Investment
"It's not the best outcome, but it's not the worst either."
"Yeah. We'll have to settle for that."
Jang Hyo-woon was a grown man. He knew you couldn't always walk away with the best possible result. Avoiding the worst was something they had to be content with.
Much better than Choi Moon-ho taking his entire line and going independent.
They were thinking the same thing. And Jang Hyo-woon had some good news for Kim Namhu as well.
"Well done. Without Choi Moon-ho around, the waiting room atmosphere should improve. And we'll be recruiting more new hosts going forward. You've worked hard."
Choi Moon-ho's departure was going to bring changes to The Queen. The talentless hosts who'd been living off the scraps he dropped were slated for dismissal. Having those guys around was more of a liability than anything. Better to bring in fresh talent and train them properly.
"The factions will disappear."
Oh Chang-won never cared about factions, and Choi Moon-ho's had completely collapsed. All that remained was Jang Hyo-woon's group, and with no rival left to compete against, it was as good as the factions ceasing to exist entirely.
"The Ace competition will just go to whoever's performing best, same as now."
Kim Namhu nodded. He followed Jang Hyo-woon, and Jang Hyo-woon wasn't the type to get jealous even if Namhu claimed the Ace title. There wouldn't be any problems.
Time continued to pass. Kim Namhu now seemed to have firmly established himself as The Queen's Ace. For every time Jang Hyo-woon or Oh Chang-won took the top sales spot, Kim Namhu took it roughly twice.
Han Ki-ju asked to meet with him privately. On Kim Namhu's day off, she came to pick him up herself. They went to a hotel restaurant with private dining spaces.
"Is it because you're doing so well these days? You never get in touch. Weren't we friends?"
Kim Namhu smiled.
"I've been busy. Hitting number one in sales isn't exactly easy."
"You never contacted me first even when you weren't topping the charts."
"I'm actually an introvert. I don't reach out to friends first."
"Yeah, right."
They each ordered what they wanted. Once the food arrived, they continued talking over a leisurely meal.
"You don't seem to have that many regulars yet. How are you still taking first place? What's your secret?"
"With clients, quality over quantity."
"Even high-quality clients—you've still got too few of them."
"I've got quite a few walk-ins coming in on top of the regulars."
Kim Namhu had always managed one-time clients and regular customers separately. And lately, a fair number of women had been seeking him out after hearing the rumors. They were upper-class, they wanted secondary outings, and they spent money freely.
He didn't automatically go on secondary outings just because they showed up. He prioritized his schedule with regular customers, and only went with the others if he had energy left afterward. He was simply distinguishing between long-term regulars and one-or-two-time clients—but it functioned as an excellent marketing strategy. The harder it was for upper-class women to have him, the more they wanted him. The result was a steady climb in sales.
"Fine. Anyway, when you do well, I do well."
Han Ki-ju didn't care much about The Queen's sales figures, but she liked seeing Kim Namhu recognized by others.
"Want a congratulatory gift? Is there something you want?"
Kim Namhu wasn't the type to refuse gifts from women. And rather than being stuck with something he didn't need, it was better when she asked what he actually wanted.
Asking her to cover Dad's medical bills would be weird.
Gifts should make both the giver and the receiver feel good. He could cover his father's medical expenses with his own earnings just fine. He didn't want to take that kind of thing from a female friend.
Something I need but don't want to spend my own money on.
There was one thing. It was a bit expensive, but Han Ki-ju was rich and was always trying to tease him. So Kim Namhu said it playfully, as if teasing her right back.
"I was thinking it might be nice to have a car."
"A car?"
"Catching rides in clients' cars all the time is a bit... you know."
A host was a man. Clients paid him money, yet still wanted him to project masculine appeal. Even a man with cute charm couldn't seduce a woman if he lacked that masculine edge. A man who was only cute was just a boy—he had no value as a romantic interest.
And in the modern world, there weren't many simple ways for a man to project masculinity. Looks, career, and car.
