Commission War (12)
Tim Keaton looked at the man in front of him.
At first glance he was nothing more than an ordinary young man, yet he was also the co-CEO of Continue Capital.
David Lockhart was well known to the public, but Miru’s existence was almost completely unknown.
After everything that had happened, Tim Keaton had looked into Han Miru.
The results had been astonishing. Miru had been directly or indirectly involved in the events that had shaken the market in recent months.
During the Blackwood International ransomware incident, he had gone straight to headquarters in person. Just before Chairman Samara escaped, he had flown to Japan to meet him there.
Hanjeong Group, LD Studio, GL Entech, Facenote, Pether, and more.
And now this lawsuit as well.
Enple was a vast empire.
And yet one man had managed to shake it.
The immediate drop in the stock price was no great issue. What mattered more was that the business model itself was beginning to wobble.
Because of this, both the subscription expansion Enple had been pushing and its fintech ambitions were about to be thrown off course.
Bazaar, which had even been relaunched after a full overhaul, was effectively headed for the scrap heap.
NP Semi had gone that way too, and so had this lawsuit.
At the most crucial moments, it always felt as if something went wrong one piece at a time. And Miru Han was always there in the middle of it.
And the single biggest success among the investments he had made was the acquisition of Snow Crash.
The key player in this lawsuit was not Legend Games.
It was Snow Crash.
Who would have thought he’d route around Enstore through cloud gaming?
The concept of cloud gaming itself wasn’t anything new. What mattered was that he had implemented it flawlessly, without the slightest sense of friction.
That meant Snow Crash’s cloud technology was ahead of any other company’s.
Over the past few years, Snow Crash’s growth had been almost frightening.
And behind it all was the strong backing of Continue Capital.
Miru made money through one investment after another, funneled capital into Snow Crash, and connected it with clients. Even so, he had never touched CEO Lucas’s stake.
AMZ had felt threatened by that and came out swinging, but for some reason it had backed off at the last second and instead announced a partnership in the security sector.
He must have pulled some kind of move.
According to rumor, in the process of tracing the route by which the Blackwood International ransomware infection had spread, they had discovered a flaw in ZWS Cloud Security.
If that was true, then CEO Lucas was far more capable than Tim had assumed.
He realized instinctively that Snow Crash would become Enple’s most dangerous rival.
Despite his outward appearance, Tim Keaton’s personality had nothing to do with kindness or warmth.
He was a cold-blooded corporate strategist, and if a company threatened him, he either crushed it without hesitation or swallowed it whole.
But Snow Crash was privately held, which meant it could not be acquired unless it chose to sell.
Worse, the company’s core talent was Sid Lucas.
Even if he managed to peel away every employee, it would mean nothing if he couldn’t take Lucas with him.
And Sid Lucas was the second-largest shareholder, with a 30 percent stake, as well as the CEO. No matter what terms Enple offered, he would never abandon Snow Crash for them.
Tim Keaton stated the reason he had come.
“We’d like to acquire a stake in Snow Crash.”
Han Miru put on an expression of surprise.
“Acquire a stake?”
“Yes. Even a partial stake would be fine. We believe Snow Crash would make an excellent partner for Enple. If you want cash, we’ll pay in cash. If you want Enple stock, we’ll pay in stock.”
Enple held 200 billion dollars in cash, along with a massive treasury stock reserve.
Who could ignore an offer like that?
And yet...
Han Miru answered without the slightest hesitation.
“I’m sorry, but we have no intention of selling Snow Crash shares.”
“Without even hearing the price?”
“Yes. If it’s the amount I have in mind, then the shareholders would never agree to it.”
Tim Keaton gave a thin smile and nodded.
“I see. I’ve been curious about you, Representative Han. Thank you for making the time today.”
“Not at all. I should be thanking you for coming all this way.”
As Tim Keaton shook Han Miru’s hand, he thought, I’m glad I came.
That was enough to confirm it.
Han Miru was Enple’s enemy.
