The next day, at dawn, Faber had spent the night awake, unable to sleep due to exploding dopamine levels, yet his mind was clear.
A week ago, an advertisement had appeared in the Queensman.
It promised the release of an ultimate item today that everyone could afford.
Though curious, both Faber and his boss were too busy to inquire further.
Surprisingly, the ultimate item turned out to be… a newspaper.
"I thought it was just a figure of speech," Faber mused, amazed it was real.
Lost in thought, he reached the subway station to find a long line of people.
At first, he wondered if they were waiting to go to work, but upon closer inspection, they were queued to buy the newspaper.
Some had even camped out with folding chairs and sleeping bags, layered in multiple clothes.
Wondering if this was the only place like this, he visited several newsstands, only to find the same situation everywhere.
By now, the day had broken, and signs were up everywhere:
According to his boss, they had printed a million copies, but they were all gone by mid-morning.
"Sure, it's plausible in the heart of London, but other areas…"
As if mocking Faber's thoughts, a news clip on a mini TV inside a newsstand reported that a scarcity of the 'London Times' had occurred, and all copies had sold out, with about 200,000 already sold in America.
Ha! Selling a lifestyle was ultimately his boss's vision.
Yes, today's shortage of the London Times was entirely a planned victory.
All of it had originated from his boss's mind; there was no reason for Faber to get excited.
"Right, this isn't my part," Faber thought, as he tried to settle his mind again.
The street scene gradually became vividly clear.
People were hurrying somewhere, and surprisingly, each one of them was holding a newspaper emblazoned with the Ultimate logo.
Gulp.
The day Faber first came to England to meet the boss, he had insisted on including his own logo, proud and adamant despite being told by everyone from John Green to himself that it was nothing but stubbornness and conceit.
Yet, what originated from stubborn mud, once refined by the kiln of the boss, could be reborn as a beautiful piece of pottery embodying the spirit of 'artistic resistance.'
Now, months later, the streets of London were boldly colored with Faber's logo.
Not even Coco Chanel, Christian Dior, or Giorgio Armani had ever faced such a scene.
"This isn't just because of my own doing."
Even if he attributed it all to the boss, the thrill that surged through his body seemed unstoppable.
At the same time, Park Yong-hak was looking down at a newspaper in the airport lounge.
Beneath the phrase 'London Times,' the word 'Ultimate' was printed in white on a red background, along with small text detailing the date and location of the preliminary rounds and announcing a new collaboration.
"This sold a million copies?"
"Yes."
Reportedly, the advertisement on the front page had been placed almost free of charge.
The magic behind it was beyond him.
Anyway, it was as if the most respected newspaper in Britain had been used like some personal bulletin board.
A spectacle that even Bongi Kim Seondal, who allegedly sold the water of the Daedong River, would have applauded!
Despite insisting he would never take over the business, this was practically him raising his hand, saying he was the right person for it.
Astonished, Park Yong-hak let out a pleased snort.
"Ha!"
Just then, his associate approached with a serious look.
"Chairman, there is something else I need to report."
"That, that is…"
"…?"
"The Grosvenor Dukedom in England has offered to arrange a reception in honor of your visit, Chairman."
"Grosvenor, the major sponsor of McClane?"
As if anyone doubted their passion for cars… Chairman Park remembered them as sponsors of McClane.
Were they considering acquiring both McClane and Aston Martin teams?
However, the perspective of the Chief of Staff seemed different.
"As you said, they are not only strong supporters of F1 but also one of the most influential families in Europe."
The Chief of Staff inevitably emphasized the latter part.
"But why does your face look so shadowed?"
"The Grosvenor family covets three things."
Why bother with three when money could solve everything?
As Park Yong-hak looked unimpressed, the Chief of Staff continued.
"Land, cars, and art."
Those sounded like the concerns of nobility.
And why not?
For ages, the owners of lands were nobility.
The amount of land granted by the king was a measure of one's capability for a long time.
The same went for cars.
There was a time when a family's prestige was judged by the horses they owned.
How many rare breeds of horses were attached to pull their carriages was a measure of a family's wealth.
And art, needless to say.
The prestige of a family was once defined by which great artists they sponsored.
Ultimately, land, cars, and art were all symbols of noble value.
Having organized his thoughts, Park Yong-hak quietly lifted his head.
"I'm not here to be asked for land or cars."
"…."
"Don't tell me they want a Da Vinci painting?"
Sensing his intent, the Chief of Staff clicked his tongue.
"It seems likely. If you plan to refuse, it would be better to avoid creating any obligations… perhaps even blocking the meeting altogether."
