma'am."
"Oh, forgot."
That file was probably in my Hawaiian shirt pocket inside my carry-on—out of reach for now.
I asked if he had a copy. Nope.
"Whatever. You picked her, so she'll be fine."
No way it'd be someone weird, right?
"Miley McKee."
She arrived. And she was weird.
I swallowed dryly as the woman entered the interview room. She was the prospective butler to oversee my daily life. But the moment I saw her face, I couldn't hide my dismay.
It wasn't because she was a woman in a butler's role. Nor because she was a stunning French blonde with blue eyes, towering over me at 180cm with a perfectly toned figure.
This woman...
She looked familiar. Extremely so.
The intense déjà vu rooted me in place, mouth agape, as David Kim—sitting with me for the interview—beamed and greeted her warmly.
"Oh, you speak Korean?"
"I studied."
"That's a real strength. Most women from butler academies focus on Arabic or Chinese."
"I can handle most languages. Name one, and I'll demonstrate."
"Ha, haha, no need for..."
David Kim faltered at Miley's rigid, soldierly demeanor.
But the pro recovered quickly, pressing on with the interview.
He kept glancing at me—probably irked that I, the employer, hadn't asked a single question, lips sealed.
Truth was, I had no bandwidth for that. Their conversation washed over me unheard. This wasn't the time.
It felt like a nightmare, a hallucination, or some cruel prank. Squinting, I scrutinized the 'butler candidate' named Miley McKee.
Her tall, athletic frame would suit a subtle black suit perfectly. Her long platinum hair shimmered ethereally, evoking an almost sacred aura.
And her face? The kind that deserved universal acclaim.
Even the subtle killing intent in her gaze toward David Kim beside me—carefully suppressed, but unmistakable to an ex-hero like myself.
Overwriting her black suit in my mind's eye with the somber nun's habit reserved for high priestesses...
...
Identical.
Even the name matches.
This was insane.
I sighed deeply and looked up at Miley McKee.
No—Miley Saint-Lafia.
The yandere Saintess herself.
How the hell did she follow me here?