InkBound
patreon
CH187
🕑 Added 2025-05-18 05:45:01 +0000 UTCI was always in a position where I had to persuade someone.
Every time, I wrestled with how to open the door to the other person’s heart.
After all, that’s the essence of business.
In that sense, the mayor of Manchester was somewhat lacking in training.
Well, that’s politicians for you.
They’re used to reviewing proposals brought in by private companies.
But they’ve rarely had experience going out and securing deals themselves.
“What can I solve for you?”
“Isn’t that something you usually prepare in advance?”
“…Pardon?”
“I only prepare the next step when I’ve figured out what the other party needs most and found an answer to that.”
“Ah, I see.”
The mayor’s face drooped a bit.
But he must have been desperate too.
“Then… since you’re a businessperson, maybe deregulation or… I’m sure there’s something I can assist with…”
“No special treatment is necessary.”
“…What?”
“We conduct all our business without any violations, so there’s absolutely no reason for you to accommodate us.”
“Still… there must have been a reason you initially considered Manchester.”
Of course, there is.
‘Manchester United.’
I even openly inquired at City Hall.
How could digging into that record be so difficult?
Sigh.
Perhaps because he had no clue, he brought up something unexpected.
“Then, would it be alright if the City of Manchester proposed a business idea to you instead?”
“A business proposal?”
“Yes. We have something prepared.”
At this point, I almost felt sorry for him.
‘Well, since I’ve come all this way.’
I might as well let him do what he wants.
He soon pulled out a stack of documents from his bag.
“The first proposal is… a Capsulemon theme park.”
“…What?”
“We were thinking of creating the world’s first amusement park centered on Capsulemon. The city would cover construction costs, and you’d only need to grant us the rights to use the characters…”
“What about the profits?”
“They’d be shared. Since the city bears the construction costs, the split would be about 9 to 1…”
He glanced at me nervously and started negotiating on the spot.
“Oh, I misspoke. An 8.5 to 1.5 split seems just right. Haha.”
“It’s still an ongoing comic series. Are you already planning to invest heavily in a theme park?”
“It’s an IP that can’t fail! It’s guaranteed to have long-term success.”
Oddly, his instincts were sharp.
“There’s always a slight chance it could fail.”
“Even if we remove the characters and operate it as a regular park, it’ll do decently.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Seeing my reaction wasn’t negative, he quickly continued.
“There’s a second proposal. Building Europe’s largest RedBull factory in Manchester. It would create significant jobs, so the city could assist from the land acquisition phase…”
“Wouldn’t a port city like Liverpool be better for easy exports?”
“No, no.”
The mayor became visibly agitated at the mention of Liverpool.
“These days, with well-paved roads, how much more could logistics costs really add? If needed… we could even expand the roads.”
Is this special treatment?
Or the local government’s effort to attract businesses?
‘Hard to tell.’
While I tilted my head in thought, he moved on.
“The third proposal is constructing a game-specialized city. If JH establishes a foothold in Manchester… other startups would flock in as well. Then, the city could provide subsidies for startups, offer tax incentives…”
“You’re not going to be mayor forever, are you?”
“Pardon?”
“If the administration changes, the project could fall apart.”
“I’ll take full responsibility! I’ll even ensure it’s solidified as party policy!”
“Are you planning to enter national politics?”
“Ah, no, I mean… it’s just that one needs to become a prominent politician to achieve significant goals. Haha.”
I have no intention of using my business to help someone climb the political ladder.
However, I won’t stop someone from growing their stature while working with me.
It’s entirely up to him.
That much is true.
“But that’s not what I want from Manchester.”
At my words, a large question mark seemed to hover over the mayor’s head.
“Then, what is it…?”
“Before you ask something, why not take some time to think it through first?”
“Oh.”
“Let’s call it a day for now.”
Since he came unannounced without an appointment, he likely had nothing more to say.
“If I come up with an idea… would it be alright to call you later?”
“Of course.”
I gave the mayor a polite nod.
***
Having escaped from Park Ji-hoon, Tennessee was meeting with Dmitri out of conscience.
The two quickly got down to their meeting.
The topic was, naturally, marketing!
“Since it’s an energy drink, we need a dynamic, sporty image.”
Dmitri did most of the talking, while Tennessee mainly listened.
“Major sports sponsorships cost a lot, so I was thinking… what if we spotlight some smaller, niche sports instead?”
“Don’t worry about money.”
“Sorry?”
“I’m Grosvenor.”
“Oh, yes, yes.”
“You like cars, right?”
“I-I love them to death.”
“How about putting the RedBull logo on an F1 team?”
“That’s been my lifelong dream.”
“Then let’s make it happen. Since my father sponsors McLaren…”
“Uh, but, sir.”
“…?”
“While McLaren is currently performing the best… our brand’s symbol is a bull, and it’s red, right?”
“And?”
“If we’re going to place the RedBull logo in F1, wouldn’t it be better to go with Ferrari, which is known for red?”
The one that made “red” synonymous with sports cars.
It was undoubtedly Ferrari.
“I heard you’re planning to acquire an F1 team next year…”
“So, you’re saying Ferrari would be an ideal choice in many ways?”
“Exactly.”
Sigh.
Any car enthusiast would dream of owning Ferrari.
But.
“Ferrari isn’t a brand you can buy just because you have the money.”
“…?”
“Ferrari is the heart of Italy.”
No amount of money could buy someone’s soul.
“Well… I’m sure you’ve thought about this far more than I have.”