"What businessman is there who can't meet with someone?"
"That, what if we become adversaries with the Duke of Grosvenor…"
"If that turns into a pickle, when can't we fight if we have to?"
His expression asked, what if they really do end up fighting.
Smirk.
"They covet what's mine. Why? Should I just stand by and watch?"
Chairman Park shook his head as if that was out of the question.
To speak this much, what further objections could there be?
The Chief of Staff could only silently bow his head.
***
Meanwhile, at Harris Group, Leona Harris called Carl into her office for the first time.
Leona was seated at the executive desk, her back to the panoramic window.
In contrast, Carl faced the sun directly, making it difficult for him to even keep his eyes fully open.
Knowing that her son was squinting, yet deliberately not lowering the blinds, indicated that this was not a friendly summons.
Indeed, Leona began with a voice that was cool and collected.
"Do you know how much our stock has dropped?"
Carl bowed his head apologetically, yet he had no idea why she was discussing the stock price with him.
Perhaps knowing exactly why her son was confused, she added,
"Because of one rugby match, all kinds of media poured out articles."
"…"
"As if Harris and Grosvenor have become enemies."
"En, enemies? That's… not true, is it?"
Carl protested.
Leona glared at him sharply.
"What does the truth matter! Everyone believes it!"
Carl's shoulders tensed at Leona's reprimand.
He was so hunched over that his toes tingled.
Being scolded by his father was one thing, but his mother… it was troublesome to be rebuked by a mother who held all the power.
After Carl bowed his head in submission, she continued,
"Every kind of tabloid is stirring things up about Grosvenor. They're even tracking our Swiss accounts, all sorts of things are being said."
No one survives once caught in Grosvenor's net.
It was only natural that the stock price was falling.
"Then, perhaps the magazine freebies are…"
"The stock is crashing and you're worried about that!"
"…"
"Look at us now! Who would dare help you when we're marked wholesale by Grosvenor!"
Did that mean all promises of giveaways were canceled?
"…Ah."
Carl's head dropped in shock.
***
A few days later.
Just last week the magazine was the bestseller No. 1, how could it fall out of ranking in just one week!
Just because they removed a mere freebie…
"Damn it! Damn it all!"
What made it even more frustrating was that Queensman had taken over the bestseller No. 1 spot.
No, it's the same without the freebies.
But why does that one keep selling?
What's the use of being frustrated alone?
Now, the only remaining means of revenge is rugby alone.
"Ha- ah."
'If there's any consolation, no matter how many times I think about it and ruminate, there's just no way we can lose at rugby…'
"These damn things!"
'Yeah, this time I'll really crush them.'
Grinding his teeth, he grabbed his rugby shirt and moved with heavy steps.
***
Meanwhile, at the royal school's sports field.
Maybe because it's the day before the match.
Several large cameras had been installed in the stands.
Not only were Queensman's staff present, but so were journalists from famous newspapers, and there were even trucks marked with broadcasting logos visible.
Behind the press area:
"Te-ne-si!"
"Tennessee Fighting!"
The scene was almost like a concert, with many young female fans gathered.
There were also a few fanatically supportive people among them.
"Tennessee, you're amazing!"
Thanks to our prince charming, I naturally got overshadowed.
Of course, there were side effects.
'How are you going to take responsibility for this?'
When Tennessee gave me a sharp look…
"Focus, let's focus. The match is tomorrow, why are you getting distracted?"
I used training as an excuse to somewhat avoid responsibility.
'You promised to grant my wish, didn't you?'
'What wish, really!'
'See you then, you.'
'….'
After Tennessee and I tallied our metaphorical debts with a look, D-1, the last day to sync up before the match, brought some very welcome faces for the final check-up—the Cambridge University Rugby Team!
"Seems like there are more spectators than a pro game, doesn't it?"
Steve approached me with his characteristically refreshing laugh.
"How's your condition?"
"Top-notch."
"And confident about winning?"
"Absolutely."
It seems my answers were too crisp and clear.
"Then shall we see some of your skills?"
Nod.
Just as I was about to suggest a scrum to warm up, Steve, with a curious expression, lowered his voice slightly.
"I hear that a new collaboration will be unveiled here tomorrow."
"Ultimate, you mean?"
"Yes, that's right."
Huh, Steve liked Ultimate too?
"Since it's practically tomorrow. Just wondering if you heard anything."
"Not really…"
He quickly waved his hand after observing my expression.
"No, no, don't worry about it. Yeah, how would a student know about that stuff?"
It seemed Steve had come to his own conclusion.
"Haha."
I laughed as brightly as possible, as a student would.
TL/n -
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