Accumulation (1)
At the instruction to bring Kang Jaeha over at once, the head of the management division looked mildly surprised, but only for a moment.
“Yes, sir.”
Without another word, he pulled out his phone and left the CEO’s office. Left alone, Han Taeseong crossed one leg over the other and stroked his chin.
Kang Jaeha, huh. I’ve been hearing that name a lot lately.
Even if the talk had been minor, Jaeha’s name had still come up in Han Taeseong’s ears more than once. Then, as if something in his memory had clicked into place, he recalled the profile he had seen during the Rayoon incident.
It had been a laughably ordinary profile.
No results to speak of, and next to no presence at all—a manager in his fourth year, the sort of person who might as well not exist. If Kang Jaeha vanished tomorrow, Han Taeseong probably wouldn’t even notice.
The assessments from Rayoon, who had worked with him for years, and from the Team 2 leader were even harsher.
“He was just so frustrating! And an idiot, too!”
“He wasn’t exactly sharp. He was on the fragile side, and as Rayoon said, there were quite a few times he was just plain frustrating.”
There had also been remarks about how timid he was, how weak his presence was, how frail he seemed, and how he’d stammer and fumble his way through things. And yet somehow, the man had snapped and torn apart Rayoon, the girl group leader he’d been assigned to.
Probably he’d reached the limit of what he could take.
People like that existed from time to time—those who endured and endured until they finally broke.
Under normal circumstances he would have been fired, but Han Taeseong valued the fact that Kang Jaeha had managed to last that long at Leon, so he had sent him to Team 4. After that, a faint breeze of change had begun to stir in Team 4, Leon’s lonely little island.
It’s probably just a coincidence, though—
From the timing alone, Kang Jaeha might have been the one to set that breeze in motion. Still, Han Taeseong wasn’t expecting much. If anything, curiosity mattered more. A thin layer of interest that had been building since the Rayoon incident.
He might just be a loser with nothing but stubbornness going for him.
Team 4 leader Jang Hyeongsu had said that he’d attached Kang Jaeha to Yoon Dayeon. Yoon Dayeon was no mere case of bad temper; she was a festering boil ready to burst. And just now, they had been preparing to release her into the FA market. In other words, to let her go.
And yet that troublesome actress, Yoon Dayeon, had suddenly decided to audition for a short film.
That was strange.
There was no way that stiff, hot-blooded Yoon Dayeon would have listened to some fool’s advice.
It was then that—
Knock, knock.
The sound of a knock spread through the office, and the square-jawed head of the division appeared again.
“Sir, I’ve brought Manager Kang Jaeha.”
Behind him stood Jaeha, his expression calm and unreadable. Han Taeseong wore a faint smile and pointed to the sofa ahead.
“Sit.”
Jaeha gave a small bow and took a seat. Han Taeseong rose and shot a glance at the head of the division.
Swish.
The man slipped out and closed the door behind him. With an easy stride, Han Taeseong made his way to the head seat of the five-person sofa.
He studied Kang Jaeha, who was seated on the adjacent sofa, for a long moment.
“······”
“······”
Jaeha didn’t avert his gaze; he simply looked back at the man who stood atop Leon. After several seconds of silence, it was Han Taeseong who broke it first.
“I heard you wear glasses.”
Kang Jaeha answered without much reaction—no, with something close to indifference.
“I don’t these days.”
“Is that so?”
It was hard to pin down. Or perhaps just plain ordinary. That was Han Taeseong’s first impression of Kang Jaeha. An average face, an average build, black hair that looked as though it had never been touched by styling hands. He seemed perfectly unremarkable, almost plain. But there was one thing that caught Han Taeseong’s attention.
He doesn’t look nervous at all. If anything, he’s rock solid.
Kang Jaeha’s composure, seated beside him, was striking. Even the division heads and executives were usually too busy reading Han Taeseong’s mood to relax in his presence, but not this fourth-team manager. Not a trace of tension showed.
This isn’t an act, and he’s not forcing himself to stay calm.
Han Taeseong had spent decades in the wild jungle of the entertainment business and built himself up from nothing. That meant he had a keen eye for people. To him, that withered, matter-of-fact calm in Kang Jaeha was real. Interest deepened, Han Taeseong slowly crossed his legs.