I boarded a private jet and headed for Korea.
I wasn’t even sure how long it had been since I’d last gone back. In the meantime, the seasons had changed, and so had the year.
I’d gone a long time without seeing my parents either.
According to Sena’s report, my father’s business seemed to be doing well, and my mother was healthy too.
And according to Sojin’s report, Sena still wasn’t studying, but at least she was showing up to school.
Well, as long as she kept attending, wouldn’t they eventually hand her a diploma?
Come to think of it, a lot had happened in the United States.
First, Facenote, the fifth-largest big tech company in America, had plunged more than 30 percent because of algorithmic bias and privacy issues.
Usually, when a stock crashed that hard in a short time, it bounced back before long.
But Facenote’s share price still hadn’t recovered. The reason was simple: its algorithm and privacy issues were fundamental problems at the heart of the company.
Unless it changed its ad-driven business model, there was no easy way to fix that.
Then the fraud behind Pether, the third-largest cryptocurrency by market cap, was exposed, reducing the stablecoin to little more than trash, and Coinmax, the world’s largest exchange, went bankrupt.
CEO Leonard Chang had vanished without a trace. Rumors swirled that he was in Singapore, or Switzerland, or anywhere else people could imagine.
The reason he still hadn’t been arrested was that no warrant had been issued.
Surprisingly, he hadn’t actually done anything explicitly illegal. There had simply been no laws covering what he’d done.
Even the SEC had only sent him a notice to appear. He’d gone into hiding before it could be delivered, so he never even received that.
In any case, he had once been the unofficial richest man in the world. The company might have gone bankrupt, but he still had plenty of personal assets. Wherever he went, he’d probably live comfortably.
It would be hard for him to show his face in public again, though.
And then there had been the lawsuit between Enple and Guble not long ago.
As the private jet cut across the Pacific, I closed my eyes.
After more than ten hours in the air, I finally arrived in Korea.
The greatest advantage of first class—or a private jet—was that you could actually rest while traveling.
If you were paying a premium for an expensive ticket, there was a reason for it.
A security detail and a car were waiting at the airport.
Continue Capital had a contract with A1, a subsidiary of Yuseong Electronics, and outsourced building security and personal protection to them.
I climbed into the back seat.
“Take me to Continue Capital.”
The Korean branch of Continue Capital had originally been in an old backstreet building.
But while I was in the United States, it had moved to Yuseong Town. This was my first time visiting the new office.
The building housed Continue Capital, SW Games, and even entertainment and fashion subsidiaries.
As soon as I got off the elevator and stepped into the office, applause broke out.
The employees stood up from their desks and greeted me with a round of applause. It felt like they were about to hang a flower garland around my neck.
Dong-ho greeted me warmly.
“Welcome back. I never would’ve guessed that would happen after I left. Was that why you stayed behind for the lawsuit?”
“Something like that.”
Kim Beom-seok spoke to me.
“You must have had a rough time.”
“Have you been well? I’ve been enjoying your songs.”
“Thank you.”
Kim Beom-seok had released two more songs in the meantime, both of which had hit number one on the charts, and the tracks he’d written for other singers had been huge successes too.
Thanks to that, he was apparently earning a nice chunk of money in royalties as well.
I turned my head and looked at the large Black man standing beside him.
“How is Korea? Is it manageable?”
Edward bared his white teeth in a grin.
“Very good. I’m also studying Korean whenever I can.”
He had come as an expatriate, so he was expected to stay in Korea for about three years. I’d already told him he could go back whenever he wanted before then.
I looked around the office.
“It’s a lot better than I expected.”
“I set up a separate office for you.”
It was even better than the U.S. headquarters.
I could see why companies started building headquarters the moment they made a little money.
“What do you want to do about dinner? You’re back, so we should have a company meal.”
“Maybe next time. I already have plans today.”
I met a woman in the first-floor lobby.
“It’s been forever.”
“It really has. Have you been well?”
