Cumulative Gains (5)
By the time Kang Jaeha, expressionless as ever, arrived in Team 4, a broad-faced man with a kindly look and a warm build was already walking up to him. It was Manager Kim Daeyong.
“Mr. Jaeha, something good happen?”
Something good? It had. His capital had shot up like crazy. He had not exactly shown it, though, so how did the man know? Kang Jaeha gave Kim Daeyong a light greeting and asked back.
“No, not really. Why do you ask?”
“Heh. You just seem a little less stiff than usual, Mr. Jaeha.”
Less stiff? That had to be a tiny difference indeed. Kang Jaeha decided Kim Daeyong was more perceptive than he looked. The perceptive Kim Daeyong then brought him some news.
“Today, Mr. Jinwoo is going out to support Team 1.”
It was about rookie road manager Ryu Jinwoo. He would be helping out the male idol team in Team 1. Kang Jaeha nodded without making a fuss.
“All right. Then I’ll drive.”
“Please do. For Dayeon’s pickup today, I think it’s fine if the company leaves around 11.”
Kang Jaeha nodded, and Kim Daeyong returned to his own seat. Jaeha checked the time, sat down, and opened his laptop. He started with the search that had become part of his daily routine. The first keyword was Busan International Film Festival.
Several articles immediately caught his eye.
“[Movie Talk] Busan International Film Festival Organizing Committee: ‘This year’s Busan International Film Festival will be held starting June 26.’”
With a faint smile, Jaeha muttered inwardly, “There it is. Late June.”
The predictions had been floating around, but now the organizing committee had officially announced the opening date. It was close to the rumors that had already been circulating, so there was no need to alter the plan. Chin propped on one hand, he read the article carefully, when his phone gave off a brief vibration.
A text had arrived. It was from Lee Chanhoo.
The message said that by today he would send out the word regarding auditions for Gyeollo, and that...
- Time’s tight, so even if there aren’t many applicants, they’ll hold the auditions within this week.
It was saying the Gyeollo auditions would be handled this week. Exactly as Jaeha had designed it. Well, he was the one who had made it happen, so of course. Then another text from Lee Chanhoo came in.
- And I’ve finished investigating Natdaljib and Director Hong Manseop.
As expected, the man was efficient. After replying, “Let’s meet at MEG,” Kang Jaeha got up from his seat.
He had somewhere to be.
The place he arrived at was a cramped meeting room. When he opened the door, someone was already inside.
Today, An Jihee somehow looked even more pristine than usual.
“Ah! Hello!”
She was already an oriental beauty to begin with, but today her features seemed even more striking. Jaeha gestured for her to sit, and she straightened up like a new recruit before greeting him.
“You finished your free-form acting.”
An Jihee, sitting up straight, nodded.
“Yes! I, um, made it so I could show you.”
“All right, I’ll watch.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. We agreed I’d take care of you, so this much is nothing.”
An Jihee smiled to herself, then quickly pulled herself together.
- Swoosh.
The moment she exhaled, her gaze changed. She began the free-form acting she had prepared. It started with a monologue. The emotions grew denser and denser. Then she turned to Kang Jaeha as her scene partner and delivered lines with deliberate excess.
Kang Jaeha watched her with grave attention.
“...”
In the end, it was good. Her breathing had improved. Maybe because she had resolved herself, there was less strain in her performance, and above all, the instinct to act felt alive. She had emptied her mind.
She was simply moving straight ahead toward acting.
When An Jihee finished the free-form piece she had prepared, she stole a glance at Kang Jaeha. She swallowed hard. Nervous.
“...How was it?”
His answer came faster than she had expected. As steady as ever, too.
“Good.”
“Ah! Really?”
An Jihee’s eyes curved into a quick smile, and Jaeha added,
“But lower your tone a little. Don’t try to rush the lines either. Use the space between them well.”
“Yes, yes.”
An Jihee hurried to take notes on her phone, recording the advice Jaeha had given her. Her expression made her look like a serious researcher. When she finished writing, she set her jaw with determination.
“I’ll polish it more, the free-form acting.”
“You’re still going over the Gyeollo script?”
“Yes, every day. I’ve almost memorized all the lines. Want me to try them?”
Kang Jaeha calmed the battle-ready An Jihee down. In any case, after their meeting ended, Jaeha returned to Team 4, where another woman was waiting for him.
“Why are you only getting here now?”
It was Yoon Dayeon, brushing back her long black hair. She cleared her throat awkwardly, then leaned in close and murmured,
“Look over my free-form acting.”