“How is Team 4?”
“About what you’d expect.”
“Is it fun?”
“Somewhat.”
“The reason I called you is this—I heard Team 4, which had been stagnating lately, has started moving.”
“You mean Yoon Dayeon?”
“Yes. And I also heard you turned one of the idol trainees who was about to be dropped into an actress.”
“Yes.”
“I was wondering if you’re the one handling all of it.”
Jaeha didn’t answer right away. Then he spoke.
“I only suggested a bit of direction. The actual handling is done by Team Leader Jang Hyeongsu and Director Kim Daeyong.”
“Yoon Dayeon doesn’t strike me as the type to listen just because someone suggests something.”
“She listened.”
“Even knowing the direction was a short-film audition?”
“Yes.”
Silence returned. Only the sound of Han Taeseong’s finger tapping against the armrest remained. Then he changed the subject.
“Why did you do that to Rayoon? After taking her abuse for years.”
Kang Jaeha didn’t hesitate for even a second.
“Her chirping was giving me a headache.”
“Chirping?”
“It’s just a metaphor.”
Without another word, Han Taeseong’s lips curved, and he nodded slowly.
“I see. You can go.”
Jaeha bowed and left the office without the slightest fuss. Watching his back, Han Taeseong became certain of one thing.
Yep. He’s the one stirring up Team 4.
He also realized that the assessments he’d heard of Jaeha had been badly off the mark.
Fragile? No. He’d bare his fangs in front of me and not even blink. Interesting bastard.
His interest in Kang Jaeha rose another notch. The real question was whether he would meddle in anyone besides Yoon Dayeon from Team 4. As if he’d been waiting outside, the head of the division came back in. He approached carefully and asked Han Taeseong,
“How was he?”
Han Taeseong wore a curious smile.
“Let him run wild for a while.”
“Pardon?”
“He was weirdly impressive. Especially his eyes.”
Setting aside the fact that he hadn’t shown a scrap of tension, Han Taeseong had focused on Kang Jaeha’s gaze.
His eyes are full and dark. But there’s more emptiness in them than anything else.
What sort of man had eyes that deep and black? Han Taeseong had his own rough guess.
The eyes of someone who’s crossed the line between life and death.
When the head of the division tilted his head and asked, “His eyes? Did Kang Jaeha make some sort of mistake?”
“No. Quite the opposite. They’re refreshing.”
Han Taeseong shifted the direction of his crossed legs and murmured lightly,
“Fragile? Wrong. No matter how you look at it, those are a predator’s eyes.”
Meanwhile.
Kang Jaeha glanced back at the CEO’s office he had just come from and let out a small snort.
Well, I’ll give him this much—he’s got some real presence.
He was talking about Han Taeseong. As expected, the man had the aura of someone who’d become an icon of self-made success in the entertainment world. The way his gaze wrapped around a person, the complete absence of emotion from beginning to end—there were no openings. If the other party let their guard slip for even a second, he’d probably strike at the weak spot without hesitation.
For a moment, Jaeha found himself comparing him to the other world instead.
If he’d been an enemy there, he’d have been a headache.
Still, the fact that Leon Entertainment’s head had summoned him meant he was starting to stand out. He’d known something like this would happen eventually, but it had come sooner than expected. Yoon Dayeon’s reputation must have been bigger than he’d thought.
Honestly, it was a little annoying.
“Well, nothing to be done about it. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
That said, he didn’t need to care too much. He didn’t have to mind anyone else’s opinion; Kang Jaeha could just do whatever interested him. There was no need to flatter anyone. One result with real impact was worth a hundred empty gestures.
As long as he didn’t get fired, that was enough. That was all.
Next, Kang Jaeha headed down to the underground parking garage. His mind was already rearranging a number of plans. The scale of his dealings was growing little by little. The fallen has-beens he touched would only increase from here.
For now, it was manageable. But little by little—
I need more money.
Capital would matter more and more. In the future, besides Gyeollo, he was likely to see Déjà vu again, or naturally end up investing in other productions. Gyeollo might be a short film, but for a feature or some other project, an investment of one billion won would be nothing.
