The Acquisition

"So, so what do you think, Director?"

The game—or something adjacent to a program, really—running on the monitor featured a rectangular building, with a character and zombies whose art quality sat only a notch above stick figures.

I played it for a while, checking whether the zombies spawned properly, whether the hit detection worked as designed, and whether the character moved as intended. In the end, I gave it a passing grade.

"Hmm. It's decent."

"Th-thank goodness."

"I'll hand this build over to the QA team, have them playtest it, and send the feedback back by this afternoon."

"Then I'll, I'll head back down now."

After Jaemin left the room, I fiddled with the prototype alone for a bit.

To the average person, it would've looked like "THIS counts as a game?"—but this was a prototype that ordinary users would never lay eyes on. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Its purpose was to verify whether the core fun of the design, the central mechanic, worked as intended, and to serve as a kind of tangible reference for the other teams—a physical guide saying, "This is the direction we're building in." So rough was fine.

I played the ugly, immersion-free thing for a while longer, then opened Notepad and jotted down my impressions.

Why was I playing it myself when I'd already assigned it to the QA team?

Because, well... I am the QA Team Leader.

Nominally speaking, I was part of the QA team too.

I toyed with the prototype a while longer, and was in the middle of messaging the team to have them try it as well when a corner of my screen started blinking with a new message.

I checked the clock. It was already 10:30. Factoring in the travel distance, we'd be cutting it a bit early, but arriving ahead of time for an external meeting beat arriving late.

As I grabbed my coat to leave, Som-mungchi, sprawled out lazily on a hot pack laid over the cat tower, slowly lifted her head.

"I'll be back soon. Get some sleep."

"Nyaaa..."

"I'll be back before you know it."

After scratching her chin and head a few times, I stepped out of the Director's Office. At the sound of movement, Woong and Boyoung from the QA team turned their heads toward me.

"Direrector, siir. Where are you going?"

"I have an external meeting, so I'll be out for a bit. Feel free to go grab lunch, you two."

"J-just the two of us! U-understood, sir! I, Namgung Ung, will take full responsibility and have lunch with her!"

"That really won't be necessary..."

Months of observation had made it impossible ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to feign ignorance—Woong clearly had feelings for Boyoung.

You're being way too obvious about it...

There were no company policies against office romance, and it wasn't interfering with work, so I'd simply been watching from the sidelines. Still, I worried about leaving the two of them alone. Daniel occupied the same sixth floor, but he rarely emerged from the recording booth. If Woong went off the rails while I was gone...

One of them will end up quitting, won't they.

It would be a real problem if talent I'd carefully cultivated ran off on me.

"Woong."

"Yes, sir! Director!"

"Let's stay focused on the work."

"...Huh?"

"Never mind. Keep up the good work."

Having delivered a warning that wasn't quite a warning, I left the office and headed down to the third floor.

"You're here, Director."

"Employee Kim Seung-wook. You told me to hurry, yet you're not even ready yourself? How exactly am I supposed to interpret that?"

"Then give me less work! I was just trying to save a little time, that's all."

"You're doing an excellent job, truly."

I'd worried my expectations of him might be running too high, but Kim Seung-wook was genuinely good at his job. Thanks to him, I'd been able to devote myself entirely to development lately—and honestly, it made me happy.

"Let's go. Lead the way."

"Right behind you."

And what, exactly, were we off to do?

Phase one of PlayForge's ten-year master plan to dominate the gaming ecosystem.

We were on our way to buy a company that operated an adults-only live-streaming platform.

"Whew..."

A heavyset man in his mid-thirties—though he looked closer to forty—glanced at the clock and let out a sigh.

They should be here any minute now...

An investment offer, the first in ages. A final lifeline to save a dying company. The streamers broadcasting on the platform and the users watching them kept dwindling, which worsened revenue, while operating costs rolled in on schedule—a vicious cycle. He could not afford to let go of the one rope that might cut the loop short.

Kim Sang-woon, CEO of X-TV, bounced his leg anxiously as he waited for the investors to arrive.

No. This won't do.

He picked up his phone, turned on the camera, and studied his own reflection. His stiff expression and trembling eyes made him look, to anyone, like a man strung tight with nerves. He tried forcing a smile, but he couldn't even remember the last time he'd genuinely laughed, and the result was awkward at best.

Hoping a jolt of sugar and caffeine might change something, Kim Sang-woon stepped out of the CEO's office.

The door creaked.

He'd come out to decompress, but seeing his employees only tangled his heart further and ratcheted the tension up another notch.

Whew... maybe I shouldn't have come out after all.

One employee, hollow-eyed and lifeless. A junior of Kim Sang-woon's from his school days, who had quit a perfectly good job at his persuasion to join X-TV instead.

