[The characters, places, organizations, events, and so on appearing in this work have no connection whatsoever to reality and are purely fictional creations of the author’s imagination.]
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“I was secretly worried you might act recklessly, as you did during the meeting, Henry. But contrary to my expectations, you handled it flawlessly. With this level of dignity, there is no need to worry at all about your upcoming debut in society. To be honest, I had even wondered whether I should prepare a script for your conversations in advance.”
Bart, who had silently watched from behind throughout Henry’s meeting with Reagan, praised him as though newly moved. Henry, however, seemed embarrassed by that warm gaze and answered with a shrug.
“Bart, this was a very exceptional case. If I really have to attend a social event, please do write me a script. I truly have no talent for those sorts of occasions.”
Bart smiled benevolently at Henry’s answer, which was half modesty, half exaggeration. Henry was merely declining because he felt awkward receiving praise, but in Bart’s eyes, Henry already had the bearing of a great man carrying the dignity of the family on his shoulders.
‘I have no idea what he thinks I did so well. All I did was butter up someone we were going to have to support anyway. I didn’t even have anything in particular to say, so I just listened. Did that really look so impressive?’
Henry alone was unaware that his composure and silence had been interpreted by Bart as “the discernment of a great man who controls the atmosphere,” and by Reagan as “a weighty authority that pressures the other party.”
“Since we’ve expressed our support, I suppose we’ll have to show it through action. Can we interfere with the editing of [The Time]?”
“Of course. On the surface, management and editorial are separate, but as long as the content isn’t absurd, there will be no problem running it. And if it concerns Governor Reagan, a much-talked-about Republican presidential hopeful these days, then we have even more justification. You need not concern yourself with this matter. I will handle it.”
Henry had been debating whether to run it first in the weekly magazine, or whether or would be better, but when Bart volunteered to take the lead, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly at the thought that a troublesome task had disappeared.
“As expected, there’s no one but you, Bart. Please choose the magazine where the governor can stand out the most. Make it so that, even without saying it outright, he can read between the lines of the article just how special we consider him. I’m planning to go all in on that man this time.”
The moment Bart heard Henry’s final words, he felt a pleasant thrill run down his spine.
Rather than making the poor move of breaking the family’s principle of neutrality with an outright declaration of support, he would move the other party through the nuance of a magazine and the direction of its editing—a high-level political maneuver. It was far more intelligent and refined than simply handing over money as sponsorship; it was, in every sense, “the way the head of House Devenzer spoke”! Compared to the previous family head, who had simply taken his hands off entirely, this method of preserving the family tradition while securing practical benefits was truly the optimal move.
However, taking only one side because of youthful hot-bloodedness was an extremely dangerous thing. Bart considered offering advice, but when he saw Henry’s firm eyes and expression, he swallowed the words. Henry in such a state was not someone who would listen, no matter what advice was given. Even if this gamble failed, there would be little to lose, so Bart silently prayed that failure would become an experience for growth, and success would bring profit, then continued his praise.
“It seems you truly will have no need for anything like a society script. To be mindful even of the family tradition while naturally connecting it to profit… It is truly admirable.”
With the expression of an ascetic who had attained some tremendous enlightenment, Bart silently left the study. Until the moment the door closed, his face was still suffused with emotion, as though thinking, “To think Henry has grown so splendidly.”
Left alone, Henry stared blankly at the door Bart had left through, then scratched the back of his head.
‘…No, I was just saying we should write some nice articles so the governor feels good. Why is he so moved? It’s burdensome.’
Bart’s excessive loyalty made the back of his neck tighten, but in any case, satisfied that the annoying task of media control had been resolved as if through an express lane, Henry sank deep into the sofa.
‘[The Time] too, and the magazine company… I should have written down a few ideas that come to mind here and there. Let’s see.’
Rummaging through a drawer, Henry skimmed through his secret notebook written in his encrypted Hangul.
‘Let’s skip the cable broadcasting station for now. I’ll acquire that later under my own name. More importantly, the ranking of the world’s richest people. I have my own magazine, so there’s no need to hand over such a jackpot item to some other magazine. And the acquisition opportunity is coming up soon too, so I should tell them to keep an eye on that. Besides that, I actually wrote down quite a lot, didn’t I? Ah, while I’m at it, I should gather everyone together at once.’
Henry finally emptied the filled glass of brandy. The sharp warmth of alcohol spread pleasantly through him. With languid steps, he headed toward the bathroom to wash up and sleep.
.
.
.
[The Time] headquarters. As soon as he entered the CEO’s office, Henry looked at the three men who sprang to their feet and, with an amiable smile, extended his hand to each of them for a handshake.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Henry Devenzer.”
“Welcome to [The Time], Mr. Devenzer. I’m Andrew Harkel, currently serving as acting CEO.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m James Shapley, the president.”
“I’m Henry Grunwald, newly appointed as editor-in-chief. It’s a pleasure, Mr. Devenzer.”
Guided to the empty seat of honor, Henry sat down and gestured for the three men to sit as well. Then he studied them intently. Perhaps because they were figures he had only encountered through names and photographs in countless novels and videos about the media industry in his previous life, he felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity and unfamiliar tension at the same time.
