Sony Group—
A global giant dominating the fields of electronics, gaming, and entertainment.
The head of marketing for its Korean branch, Sony Korea, was Director Kim Yong-woo.
Within the Sony Group, Sony Korea's standing was… modest at best. The reason was simple: Korea's contribution to Sony's global revenue was negligible.
Sony's flagship electronics had no room to breathe in a domestic market completely dominated by Korean conglomerates. As for gaming, console titles barely registered any presence in a country ruled by PC online games and mobile games. Japanese music and films were even less competitive.
Given the circumstances, Sony Korea's influence was inevitably limited—and so was Director Kim Yong-woo's personal presence within the group.
Once, he had dreamed of becoming a "successful otaku," a Korean who would stand at the core of the Sony Group itself. That dream had long since faded.
Now, Kim Yong-woo was just another salaried worker among many.
That day, like every other, he spent the entire morning mechanically整理ing reports.
Only when lunchtime approached did he notice an AlumLinkX notification blinking in the corner of his screen.
<[AlumLinkX] '09 Business Administration – Kang Suhyeok>
"…'09 Business Administration… Kang Suhyeok?"
The unfamiliar name sent him rifling through old memories.
"…Kang Suhyeok?!"
He suddenly recalled a slightly eccentric junior from his university days—back when they were dream-filled college students.
They hadn't interacted much, but the guy had left a strong impression.
Not merely "smart," but someone with an unsettling level of insight. That was how Kim Yong-woo remembered Kang Suhyeok, based on several memorable episodes.
"He even swept investors at the campus startup fair back then."
Some people claimed it was just his looks—but if looks alone could secure investment, no one would ever struggle.
Appearance might draw initial interest, but what ultimately convinced investors was always the idea itself.
"I heard he joined some ordinary company."
Talented people always seemed different. Just as other unusual people chose unconventional paths, Kim Yong-woo had assumed Kang Suhyeok would do the same.
But according to what he knew, Kang Suhyeok had chosen the safe route—becoming an ordinary office worker. People said it was due to family circumstances.
So why would someone with barely any connection suddenly message him?
While chewing on an unappetizing lunch, Kim Yong-woo opened the message.
"…Hmm. Huh? …What?"
This isn't insurance or a pyramid scheme, right?
He read on cautiously—but what he found was even more absurd.
A newly developed AI technology that could increase advertising efficiency by tens of percent—or even several times over.
"If it's really that amazing, why send it to me? People should be lining up."
For a moment, he'd been intrigued—but the exaggeration killed any interest. If only it had been toned down slightly, he might've considered it.
Kim Yong-woo wasn't naïve enough to fall for such claims. After all, he was a marketing director at Sony.
"So Kang Suhyeok became just another salesman…"
A man once called a genius at twenty becoming an ordinary office worker twenty years later wasn't unusual in Korea.
Kim Yong-woo himself was proof of that.
"…Unless these numbers are real."
But if they were real, there was no reason they'd reach someone like him. He was the very definition of an average salaried worker.
Just as he was about to turn off his phone—
It rang.
Park Seong-hoon.
A college classmate and the leader of Rakutech's Data Science Team.
Like Kim Yong-woo, he'd joined a Japanese company in his youth—an otaku comrade.
Now, he too was aging into an ordinary office worker. They barely contacted each other anymore.
So why now?
"Hello?"
"Moshi moshi? Kimu Yon-woo-san?"
A joking Japanese greeting. Unlike Kim, Park Seong-hoon hadn't changed much.
"What's this? Why are you calling?"
"Why not? Just thought of you. What are you up to?"
"Eating lunch."
"Anything interesting going on?"
"Not really. Why?"
"Nothing. Just wondering if anything fun was happening."
After years of silence, this was the reason he called?
Typical of him.
They used to talk about grand dreams. Who would've thought they'd both end up as boring salarymen?
That's when something clicked in Kim Yong-woo's mind.
"…Come to think of it, I got a message from Kang Suhyeok."
"Huh? Who?"
Park Seong-hoon sounded genuinely unfamiliar with the name—which felt odd.
"'09 Kang Suhyeok. You know—the tall, stoic guy."
"Ohhh. That Kang Suhyeok."
He finally remembered.
