Friends

A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heavy silence fell over the hall at Kang-geon's proclamation.

It was only natural. Up until that moment, the audience had been operating under a total misconception. They had assumed that Kang-geon and Jason Jang had already settled everything behind closed doors—that this entire spectacle was merely a rehearsed performance orchestrated between the two titans. Yet here was Kang-geon, taking the stage to brazenly propose an open partnership between Seonghwa Group and Neovision.

Had even that proposal been discussed beforehand? Or had this live event materialized out of nothing more than Jason Jang's unpredictable whim? No one in the audience could say. Only the two men standing beneath the spotlights knew the truth, and to the world watching, the distinction hardly mattered anymore. What mattered was that Kang-geon had laid down the gauntlet in front of millions.

Now, it was Jason Jang's turn to answer.

Kang-geon swallowed dryly.

Until now, his tenure had been a sequence of Kang-geon picking and choosing. Fortunately, the prestige of Seonghwa Group's chairman carried enough weight to afford him that luxury. But the dynamic had just flipped. He had stepped forward and extended his hand first. The power of choice now rested entirely in Jason Jang's hands, meaning a polite, devastating rejection was well within the realm of possibility.

A typical corporate executive might have played it safe, offering a vague, noncommittal platitude to deflect the moment. But Kang-geon knew the man standing across from him. From everything he had researched and observed, Jason Jang was never one to duck a challenge.

Sure enough, Jason moved.

Reaching inside his black leather jacket, he drew out a weathered sheet of paper. Its corners were worn soft from decades of handling, and deep, distinct crease lines ran across its face. It was an old letter.

Jason ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lifted it lightly between two fingers. "My translation might be slightly rough," he began in a measured tone. "A long time ago, I received a letter from Korea. This was back before email was second nature. An era when people still sent letters through the post office with physical stamps."

It had been the very first letter Jason Jang ever received from Korea. And its contents had been penned with extraordinary care.

As the contents of the letter were shared, eyes across the auditorium widened. Kang-geon was no exception. To think such forward-looking sentences had been committed to paper twenty years ago felt almost surreal.

"To be frank, I was astonished back then," Jason said, his voice carrying a resonant warmth across the quiet hall. "Neovision wasn't the giant it is today. We were small, unstable, and doubted at every turn. Hardly anyone knew our name, and even fewer believed in us. Yet from a country on the other side of the planet, someone found Neovision and reached out first."

That letter was the sole reason a young Jason Jang had traveled to Korea two decades ago.

"That man was looking at the exact same future I was," Jason said, turning his gaze toward the youth beside him. "And he happened to be Geon's great-grandfather."

Kang Seong-cheol—the legendary founding chairman of Seonghwa Group. Because of the letter he had sent, Korea had never been just another foreign market to Jason. It was the nation that had first believed in Neovision's potential. In many ways, it was the true starting line for his company.

And by some twist of fate, just a few days ago, Jason had received something remarkably similar from that founder's great-grandson. Reading it had sent an electrifying shudder down his spine. Twenty years ago, the great-grandfather had shared his vision of tomorrow.

"And now, twenty years later, his great-grandson is looking straight at the very future I envision." Jason's lips curled into a faint smile. "Most of the corporations I meet are exceptional. They are colossal, brilliant, and hold formidable cards. But almost all of them wait. They wait for a marginally better term. They wait for a safer window. They wait until victory is an absolute certainty."

He gave a slow shake of his head. "There is nothing wrong with that. Prudence is a corporation's duty, after all."

Yet Kang-geon had stepped forward anyway. Before negotiations had even begun, before terms had been drafted, without a shred of a guarantee in hand.

"Even so, Geon built today's stage," Jason continued. "And he succeeded in dragging me onto it. Exactly like his great-grandfather once did."

With that, the visionary's smile broadened. "Which is why I would like to clear up a misconception right here and now. Neovision and Seonghwa Group ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠became friends a very long time ago. Of course, that friendship hasn't always remained intimate. The world shifted, our companies evolved, and our paths diverged. But a true connection never completely fades with time."

Jason took a deliberate step toward Kang-geon and rested a hand casually on the young chairman's shoulder.

Kang-geon blinked in surprise. The hand felt light, yet the gravity of the gesture sent shockwaves through the room. Every camera in the venue snapped into focus, locking the two figures into a single frame: the undisputed titan of the global AI hardware market, and the young chairman of Seonghwa Group.

"Therefore, I don't believe the fact that we are friends has changed in the slightest," Jason declared. His tone was smooth and calm, but ringing with unshakeable conviction. "If it is Seonghwa Group led by Geon, then I would rather Neovision be the one to make the offer. From this moment forth, Neovision and Seonghwa Group—"

They would march forward into the great upheaval of the AI era, side by side, as friends.

