I ended up living in a mansion just because I was looking for a house near the school.
It wasn't intentional.
'On days like today, having a lot of guests, it turns out to be quite handy.'
The first person to enter the reception room was Victor Wenyar, CEO of the French luxury brand Malenciaga.
"As you know, we are in a very difficult situation."
After the death of the founder, Cristóbal Malenciaga, they continued to drift aimlessly.
'If my memory serves me right….'
They'll probably struggle for another 10 years.
Of course, they'll later succeed in making a comeback by discovering an excellent designer.
'But that's a story only I know.'
From the CEO's perspective, it's a situation where immediate action is required!
So he must have come here recklessly, trying to make something happen.
"To be honest, we're in several times more danger than Gucci. If we miss this opportunity, our future is uncertain."
Usually, they'd explain the concept of the collaboration they want and the expected profits in detail, then propose something reasonable.
But maybe because the brands waiting outside are so illustrious.
"If you could help us during this most challenging time…."
He seemed to have decided to adopt a strategy of appealing for sympathy.
"I swear, I'll carve today's memory into my bones and never forget it for the rest of my life…."
"You can forget it."
"Pardon?"
While it's wrong to take advantage of someone else's difficult situation, blindly trusting the words of someone bowing their head is even worse.
"This is a business deal we're talking about. Wouldn't it be simpler to pursue mutual benefits rather than relying on goodwill or trust?"
"But we don't really have anything to offer…."
The founder, Malenciaga, was an extreme perfectionist.
Not only his designs but also his tailoring and sewing skills were said to be unparalleled.
Imagine someone like that as the head of the company.
"Originally, Malenciaga is known for its quality."
"Y-Yes, that's right. Our founder personally ensured even the stitching was perfect."
"Why not continue doing that?"
"Pardon?"
"If we do end up collaborating, design would naturally fall under our domain."
"Y-Yes, of course."
"Then Malenciaga would need to handle the production. Isn't quality control what you're most confident about?"
"O-Of course. We have all the French artisans under our belt…."
At this point,
"Ah!"
Victor's eyes widened in astonishment.
He was, after all, the CEO of a failing company.
It seemed they had forgotten what their strengths were after repeated setbacks.
Hearing the suggestion to focus solely on quality must have brought him to his senses.
"We… actually do have something to offer."
"Of course you do. This is Malenciaga, a brand steeped in history and tradition."
"Then, may I brief you again? I'll provide a detailed explanation of how we can elevate the quality."
I nodded with a bright and innocent expression at his words.
Meanwhile, Jo So-deok was delivering some 'important notes' to those waiting outside.
"As you know, our CEO's business partner is… well, you know who I'm talking about, right? That famous… I don't even need to say it. Yes, someone from the Duke's family."
Jo So-deok continued with a pleased look on his face.
"But, as you've probably seen from the interview that went public, this partner doesn't seem to have the best relationship with a certain family."
Everyone immediately thought of Harris Department Store.
"That's why I'm telling you, for those associated with that department store, it might be a bit… awkward to proceed with a collaboration. Not that it's definitive, of course. We haven't asked the partner directly about it."
Gulp!
The sound of dry swallowing echoed throughout the room.
"But honestly, how could we ask something so personal? Wouldn't you agree?"
He then brought up the story of Tennessee acquiring an entire street.
"At this point, you'd think those folks at the department store must feel pretty uncomfortable. Frankly, taking over one of the most expensive neighborhoods outright? Isn't that basically saying, 'Let's settle this once and for all'? Or maybe not. Who knows, hahaha."
While everyone was busy calculating their options, surprisingly, the answer seemed to come quickly.
After all, more than half of the attendees had been forced to provide sponsorships under the guise of magazine giveaways!
"Wait… did the Duke's heir really give up an entire street?"
"What's the exact location?"
"Can we be included as well?"
Their questions showed no sign of stopping.
***
The next morning.
The front page of the 'London Times' featured a special article on school violence.
The subject of the article was Carl Bernstein, heir to the Harris Department Store chain.
His passport-style photo was prominently displayed.
Revealing his face before the allegations were even verified?
It was a risky move that could lead to a massive lawsuit.
But the newspaper had confidently published the article, thanks to a decisive tip-off.
Gilbert McGill, Carl's former assistant, had provided very specific evidence.
Details of how school violence issues had been covered up were meticulously documented.
How they retaliated against victims who decided to expose them was also detailed.
Some might question the credibility of the whistleblower's claims.
However.
'I am fully aware that exposing the sins of the Harris family now will not erase my own crimes. Blinded by ambition, I sold my conscience as a lawyer. I, too, am prepared to face the consequences of my actions.'
If the whistleblower declares they're ready to go to prison themselves, who could doubt their sincerity?
Gilbert McGill's revelations didn't stop there.
He also promised to reveal the extent of Carl's embezzlement during the launch of his own brand.
At this point, Carl Bernstein had no choice but to respond.
That was the reason Carl had been running around busily since early morning.
The first place he went was Tennessee's room.
Knock, knock.
After a moment, the sound of bustling activity could be heard, and then the door cracked open.
"You could've called. Why come so early in the morning…?"
The voice was calm and gentle.
But then.
"...!"
The moment their eyes met through the small gap in the door.
"Get lost."
A voice as cold as ice came through.