"Right. I got it too. Something called IntelliOn, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. IntelliOn."
"Some weird AI marketing thing. You saw it too?"
"I did."
"So? What do you think?"
Kim sensed something probing in Park's tone.
"What do I think? It's nonsense. AI hype comes and goes every day."
"Haha. Yeah, figured."
Park sounded relieved.
There's something here.
That wasn't just imagination.
"Well, I should get back to work. Let's talk again sometime."
Park hung up quickly, as if his business was done.
…But was it really pointless?
Kim Yong-woo reopened Kang Suhyeok's one-pager.
The final paragraph read:
'POCs will be limited to five companies. Selected companies will be contacted separately.'
Only five companies would be allowed into the verification stage.
Which meant others could become competitors.
"…Wait. Don't tell me—"
A hunch struck him.
Immediately, Kim Yong-woo sent out a group message on the company messenger.
A meeting for all team leaders after lunch.
The next two weeks were insane.
He thought once the materials were sent out, everything would fall to the tech team.
He was wrong.
Even after entering the POC phase, he was swamped—often for reasons completely unrelated to the actual work.
"Why were all Korean companies excluded? That's reverse discrimination!"
"Senior, I already explained—we're not just selling technology."
Yet another call from a vague college senior.
The reason? Their company wasn't selected for POC.
"Do you really think LC can handle IntelliOn? They'll just steal the tech and run."
"That's my line."
Calls like this—despite not even receiving the materials—were exhausting.
He had sent the first distribution to Google, Meta, Amazon, and 37 other companies—all with active AI R&D and investment.
There were no Korean companies.
He'd planned a second domestic round if the first failed—but that was unnecessary. Foreign companies showed overwhelming interest.
"Senior, I have a meeting now. I'll hang up."
"Hey, Suhyeok! Suhyeok!"
"Yes, take care."
He finally exhaled.
Busy as hell already—he didn't need this energy drain.
"Hwang Manager. Any word from Meta?"
"Not yet. Still under internal review."
"…Figures."
Amazon had already dropped out. Meta was on hold. Only Google showed strong interest.
Was this going to be Google's solo victory?
He'd expected Meta to be the most aggressive.
"Director. Sony is requesting a full POC."
"Sony… Hwang Manager, what's the tech team's schedule?"
"They say even killing them wouldn't free up time within a week."
"Right. Yoo Assistant Manager, tell Sony two weeks at the earliest."
The tech team was running 24/7 shifts—Asia during the day, Europe and the US at night.
"Better than no response at all."
The earlier doubts now felt ridiculous.
—Bzzz.
Another call.
Please let it be something worthwhile.
"…Soyeon?"
The caller was Park Soyeon.
Lately she'd been hard to reach—but honestly, her call felt like a relief.
Until she spoke.
"Suhyeok oppa! Did you… win the lottery?!"
"I know everyone's busy, but sit down for a moment."
An impromptu office meeting.
Yoo Eunha and Hwang Juyeon looked straight at him.
"This is sudden, but… I won the lottery recently. About 1.5 billion won."
"Oh!"
"The IntelliOn investment?"
"Yeah. The investment, this office—everything came from that money."
They weren't shocked.
It was more like, 'Ah, that explains it.'
"I hope you're not upset I didn't tell you earlier. I didn't even tell my parents. I didn't want weird things happening."
"Then why tell us now?"
"That's the problem."
He played a video.
The one Soyeon had sent him.
A YouTube clip of him at the bank collecting his winnings.
"YouTube? Oh—this voice!"
"That's you, Director!"
His face was blurred, but the voice was unmistakable.
And the mosaic was sloppy enough that anyone who knew him could guess.
"This video is trending online."
"So you're famous now?"
"Should we get your autograph?"
"That's not it."
The video had been split into countless Shorts—hundreds of thousands of views.
Who is the Mosaic Lottery Guy?
Tall (probably), handsome (probably), lottery winner (probably), who calmly educates a rude TikToker.
Who is this amazing man?!
"…Are you bragging?"
"No. I got a casting offer."
Normally, he'd ignore something like that.
But now was different.
"I vowed to raise IntelliOn's value—by any means necessary."
He looked at them.
"Would appearing on a 1-million-subscriber YouTube channel help our sales?"
Both of them stared at him, eyes wide.