Black Label [EN]: Chapter 154

154. Preparing for New Glory (2)

Jaeseung sat in the back of a Rolls-Royce sedan parked in front of Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, dressed more casually than usual.

Why, though?

He held a recently published fashion magazine, but wasn’t really reading it. He’d glance at it, then constantly peek out the window.

Finally, the middle-aged driver, watching Jaeseung’s face in the rearview mirror, cautiously asked, “The guest arriving today is the close friend you mentioned, Mr. Lee, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s been too long,” Jaeseung replied gently, prompting a faint smile from the driver.

The driver had been observing Jaeseung closely for weeks and felt he knew him well. In his opinion, the young designer, ‘Lee,’ seemed unusually cool-headed and calm for his age.

Even when facing important business deals daily, he showed no nervousness, often securing favorable conditions with a gentle tone.

‘There must be a reason he’s achieved such success so young…’

The driver respected him, regardless of age, but also felt a pang of sympathy. Jaeseung usually wore a thick, solid mask while navigating the business world, but now, unable to hide his excitement before meeting his friend, he was reminded of Jaeseung’s youth.

No matter how grand the public’s descriptions – ‘God-given genius designer’ or ‘innovator who opened a new paradigm in fashion’ – he couldn’t forget that Jaeseung was about the same age as his college freshman son.

“You must be very happy. The anticipation before seeing an old friend is always exciting. I feel the same way. Whenever I’m meeting friends I’ve drifted from due to work and family, I feel strangely uplifted.”

“Yes, it feels like years since we’ve had a proper meeting. We’ve both been so busy that even when we managed to meet, it was only for an hour or two.”

“Come to think of it, you mentioned your friend is also an artist?”

Jaeseung smiled brightly. “I think I mentioned it in passing, but you remembered. Yes, he’s a fairly well-known hip-hop musician in Korea.”

“Well, it’s natural for designers and musicians to be friends. They sometimes collaborate, and often get involved in each other’s fields…”

“I agree, but he’s my high school classmate. We were inseparable, and we decided on our career paths around the same time. Now, we’re slowly moving forward together.”

When the driver said, “Wow, that’s a great story,” Jaeseung smiled and looked back out the window.

From the news he’d heard, it seemed he wasn’t the only one moving forward. Yeongguk’s first album’s title song had charted in the UK and on domestic music platforms. The tour concert with the MMG [Money Making Gang] crew artists had boasted tremendous ticket sales and set records.

Yeongguk’s visit to France was to celebrate the tour’s success.

He’d been given a short break and wanted to meet if the time was right.

With his first full-length album, he’d become a ‘sudden star’ with a large fan base.

The dream they shared seemed to be gradually becoming reality.

Lost in thought, Jaeseung stared blankly at the airport entrance. Soon, a sturdy-looking young Asian man stepped out.

It was Yeongguk.

Jaeseung immediately jumped out of the car, shouting loudly, “Yeongguk!”

Yeongguk, spotting Jaeseung, took off his sunglasses and smiled brightly.

The two men hugged, then began exchanging casual conversation, skipping the trivial greetings.

Jaeseung patted Yeongguk’s chest, joking, “How come you seem to get bigger every time I see you?”

“Really? How do I look?”

“No, it’s disgusting. Your face seems to age every time I see you. What if you’re aging two or three years every year?”

Yeongguk frowned slightly. “What, man? Did you have to hit me with a critical strike as soon as we meet?”

Yeongguk was one of the few who saw the real ‘Lee Jaeseung,’ not the designer ‘Lee’ who had to maintain composure and make cool-headed decisions, right?

Even exchanging a few simple words brought a comfort Jaeseung hadn’t felt lately.

Jaeseung smiled and gestured to the car. “Let’s talk while we drive.”

* * *

“Wow, damn…” Yeongguk exclaimed, getting into the Rolls-Royce. He couldn’t hide his surprise even after arriving at the hotel.

The hotel, where Yeongguk would be staying, was a 5-star hotel in Paris.

Every room was furnished with luxury furniture at unimaginable prices, and works by famous artists were displayed throughout the hallways.

The cost of one night’s stay was several million Korean won [thousands of US dollars].

As a facility exclusively for upper-class customers, they spared no expense to furnish it with items that would appeal to their tastes.

Yeongguk, taking out his clothes, looked around the room and cautiously said, “Hey, Jaeseung, this room must cost a fortune. I’m actually a little *b 부담스럽네* [burdened/uncomfortable].”

“Yeah, right. I don’t know exactly, but I think it costs about two million won [about $1,500 USD] per night?”

Yeongguk was startled. “What? Really?” Jaeseung nodded.

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. Just relax. The LVMH Group [Louis Vuitton Moët Hennessy, a French luxury conglomerate] provided the room anyway.”