Another stared blankly at his monitor while browsing job listings. The sharpest and most diligent worker in the whole company once—now he combed through JobKorea without so much as glancing around to see who might notice.

A third idly trimmed her nails while shopping online. She was little more than a salary thief at this point, but Kim Sang-woon couldn't say a word to her. How could he? You couldn't exactly call out a worker for not working when there was no work to do.

Half of him had already given up on the company too—he wasn't so shameless as to stop sailors from abandoning a sinking ship.

Knock. Knock.

He'd been mixing his coffee like an invisible man, about to slip back into the CEO's office, when the sound of knocking reached his ears. It came from the direction of the office entrance.

His first thought was the building manager, here to hound him about overdue utility bills—but then he checked the clock and hurried toward the entrance. All his worrying had eaten the time without him noticing. This was the hour the investors were due.

"Welcome! You're the party from PlayForge, I take it?"

The employees from PlayForge looked remarkably young—far younger than expected—but what did age matter when they were the ones offering the money? He greeted them with his best practiced expression, and one of them nodded.

"Yes, that's us. We're from PlayForge—we inquired about the investment. Would you be CEO Kim Sang-woon, by any chance?"

"The very same! Right this way, please!"

He had to land this investment, no matter what.

Even if it meant clutching the hems of these investors' trousers and begging.

"Haha. It's humble, but please, have a seat!"

Steel in his resolve, he ushered them into the CEO's office and set out the premium refreshments he'd prepared in advance. Then he introduced himself to the pair properly.

"Hahaha. Hello there. I'm Kim Sang-woon, CEO of X-TV."

"A pleasure. I'm Cho Yihan, CEO of PlayForge."

"Oh... you're the CEO himself?"

"That's correct."

Those investing investigated their targets, of course, but those seeking investment naturally looked into the investors too. The company was barely a year past its founding, and he'd known it was a game studio with two hit titles under its belt—but he hadn't imagined the CEO would be this young. Kim Sang-woon faltered slightly.

Does he just look young for his age...?

He'd been fishing for a small-talk topic to break the ice before negotiations ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠began, and this was a gift.

"Well, well. To think the CEO of PlayForge, the hottest game studio around these days, would be so young. If I may ask, how old are you...?"

"Twenty-three."

"Y-you're not just young-looking—you're actually young! Remarkable. Such success at that age. Your caliber is on a different level entirely from an ordinary man like me. Ha, haha!"

What was I even doing at his age?

Looking at Cho Yihan, successful at so tender an age, Kim Sang-woon nearly sank into self-loathing—but now was not the time for such indulgences.

"I had good luck."

"Oh, come now~ what does luck have to do with business? It's all skill."

"No, truly. Anyway, I'd like to move on to the matter of the investment itself..."

"Ah! Of course."

With trembling hands, Kim Sang-woon slid the investment documents across the table to Cho Yihan and Kim Seung-wook. Watching them comb through the paperwork with composed expressions, his throat went dry.

He'd dressed the documents up as rosy as he honestly could, but a turd was still a turd no matter how you polished it. X-TV's condition was exactly that bad.

As the silence stretched on, Kim Sang-woon scrambled to justify himself.

"Ha, haha. I know the numbers on their own look grim, but if we receive the investment and run promotions and marketing campaigns targeting broadcasters, then—"

He felt a flicker of guilt, like he was swindling wide-eyed rookies fresh out of school, but he was confident he could still talk his way through this. What he'd forgotten was that Cho Yihan was a hardened veteran of the working world.

"Mr. Kim Sang-woon."

"Y-yes! Please, go ahead."

"Having reviewed the documents you've provided, one thing is clear: X-TV looks like nothing so much as a sinking ship."

"Ack..."

At the blunt response, Kim Sang-woon hurriedly waved his hands.

"Whoa, now—no, sir. The only problem is that we're short on capital. With an investment, we could expand the business and—"

"Are you familiar with Puma TV?"

He was familiar indeed.

X-TV's profits had first begun to collapse after Puma TV's arrival—back when it held a monopoly as the nation's only adult broadcast live-streaming platform. There was no way he couldn't know.

"Hmm..."

"If we invest, could you beat Puma TV? Both the broadcasters and the viewers have already migrated over to them."

"Well... as, as I'm sure you know, Director, this live-streaming market favors whoever has the most capital. With the investment, we could win the broadcasters back—"

He was doing everything he could to keep the embers of the investment alive.

But Cho Yihan shook his head, his expression resolute.

"Mr. Kim. To be honest, we have no interest in X-TV as an adult broadcast platform. We're a game company—what possible connection could we have with adults-only web broadcasts? Why else would we have come all this way?"

