Taeyeon, hurrying toward the Nexple Plus studio, gathered the development team and said:
“Starting tomorrow we’ll divide the optimization work with Crying Soft’s Monster Eater dev team. Program Lead, AD, please get the tasks ready.”
Takizawa Satoshi unexpectedly agreed without hesitation.
—This is an extremely welcome offer. I’ll trust PD Yoo again and move forward.
It was also a relief to Taeyeon, who had worried about ending up red-faced.
Together with Takizawa Satoshi, he formed a joint optimization team, and they decided—without fail once a day—to hold a fixed-time video conference and share progress.
The program lead and the art director welcomed the decision more than anyone.
“To be honest, I’ve felt uneasy, drawing a big salary without doing any real work. Now at last we’ll have proper tasks.”
“There were lots of rough edges bothering me already, so I’ll pull a full list and share it before we leave today!”
“Until one hour before each call, even if the day’s work isn’t all done, give me a brief report. If I’m away, just drop a report file in the cloud folder.”
When the meeting ended, Taeyeon went straight back to his desk and checked the live bug reports the ops team was sharing.
They weren’t critical issues, yet the bugs piled densely enough to make him feel like indigestion.
Anything I can fix myself—I’ll knock it out.
The ops team shared and assigned issues by team, then a developer handled each one and requested verification. Every dev outfit runs that way, but it’s almost unheard of for the studio head himself to fix bugs and send them for review.
Taeyeon, though, wasn’t the usual kind of producer.
After telling the leads not to just act like managers but to work hands-on, he had zero intention of sitting back and watching.
He stayed at his station until closing and immersed himself in the fixes.
An hour or two before quitting time, Taeyeon always got dinner invitations by text.
Chairman Yoo Jin-seong, Director Son Yeong-sang, Director Lee Tae-young, CEO Kim Myung-uk, the HR chief, and so on.
At first, he prioritized Chairman Yoo’s requests, but as they grew too frequent, he spent evenings only with someone who had pressing business or had invited him first—otherwise he declined.
They were all Nexple people, but tonight was an exception: he had dinner plans with someone from another company.
Before leaving, he checked himself in the mirror, then headed to Gangnam.
His destination was the New World Group headquarters building, relocated last year.
Inside the lobby he sent a text.
[I’ve arrived.]
[Okay, I’ll head down now.]
It was rush hour and the lobby teemed with employees. Watching them, Taeyeon thought,
Big conglomerates really do have a different work atmosphere from game companies.
New World Group ranked seventh among Korean conglomerates.
Annual group sales: eight trillion won.
Seven listed firms, thirty subsidiaries, with total estimated assets of thirty trillion won.
Anyone working at such a headquarters must be a top-flight elite, proud of their résumé anywhere.
While he was observing, a commotion rose on one side.
Taeyeon looked and saw Vice-Chairman Kim Jong-hak approaching, accepting the staff’s greetings.
Taeyeon grinned and said, “You promised good beef, so I hurried right over.”
“Did you drive?”
“No car—came by subway.”
“You said you live in Pangyo, right? Perfect. Ride with me to my place; I live in Pangyo too.”
A young executive of such warmth—curious eyes followed them. Those who recognized Taeyeon snapped photos or whispered his identity.
Unaware that he and Kim Jong-hak were already trending on SNS, Taeyeon climbed into the black sedan waiting at the front entrance.
The vice-chairman’s home lay in Seopan-gyo, the luxury housing district dubbed Korea’s Beverly Hills, residence of countless celebrities.
“I heard the rhythmic-gymnastics queen Kim Yuna lives here too—have you ever run into her?”
“Every morning when I work out. My wife’s close with her; whenever they have time, they café-hop and go places together.”
“R-really?!”
“Why so amazed? Are you a fan of Yuna?”
“Yes! Honestly, who in Korea isn’t? I’m a huge fan!”
Unable to hold back his excitement, Taeyeon muttered,
“Jealous… being friendly enough with Kim Yuna to drink coffee and hang out… really amazing. Jealous.”
Kim Jong-hak burst into hearty laughter.
Even when Taeyeon looked at him, puzzled, he couldn’t stop laughing.
Only on reaching the house did Taeyeon learn why.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. Dinner’s almost ready, so wait just a moment.”
Taeyeon was left speechless by the beauty who welcomed him.
Han Seol-a—the legendary actress whose looks had ruled the 2000s.
So that’s why he laughed.
