"So, why did you bring this to me?" Leona asked, and Gilbert carefully opened his mouth to answer.
"The young master has been keeping a close eye on both Ji-hoon Park and the concept of the select shop. He's been… stimulated by them, taking turns, you might say."
'Stimulated' was a very mild way to put it. To be honest, even saying he 'caused all sorts of trouble' would be an understatement.
"But if those two elements overlap as one, I have no idea how he might react."
"So, you're doubting my child's self-control?"
"Th-that's not exactly what I meant…"
Hearing his response, Leona lifted the corners of her mouth in a faint smile.
"I think a simple apology might be more appropriate here."
"My apologies."
Leona opened the magazine again, glancing over it.
"A select shop, huh."
"…"
"A select shop is just a downsized department store, isn't it? Don't you think?"
Apparently, it wasn't a question that required an answer, as she continued speaking right away.
"You called it a shop-in-shop, right?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Make sure it doesn't expand beyond that."
"Pardon?"
"Make it so that even if they want to grow, they can't enter any better locations. Set things up in advance."
"Understood."
"One more thing."
She opened the magazine and pointed at a particular outfit.
"Find the designer who made this and send them to my child."
The term "find" was used lightly. She had used it the same way with Carl, if memory served.
"They seem talented enough. Wouldn't they be tired of just renting space in someone else's store? No matter how well they do there, they're likely to end up in a closed-down factory. And we'll make sure of that, won't we?"
"But if they're contracted with Ji-hoon Park…"
"Tell them we'll hand over an entire luxury boutique on the first floor. That would shake anyone, wouldn't it? We'll cover the penalty fees, and offer them double their current salary."
"…"
"What? Even with this much on the table, you can't bring them over?"
The reason for his delayed response was clear: the similarity in tone between mother and son was uncanny.
"N-no, ma'am. I will secure them without fail."
After bowing deeply, Gilbert left Leona's office.
***
Meanwhile, Tennessee and I left the lecture hall.
The first period was about to start, but neither of us cared.
Step, step.
Was it a promise to keep the secret?
After checking that no one was around, Tennessee asked carefully.
"It's yours, isn't it?"
"…"
"From the magazine to the shop, it's all yours, isn't it?"
Instead of answering, I asked why he thought so.
Then, Tennessee took out a "Dragon Quest" card from his school uniform's inner pocket.
"I was curious why an unreleased sample would be in an editorial shop. So I did a little digging."
"And?"
"The game company that made the card has two owners. They're brothers and have Korean nationality."
For someone like the Grosvenor family, acquiring that level of information would be easy.
I calmly waited for his next words.
"Do you remember when we ran into each other in front of Sir Lewis's store?"
Nod, nod.
"You were wearing clothes that were featured in the magazine then. Naturally, you should've been the first customer, but the magazine certified me as the first one, didn't it?"
Oh.
Sharper than I thought.
"The owner of a game company frequents an editorial shop. Not only that, but he wears clothes that aren't even for sale yet and leaves behind a new card sample… Am I barking up the wrong tree?"
Once again, I stayed silent and simply stared at him.
He couldn't have come just to boast about his deduction skills.
And it was even less likely that he was here to blackmail me with a secret reveal.
'So why did he bring it up?'
Just then, he said something I completely didn't expect.
"Want to go into business together?"
Huh?
"Why? Can't I invest?"
Well, it's not that you can't.
"It's just… unexpected."
I asked slowly, hoping to gather my thoughts.
"So, you're really interested in fashion?"
"No, not fashion."
"…?"
"I want to invest in the game."
Whoa!
"You said you hated games."
Up until now, Tennessee had acted as sharp as a knife.
But just this once, he looked a bit awkward.
"It's not because I particularly like games."
Is it now? Heh.
"As you know, the Grosvenor family has always valued territory… (omitted) … but in the new era, territory can't just be land… (omitted) … investing in cultural content with the spirit of exploring a new world is a fitting move for a noble family… (omitted)…"
He sure was being verbose for something he didn't mean from the heart.
Still, I gave him a slight nod in agreement to match the mood.
"So, you want to invest in the game?"
When he nodded, his golden hair swayed gracefully.
"I appreciate the offer, but I don't really need investment at this point."
"…?"
"If it's about money, I have enough myself."
This wasn't about raising my worth.
With the business already on track, why would I need more investment?
Maybe he guessed my situation somewhat.
Tennessee let out a sigh.