I’ve got 700 million won right now.
In about two weeks, another 700 million from his pension would come in, bringing him to 1.4 billion. Of course, it was a monstrous sum, but money was the sort of thing you could never have too much of. The more he had, the better. And the more his cash grew, the faster MEG would expand. No, that was exactly what he intended to make happen.
Damn it. That woman’s voice.
Remembering the pension program and the Earth-adaptation project, Jaeha clicked his tongue softly. Then it happened.
“Senior!”
A bright, forceful voice rang out. Looking ahead, he saw rookie road manager Ryu Jinwoo waving at him. For the record, Jaeha was scheduled to accompany Yoon Dayeon again today, while Director Kim Daeyong had been sent to fill in for another team.
The directors and higher-ups in Team 4 were always juggling multiple tasks anyway, so Jaeha didn’t think much of it.
In any case, Ryu Jinwoo, who had rushed over to him in an instant, beamed.
“Senior! The other day, when I heard you talking to Yoon Dayeon, I was honestly blown away. You’re the kind of guy I’d call my role model.”
He was a bit too close. Kang Jaeha leaned his head back slightly.
“Ah, right.”
“Hehe, I’m not at that level yet, but someday I’m going to say something like that myself.”
No, that would probably be better not to do. But Jaeha didn’t answer. Ryu Jinwoo’s face was already full of excitement, so there was no need to burst his bubble. People usually grew by getting broken down a few times anyway.
And then it happened.
Jaeha’s vision began to ripple as he looked at Ryu Jinwoo. That familiar sense of forewarning. Soon, a scene that wasn’t happening in reality began to appear before Kang Jaeha’s eyes, in third person.
Déjà vu.
『Ryu Jinwoo is sitting in the driver’s seat of a van. He’s looking down at his phone, excitement written all over his face.
“Holy shit!!”
It’s less excitement than frenzy.
“BBMD stock absolutely blew up over the past two days!! Goddamn, I’m so glad I didn’t sell and wait! My judgment was insane!”
On the phone screen he’s looking at, stock numbers are displayed. Not the Korean market, but the U.S. market. With a happy little gesture, he switches the phone screen off and tosses it onto the passenger seat. The date on the phone’s standby screen reads:
- 2020/3/4』
That was all. Jaeha’s wavering vision recovered, and the Ryu Jinwoo from within the Déjà vu scene was already moving toward the van, saying they should go pick up Yoon Dayeon.
Kang Jaeha let out a small snort.
Smells like money.
Memories from the past flickered through him—more precisely, from the other world. What year had it been? Around his eighth year there, Jaeha had acquired the Inventory, and from then on he had gathered every kind of currency, mana stone, and treasure he could lay his hands on.
Even then, Déjà vu had played a huge part.
The money, mana stones, and treasure he’d gathered through blood and sweat had become a 25 billion won pension after he came to Earth.
Now that I’m on this world, Déjà vu is telling me about stocks instead of mana stones and treasure.
Of course, even in the other world, money-related Déjà vu hadn’t happened all that often.
Still, whenever it did show up, it’d fill me with dopamine.
Phone in hand, Jaeha climbed into the passenger seat of the van, and Ryu Jinwoo called out with overflowing energy.
“Then let’s get moving!”
On the way to pick up Yoon Dayeon, Jaeha looked down at his phone and opened an old securities app. No—was it really old? If he excluded the eighteen years he’d spent in the other world, the weak-bodied Kang Jaeha from before had checked stocks pretty often. They were the hope of ordinary people. Same with the lottery.
The U.S. stock, BBMD.
He knew what kind of company BBMD was. One of the top semiconductor giants in the United States. Before long, BBMD’s stock price was on his phone screen. Jaeha stroked his chin.
A two-day spike. The date is March 4.
Today was February 28.
That meant there were about five days left until March 4, and within that span the surge in the Déjà vu would occur. With a faint smile, Jaeha thought,
If someone’s offering me money, I’m taking it.
Without any hesitation, his fingers moved. The work began. By the time they reached Yoon Dayeon’s officetel—
Done.