Kim Yuna was a global sports star, but within Korea and Asia Han Seol-a’s renown and presence still ranked higher.
Beauty, intelligence, acting, star power.
One word summed her up: legend.
She was nearing forty, yet still bore the legendary beauty of her prime.
And I babbled about being jealous over Kim Yuna…
Vice-Chairman Kim relayed what Taeyeon had said; apron-clad Han Seol-a laughed until tears came.
Smiling at the flustered Taeyeon, she said,
“So you’re a Yuna fan. Honey, should we call Yuna and have her join us?”
“I don’t mind, but would Taeyeon be okay eating with his idol?”
“Vice-chairman and Ms. Han alone already make me nervous enough.”
Both husband and wife laughed. As Han Seol-a moved toward the kitchen, phoning someone, Kim Jong-hak led Taeyeon to the dining table.
Han Seol-a, the top star, is preparing dinner right in front of me…
If he told Choi Jong-hak (the streamer) this, what reaction would he get?
Even watching, he could hardly believe it.
Part of him wondered seriously if he had ever done anything to deserve such treatment.
Soon the meal was set, and the doorbell rang right on cue.
“Looks like she’s here.”
“I’ll get it.”
Taeyeon’s heart started pounding wildly.
Moments later the visitor appeared: gray leggings, white hoodie, no makeup—clearly just stepped out of the house, yet her athlete’s proportions and fresh beauty made everything shine.
“Ah, hello. I’m game developer Yoo Taeyeon.”
“I’ve heard about you. Kim Yuna.”
She extended her hand. Taeyeon stared in disbelief, then offered his own trembling hand at last.
The shaking was so obvious that Han Seol-a and Kim Yuna laughed aloud.
Kim Jong-hak muttered in amazement,
“You didn’t show a hint of nerves giving that presentation to company presidents…”
Taeyeon couldn’t let go of Kim Yuna’s hand for a long time.
Dinner began in earnest.
The main dish was spicy braised beef; paired with a fine red wine, it was a perfect feast.
At first Taeyeon was too tense to eat, but when Han Seol-a kindly tore the meat into bite-sizes for him, he finally tasted it.
The cooking skill exceeded expectations; the meat melted in his mouth, the seasoning was perfect.
After the mood relaxed a bit, Kim Jong-hak spoke up.
“I regretted not hearing more at the luncheon; how about telling us now? Jin-seong hyung only gave me hints—he was too tight-lipped.”
“Do you meet the chairman often?”
“Not often—now and then. Just a week ago we had dinner and wine… but he doesn’t like me asking about you.”
“Why would that be?”
“He’s wary I might steal you away. That’s just how he is.”
The tone felt odd.
Taeyeon asked, half-wondering,
“Have you known each other personally for a long time?”
“He was one year above me in college.”
“Ah…”
“So tell me in detail: what happened, and how did you win over Disney’s executives?”
Taeyeon glanced around sheepishly.
“Will it be all right? It might bore the two of you…”
Han Seol-a and Kim Yuna smiled gently.
I’ll have to make it as interesting as I can.
Leaving out anything covered by company security, Taeyeon began his tale from the moment he’d been abruptly notified of the U.S. trip.
Whenever his own exploits came up, he spoke as modestly as possible, making it sound minor and lucky.
But the listeners weren’t idiots—least of all Kim Jong-hak, de facto head of a conglomerate.
“No wonder Jin-seong hyung cherishes you. The more I hear, the more I want you.” (T/N: Um, sir?)
“It was all luck. The chairman set the stage; I only enjoyed the favor.”
“Listen to that. Even talks pretty. That’s why people adore him.”
Throughout, the gaze of the two women toward Taeyeon changed, but he, overwhelmed by steady praise, failed to notice.
After the long conversation, Kim Jong-hak asked casually,
“You’re not planning to sink roots permanently in Nexple, are you?”
“Well…”
No matter how well Nexple treated him, he was still a salaried man; someday, if the chance came, he still dreamed of founding his own studio.
Kim Jong-hak saw right through that and his eyes flashed, but he didn’t press—he shifted topics.
“Let’s meet often for a glass of wine. How about it?”
“Gladly. The house isn’t far, so invite me anytime.”
“Mind if we drop the formal speech?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I’ll treat you like a younger brother—so stop calling me ‘vice-chairman’ and just say ‘hyung.’”
After that, the conversation flowed in a far more relaxed mood.
Leave a Reply