Head Office – Gangnam, Seoul
The screen projected the image of a perfectly styled man sitting in a custom leather chair with a panoramic view of Seoul glinting behind him.
“Jonas Kim: The Youngest Mogul in K-Entertainment”
At 34, he’s rising to become one of Korea’s top ten richest. Handsome and untouchable—Jonas Kim of Daebak Entertainment is the man shaping the future of Korean entertainment.
“They made the article well,” Mr. Kim said in amusement, stroking his chin. “I didn’t even have to pay them.”
However, the silence dampened his mood a little bit. He turned to his employees with one eyebrow raised.
“Clap,” he said suddenly.
The ten or so employees seated around the obsidian table paused, glanced at one another—and then began to clap loudly.
He smiled. “Thank you. I worked very hard on that interview.”
The screen dimmed. Mr. Kim leaned forward with his usual charismatic smile. “Now, my lovely people,” he started off, “let’s get the report done quickly. I’d like to go home early. I feel like eating strawberries in bed.”
There was a tense shuffle of papers.
Sungmin, head of strategy, adjusted his collar.
“Sir… the latest drama, Backstreet Fighters, didn’t meet projections. It dipped by 2.3% in the final week, and international sales haven’t picked up. The most recent film didn’t break even either, despite our push in Japan…”
He trailed off but continued when he noticed the CEO’s silence.
“And the recent announcement of our newest artists are underperforming. Social media engagement is down, and—”
“Why?”
Sungmin blinked. “Sir?”
Jonas tilted his head, smile gone. “Why is engagement down?”
“…A large part of the public attention is currently on Lucy’s Game, sir. It’s dominating social feeds and trending across multiple platforms.”
Jonas reached for the carafe of water in front of him, poured himself half a glass, took a sip, and set it down. “I see.”
Then, someone spoke through the silence to suggest something.
“Well, there’s a potential opportunity, sir. Zeno Han from Lucy’s Game… if we could scout him. He’s from Dreamy, a no-name agency. He already denied Moonrise, but Daebak is Daebak. I mean, who says no to this company?”
Someone else nodded. “He’s dreamy, a good actor, and quite strange. However, it adds to his charm.”
“He has it,” said another. “The X factor.”
The sound of knuckles slamming against wood made them all jolt. Mr. Kim stood, fists planted on the table.
“So… what you’re all telling me,” he said, slowly turning his gaze from one staff member to another, “is that your incompetence is my problem.”
There was suffocating silence.
“You couldn’t predict the rise of one show. Couldn’t redirect the numbers. Couldn’t build stronger releases. Couldn’t adapt.” He smiled tightly. “Yet you come into my boardroom and bring me gossip about a man named Zeno. As if his dreamy face will save your quarterly reviews.”
No one spoke.
“You’re not paid a salary to be outpaced by Dreamy,” he whispered, eyes burning into Sungmin. “Dreamy. A company named after a nap.”
He straightened up and swept a hand through his perfectly slicked-back hair. “Daebak is the best,” he muttered. “We do not play second. We are the game.”
Then, like nothing happened, he chuckled, noticing their fearful looks.
“Oh, come now,” he said sweetly. “Don’t look like that. All of you worked hard. You just… didn’t win like I always do. But effort counts.” His voice brightened with mock cheer. “So! Do a good job next round, and I’ll give you all a raise.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and sprinkled hundred-thousand-won bills like petals across the center of the table.
“Go and eat. I heard the third-floor bento place across us has good eel.”
He turned, coat flaring dramatically as he walked toward the exit.
“Assistant Byun.”
“Yes, sir,” the quiet man at the door said, stepping forward.
Jonas paused to stretch. Then, he closed his eyes, inhaling.
“Home, sir?”
“No,” Jonas murmured. “Take me to Saliva.”
***
The private elevator reeked of expensive cologne and newly bought gold.
Jonas stepped inside with a sharp inhale, pressing the mirrored “V” button. His reflection winked back at him from four directions as the elevator ascended smoothly. He tugged slightly at his cuffs, revealing the edge of a platinum watch worth more than a mid-sized apartment in Gangnam.
“Make sure no one uninvited gets in,” he said without looking.
“Yes, sir,” Assistant Byun replied, standing guard outside the elevator with a discreet earpiece.
As the doors closed, Jonas leaned back and smiled to himself.
He was in the best club in Seoul, and the best part was that he owned it.
The elevator doors opened to the highest floor, showing the glossy black marble floors, dark velvet curtains, and a few men already sipping on crystal tumblers of neat scotch.
“Jonas!” a man with a botched nose and too many rings greeted him, raising a glass. “Long time, no see. It’s great to finally see someone young and handsome on this floor.”
Jonas merely nodded and sat on the couch designated only for him.
The room was filled with people who were as important as him—politicians, tycoons, their entitled sons. The kind who inherited conglomerates like old sweaters. Oil heirs. Real estate dragons. Bank CEOs. And not a soul under a ten-figure net worth.
“Shall we go?” one of them said, tipping his head toward the next set of glass doors.
Jonas sighed and nodded.
The group moved as one toward the Molar Room, a name only insiders knew.
Inside already were even more powerful people.
The Vice President of South Korea, Hyong Lee, sat front and center, leaning slightly against his chair like he owned the place. Which, in part, he did—Saliva ran smoothly in large part thanks to his silence.
“Stocks are good this month,” Hyong said. “Are there more coming?”
Jonas turned to Assistant Byun, who had just entered through the back hallway, phone in hand.
Byun gave a small nod.
“They are,” Jonas confirmed.
A ripple of approval moved through the room.
“Excellent. I hope the more exotic stock comes in,” Hyong said, lifting his glass. With that, the sound of enjoyment filled the room but was quickly replaced with the sound of a show.
Lucy’s Game.
A hush fell over the room as the logo spun onto the screen, catching their attention immediately.
Tonight’s episode was for the Top Six, and it was a battle of wits.
The contestants were divided into two teams.
Team 1: Minjae, Billy, and Minsu
Team 2: Ari, Bacon PD, and Zeno
“Oh, you’re all watching this too?” said someone, amused.
“My kid loves to watch it. He loves that guy,” another said, pointing at Zeno.
“He’s quite a handsome young man.”
Jonas didn’t say anything and merely watched. He hadn’t seen the show before, but he was no stranger to it.
His employees had been raving about it even though it had nothing to do with artists from their company.
The screen showed a math challenge. The players stood before whiteboards, racing against time to solve increasingly complex computations.
What came next appeared impossible to answer in the time limit they were given. However, Zeno only thought for a few seconds before he scribbled quickly.
The rich men in the room laughed, their voices deep and indulgent.
“This kid’s smart!”
“He should work for me. He can do my taxes in his sleep.”
“You mean hide the taxes you need to pay for?”
They laughed once more, the sound of their richness coming out of their mouths.
Zeno’s team stepped back first, and the camera zoomed in on his whiteboard, illuminating it on the screen above his team.
Answer: 25.
Amidst the rich laughter, Assistant Byun stared at the screen, eyes narrowing slightly.
The camera panned to Minjae’s team, and they answered differently.
The number ’25’ still glowed above Zeno, and Jonas, who had been swirling his drink, suddenly tilted his head.
His eyes flicked to Byun.
And Byun—normally unreadable—had gone still as stone. His pupils dilated slightly.
And from one of them, someone muttered…
“25?”