Genius Archer’s Streaming - Chapter 794

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Genius Archer’s Streaming Season 3 Episode 264
87. Spring (2)
By the time the Korean-Japanese War had concluded.
Juhyeok was collecting the remaining merchandise from the empty stadium.
He figured the items scattered across the floor could be resold as Reaper products for the semifinals.
Since dolls and cheering supplies were all disposable anyway, he imagined plenty of people would want to buy Reaper merchandise.
“Phew.”
My lower back ached from bending over for far too long.
Yet the corners of my mouth curved upward as I exhaled deeply.
“How much is all this worth?”
It felt like picking up money off the ground.
Money that no one even realized was money, at that.
Grinning foolishly like an idiot, I gathered every doll and cheering item from the cart and shoved them all haphazardly into the rented SUV.
“Whew.”
The dolls and supplies crammed inside without any organization whatsoever.
“The Department Manager would have a fit seeing this.”
You know those people who are obsessed with organization and tidiness?
In companies, especially at the management level, the volume of work and possessions grows exponentially as you climb higher.
Without organization, there’s simply too much to function.
So people working within that system maintain a perpetually organized state, even if it sacrifices some efficiency.
That’s also why the outdated culture of casually requiring suits still persists heavily in corporate environments.
Thinking back to those days, I remember being somewhat of a neat freak myself.
If I’d taken the MBTI test back then, I definitely would’ve scored extreme J. That’s why MBTI was utterly meaningless.
Thud.
As I closed the trunk, I smiled bitterly at this life that had become messier yet, paradoxically, more comfortable.
After getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine to warm the seat, I didn’t immediately drive off.
The old me would have organized everything and verified it all first, but now I decided to check things before leaving.
“Let’s see…”
An Excel spreadsheet connected to my computer appeared on my phone.
It was synchronized directly with the payment system, so all my sales revenue from today and the supply amounts I’d put into the factory earlier were calculated automatically.
“Heh.”
The numbers were so intoxicating I wondered if driving now would count as drunk driving.
“I sold like crazy. Juhyeok Kim!”
Beep beep~
Without realizing it, the tension released and I banged my head against the steering wheel.
“S-Sorry! Sorry! Haha…”
After leaving the company, naturally, not everything was good.
Diving directly into the market and making money was like waging war.
There was something I’d wondered about from an American movie I watched as a child.
Despite calling themselves the land of capital and freedom, the securities company employees at the heart of that capital lived by stricter rules than anywhere else.
Back then, I thought it was mere bravado, or perhaps an old habit I hadn’t managed to shed.
But now I understood. Why the securities firm employees in New York dressed their suits with such precision, why they combed their hair back perfectly with pomade.
It was the same as why soldiers wore uniforms.
Securities firms were essentially those fighting on the front lines of the market, and only through strict discipline could one survive in such a place.
They had their pomade-wearing comrades beside them, but now that I was CEO, I had to fight this market alone.
I had to run everywhere with my hair slicked back with pomade, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, and polished shoes.
Of course, even so, every evening when work ended, my lips bore not a sigh but a smile.
Just like now.
Just as my father had when he returned home in my childhood.
Vroom.
I drove the car toward the hotel where the players were staying.
Right next to the players’ accommodation was a small business hotel where I was lodging.

* * *
As I drove through the Japanese city at night, I didn’t yet realize.
What kind of call I would receive, or just how much popularity the Civil Empire currently commanded.
Even I, sensitive to numbers and market reactions, found it difficult to assess immediately.
Perhaps because of that, I was indulging in somewhat idle reminiscence.
Having adapted somewhat to the right-hand drive, my mind continued to drift with old memories.
Those drifting clouds included white ones against a clear sky, but also dark gray ones. Those particularly large, expansive ones lingered longest.
Billowing faces ask me questions.
「Manager… Manager? No, what’s going on with that?」
「Is something wrong with you? Suddenly a manager?」
「Did they lay you off during restructuring?」
These were the expressions I always saw whenever I reconnected with former colleagues.
People with completely different appearances could wear such identical expressions.
I was genuinely impressed.
「Ah… haha. I see? Living an interesting life. Hey.」
The forced praise and appeasement that followed felt like gathering third-rate writers and pleading, “Please, fill this only with clichéd dialogue.”
Of course, I once inhabited that same world alongside them, so I understood well.
The power that a business card bearing a company name conveyed.
Asung’s employees experienced that aspect of society in a very positive way.
And they passed that experience to others in a very negative way.
The world was structured so that this happened regardless of anyone’s intention.
I couldn’t find the reason for it back then.
There was no need to understand such things.
After all, more humans try to understand why fine dust is harmful than why oxygen benefits them—that’s simply the natural order.
It was inevitable.
They—I took it for granted. That large, convenient shadow.
Even though it wasn’t mine.
After he realized that he now had to endure the scorching sun alone, and that this sun was far less human-friendly than he’d anticipated.
At first, I missed Sanghyeon.
That cozy, refreshing office where we’d exchange casual greetings, occasionally chat, and work together—that landscape.
But later, things changed.
I came to hate them.
Not the company itself, but the people who worked at Sanghyeon. I began to see them as utterly foolish.
Despising those who disregard or belittle you is such a natural, one-dimensional reaction.
I knew I was being petty for no good reason, but that’s what my heart felt like now.