The fact that he was lingering even though his business here was done was probably a sign of lingering regret.
I looked at him intently and asked.
"Do you really think games are a new kind of territory?"
"Of course."
"And you're willing to plant your flag on that land?"
"Naturally."
"Well, there is something I need more than money."
At my words, a glimmer of light appeared in his eyes.
***
Time was on my side.
With each passing day, the students' reaction to
"I spent the whole weekend on Regent Street and checked out the photographers a few times. It seems the journalist picks people they notice on their way home. The usual time appears to be between 7 and 8 p.m. From what I saw, they seem to approach people with distinct styles more than just well-dressed ones. If you want to get photographed, I recommend hanging around Regent, Piccadilly, and Shaftesbury Avenue. The camera they use is a Leica with a green leather strap, so just approach if you see it."
Thanks to this post, as soon as the clock hit seven on weekends, students poured into famous streets. They'd dress up, wandering around without much purpose, looking for the Leica with the green strap. Some even managed to catch the photographer's eye and became models. On such days, without fail, posts would pop up on the bulletin board.
As more posts appeared, the number of students waiting on the streets naturally increased.
But that wasn't the only change.
After dropping a major hint about the store's location in the latest issue of the magazine, everyone discovered where
"Only 30 pieces? Are you serious? Are you even trying to sell things or not?"
Thanks to this, we had to increase production fivefold. That was enough to cover the entire student body.
But!
As time passed, general consumers started flocking, too. Demand surged, but there was no stock… The severe imbalance between supply and demand led to yet another uproar on the bulletin board.
<444444>
This frenzy even spilled over into the investment board.
<30 Days of Practical Investing (To Keep My Wild Spirit, by Julian Burnett)>
As rumors spread, the store's entrance became packed. Some even camped out just to buy a single piece of clothing. Intrigued by the spectacle, local newspapers and even major media outlets sent reporters.
By that point, even the trend-resistant older generation began to react.
"What is it, exactly?"
"What's causing all the commotion?"
As a result, we became famous for being famous.
***
Late at night.
Faber returned home, dragging his weary body as usual.
The mission to create a new design every week.
At first, it was exciting, but now it's starting to feel a bit exhausting.
'Have I run out of materials?'
"As if."
Faber's ideas were like an endless spring. No matter how much he increased the workload, it wasn't the quantity that was tiring him out.
Rather…
"…."
The overwhelming response was the problem.
Now that people were thrilled even with the smallest things, the pressure had gradually grown. What if he disappointed them? What if people said he wasn't as good as before?
The heavier his shoulders felt, the more time he spent staring blankly in front of his desk.
Lost in these thoughts, he stepped into the hotel.
"Mr. Faber."
A staff member, recognizing him, took a document envelope from a drawer and handed it to him.
"I was asked to give this to you."
"Who asked?"
"They said you'd know once you looked…"
"Are you sure this was meant for me?"
The staff member carefully confirmed, speaking clearly.
"It's addressed to Mr. James Faber, from New York."
Back in his room, he took a shower first.
Then, he poured himself a large cup of whiskey.
Lately, he couldn't sleep without alcohol.
Gulp, gulp.
He emptied the large glass in one go, without even adding water.
The view of London's night streets from the window.
Out there, there were probably quite a few people wearing clothes he'd made.
Somehow, he'd been loved so far.
"Hmm."
Just as Faber grimaced and got up, he noticed the document envelope he had tossed onto the bed.
The first piece of mail he'd received while staying at the hotel.
Faber read the words written on the envelope.
"Clifford Brookhouse?"
'Isn't that… a law firm?'
Sure, there were some credit card payments he'd delayed back when he was living in New York.
But he'd paid those off as soon as he earned some money.
Curious, he opened the envelope and found a thin file inside.
There were a few documents within.
A headhunter offer, of sorts.
It was a kind of job proposal: Gucci's store on the first floor of the Harris Luxury Center was going to be removed due to low sales, and they wanted James Faber to take that spot.
At first, he thought it was a joke.
Just because he'd been in the media spotlight lately, all kinds of impersonators were appearing everywhere.
The first floor of a luxury center, replacing Gucci, no less.
"Is that even possible?"
Feeling a bit tipsy, he was about to put it away and go to bed.
But then he spotted the business card inside the documents, which immediately snapped him to attention.
To his surprise, the card was intricately crafted in gold.
TL/n -
You can read the complete novel at (up to Ch500)
ko-fi.com/inkbound/shop