The Final Boss Has Returned – Chapter 11
“Let me formally introduce myself. I’m Shin Hayeon, a managing director at Jeil E&M.”
Jeil E&M.
If you wrote out the full name, this company bore the lengthy name Jeil Entertainment & Media, and it was a core subsidiary of the Jeil Group, which had risen to 5th place in the business world by branching out from distribution into media.
From performance planning to film and drama production, cable TV channel operations, album releases, and even talent agencies—it was truly a corporate giant, virtually synonymous with dominating the domestic media market.
It was a company that did virtually everything in the domestic media and content sector, monopolizing the entire pie, so I’d naturally assumed they had a foothold in the Ard Saga side as well.
I just hadn’t expected to meet them so soon.
“Why would someone so important go to such trouble to meet me?”
After finishing my question, I speared a piece of finely sliced steak with my fork and brought it to my mouth. The texture and juices of the premium beef, tasted again after nearly six years, were so fantastic that my mood lifted slightly. Watching me, Shin Hayeon smiled.
“Because you are worth it.”
“Ard Saga may truly be a virtual reality indistinguishable from the real thing, but at the end of the day, it’s just a game.”
“The problem is that the ripple effect of that mere game is on par with all major cultural content combined.”
Shin Hayeon elegantly poured fine wine into my glass as she spoke.
“Ard Live is growing continuously. This year, there are even analyses predicting it will surpass MeTube, which was the world’s largest video platform. Ard Saga Second is continuing to grow as well. Whether they play the game or not, countless people are captivated by Ard Saga’s realistic yet unrealistic world, logging in today as always or watching videos on Ard Live.”
Everything she said was information I already knew.
To be precise, Ard Saga, which had boasted two hundred million concurrent users back when I played in the past, had grown to five hundred million concurrent users by the time of Second. The number of Ard Live members was nearing a staggering 1.8 billion, and astonishingly, this figure was still increasing in real time even as we spoke.
It was truly the era of Ard Saga Second.
“Ard Live and Ard Saga Second are the future of content and media, a new paradigm. That is why we, the Jeil Group, will be the first to seize that future.”
So as she said, Ard Saga and Ard Saga Second were more than qualified to be called the future of content and media, a new paradigm.
Shin Hayeon looked me straight in the eye.
“And to seize that future, I need you, Sir Drakan.”
I stared at Shin Hayeon with a blank expression and spoke.
“Why me of all people? There are plenty of high-ranking players crawling all over Ard Saga Second, and if those are the ones you want, there’d be a line out the entrance of the Jeil World Tower of players willing to rip out their own guts for you. Wouldn’t you benefit more from taking one of those energetic ones instead of a washed-up has-been like me?”
No matter how prideful and popular the rankers of Ard Saga were, and no matter how much money they earned these days thanks to Ard Live, they were ultimately gamers. Before true power holders wielding real-world wealth and authority, the rankers of Ard Saga amounted to nothing.
An entity like the Jeil Group possessed the power to sign whatever ranker it desired at any time.
So why me of all people?
Of course, the impact I’d shown had been somewhat extraordinary.
Ranked 6th overall in the tutorial rankings, overwhelming tutorial raid contribution, and Yujin himself had come looking for me, drawn by that very notoriety—my reputation spoke for itself.
But conversely, all I had was that potential.
For now, I was nothing more than a returning player.
“The position I want is not fast follower, but trendsetter. My goal is to swallow the future—Ard Saga, the future of content and media.”
Trendsetter.
A word referring to one who leads the trend.
Hearing this, I more or less guessed her intentions, but silently continued to listen to what she had to say.
“And to do that, we need to bring change to the current system. But the rankers, the people—they do not want change from the current situation. It is all because of the Warrior Yujin.”
“Then why didn’t you go to him, to Yujin?”
“He despises me.”
Before my words even finished, Shin Hayeon’s gaze turned icy.
“When I contacted him long ago, I told him exactly what I told you and proposed a contract.”
An edge of anger crept into Shin Hayeon’s calm voice.
“But he not only coldly refused my proposal, he flew into a rage at me simply for having made the offer.”
Hearing her story, I laughed right there on the spot.
The scene of Yujin’s meeting with Shin Hayeon and the words he had likely spoken rose in my mind as clearly as if drawn there. The user who had clashed with him the most had been me, and I was the one who had grown sick of his sermons. So imagining the sort of things he would have said wasn’t particularly difficult for me.