All of his nearly 700 million won in funds had been poured into BBMD stock.
The next day, Leon Entertainment. Early morning.
It was Saturday, but Kang Jaeha had come to work. Yoon Dayeon had a filming schedule today as well. Still, because it was a morning shoot, he’d be able to leave early.
Right now, Jaeha was facing Yoon Dayeon, who seemed to be making a point of fidgeting for no reason.
The place was the meeting room.
He had called her separately before they got into the van. When he looked at her in silence, Yoon Dayeon frowned, embarrassed.
“Ugh! What is it? Say something! Don’t just stare at me like that.”
“Are you doing Gyeollo or not?”
“Why are you asking? You told me to do it.”
“I didn’t tell you flat-out to do it. I told you to choose.”
“Same thing, basically. Just tell me the direction properly. I’ll strip my ego down to nothing and roll wherever you want, the sewer or wherever.”
Jaeha, resting his chin on his hand, let out a faint laugh.
“What did you think of Gyeollo?”
“···It’s fun. Honestly, this is the best-quality short I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re saying that like you’ve ever paid attention to shorts before.”
“Hey! I did look at them!”
“As I said, even if it’s a short film, you’ll still be auditioning. Prepare a free performance for the audition. Something new, not one of the old ones you used before.”
“Got it.”
“And there’s one more person auditioning for Gyeollo.”
“One more? Who?”
Just as Yoon Dayeon’s face took on a subtle frown, someone knocked and entered the meeting room. It was An Jihee, her short hair tied back. With only light makeup on, she greeted Yoon Dayeon with a bright bow.
“Oh, hello, sunbaenim!!”
At the ringing greeting, Yoon Dayeon muttered in an irritated tone,
“Who’s this?”
Kang Jaeha pointed at Yoon Dayeon with his index finger.
“At least return the greeting first.”
Yoon Dayeon glared at Jaeha’s indifferent face, but in the end she gave An Jihee a grudging reply.
“...Hi.”
An Jihee awkwardly took the seat beside Yoon Dayeon, and after looking back and forth between the two of them, Jaeha spoke.
“You’ll both be auditioning for Gyeollo, and for now, keep everything about Gyeollo to yourselves outside this room. The title, the script—everything.”
An Jihee seemed to have already been briefed and nodded stiffly, as if standing at attention. On the other hand, Yoon Dayeon raised one eyebrow, apparently curious.
“Why keep it secret?”
“It’s not that it’s secret. It just isn’t something worth broadcasting. It’s a short film and it’s Team 4’s matter, so nobody’s going to care anyway.”
“Hmm.”
“To put it bluntly, I just don’t want to explain it to everyone and their mother.”
“Ha! Fine. But who’s she?”
“An Jihee. She recently switched from being an idol trainee to an actress trainee.”
“She was an idol trainee?”
Yoon Dayeon shot a displeased glance at An Jihee. An Jihee gave an awkward laugh for no reason. Watching her, Yoon Dayeon grumbled inwardly.
What the hell, she’s clearly in her early twenties. And pretty as hell, too.
As her jealousy began to rise, Kang Jaeha cut in.
“The two of you might end up coexisting in Gyeollo, or you might compete and one of you will fall behind. Of course, both of you might fail too.”
With a thin smile, he fanned the flames between them.
“Same team, but enemies, huh.”
Then,
“As far as I know—”
He let slip one piece of information about Gyeollo.
“The Gyeollo audition will probably be set sometime next week at the earliest.”
Afterward.
Kang Jaeha, Yoon Dayeon, and An Jihee finished the meeting and got into the elevator. As it descended, the elevator stopped at the second floor.
Swish.
A few men in suits boarded. Jaeha swept his gaze over them with a flat expression. Then it happened.
Hm?
The moment he looked at one of the men, Jaeha’s vision rippled. That familiar sense of forewarning came next. Before long, a scene that wasn’t reality began to unfold before him.
Déjà vu.
When the wavering in front of his eyes finally cleared and he returned to reality, the corners of Kang Jaeha’s mouth had faintly curled upward. Soon after, he took out his phone and sent Lee Chanhoo a message.
- I’ve picked the next target to invest in after Gyeollo.