Although quite some time had passed since he had inherited the family, this was Henry’s first time personally visiting [The Time] headquarters. Ironically, the reason he had stayed away all this time was because of the existence of these three men.
‘They’re all men who know what they’re doing. Overall, they’ve had successful careers. Of course, later on, some incredibly disastrous acquisitions will blow up too, but I can just watch from the side with hawk eyes and cut them off when they happen.’
Andrew Harkel was the person who had successfully diversified [The Time]’s business and aggressively expanded into cable TV, while President James Shapley was also a man of action who had led that aggressive course. In addition, editor-in-chief Henry Grunwald was evaluated as a man of taste who had transformed the magazine’s rough style into something modern and sophisticated.
In other words, they were talents. As long as Henry held the reins properly so they did not put their hands on businesses destined to fail, there were no workers more reliable than them for growing [The Time].
“The reason I visited today is partly to inspect things, since I have only recently inherited the family, but more than that, I wanted to speak frankly with all of you about the future of [The Time]. First, I want to make one thing clear: unlike my mother, I have no intention of stepping directly onto the front lines of management.”
Henry looked straight into the eyes of Andrew Harkel, who sat to his right, and continued.
“I reviewed [The Time]’s second-quarter report. Even amid the confusion caused by the former CEO’s misfortune, COO Andrew Harkel did an excellent job holding the center. The management results from the past month, during which you served as acting CEO, were also impressive. So I would now like to remove that ‘acting’ label from you. The final decision belongs to the board of directors, of course, but I want you to know that my opinion as the largest shareholder is firmly in support of you, Mr. Harkel.”
Surprise appeared in Harkel’s eyes at this unexpected and exceptional vote of confidence. Henry looked at President James Shapley, seated beside him, and showed an even friendlier smile.
“President James Shapley. Before coming here, I looked over documents summarizing matters related to [The Time], and it seems you received quite a number of rejections from my mother. From the purchase of a paper company to the recent newspaper matter. Haha. Even so, I view the cable expansion, cable TV, and the expansion of very positively. Setting aside respect for my late mother, even by objective judgment, the current direction is correct. I also think the proposed expansion into the paper industry or newspapers does not match [The Time]’s current direction.”
This body’s biological mother had certainly possessed a sense close to max level when it came to media management. She had avoided doomed acquisitions as though by instinct and had expanded the board to make bold moves into successful cable and satellite broadcasting. Thanks to that, [The Time] boasted far better performance and market capitalization than it had in his previous life.
“However, Mr. Shapley, the ‘vertical integration of the logistics system’ proposal written in your report at the time is the one point that aligns with my own thinking. No, by my standards, it actually felt too cautious.”
Henry looked between Harkel and Shapley as he continued.
“The reason I opposed purchasing a paper company is that there is no need for us to become manufacturers who cut down trees and produce paper ourselves. That is nothing but a low-profit smokestack industry. It is enough to secure long-term contracts for as much as we need. Expansion into newspapers also lacked competitiveness. But distribution is different in nature.”
Henry stared straight into Shapley’s eyes and drove the point home.
“What I focused on was the ‘efficiency of the logistics system’ that you advocated, Mr. Shapley. I’m not saying we should buy a trucking company simply to deliver our own magazines. If oil becomes scarcer and more expensive than it is now, every small and midsized magazine and newspaper will go bankrupt because they cannot bear the delivery fees. If, at that time, we hold a monopoly over the national logistics network, what do you think will happen?”
Shapley’s eyes widened.
“Our competitors will kneel before us and beg, ‘Please deliver our magazines.’ We will sit back and collect tolls, and if there is a competing publication we don’t like… say, those fellows at [Newhous], we could push their delivery priority to the back and let them wither away. Logistics is not merely a cost. It is the lifeline of the media industry. On top of that, doesn’t it look as though even the laws that have been preventing the free expansion of logistics are about to change?”
‘After hearing about it from Joshua and looking into it, [Newhous] turned out to be a rival magazine family. I heard they’re fairly big too, so it would be good to trample the sprout completely on this occasion.’
Henry delivered the final blow to Harkel and Shapley.
“Do not leave the more than six hundred million dollars in cash currently piled up at [The Time] to rot in the vault. Before inflation strikes, convert it into tangible assets. Seize control of delivery networks across the United States, and at the same time, prepare to expand logistics into future ‘home delivery services’ by utilizing that infrastructure. The moment the law changes, execute this swiftly and continue expanding. That is the true meaning of aggressive expansion as I see it.”
The second oil shock was already ongoing. Oil prices, now temporarily in a lull, would soon skyrocket again amid the flames of the Middle East. Then the USPC delivery fees, the lifeline of magazine companies, would soar through the roof, and a logistics paralysis was certain to come. Recalling this episode, which he had seen at least twice in novels, Henry decided that now was the time to release the company’s ample reserves.
‘We’ll get there first before future companies like [FedEx] are born. Besides, thanks to the Okcheon HUB from my previous life, I know how future logistics systems operate. In the early days, once something entered that place, it would be trapped without anyone knowing why—how many times did I experience that terrifying Okcheon Bermuda?’
And then, there was the last remaining person. Looking at Henry Grunwald, who had been listening attentively to the entire conversation from the left, Henry opened his mouth again.