The New Host Is Too Good
‘Even at this level, I’ll clear a thousand by the end of the month.’
Kim Namhu had pulled in a tidy profit this month, nothing to write home about for a top host, yet solid all the same.
Real powerhouses in Gangnam cleared eight figures in a single month. Compared to that, his own take still felt modest.
‘The important thing is the growth trend.’
Only a few months ago he’d been scraping by with three hundred thousand won. That kind of pace made him optimistic—soon enough the real money would start rolling in.
Remembering how hard he’d fought in his previous life just to scrape by, this speed felt almost supernatural.
‘Money’s money.’
Kim Namhu had lived the life of a pauper and the life of a millionaire. In the end he’d always chosen the second option.
The thought of outpacing his own earlier projections sent a warm surge through him.
**
Lee Sang-soo was relentless when it came to managing the hosts.
In this business, managing people was everything.
Every day he gathered the entire team, praised them, chewed them out, or just kept them in line—there was always more work than that.
Today he’d called the Ace trio together for a simple meal. Friendly vibes among the top earners were essential; if they drifted too far apart, someone might decide to strike out on their own.
Build that bond early.
“Another solid month. Most months, once you hit a new sales record, the next stretch is rough—but you held your own.”
Lee Sang-soo scanned the three hosts one by one.
Choi Moon-ho, the Ace who always pulled the highest numbers.
Jang Hyo-woon, whose sales exploded when his mood was right—far ahead of everyone else at his peak.
Oh Chang-won, the independent dog who chased both of them but never quite caught up.
And then there was this month’s standout Ace: Jang Hyo-woon.
“Congratulations, Hyo-woon. You’re this month’s Ace.”
Lee Sang-soo poured him a shot of soju.
“You really killed it this month, kid. Fresh off that record, too.”
“Luck, mostly. The guys downstairs helped a lot.”
“Oh? Thanks to Namhu?”
Jang Hyo-woon nodded, smiling.
It was no secret that Namhu’s regulars had funneled extra earnings his way—especially since he’d been too busy to handle them personally. That kind of spillover was rare.
Lee Sang-soo and Jang Hyo-woon were just starting to warm up to the conversation when Choi Moon-ho, who hadn’t made the cut, slid in a thinly veiled jab.
“Speaking of which, the newbie’s already on fire. Some kind of problem, isn’t there?”
It wasn’t a formal meeting—just a casual thank-you gathering after everyone’s hard work. Loose tongues came naturally.
Jang Hyo-woon raised an eyebrow.
“What exactly are you implying?”
Jang Hyo-woon and Choi Moon-ho had a complicated history. Choi was a little sharper on the numbers and a year older, but Jang had been Lee Sang-soo’s right-hand man the longest. When his mood was on point, no one could touch his sales.
“The new guy’s regulars—ten-pro girls, right? He played them soft this time, but will it last? You know how nasty they can get.”
Host bars drew every kind of clientele. The worst of the worst were the women who worked in the entertainment industry—same grind, same exhaustion. They came looking for a host to unload their stress on, and once they decided they were going to be monsters, there was no reasoning with them.
Jang Hyo-woon turned on Choi Moon-ho, eyes flashing.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He’d known Choi’s type for years. The guy was proud and talented, but anyone who smelled real competition got treated like an outsider. Namhu—his maknae—was the first host who might actually threaten that ego.
‘If he’s feeling threatened by our maknae…’
The thought put a lazy grin on Jang Hyo-woon’s face. He could almost see the spark of irritation behind Choi Moon-ho’s eyes.
“What? You think I’m wrong?”
“Then from now on, all the new guy’s regulars will be handled by my juniors. I’ve already seen the ten-pro girls he’s brought in—they’re shockingly well-behaved. No wild demands for second outings, pretty faces, good figures, and they know how to drink. Way better than those fox-mom types.”
Jang’s tone dripped with mockery. Choi Moon-ho shot to his feet, clearly ready to throw hands.
Lee Sang-soo’s voice cracked like a whip.
“Hey! There’s a Main here—stop it!”
No matter how relaxed the setting, you never skipped the rules. Lee Sang-soo used his authority to shut it down immediately.
Ace brawling would hurt the whole box. Lee Sang-soo turned to Jang Hyo-woon first.
“Hyo-woon.”
“Yes, hyung.”
“Even so, Moon-ho is your hyung. Don’t forget that. Speak a little softer. You talk to women that way all the time.”
“Understood.”
Now Choi Moon-ho.
“Choi Moon-ho.”
“Yes.”
“We’re hosts. We serve whoever comes in. We can tell a creep to leave politely, but we don’t decide in advance who’s going to be one. Am I wrong?”
“…Sorry.”
Choi Moon-ho was clearly annoyed, but Lee Sang-soo’s words were absolute truth. He couldn’t argue.
Still, that didn’t fix his mood. He was already irritated by the new kid’s talent. At first he’d thought the guy was just good; then he’d expected the usual rookie struggles. Small advice had been offered. Now he felt genuine unease—real competition.
‘I’m the only one who sees it.’
To Choi Moon-ho, Namhu was an anomaly. The kid was casually dismantling challenges that should have taken months. If things stayed like this, Namhu could be the Queen’s Ace in a matter of months. The thought clawed at his pride.
Kim Namhu at Ace level—laughable. Better to move to another bar.
But Choi Moon-ho didn’t push it further. He still wasn’t ready to leave Lee Sang-soo’s team.
Lee Sang-soo noticed the tension easing.
“That’s right. We compete, but we’re family. Don’t forget it.”
The casual meal wound down. Choi Moon-ho and Oh Chang-won left first. Only Lee Sang-soo and Jang Hyo-woon remained.
They settled in comfortably, munching grilled pork and sipping soju.
Lee Sang-soo let out another warning.
“Moon-ho started it, but ease up. Keep poking an older man like that and one day you’ll feel the same.”
“Hyung, I know. Still, our maknae is off-limits. I had to say something.”
“Who said you couldn’t talk? Just be gentler.”
Lee Sang-soo cleared his throat.
Hosts had loyalty. He’d drilled that lesson into Jang Hyo-woon countless times.
“By the way, how’s the maknae doing? One day no regulars, the next they’re dragging in a whole busload of guests.”
“He’s fine. I haven’t done anything special. Unlike the others, he just does it himself. Must be a natural. The only thing I can do is stop the others from messing with him.”
“Talent is talent. I thought you were right about that. Anyway… how long have you watched Namhu work?”
“A few months. Enough time to see his potential. Talent, diligence, luck, technique.”
“He’ll hit Ace inside a year. Hell, I’m being conservative. Maybe six months.”
Lee Sang-soo laughed.
“The shiny new maknae overtaking you? You’re not scared?”
“What’s there to be scared of? Everyone in this industry is better than me. Obsessing over it only hurts yourself.”