She smiled brightly.
“Well? I haven’t even been able to take a vacation. I’ve just been working.”
Her name was Sung Yoon-ah.
It had been a while since I’d seen her, but she was just as lovely as ever.
I went outside with her. Yuseong Town consisted of four separate buildings, with a walking path running through the center.
We walked along the path together.
She glanced up at the building we’d just come out of and said,
“It’s a beautiful building.”
“I’ve been thinking I made a good purchase.”
“It reminds me of when you and I came here before. But I never expected you to buy the building right next door.”
“If you hadn’t helped me back then, I don’t think I would’ve been able to buy it.”
“Really? Oh, come on. I feel like you would’ve managed somehow anyway.”
Maybe. But it would have taken a lot more time than it did now.
If I hadn’t been able to sell the Dongwoo Precision BW back then, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to acquire Snow Crash either. Thinking about it that way, she had helped me a great deal.
“How was your vacation?”
“Barbados? It was amazing. Do you know who I met there?”
“Who?”
“Darian Heralson.”
Yoon-ah’s eyes widened.
“Oh! Really? I love that actor.”
We circled Yuseong Town once, and I gave her a brief rundown of what had happened in the United States.
Listening with open amazement, she suddenly seemed to remember something and asked,
“By the way, just how much money got wiped out because of you, Miru?”
“Pardon?”
“Facenote, 300 billion dollars. Enple, 200 billion. Guble, 150 billion. And if you add in the crypto crash... that’s got to be over a trillion dollars.”
“Why is that because of me?”
“Then whose fault is it?”
“Well...”
If I were going to make excuses, I’d say those things were going to happen anyway, even if I hadn’t been involved.
I quickly changed the subject.
“I’m hungry after all that walking. Let’s go eat dinner.”
“What do you want to eat?”
“Korean food.”
I usually didn’t pick at food and could eat just about anything. But after spending so long in the United States, I’d started to crave Korean food for some reason.
Yoon-ah brightened immediately.
“Ah! So, hanjeongsik?”
“No. I was thinking of a steaming bowl of gukbap.”
“Gukbap alone won’t be enough, will it?”
“What do you mean, alone?”
What was wrong with gukbap?
A single hot bowl of gukbap could stand toe-to-toe with a five-star hotel dinner buffet. If you searched the entire world, was there any food with better value for money than gukbap?
“They’ll have gukbap there too, so let’s just go eat hanjeongsik. I’ll pay.”
“All right.”
When someone else was paying, the menu should follow their wishes.
I got into the car with Sung Yoon-ah and headed for a hanjeongsik restaurant near Seoul Station.
“This place was the first Korean restaurant to earn three Michelin stars.”
“Really?”
“It’s booked solid six months out, so getting a reservation is tough.”
The only reason I’d been able to reserve a table was that the finest restaurants usually set aside a seat or two for VIPs.
We handed the keys over to valet parking at the entrance and stepped inside.
The restaurant had an elegant atmosphere, with a tasteful mix of traditional Korean and Western architecture. From what I’d heard, it had originally been a Japanese colonial-era house.
Because we’d reserved in advance and placed our order ahead of time, before long bulgogi, spicy pork, soybean paste stew, and other dishes were laid out before us.
“Since I’m paying, eat as much as you want.”
“I will. Thanks.”
I didn’t refuse and dug in eagerly.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had proper Korean food.
I was trying to pick up some perilla leaf pickles when they wouldn’t come apart. So Sung Yoon-ah pressed down on the leaf underneath with her chopsticks.
“Ah, thanks.”
In the middle of eating the perilla leaf pickle, I suddenly froze.
“Uh...”
Wait a second.
As soon as I stopped moving my chopsticks, Sung Yoon-ah looked at me oddly.
“What is it?”
“Oh, nothing.”
The reason was that Sena’s words had suddenly flashed through my mind.
Wasn’t it supposed to mean you liked someone if they helped hold down your perilla leaves?