Recalling the situation, I looked at Shin Hayeon biting her lip in frustration and spoke.
“He must have said something about how big business capital would taint the pure utopia he’s deluding himself into believing belongs only to the players, and told you never to interfere again.”
“As expected of Sir Drakan. Exactly right. That chaebol capital would taint the purity of the Ard World—such a naive, yet... such an arrogant statement only someone who doesn’t know how the world works could make.”
Shin Hayeon was still smiling, but her hand resting on the table trembled, speaking for her emotions.
“The current rankers are mostly idiots conforming to the system. Those fattened pigs, trapped in the cage called the utopia created by the Warrior Yujin and seeking only comfort and stability, are of no use to me whatsoever.”
Fattened pigs.
I laughed at her expression.
Whether I laughed or not, her words continued.
“What I need is someone prepared to stage a rebellion against the world Yujin dominates.”
“And I’m the right person for that?”
It was as I’d suspected.
To dominate the future of Ard Saga—no, the future of the content and media market—she intended to eliminate Yujin, and that was why she wanted me.
As Shin Hayeon said, there was no one who openly opposed Yujin.
Whatever they felt inside, on the outside, everyone conformed to Yujin’s reign.
“You who lost everything because of Yujin, who even boarded a deep-sea fishing boat—if you are not the right person for this task, who could be?”
Shin Hayeon smiled meaningfully.
Hearing her words, a blaze of anger surged in my chest for an instant.
It wasn’t anger at her.
It was anger at Yujin.
A deep-sea fishing boat. Tuna fishing!
Recalling how much I had suffered there—the pain and tearful six years I’d endured to pay off astronomical debts that couldn’t be resolved even by selling all my items—my teeth ground together with a clack.
Yes! She was right.
If not me, who else could be the right person for this rebellion?
“You’re right.”
I clenched my trembling hand into a tight fist.
“Our goal is the same. To eliminate Yujin and end his era.”
Seeing me like that, Shin Hayeon smiled and spoke in an elegant voice.
“Then, will you become my partner?”
Shin Hayeon offered me her wine glass filled with red wine.
And I picked up the glass before me, clinked it against hers in a toast, and answered.
“Okay.”
Shin Hayeon and I—our interests aligned perfectly, and now that it had come to this, there was no reason not to join hands with her.
Unlike him, I knew.
I knew how terrifying real-world wealth and power were, and at the same time, just how formidable a force they could exert if only one could make use of that backing.
If it meant getting revenge on Yujin, I could join hands with a demon from hell without hesitation.
Much less a mere third-generation chaebol—there was no reason for me to hesitate.
“A wise choice.”
Shin Hayeon’s sweet voice rang out.
“Here are the contract terms.”
Soon after, Shin Hayeon carefully placed a brown envelope before me.
It was a contract.
I took it out and checked its contents.
The terms she offered weren’t bad.
The revenue split was 80:20.
I was the 80, and management was the 20.
“It’s a bit more generous than the standard 70:30.”
Shin Hayeon’s voice reached my ear as I checked the contract.
As she said, the standard contract terms for rankers were 70:30.
An 80:20 split was generous indeed.
I continued reading through the contract.
It stated that they would provide full support for video editing, management, and related tasks, and regardless of revenue, they would pay a monthly salary of five million won. In extreme terms, it meant that even if I did nothing but loaf around, I’d receive five million won a month from the company. It was truly a groundbreaking contract.
“I’m curious why you’re going this far.”
“Please take it as a gesture of my sincerity in wanting you this much.”
Shin Hayeon said with a smile.
I carefully set down the contract in my hand and spoke.
“Okay.”
“Thank you for accepting my sincerity.”
Shin Hayeon smiled as if intrigued by my answer, then took out a small box and opened it.
Inside the opened box was a luxuriously designed fountain pen.
“This is a commemorative gift for our contract.”
I picked up the fountain pen, carefully placed inside the box.
The feeling of it fitting snugly in my hand was unfamiliar yet pleasant.
I raised the fountain pen—its gleaming golden nib impressive, a gift from her—signed the contract, then slid the document across to her.
Shin Hayeon, confirming my signature, smiled with satisfaction.
“I look forward to working with you, Sir Drakan.”
“Likewise.”
I looked at Shin Hayeon and smiled.
And so, she and I were now in the same boat.
As an aside, it wasn’t until the day after signing the contract that I learned through an internet search that the fountain pen she had given me was priced at five million won.