4 more years after, Kang Ji Woo was finally able to pull off what he was working on. He has his own start up YERIN after his dead mother's name- Kang Yerin. He has a small team of 4 people including himself. Like his mother said, he is the CEO. They sold the old house and purchased a small apartment with 2 rooms. Since the house sold at a good price, they had money left. His appa invested this money into Ji Woo's mother's dream.
Ji Woo was the CEO and the Graphic Designer and creative lead, his senior So Hee Noona from university was the tech lead, Ji Woo's junior Colin (Half Korean and half American) is the programmer, Ji Woo's friend Dong Geun whom he knew from the orphanage was hired to handle the social media marketing.
Against all odds, they launched the game Neon Dynasty to massive acclaim. The game was an instant hit, rocketing the fledgling startup to the cusp of becoming a unicorn. Now, whispers circulate through the industry that gaming giants in Japan and China are eager to partner on official Japanese and Chinese editions. Concept of the game is a competitive 5v5 shooter set in a futuristic Seoul, where each "Hero" has unique abilities inspired by Korean myths and modern culture (e.g., a "Gumiho" hacker, a "Haetae" fighter etc).
To expand their reach beyond Asia, YERIN is targeting a specific competition whose victory would provide a crucial gateway into the lucrative US and UK markets. Securing this win is a top strategic priority for their global growth.
Ji Woo already thought of the next project for the competition. It wouldn't just be a game; it would be an event. He called it "Zombie Idol Savior."
The concept was as hilarious as it was thrilling. A mysterious, glittery pandemic—the "Beat Drop Virus"—had swept through the world, turning the most beloved K-Pop idols into a horde of the most stylish, rhythmically shuffling zombies anyone had ever seen. Their melodies had been replaced by mournful groans, their intricate dance routines by a lurching, hungry stumble. The player's mission was not to destroy, but to save. Armed only with a "Cure-Light" synthesizer, they would have to dart through backstage corridors and concert halls, dodging the beseeching grasps of their former idols. The goal was to get close enough to administer the cure without getting bitten and succumbing to the feverish fanaticism of the horde. In order to fully cure the idol, the players needed to identify their songs looking at the distorted dance moves of the Zombies, the more time you take to identify the dance, the closer your idols will come. Once the song is identified, players need to click on the correct song name from the given four options on the screen. Whatever song is played will play through the cure light synthesizer. If the song is correct, the idols will slowly turn back to normal. The players need to save as many idols as possible in one go. One can team up with another player.
But Ji Woo, remembering the ruthless calculations of the market, wanted to build the game with a cruel and beautiful twist. Not all idols will be created equal. Saving a rookie idol might be simple, but the points will be meager. The real challenge—and the real glory—lay in saving the biggest superstars. Their zombie forms will be faster, their routines more complex, and their entourages more protective. The risk of a "bite" will exponentially higher, but the gain will be a massive, leaderboard-topping point bonus. It will be a test of nerve, skill, and strategy. Players cannot just play it safe; they have to be brave.
"...and that's how the winner will get their reward, a reward that keep all the Kpop fans hooked on to the game," Ji Woo concluded.
A moment of stunned silence passed before Colin finally whispered, "That's brilliant."
Then, as if a spell broke, the whole team clamored at once:
"Wait—what's the reward?!"
"Yeah, what do we win?"
Ji Woo continued...."For the player who will climb to the top of the global rankings? The reward will be something no amount of in-game currency can buy. The winner will receive a golden ticket—a real, physical ticket to the next concert of a randomly selected, miraculously cured top-tier idol."
The room, which had been buzzing with the energy of charts and rankings, fell into a stunned silence. Then, it erupted with the sound of clapping.
Colin, the lead programmer and a self-proclaimed music nerd, slammed his hands on the table, his chair screeching as he shot to his feet. "A real concert? Of a cured idol? Ji Woo sunbae, you're a genius! The marketing alone—it's not a prize, it's a global event!"
So Hee, clasped her hands under her chin, her eyes wide with a fan's dreamy fervor. "Imagine... the winner wouldn't just be a top player. They'd become a legend in the fandom. A real-life connection to the game's story!"
Dong Geun jumped in joy... "The engagement... the long-term player retention to climb the ranks... the press coverage. This isn't a reward. This is the ultimate meta-game. I will have fun marketing this"
The team's response wasn't just one of excitement; it was a chorus of overlapping realizations, seeing the sheer, disruptive brilliance of the idea. It was more than a game. It was a bridge between the digital world and the palpable, electrifying magic of a real-life K-Pop concert. The response was a unified, electrified roar of approval, already seeing the headline: "Virtual Savior Wins Real-World Dream."
It will be a prize that blurred the line between the digital and the real, a perfect catalyst for the kpop frenzy he knew would propel his game to the top of the charts. Ji Woo's company had already become famous. His last game is famous even among Kpop idols. It will be a cakewalk to make deals with Kpop idols' agencies to let the idols play their avatars and lend their voices in the game. This way even the idols can promote their songs.
As a final touch to their celebration, Ji Woo personally treated the entire company to a thank you dinner.