“Hmm.”
“I-If you don’t want to, then forget it.”
Kang Jaeha gave a quiet laugh to himself.
‘I was going to pick her up, but she came on her own.’
Meanwhile, in the New Business Director’s office.
A man could be seen sitting at his desk, raking both hands through his hair. It was Director Kim Cheoljung, with his long jaw.
“Fuck... fuck!”
He kept cursing under his breath. Ever since yesterday, he had not been able to focus on anything. It was understandable. Someone had a leash on him now. The profile of the bastard who had snapped that leash into place lay before Kim Cheoljung.
He lifted the transparent file.
The profile meant nothing. There was nothing useful in it, for one thing. Kang Jaeha’s four-year record. Far below ordinary. At this level, he might as well have been invisible. He had heard about the Ra-yoon incident too. At the time, he had dismissed it as a case of stress boiling over.
Who the hell is this bastard, really?
Just to be sure, Director Kim had asked around about Kang Jaeha, focusing on Management Teams 1 and 2. The evaluations were uniformly harsh. He had no presence, or he was weak, or he was a runt, or useless, or bumbling, and so on.
No. That wasn’t the kind of guy he was.
What Kim Cheoljung had seen was just a mad dog.
His eyes alone made him look like a fucking psycho.
He could not begin to figure out what sort of bastard Jaeha really was. Cheoljung ruffled his hair again, then ground his teeth as he thought of him.
So Team 4 is off-limits.
The leash on him was far too tight.
That same night.
It was past ten. In a large concert hall, a popular male idol’s rehearsal stage was in full swing. Outside, in the parking lot, many vans were lined up. In one of the vans, parked somewhere in the middle, a familiar-looking man sat in the driver’s seat.
“Ahh, this is rough.”
It was rookie road manager Ryu Jinwoo, the one who usually handled Yoon Dayeon together with Kang Jaeha. He was always high-strung, but today the team he had been sent to support had clearly worked him over hard enough that he looked exhausted.
“Dayeon’s team is heaven, man. Heaven.”
Since the support assignment was for a top-tier male idol team, he still could not leave work even late at night. That was normal in the entertainment industry. Still, Leon Entertainment was on the better side. On the day after a night like this, they usually let people rest.
Some places made you come back to work immediately, no questions asked.
At any rate, perhaps because it was a break, Ryu Jinwoo, sitting in the driver’s seat of the van, let out a long sigh and then...
- Swoosh.
He picked up his phone.
He opened an app. A securities app. It was not a large investment, but Ryu Jinwoo had money in the U.S. stock market, and to keep himself from obsessing over it, deleting and reinstalling the app had become part of his routine. Though sometimes it was also just because he had been too busy with work to check it.
He opened the freshly installed app and logged in.
The instant he did, Ryu Jinwoo’s expression changed in a flash. His eyes widened. Excitement steadily built on his face.
“Holy shit!!”
His excitement turned to delirium. The stock he had invested in was surging.
“BBMD’s stock has absolutely shot up for two days now!! Fuck, I’m so glad I didn’t sell and waited! My judgment is insane!”
It was the second day.
Ryu Jinwoo’s fatigue vanished completely, and Kang Jaeha had already seen this scene in advance through Déjà vu.
Jaeha was smiling too.
The location was the MEG office. Lee Chanhoo was nowhere to be seen, probably gone to the restroom, and in that gap Kang Jaeha was looking down at his phone. He was checking the securities app just like Ryu Jinwoo. Naturally, Jaeha’s numbers were no less remarkable.
The second surge.
- BBMD $238.22 (+33.18%)
- Invested principal $618,058 (679,863,800 won)
- Current value $1,112,964 (1,224,260,400 won)
- Profit/Loss +544,396,600 won (1,224,260,400 won)
The nearly 700 million won he had invested had grown to 1.2 billion. He had made 500 million in one shot. With capital that had almost doubled, the corner of Kang Jaeha’s mouth curled up.
“Dopamine really does hit hard.”
Enjoying the feeling for a brief moment, Kang Jaeha moved his fingers. Without hesitation, he began selling off the BBMD shares. There was no hesitation. The surge he had seen in Déjà vu had lasted two days, and even if money-scented visions did not come often, they would come again.
Besides.
Stock only becomes money when you sell it.
If you got drunk on the rise and kept holding, it was just data, not cash. His fingers moved briskly for several minutes, and when the sell orders were nearly complete, Lee Chanhoo entered the office.
He waved a hand with great emphasis.