The moment the live event wrapped up, Jason Jang and I headed straight to a nearby fried chicken pub. It was at his explicit request; he had insisted beforehand that he wanted authentic Korean fried chicken.

When I first heard the request, I had doubted my own ears. Jason Jang was one of the wealthiest men on the face of the earth. Wouldn't someone of his stature normally demand a five-star dining establishment? But watching him now, those doubts vanished in an instant.

"Mm, this is the stuff," Jason groaned, savoring the crisp crunch with genuine delight. "Nothing beats Korean fried chicken."

I stared at him, caught off guard. "You speak Korean?"

"Haha, I've always had a bit of a knack for languages," he replied with a wink. "And judging by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your English earlier, I figured this would be easier on both of us."

He laughed playfully, but his words landed on my pride like a clean right hook. Hey, how is someone who crammed conversational English for a few weeks supposed to casually banter with a native speaker? For a fleeting second, I harbored a tiny grudge against Choi Yuna for placing such blind faith in my linguistic capabilities.

"Geon? Something on your mind?"

"Pardon?"

"You've been spacing out for a while now."

A bitter smile touched my lips. I couldn't deny it. Through Jason today, I had learned far more than I anticipated.

"Jason... Seeing you in person just reminds me of how truly incredible you are."

"Ha! Getting buttered up while ripping into fried chicken is a new one."

"I'm not flattering you. You're someone who can genuinely see the future."

I placed my chicken piece back onto the plate. Crumbs of crispy batter scattered across the grease-stained surface. On any other day, I would have devoured it without a second thought, but my appetite had completely evaporated.

The truth was, today's alliance wouldn't have been possible without Chairman Kang Seong-cheol. Because the founder had extended his hand twenty years ago, that long-dormant connection had swung back in my favor. Just what kind of monster was he? The more I learned about Kang Seong-cheol, the more an unbidden sense of awe welled up inside me. People with that kind of visionary foresight were the ones who truly deserved to lead an empire.

My head drooped slightly. "I still have a long way to go."

Compared to titans like them, I was woefully inadequate. Sitting in the chairman's seat still felt like wearing someone else's armor, though heaven knew I had never given anything less than my absolute best. If an illegitimate nobody like me hadn't fought with everything he had, the entire house of cards would have collapsed under me long ago.

"I don't have the power to see the future," I murmured, "nor do I possess some profound strategic insight. I've just..."

Been lucky.

Intuition. That bizarre, supernatural sixth sense. It was solely because of that radar that I had dodged death multiple times and stumbled onto the right paths. But could I truly call that my own competence?

Around us, the pub buzzed with lively chatter. Having slipped in right after the convention, the streets outside were still ringing with the excited shouts of attendees. Yet over our table, a calm stillness settled. Jason studied me quietly for a moment, then speared a cube of pickled radish with his fork.

"Geon," he said, his expression turning deadpan serious.

"Yes?"

"This white radish really is the perfect pairing for chicken."

I blinked, utterly dumbfounded. Here I was baring my soul, and he was waxing poetic about pickled radish? But Jason merely let out an easy chuckle.

"You put people who 'see the future' on far too high a pedestal."

"Aren't they special...?"

"Sure, they would be—if anyone could actually see the future." Jason took a bite of the radish. "What I mean is, not every future I envisioned came true. If I had that kind of clairvoyance, I would've bought out the entire planet by now."

"……."

"Your great-grandfather was the same, and so was I. We didn't simply gaze into a crystal ball; we just kept walking stubbornly in the direction we believed in, even when people mocked us, even when everyone doubted us, and even when there wasn't a shred of proof to back us up. And today, Geon, you did the exact same thing."

"I did?"

"Of course." Jason nodded as if stating the most obvious law of physics. "Before negotiations even started, you built a stage to pull me out. Before any terms were agreed upon, you made the first move. If you had failed, you would have faced global humiliation and ruthless condemnation. Yet you stood tall and spoke with confidence."

Setting his fork down, Jason's gaze softened with genuine respect. "That isn't mere luck, Geon. Because when luck does come knocking, there are remarkably few people who are actually prepared to grab it."

I chewed on his words in silence. He was right. Wallowing in self-pity on a day of triumph like this was pathetic.

"It's a shame I'm not of legal drinking age yet," I said, offering a small smile.

"Hmm?"

"So let's share a drink two years from now. As a proper celebratory toast."

Jason burst into hearty laughter, instantly catching the underlying sentiment—a promise that we would remain staunch allies two years down the road.

...Wait.

A sudden chill crept up my spine. Did that mean I just committed myself to sitting in Seonghwa Group's chairman seat for at least two more years?

"……."

No way... right? Swept up in the mood, I might have just made a terrible, terrible slip of the tongue.