As Tennessee moved to shut the door immediately, Carl hastily wedged his foot in.
"W-Wait a second!"
But Tennessee didn't care.
Crunch!
"Aah—Ouch!"
Even as Carl screamed in pain, Tennessee kept pulling the door shut.
Completely indifferent to what might happen to Carl's foot.
"It—it's really going to break!"
"Then move it."
Crunch!
"Ahhh!"
"Just take your foot out, right?"
Crunch!
"Arrrghhh!"
Despite the pain, Carl mustered superhuman willpower, wedging his shoulder in next and hurriedly speaking.
"G-Give me a chance."
"What kind of chance?"
"A chance… to be forgiven."
"And what gives me the right to forgive you?"
"The successor of the Grosvenor family…"
Crunch!
"Aagh!"
"Don't you dare soil that name with your filthy mouth."
Crunch!
"And stop screaming. It's annoying."
"Mmmph… mmph."
"Forgiveness isn't something you should be seeking from me. It's the victims you need to beg."
"T-Then, will you forgive me if they do…?"
"What an idiot."
With those words,
Thud!
Tennessee kicked Carl, sending him sprawling out of the room.
Carl landed on the floor outside the door, dazed.
And then, as if mocking him,
Bang!
The door slammed shut and locked firmly.
***
Since I was commuting from home today, I left a bit later than usual.
Having breakfast with Grandpa delayed me even more.
Was it because I was slightly late?
The lecture hall looked more packed than usual.
But then, something strange happened.
The previously chatty classmates suddenly fell silent one by one as they noticed me.
'What's going on with this atmosphere?'
For a moment, I wondered if the second-year students had caused another commotion.
Maybe a final outburst before they gave up?
Huh?
There was a magazine placed on my desk.
It was none other than the famous American 'Forbes'.
When I picked it up, my classmates stared at me with eyes full of anticipation.
They seemed to be urging me silently: 'Hurry up, open it!'
'What's this all about?'
Someone had thoughtfully folded a page for me.
As I opened the magazine, the first thing that caught my eye was:
I'd only ever heard of the 'Forbes List', and now I was holding it in my hands.
But my surprise didn't last long.
"...!"
Wait a minute. Why is my name here?
T-Tennessee is here too?!
Everyone else is in their late 30s, but… the two of us are teenagers…
No, hold on. Why isn't Hyung's name here?
If they're going to include me, shouldn't Yoo Geon-hyung be on the list too?
The magazine included a detailed account of my activities.
From well-known ventures like authenticating Da Vinci's works to managing games and manga distribution, to more recent achievements:
"Co-founded Queensman and Ultimate with Tennessee Grosvenor, sparking a revolution in the industry…"
Everything up to my latest endeavors was accurately documented.
'Well, makes sense.'
Even yesterday, CEOs and directors were flocking to collaborate.
'It'd be weirder if 'Forbes' didn't know.'
Thankfully, the phrase "co-founded with Tennessee" helped to spread the attention around a bit.
'At least there's that.'
The earlier ventures were largely Yoo Geon-hyung's work anyway, and everything I've done in the UK is officially under Tennessee's endorsement!
'Yep, that's the narrative I'm sticking to.'
Anyway.
By now, I began to understand the looks my classmates were giving me.
"You're the one who created Queensman?"
"No… Ultimate too?"
"Then what about the Gucci collaboration?"
How had they held back this long?
Suddenly, I was flooded with questions!
Guys, it says right here: 'co-founded!'
But clearly too uncomfortable to ask Tennessee directly, they kept directing their questions at me.
Sigh.
Forget class—should I just go out for some fresh air?
While my mind drifted with all kinds of thoughts,
step, step.
I heard footsteps approaching from behind.
Judging by the way my classmates turned their heads in surprise, I thought maybe the professor had arrived.
But to my surprise—
"...?"
An unexpected face stood before me.
"Could I have a moment of your time?"
It was Carl Bernstein.
The guy who always held his head high was now staring at my feet.
"I'd like us to move somewhere more private."
"I have class soon."
"...!"
"Too many ears around—makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?"
At my comment, Carl glanced around.
My classmates quickly averted their eyes and turned their bodies away.
When I made no move to leave, Carl bit his lip and spoke heavily.
"I want to ask for forgiveness."
"Forgiveness?"
"For what I've done to the first-years. I want to make amends, even if it's late…"
"If you apologize now, won't people just question your sincerity?"
"What?"
"Staying quiet all this time, only to apologize on the day of the article's publication—people might think you're just doing it to get leniency."
You know, that cliché.
'I've sought forgiveness from the victims, so please reduce my sentence.' That kind of thing.
"Isn't there a way?"
"..."
"I want to apologize properly. I'm really, truly remorseful. Please, grant me forgiveness…"
"Taking full responsibility for your actions is the only true apology, isn't it?"
"Look, I'm begging here."
"Kneel, beg, apologize—all of that can wait until after the disciplinary hearing. Am I being too unreasonable?"
Sensing the breakdown of his negotiation,
shake, shake.
Carl glared at me, trembling with frustration.
It was a look that said, 'Swear at me. Punch me. Anything would be better than this.'
Smirk.
Now 'that's' the Carl Bernstein I know.
In that moment, my mind was made up.
I would claim the Harris family's pride and joy—their London flagship store—for myself.