“Whew- I went to piss out a small one, and then a big bastard suddenly hit me, so I had to blow up the restroom and come back.”
Since he had finished working, Kang Jaeha lowered his phone.
“Sit down, you shithead.”
The enlarged funds would be deposited into Kang Jaeha’s account within a few days, and Lee Chanhoo, who had no idea that tens of millions were moving in front of his face, just chuckled.
“‘Shithead’? That’s harsh. Don’t you know how much a good bowel movement improves quality of life?”
Jaeha gave instructions to Chanhoo, who sat opposite him.
“I’ll send the Gyeollo investment money within the week, so pass it on.”
His eyes dropped to the transparent file laid out in front of him. It contained the results of Lee Chanhoo’s investigation into Director Hong Manseop and Natdaljib. Kang Jaeha tapped the file lightly with his index finger.
“Let’s get started on this one tomorrow too.”
Lee Chanhoo, narrow-eyed, looked a little startled.
“Huh? Tomorrow already? Damn.”
He scratched his chin slowly.
“This one won’t be a few thousand like Gyeollo. Just eyeballing it, we’re talking investment money in the hundreds of millions of won. Could be even bigger than that.”
Kang Jaeha knew it well. Maybe he would have to think in terms of a billion won. But Jaeha did not care.
“It’ll make that much.”
It was not uncertain. It was an investment that would definitely bring profit.
The next morning. In a film company conference room.
About six people sat facing one another around an M-shaped table. On the window side sat three men and women in suits. Opposite them were three people dressed relatively casually.
Among them was Director Hong Manseop, with his thick eyebrows.
“...”
They were currently discussing additional investment in Hong Manseop’s work, Natdaljib.
Leon Entertainment’s investment had ultimately fallen through, and with Natdaljib already in the later stages of production, they had no choice but to secure additional funding somehow.
Only then could the work be completed.
Fortunately, the current discussion seemed to be leaning positively toward investment. But Director Hong Manseop’s expression was far from bright.
Damn it.
The reason was simple. The investor on the other side was the Chinese capital he had wanted to avoid if at all possible. HuaYan Partners. On top of that, HuaYan Partners was making rather unreasonable, irritating demands.
“Director, I don’t think our condition is that difficult. In the latter half of Natdaljib, all you need to do is add a Chinese character with a proper story arc. It would be even better if the role has some weight.”
They wanted him to insert a Chinese character. Add one out of nowhere? Easy to say. Without showing it, Hong Manseop brushed his thick eyebrows and clicked his tongue.
Money is the bastard here.
Natdaljib had already passed the midway point of production. If they inserted a character that had not existed up to now, they would have to revise the entire flow of the work, and in the worst case, even reconsider the story itself.
That was not all.
The production schedule would stretch too.
The planned timeline would get thrown off as well. The color of the work itself could change. In other words, there were too many things to fix, no matter how you looked at it. It was a completely unreasonable demand.
More than anything, the reason Director Hong Manseop disliked Chinese capital was...
Then this won’t be a purely Korean animated film anymore.
Natdaljib was a rare domestically produced animated film, one that had not been made in a long time. And on top of that, its setting was the Joseon era. So of course he was wary. The current animation market was, frankly, a fringe scene. It had not been easy getting this far.
Still, they had somehow reached this point, only to run into a reef. In the end, it always came down to money.
The one place that was talking sense, the one place willing to invest, was the Chinese capital group HuaYan Partners. If he took Chinese money at this stage, on the surface it might still look like a Korean animated film, but look deeper and it would not really be that. It would become something awkwardly in-between.
Part of him wanted to throw the whole Chinese capital deal out the window and stand up on the spot.
But he could not.
If we lose them, Natdaljib goes down.
In any industry, reality came before sentiment. Natdaljib was at the edge of the cliff, and without funding it would clearly be shelved. In the end, Director Hong Manseop shut his eyes tight. A Chinese character, yes, if they could just manage to insert one Chinese character, then he could keep making Natdaljib.
As he let out a resigned breath, someone from HuaYan Partners asked,
“What do you say, Director?”
Just as Hong Manseop was about to nod,
- Swoosh.
Suddenly, a female staff member from the film company entered the conference room, bowing apologetically as she did. It seemed urgent. In one hand she held a sticky note, which she carefully placed in front of Hong Manseop.
The moment he checked the neatly written words on it, his eyes sharpened.
- MEG just contacted us and said they’re interested in investing in Natdaljib.
Director Hong Manseop’s gaze snapped wide open.