Kim Namhu steadily cultivated a masculine physique through exercise, and his looks only improved with each passing day. His career wasn't something he could change—he liked being a host and had no intention of doing anything else. That left the car.
When meeting women outside, the car you put them in dramatically changed the difficulty of seduction. There was a reason men went crazy for expensive cars.
Some idiots claim they want a woman who'll love them regardless of conditions—but those same guys always have conditions about a woman's looks.
The world wasn't a beautiful fairy tale. The more you clung to fantasies, the more miserable life became. The sooner you accepted reality and used it to your advantage, the faster you found your own happiness.
Every time he met a regular outside, he had to take a taxi or ride in her car. That thoroughly ruined the dating atmosphere.
I'd planned to buy a car once I had a bit more breathing room.
Better to take taxis than buy some mediocre car. He'd recently earned a hundred and fifty million won in one go, but after covering his father's hospital bills and family living expenses, there wasn't enough left for a car impressive enough to satisfy his female clients.
Han Ki-ju didn't ask what kind of car he wanted. Instead, she pulled out her phone and showed him photos she'd taken—of the personal vehicles in her garage. Each one was a foreign car easily worth over a hundred million won.
"I hate complicated stuff, so just take one. Don't think of them as used. Plenty of them I've barely driven since buying."
Buying him an expensive car outright could involve various legal issues like transfer taxes. Simply tossing him the keys to a car she already owned was simpler.
Kim Namhu examined each car in the photos one by one.
Women don't really care that much about the specific model anyway.
What mattered in the end was the brand. Very few women could pinpoint exact vehicle prices.
Something from a brand that looks impressive, with convenient maintenance.
When foreign cars broke down, getting them repaired in Korea was both a hassle and expensive. Since he wouldn't be taking legal ownership—making insurance claims difficult—he wanted a car that broke down as little as possible. And picking an overly rare brand just because it was expensive wasn't smart either. Even women who knew every luxury brand sometimes didn't recognize European car marques that were well-regarded, and if they didn't know it, they assumed it was some no-name.
What caught Kim Namhu's eye was a BMW 8 Series coupe. It ran about a hundred and forty million won, and carried the BMW badge that still carried weight in Korea. Reliable, low-maintenance, and recognizable to most women. No host had a car of this caliber.
"I'll take this one."
"Oh, that one? It's easy to drive. Come by my place and pick it up."
Han Ki-ju was casually handing over a car worth over a hundred million won. Even if she wasn't fully gifting it—just giving him the keys to use as he pleased—it was something an ordinary person would never do.
She wrapped up the gift casually and asked one more question.
"How's that bet we made last time going?"
Previously, Kim Namhu had agreed to make an investment with Han Ki-ju's money. If the investment failed, he'd cover the losses; if it succeeded, he'd take half the profits. That was the bet.
"Octopus Game? I heard the editing is almost finished."
Kim Namhu had the actress starring in Octopus Game—Kim Hye-ji—as a regular client. Through her, he could get all the insider information he wanted.
"So? Think it'll do well?"
"It'll be a hit."
Kim Namhu knew exactly how massive Octopus Game was going to be. Once it dropped, the related stocks would obviously explode too. Even Kim Hye-ji, who'd filmed the series, only expected moderate success—she had no idea how far it would go.
"If it does well, the investment won't fail."
"Just wait and see."
More time passed, and Octopus Game premiered on Webflix. With its shocking plot progression, the series seized the public's attention in an instant. It became a global phenomenon that transcended Korea.
Every news outlet ran articles celebrating Octopus Game's success. Wherever people gathered, everyone was talking about it. And among them were journalists and people heaping praise on Kim Hye-ji, who'd made a spectacular comeback through the show. Her screen time wasn't extensive, but the role she'd played was drawing worldwide attention.
In Octopus Game, the role for a young, beautiful woman with real acting chops was obvious.
Kim Namhu knew full well this success had been predetermined.