Black Label [EN]: Chapter 83

Black Label 82

83. Butterfly Effect

New York City is a place where rush hour can happen at any time.

The same held true now. The unfolding situation was nothing out of the ordinary.

In the heart of world finance, ‘Wall Street.’

The back window of a Cadillac sedan, which had been stationary for some time, slowly began to descend.

Soon, a young man with a familiar face appeared through the partially opened window.

The young man was none other than ‘Alexander King.’

“Good heavens, today is hell itself….”

No matter how world-renowned a designer he was, he couldn’t escape New York’s rush hour, could he?

Frowning deeply, he shook his head a few times before speaking.

“David, what’s the schedule for the rest of the day?”

His personal secretary, ‘David,’ sitting in the driver’s seat, glanced at Alexander through the rearview mirror and said.

“First, there’s a meeting with a buyer from Taiwan, and then a lunch appointment with our company’s VMD [Visual Merchandising Director].”

“Is that all?”

“Well, I wish it were, but unfortunately not. There’s a meeting with the LCC Group, and then….”

His personal secretary David’s explanation continued smoothly.

Alexander simply nodded, his gaze fixed on the laptop neatly placed on his lap.

Every day rushes by.

There are countless people to meet and a mountain of work to do, yet the day only has 24 hours.

Moreover, about a third of that time must be spent ‘eating’ and ‘sleeping,’ right?

Because of that, he sometimes felt a sense of injustice, questioning why people have to eat and sleep.

Anyway, after a brief exchange, the car fell silent again.

The only sound was the classical music playing at a low, unobtrusive volume.

“Hoo-.”

Alexander, taking a long breath, refocused on his work.

On the screen of the Mac on his lap, the ‘Paint Tool’ program was running, and in his hand, he held an expensive tablet pen with excellent performance.

Surprisingly, most of the products from the premium brand ‘Alexander King’ were, in a way, born in the back seat of a Cadillac.

The back seat of a Cadillac sedan is one of the places he spends the most time during the day.

As a result, it became a habit to work while traveling, and now, a strange phenomenon occurred where his efficiency in the back seat of the sedan was better than in the studio.

As Alexander was engrossed in his work, he frowned slightly and reached into his pants pocket.

The smartphone he had placed there suddenly vibrated.

“Hmm?”

Checking the screen, he saw an alert indicating a new email had arrived in the linked account.

Alexander, recognizing the sender, smiled and said.

“Oh, David. I got an email from Lee.”

David, muttering “Lee, Lee….” a few times, asked back brightly.

“Are you talking about the designer who was selected as the next creative director?”

“Well, I’d rather just call him a friend.”

Alexander replied gently and immediately opened the email. The beginning of the email seemed to contain pleasant news.

It mainly stated that thanks to the information he had shared through the magazine ‘Ella,’ all products of the brand ‘Wall Flower’ had sold out.

Eventually, Alexander even hummed along as he began to read the email’s contents in a low voice.

David, in the driver’s seat, listened intently.

“Thanks to you, I even set foot in a broadcasting station building for the first time in my life. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh! It seems like things are going really well? Even our Alexander King has never had all products sold out, right?”

After replying “That’s right. I’m really happy,” Alexander King rubbed the bridge of his nose and continued.

“But there’s one problem. It seems that Alexander’s help is desperately needed….”

From here on, the content became more serious.

Alexander frowned deeply and began to read the email in silence.

David also remained quiet.

Even though the distance from the car in front was considerable, he kept glancing at Alexander’s face in the rearview mirror.

It was only after the car behind honked that David snapped back to attention.

He hurriedly stepped on the accelerator and carefully asked.

“Alexander, what’s wrong? Is there a problem with your business with Lee?”

“No. No way.”

Alexander replied briefly, then took a few sips of bottled water from the cup holder and continued.

“It seems that there are people trying to harm my and Lee’s valuable business.”

David, startled, asked back in a slightly trembling voice.

“Good heavens, what kind of morons don’t know their place….”

He trailed off, shook his head a few times, and added in a slightly trembling voice.

“Are they daring to interfere in Alexander King’s business?”

Though he didn’t say it aloud, David thought they fell into one of two categories.