“What? They’re supporting not only your room, but mine too?”

“Yeah. I just mentioned a close friend was coming, and they booked it right away. Anyway, the room looks clean and nice.”

“Is this just clean and nice? It’s totally awesome…”

“I’m glad you like it. Unpack slowly and come down to the hotel bar. I’ll wait for you there.”

Yeongguk replied, “Okay, I got it,” and Jaeseung left.

Alone in the room, Yeongguk sighed. He suddenly felt Jaeseung was living in a completely different world.

‘I thought I had caught up a little bit…’

Yeongguk smiled faintly and began unpacking again, humming. The passion, slightly dulled by fatigue, seemed to burn brightly again.

Though there might be a gap now, he’d catch up someday. It wasn’t out of inferiority or competition. He didn’t want to surpass Jaeseung.

He just wanted to laugh together as equals.

Yeongguk’s humming echoed softly in the spacious room.

* * *

The lightly touching wine glasses made a pleasant sound.

The hotel bar was deserted, and Jaeseung and Yeongguk exchanged news comfortably.

They talked about the performances, the hardships of preparing the album.

Perhaps because it was a story from a completely unfamiliar industry, Jaeseung listened intently.

As the long conversation slowly ended, Jaeseung took a bite of smoked ham, chewed it carefully, and asked, “Yeongguk, what’s your next goal?”

“When I release my next album, I want to hit number one on the charts.”

“Number one?”

“Yeah. This time, it went up to 19th, then disappeared.”

Yeongguk scratched his head awkwardly, speaking seriously. “I want to prepare harder for the next album and get good results. I wouldn’t have dreamed of it before, but these days, hip-hop sometimes reaches number one…”

“Instead of the domestic charts, wouldn’t it be better to target overseas markets? The United States has a much bigger market.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but I don’t think I have the basic skills yet. I’ll have to do it slowly.”

Jaeseung crossed his arms, thinking. He reviewed the overseas hip-hop artists he’d met through his work, one by one.

He thought that simply introducing them might be a turning point for Yeongguk.

Yeongguk tilted his head. “What about you, Jaeseung?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. What’s your next goal?”

Jaeseung, staring at his wine glass, looked up. “My next goal?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s simple. I mean…”

* * *

“Next year. In other words, I will make our brand a premium brand by 2015.”

Director Song’s words made the middle-aged man across from him scoff. “I don’t know where you’re from, but if premium brands could be made with words, everyone would do it. I’ll think about the offer and contact you.”

The man’s name was Jin Youngil. He was a rival in the imitation industry before Jaeseung’s regression [time travel/reincarnation].

Unlike Jaeseung, he’d worked with the wrong client, making little money and being treated like a ‘slave.’

Director Song, unaware of this, was puzzled by Jaeseung’s insistence on recruiting Jin Youngil.

“Sir, you’ll really regret missing this opportunity.”

Jin Youngil frowned. “Yes, I understand. I’m busy today, so please leave…”

As Jin Youngil spoke, Director Song took a breath and interrupted. “Sir, you have debts, right?”

“What? What is this person doing…!”

Jin Youngil jumped up from the tattered leather sofa, shouting. Director Song continued calmly.

“You entered the imitation business for the high profits, right? But socially, you’re like a ghost. You need money for your daughter’s hospital bills, but can’t get a loan…”

Director Song paused, smiled faintly, and continued. “You asked the client for accommodation, and now struggle to pay the interest. Is that wrong?”

As soon as Director Song finished, Jin Youngil grabbed his collar. “You bastard, who sent you?”

Director Song coughed, brushed off Jin Youngil’s hand, and said, “You know designer Lee Jaeseung, right? You’d have to be a spy not to know Lee Jaeseung these days.”

“What? Who? Lee Jaeseung? Lee Jaeseung of Diom [a fashion brand]?”

Lee Jaeseung was a rising designer dominating the news, right? Moreover, most of the products he’d been asked to copy recently were designs by Lee Jaeseung.

Director Song replied, “Why Lee Jaeseung of Diom? Lee Jaeseung of Wall Flower,” and continued.

“First, he sent me. If you don’t believe it, I can prove it. How about I connect you to him for a call to gain your trust?”

“No, why would such a person want me…”

Director Song shrugged. “Well, I don’t know either. If the total debt is less than 1 billion Korean won [approximately $750,000 USD], I was instructed to solve it and bring you in.”

“What did you say?”

“He said he was impressed with your company’s imitation products and wants to invite you to our Wall Flower’s atelier.”

As Jin Youngil’s pupils trembled, Director Song dusted off his wrinkled shirt and quietly added, “See? I told you you’d regret it if you refused.”