"Then why on earth...?"

Kim Sang-woon's face darkened.

He was angry, too. If you had no interest, why did you even reach out about investing—what was all this? This wasn't some cruel prank on a desperate man, was it?

As he wrestled with whether to give the young men in front of him a sharp piece of his mind, he heard something unbelievable.

"Which brings me to my point... shut down X-TV."

"I'm sorry—what did you just say?"

An outlandish proposal: fold the business.

Before the CEO of X-TV—caught somewhere between bewilderment and fury—could open his mouth, I pressed the attack first.

"Mr. Kim. According to my research... X-TV was never intended to be an adults-only live-streaming platform from the start. Is that correct?"

"That... is correct. In the beginning, we designed it as a gaming-focused web broadcast platform."

"And then, for certain reasons, you pivoted the business toward adults-only content. May I ask what those reasons were?"

This was precisely why I'd gone seemingly insane and moved to acquire an adults-only streaming platform. What on earth could have happened that drove a service launched as a dedicated gaming platform to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠evolve into the dark side?

And the reason was probably...

"Well... money, plain and simple. There just wasn't any."

"Money. I suppose I asked an obvious question. Then let me ask this: why did you set out to build a gaming-only web broadcast platform in the first place?"

"Hmm. When I was young, PCs and game consoles were rare luxuries... so I used to watch friends or my older brother play from behind their shoulders, and even without playing myself, it was endlessly entertaining. So I built a business on that memory. Playing games yourself is fun, of course—but I believed that showing other people playing through broadcasts could be competitive in its own right."

Kim Sang-woon's instincts had been dead-on.

In the future, the game streaming market would grow into one of the pillars propping up the entire game industry.

But he'd been far, far too early.

A dedicated game-streaming platform, in an era when even America TV—a webcast platform with an established base—hadn't yet seen game broadcasts rise to the mainstream.

"Well... as it turned out, far fewer people enjoyed watching others play games than I'd expected. Early on, I did everything I could to preserve the platform's identity, but... to survive, I had no choice but to become an adults-only broadcast platform."

Kim Sang-woon spoke as though he'd misjudged the market and game streaming simply had no commercial viability—but I could see a lingering trace of regret still smoldering in his eyes.

"That's exactly why I'm here. Shut down X-TV—a service that lost its original purpose and became an adults-only platform—and start over. Build the platform centered on game broadcasts that you once dreamed of."

"Haah. Now hold on, Director Cho. Do you even hear yourself? Yes, X-TV is struggling, but we're still turning a profit—and you want me to restart a business I already failed at once? This isn't a game—"

I brushed off the CEO's flaring protests with one ear and slid the documents we'd prepared across the table.

"One billion won."

"...I'm sorry?"

"X-TV. We're acquiring it. Ah—one billion won is purely the acquisition price, separate from any investment."

"O-one billion won?!"

"Yes. Though there are quite a few conditions."

Complete withdrawal from the adult broadcasting business.

Retention and employment of all existing staff.

Preservation of CEO Kim Sang-woon's title, and so on.

"Th-these terms are far too generous for us... Why on earth...?"

"I believe, just as you do, that game broadcasts will one day dominate web streaming. But my plate is far too full to handle it personally, so I needed someone who knows this industry inside and out... yes. Someone like you, Mr. Kim."

The billion won wasn't for buying a failing platform. Adult content or not, it was for buying CEO Kim Sang-woon and his staff—people who had already run a web streaming platform with their own hands.

"My goal is a gaming-focused streaming platform serving the entire world, starting here in Korea."

"The entire world..."

"You won't need to obsess over short-term profits like before. Keep fees to the bare minimum, craft promotions for your broadcasters—do as you see fit. Early losses? We'll absorb them."

Kim Sang-woon's expression cycled through a whole gallery of emotions.

He seemed to be weighing a great deal, so I waited a few minutes. Finally, he appeared to reach his decision and extended his hand.

"I'll... be in your care, then. I've failed once before, but... deep down, I've always wanted to prove myself. To prove that I wasn't wrong."

"Then let's prove it together."

"...May I speak with my employees first, and take a little time to think it over privately before contacting you? This is all rather sudden..."

"Of course. Take all the time you need."

He said he'd think it over and be in touch, but I never doubted he'd refuse. Anyone could see his face was already brimming with hope.

He'll call within a few days.

After laying out the vision for what lay ahead, Seung-wook and I left the X-TV offices.

Talking with an outsider for the first time in ages had drained me, and I stretched with a long groan.

"Ugh. Exhausting. Seung-wook, where's the next stop?"

"Not far from here, actually."

"Let's get it done quick and head home."

Next on the list: acquiring the startup building a voice chat program.