Zy Plus Entertainment was a newly established company.
Its legal representative? Lee Jin-woo.
It had six employees: one receptionist, two "miscellaneous workers."
The two handled everything—management, reception, business representation.
The other three were the company's only signed artists.
Technically, they were rookies fresh from training, preparing to debut.
As models.
Originally, their manager was to take them for auditions today—photo shoots, appearances, runway gigs.
But once Lee Jin-woo took over, he halted all plans.
He wanted to rechart the company's future, including the artists' paths.
"The future belongs to the internet."
Glancing at Yoon Hye-na, munching a banana, he shared his short-term vision.
Online shopping would thrive in this fast-paced era, tech fueling human laziness.
Big corporations already sensed the trend, entering the space.
Next year, Steve Jobs' game-changing product would launch, and hot money would flood mobile internet.
Korea's top portal, NHN, proved the internet's potential.
But the idea of NHN's founder as a "people's hero" challenging chaebols made Lee Jin-woo smirk.
The internet economy would never be a nation's lifeline.
Only those controlling the lifeline were true powerholders.
NHN thrived because it was smart—never touching chaebol-controlled industries, just grinding for profit in its niche.
That's how it survived.
If NHN ever forgot its place, replacing its owner would be easy.
Maybe one day, he'll reach the top.
When Samsung's power struggle peaks, affecting two chairmen's reputations, chaebols would need a facade to shield public backlash.
Nobody wanted to be a target.
Big shots hauled off by prosecutors? Embarrassing.
Even if prison was a palace, how do you recover lost face?
As for rich lists—reminding folks they're just cattle? Worthless to chaebols.
Useless things, they'd generously hand off.
Future gatekeepers and chaebols would hide deeper, pulling strings from the shadows.
Wasn't that more fun than being a public target?
Sipping water, Yoon Hye-na asked curiously, "So, we're doing entertainment?"
With such fierce competition, a newbie company had it rough.
"Who said entertainment means being a star? Can't we just make money?"
The influencer economy was coming. Live-stream selling could rake in cash.
Use the profits to invest elsewhere, grow influence—done.
For regular folks, that was a pipe dream.
But his identity was the ultimate entry ticket.
First, he had to secure Joo-bin and So-hee's contracts.
This company was built for them.
Word Is Bond: As a big brother, you must keep your promises.
Goal: Help Lee Joo-bin and Han So-hee win Korea's highest industry honor. Rewards based on completion.
PS: Pre-issued rewards to aid the task.
PS2: If the task fails, the host must pay tenfold punitive damages.
Zy Plus and the Land Rover were those pre-issued rewards.
He needed to help them win Korea's top honor, which required careful planning.
What roles for their debut?
Actors? Singers? Girl group?
Or models… Models' top honors were the least challenging.
With money, it could happen in a year.
But such an easy task would yield lousy rewards.
If you're doing it, do it right.
Otherwise, it'd tarnish his "big brother" rep.
Nothing to do with the system's punitive damages.
Really!
The rewards—Zy Plus and the Land Rover.
The real value wasn't the company or car, but the land beneath.
Seoul, Cheongdam-dong.
A seven-story building, 3,600 pyeong (11,880 square meters)—that was Zy Plus's true worth.
The funds? From his years of savvy investments.
Recalling those memories, he wanted to shout, Genius kid! I'm a damn genius!
How to get SM to release them? Pay a penalty?
Lee Jin-woo wasn't thrilled, and SM would demand a fortune.
When ignored, Joo-bin and So-hee were just two dime-a-dozen trainees.
But once someone showed interest, SM would hype them as the next big thing.
Customized plans, strategies, promotions—two crates' worth, laid out to fleece him.
SM wouldn't let go without a big bite.
This needed external leverage.
Lee Soo-man—go beg him?
If memory served, he was 17th-generation Deokjeon faction.
If Lee Jin-woo approached, Soo-man might offer help, given his Daegun faction ties.
But that help came with strings.
If Soo-man called in a favor later, Jin-woo couldn't say no.
Otherwise, he'd lose credibility in the Jeonju Lee Clan.
That identity was his biggest asset. Even if he lived like trash for 30 years, he could still rejoin the elite.
As long as he didn't harm the Jeonju Lee Clan's reputation or interests, no one cared.
Cinderella meeting Prince Charming? That only happened in goofy plays.
Ring, ring~
The phone snapped him out of his thoughts. Seeing the name on the screen, his expression turned odd.
"Boo-jin noona…"
Shilla Hotel, Western Dining.
Across from the elegant, talented, and beautiful eldest princess, Lee Jin-woo's lips curved. "What made you invite me to dinner?"
(End of Chapter)