First, a group with such solid and powerful strength that they could win even against the background that the world-renowned designer ‘Alexander King’ had built up, or….

Or, second.

A group of morons who truly don’t know their place and are messing with the wrong person.

* * *

Serious conversations were also taking place in the editorial department of the world-renowned fashion magazine ‘Paris Pouge’ [likely a play on ‘Vogue’].

All the editors and junior editors of Pouge were gathered around a large table in the conference room.

“Then let’s begin.”

As Geraldine Saglio, standing in front of the podium, pressed the button on the remote control, a video began to play on the projector.

It was a file converting a recorded ‘audio file’ into a video file and adding French subtitles.

Geraldine immediately provided an explanation.

“The yellow subtitles are a translation of the words of the Korean rookie designer, ‘Lee.’ The white subtitles are the words of his local association official.”

The video’s content was truly shocking.

Reflecting this, some of the editors watching began to express their opinions in excited tones.

“Good heavens… if the video we’re watching is true, it would be better to recommend naturalization to the designer ‘Lee.’”

“Can you still have such an idea in the 21st century?”

“I guarantee it. In that kind of environment, no matter how great the talent, it won’t be able to flourish.”

Just as the room grew increasingly noisy.

A woman in her 50s, sitting at the head of the table, silenced everyone with a single word.

“Stop.”

The owner of the voice was none other than ‘Emmanuelle Art’ [likely a play on Emmanuelle Alt, former editor-in-chief of Vogue Paris]. The current editor-in-chief of Paris Pouge and the ‘leader’ who truly leads Paris Pouge.

With her one word, the atmosphere in the room became more serious than ever.

She asked Geraldine, standing on the podium, in a low voice with an indifferent expression.

“Geraldine, so what do you want to do?”

To the sharp question, Geraldine replied nervously in a low voice.

“I want to make it the main topic of the next issue.”

“Do you really think it’s worth that much?”

“That’s….”

Geraldine couldn’t bring herself to speak and swallowed her answer. Emmanuelle Art continued.

“Geraldine, you’ve been a full-time editor for eight years now, right?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think is the most important quality for an editor?”

After a moment of silence, Emmanuelle Art answered as if asking herself.

“Drive? Decisiveness? A stable information network? All wrong. The most important quality is ‘how well can you place your bets?’”

“I’m sorry, but what do you mean….”

“It’s a shocking reality, but to be honest… I don’t think it’s information that will help the magazine’s sales. I think it’s information more suitable for the social section of the news than a fashion magazine.”

Geraldine’s expression darkened. For any content to be included in Paris Pouge, it must unconditionally go through Emmanuelle Art.

If she expressed clear opposition, it would be impossible to help ‘Lee’ using the power of Paris Pouge, at least.

‘It’s okay, there are still many ways….’

She just wouldn’t be able to borrow the power of Paris Pouge. She could use her SNS [Social Networking Service], which tens of thousands of people followed, or ask designers or industry officials she had connections with.

They wouldn’t refuse her proposal. Geraldine was lost in thought.

“But.”

Emmanuelle Art, speaking with emphasis, continued in a very kind tone.

“What if there is a guarantee that the designer Lee will become a world-renowned designer no less than ‘Monsieur Dior’ [Christian Dior] in the future? And what if, when that happens, he maintains the most friendly attitude towards Pouge among the many magazines? Then what?”

She asked a question, then smiled and added.

“It’s worth betting on, right?”

All the editors in the room smiled brightly.

The most agitated was, of course, Geraldine.

Unable to control her emotions, she covered her face with both hands and could only mutter “Good heavens….”

Emmanuelle Art then stood up and said.

“I think the rights and interests of artists should be protected. Especially if it’s a future Monsieur Dior-level artist that Geraldine has picked out.”

Finishing, she smiled and said, “Main topic, good. Approved. Do a good job,” and left the conference room leisurely.

Geraldine, looking at her back, bowed her head and said.

“Thank you. Thank you so, so much.”

What percentage of the fashion world does a single designer named Jae-seung occupy?

Probably less than 1%.

The aftermath of the unfair treatment Jae-seung received was preparing to reveal itself.

Like a ‘butterfly effect,’ preparing to become a major typhoon.