Dmitri gave an awkward laugh and continued.
“I must be fixated on red… Everything red catches my eye. The Chicago Bulls seem like a perfect fit because of the name. Closer to home, Manchester United and Liverpool also wear red uniforms.”
Dmitri seemed to have given up.
But for some reason.
“…”
The name Ferrari stuck in Tennessee’s mind.
What would Park Ji-hoon have done?
Would he have given up so easily after being told it wasn’t for sale?
‘Absolutely not.’
Even if the sky fell, he would’ve found a way to get it.
‘No… comparing myself to Park Ji-hoon is just setting myself up to lose!’
Tennessee shook his head as if to exorcise an evil spirit.
***
That night.
Left alone in this big house, I felt strangely uneasy.
When buried in work, I didn’t notice it, but now that I was trying to relax, the house felt empty.
‘Sigh.’
I knew I needed to rest.
But I couldn’t help feeling a little ridiculous not knowing how.
Calling Jo So-deok was out of the question—he was busy with the department store.
As for Tennessee… I’d just met him earlier.
Peter was probably losing his mind over game development, and Jack was busy preparing for his Marine Corps camp.
Heh.
At this rate, even Mr. Devon might come up as an option.
But that thought didn’t linger long.
Why not Mr. Devon? What’s stopping me?
I flipped through my notebook and dialed his number.
Moments later, a booming voice answered.
(Who is it?)
The first thing he says is, “Who is it?” Anyone listening would think he’s angry.
“Hello, sir. It’s…”
(Park Ji-hoon?)
“You guessed right on the first try?”
(What’s going on? Calling on the first day of break?)
“Oh, nothing much.”
(Bored?)
Though he couldn’t see me, I nodded.
(So? Want to exercise or something?)
“I’m never working out with you again.”
(Hehehe.)
“Did you eat yet?”
(Not yet.)
“Then treat me to a meal.”
(Where are you?)
“At home. Near school.”
(You know that pizza place we always go to? Meet me there.)
I arrived first and placed the order.
A little while later, the sound of an engine resembling galloping hooves came from outside.
The symbol of a tough guy, a Harley-Davidson!
Mr. Devon really suited that vibe.
His expensive-looking helmet was casually set aside as he strolled in with heavy steps.
Red Wing work boots, vintage Levi’s jeans, and… wait?
“Is that the Ultimate X Balenciaga hoodie?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Sir, you should’ve told me! I could’ve gifted it to you.”
“Yeah, I’d love that. Really, really.”
But then he added:
“We’re teacher and student, aren’t we?”
“So what?”
“When a student opens a store, you’ve got to support them, right? What choice do I have?”
At first glance, it sounded reasonable.
“Well… technically, it’s true, but it’s not just an ordinary store.”
“Fair point.”
“One item sold there could cover your salary…”
“I’m dying over here too, you know.”
Mr. Devon laughed as if the absurdity of it struck him.
“Did you order the pizza?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Cheese for me.”
“I’m still torn between combination and super supreme.”
“I figured as much, so I ordered both.”
For once, he laughed genuinely, a rare sight.
Just then, three piping-hot pizzas arrived.
Perfect timing.
Is there anything more delicious than freshly made pizza?
When I picked up a slice, the cheese stretched endlessly with a satisfying pull.
“If we’re going to eat pizza every time we meet, why don’t you just open a pizza place?”
Without answering, Mr. Devon devoured another slice.
After finishing about four in quick succession, he finally spoke up.
“Who’s going to run it?”
“You, of course.”
“I only know how to eat it, not run a business…”
But then, after a moment of thought:
“Wait! Why not? Who’s born knowing how to run a pizza place? I can learn, can’t I?”
It had been a throwaway joke.
But to my surprise…
Has my brain become completely optimized for business?
Even when I’m doing nothing, ideas just keep popping up.
“You like American-style pizza, right?”
“Of course! Pizza is all about America!”
There’s a company that fits that description perfectly.
Mama John’s.
Salty, greasy, and yet irresistibly addictive—real American pizza.
I remember hearing its origin story once, and it was pretty amusing.
The founder apparently thought, I can make something better than this, opened a shop, and hit the jackpot.
“I used to eat it all the time when I was studying abroad.”
“Then why not actually try it? I can send you to the U.S. tomorrow.”
Normally, people would hesitate or be startled when a conversation takes such a sudden turn.
But Mr. Devon, as expected, isn’t your average person.
“Deal! How much funding should I prepare?”
“No need to prepare anything. Just take yourself.”
***
In the end, what started as a simple meal turned into yet another business discussion.
With someone who’s arguably the farthest from being a businessman.
What on earth is this?
Ji-hoon, when are you going to rest?
This can’t go on.
No matter what anyone says, I’m going to rest—completely and indulgently.
What is rest, anyway?
If I give myself a grand gift for all my hard work, that’s rest, isn’t it?
What do you want, Ji-hoon?
I’ll make sure it’s worth at least a few billion won.
As I shuffled into the dark house, thinking about my reward—
RRRR. RRRR.
The phone rang, loud enough to drag me abruptly back to reality.
It stopped once but rang again shortly after.
Usually, people leave a voicemail after one attempt.
But calling twice in a row?
When I picked up, I heard the familiar voice I expected.
(CEO! I apologize for calling so late.)
As I thought, it was the mayor of Manchester.
(I think I’ve figured out what you want.)
“…”
(The acquisition of Manchester United. I’ll make it happen.)
Huh.
Can I… ever actually rest?
I quietly blinked.