* * *
On what should have been a good day, an unwelcome thought crossed my mind, and I entered the hotel room with a grimmer expression than expected.
I’d stopped by the players’ hotel to check on Sanghyeon’s condition, but upon arrival, I was told he was already sleeping, so I decided not to disturb him.
Tsk.
I clicked my tongue while staring at the Excel spreadsheet displayed on my phone screen.
I was curious what kind of expression Sanghyeon would make seeing these incredible numbers.
It was a bit disappointing, but I thought the impact would be far greater if I showed him when he was in peak condition, so I stripped off my clothes and opened my laptop.
I revised the factory order plans based on sales figures and established strategies for the semifinals.
The players prepare for the semifinals, but I must do the same. In a way, we’re in similar positions.
Of course, I didn’t have two hundred comrades like he did, nor a dedicated Sync Tank Team to manage them.
I didn’t have the spotlight of countless media outlets either, and most people in this industry didn’t even know who I was.
Still, my hands moved busily.

* * *
About two days had passed.
Only then could I fully organize in my mind just how popular the international tournament had become.
[Joseon Defeats Japan “A Miraculous Victory”]
[Semifinals Tickets Sold Out in 5 Minutes. Flights to Japan Now Peak Season]
[The Return of Another King of Esports, Not Ril]
Domestic media outlets poured out articles about Civil M.
There was no longer any distinction between major and minor outlets.
When one article went up, every media company simply copied it.
One could dismiss this as temporary prosperity.
“Ah, yes. That’s right. I’m the international tournament manager. Oh, which company did you say?”
My phone rang incessantly.
Even I, someone from Asung, was receiving calls from companies whose names alone made me pause in surprise.
“Ah… of course. I’ll call you back.”
Their intentions were all identical.
They’d invest if we could give them some semblance of sponsorship recognition.
“Ah. Well… CEO. Could we rush the design change… Yes, yes. It’s nothing major. Just the company logo…”
The factory producing merchandise for the international tournament had to temporarily halt production due to the endless flood of requests.
“You don’t need to include us in the semifinals? Ah. Yes. Then if possible in the finals. If not, we’ll do next year. And…”
Some companies even said they didn’t need to be included in the semifinals.
Considering that Civil M’s popularity had exploded during the Korean-Japanese War in the quarterfinals, it was truly an audacious request.
That team, which couldn’t secure a single proper sponsor and had to compete without pay—even spending their own money—now lacked space for sponsors.
We could now provide salaries for 200 people, or rather, the Sync Tank Team and all related personnel.
Would you believe this all happened in that brief span between the quarterfinals and semifinals?
I couldn’t believe it myself.
What I found even harder to believe was that all authority over the revenue generated and its distribution had become my responsibility.
“…Yes? Really?”
Even at that moment, I couldn’t understand.
No matter how good the money was, Hee-cheol had invested so much time and effort building this team.
If he was handing over more than expected, it was natural to feel bewildered.
“No, even if it’s temporary. That’s…”
Trust.
I could have simply thought of it that way.
Hee-cheol trusts my abilities.
But I felt something more than that.
Hee-cheol has no children.
I don’t know why that thought occurred to me, but suddenly I remembered that fact.
I bit my lip firmly and nodded.
“I’ll do my best. Until the right time comes.”
He was the first person to see my abilities and trust me not as Juhyeok Kim, but as a management representative.
I didn’t want to disappoint Hee-cheol.
It was probably while I was lost in complicated thoughts after hanging up the phone.
Already quite a few sponsors had come on board, and the financial issues were resolved.
Now it was a matter of distribution rather than supply.
That’s when Juhyeok received another call.
-Hello. This is Jinho Gu, Manager of the Marketing Department at Asung.
“Yes, hello. Oh, Former Manager Gu?”
It was a voice I hadn’t heard in quite a while.
He was a supervisor who had looked after me fairly well back when I was briefly transferred to the Marketing Department.
“Did something go wrong? I haven’t been with the Marketing team for quite some time now.”
Since the call came through under Asung’s name, I naturally assumed it was about some problem that had arisen from work I’d handled before.
There had even been times when the previous department called almost once a week.
My comment about not having worked with the Marketing team for quite some time already revealed a hint of displeasure.
But the other person’s reaction was strange.
-Pardon? Aren’t you… Juhyeok Kim, the Manager of the National Team? The main number was listed here…
‘What?’
In that moment, I realized something.
This call hadn’t come to Juhyeok Kim, the former Asung employee.
This call had come to Juhyeok Kim, the CEO of MixNuts and the overall manager responsible for the National Team.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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