CH203

At the end of Dmitri’s self-promotion.

Henri Vuitton asked me a question.  

“Do you know which brand is getting the most attention at this New York Fashion Show?”  

“I’m not sure.”  

“It’s Gromhatz.”  

Oh my!  

“Initially, they focused solely on metal crafts, but lately, they’ve started making clothing as well. They’ve preserved their signature ornate patterns.”  

“Ah, I see.”  

“Didn’t you know?”  

“I’m just a shareholder; I don’t get involved in the design at all.”  

“You’re the ideal shareholder.”  

A faint smile.  

“Oh, speaking of which.”  

“……?”  

“If CEO Park Ji-hoon permits, I’d like to propose a collaboration between Vuitton and Gromhatz. What do you think?”  

“It’s better to discuss it with Gromhatz directly…….”  

“They’re eager to proceed.”  

Then why ask for my opinion if they’re already on board?  

But that was just my thought.  

Henri Vuitton seemed to consider it a matter of courtesy.  

The epitome of a gentleman, as far as I know!  

“I think I’ll head to Manhattan, where the show is being held.”  

Since we’re staying at the same hotel in New York anyway.  

“See you at dinner.”  

After exchanging farewells with Henri Vuitton.  

I headed to a nearby café with Dmitri.  

Perhaps because I’d heard that Gromhatz was hot in the U.S.  

Whenever I saw someone dressed in chic, all-black attire, I naturally glanced at their hands.  

Thick, ornate rings.  

“Wow, so many people are wearing them.”  

Well, it’s no wonder.  

Before long, Gromhatz would grow into a luxury brand representing the U.S.  

“But that’s going to take some time.”  

I needed 1 trillion won right now……  

We ordered iced Americanos at Starbucks.  

It’s not easy to find cold coffee in Europe.  

“That’s one thing I like about the U.S.”  

Holding two cups of coffee, we sat by the window and continued discussing work.  

“How are sales after the Tommy Hawk ad?”  

Was that the question he had been waiting for?  

A faint smile appeared on Dmitri’s lips.  

“U.S. sales of Redbull have increased fiftyfold. It’s been explosive growth…….”  

“That’s not enough.”  

“Sorry? Did I misspeak? Not fivefold, but fiftyfold…….”  

“It’s still disappointing.”  

Though Dmitri didn’t say it aloud.  

“Do Americans need to replace water with Redbull for you to be satisfied?”  

His eyes seemed to say that exactly.  

Regardless!  

I was only aiming for a hundredfold sales increase.  

“The next ad model will be Chicago Bulls’ MJ.”  

“Oh, okay.”  

He answered, but his expression was uneasy.  

As expected, Dmitri continued.  

“Sir, while it’s true that MJ is the league’s scoring champion and is performing exceptionally well, he hasn’t even made it past the finals due to repeated losses to Detroit.”  

So, is it wise to pay MJ an enormous amount and sign a ten-year contract?  

“What if it turns out to be a waste…….”  

“I’ll take full responsibility, so just seal the deal.”  

“Uh… alright.”  

If MJ became the face of Redbull.  

A hundredfold sales increase wouldn’t just be a dream.  

And all that money would go straight to paying for the Ferrari acquisition… sigh.  

I changed the subject to lighten the mood.  

“How popular is F1 in the U.S.?”  

“You could say it’s almost nonexistent. People aren’t interested, so American teams don’t perform well… and because they don’t perform well, people stay disinterested. It’s a classic cycle.”  

For it to be profitable, the U.S. needs to care.  

‘Well, since I’m already pouring 1 trillion into this.’  

I can’t just walk away with only honor!  

But there was a way.  

“Is everything I mentioned set up?”  

“Yes. We’ve hired a documentary production team and secured cooperation for filming, focusing on the lower-ranked F1 teams.”  

My introduction to F1 came through a documentary I watched on Netflix.  

That series was so successful that it significantly boosted F1’s popularity in the U.S.  

‘With a proven success story, of course, I have to follow it!’  

With that, the basic task check was complete.  

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”  

“No, not yet.”  

“Is there anything you’d like to eat?”  

“Not really. I’ve been in the U.S. for a while now, so… whatever suits your taste is fine.”  

“Is pizza okay with you?”  

“Let’s go. I know a place that serves proper American-style pizza.”  

Maybe it was because we talked about pizza.  

I suddenly missed Mr. Devon.  

‘I wonder what he’s doing right now.’  

I should visit him as soon as I return to England.  

Thinking of him, a smile spread across my face.  

***  

Devon graduated from Stanford University, a genius.  

His father was the Attorney General, and his grandfather was a former Chief Justice, so superior genes clearly ran in the family.  

Even so, for some reason.  

He absolutely hated using his brain.  

Didn’t Park Ji-hoon say it?  

Calculate everything needed for the business and find the optimal price for a pizza.  

If it’s competitive, I’ll invest.  

At first, Devon tinkered with the calculator but gave up after just 10 minutes.  

Forget it.  

Let’s just wing it!  

That day, Devon rented a truck and started selling pizzas near the university.  

He didn’t know about pricing.  

He just made pizzas and gave them out for free.  

And then he asked.  

“Is it good?”  

“It’s the best pizza I’ve ever had.”  

“You’re not saying that because of my arms, are you?”  

Admittedly, Devon’s biceps were rather intimidating.  

“N-no, it’s not that.”  

“Then how much would you pay for it?”  

“Excuse me?”  

As the student stepped back, Devon realized his phrasing was off.  

“I’m not trying to rob you.”  

“Oh, okay.”  

“Let’s say I sell this in front of the school. Would you pay 10 pounds for it?”  

The student nodded.  

“Even 15 pounds?”  

“Yes.”  

“20 pounds…….”  

“It’s a bit pricey, but it’s so good that I’d think about it.”  

That day, Devon gave out pizzas all day and gathered opinions.  

Then he arrived at an average price!  

‘Would this be reasonable?’  

The next day, he went to a nearby university and sold pizzas at the exact average price.  

Surprisingly!  

They were so popular that he ran out of ingredients in half a day.  

‘Is this too cheap?’  

That evening, he went to another university and sold them at an absurdly high price.  

A price you’d never expect to pay for food from a truck.  

Who would buy it at this rate?  

But to his astonishment.  

“Are you the pizza truck guy?”  

Word must have spread because everyone was lining up to buy pizza.  

They were actually paying that price?  

That evening’s business was also a massive success.  

But.  

Devon wasn’t happy at all.  

‘No, did I come here to sell pizza?’  

A story that would sound utterly absurd to anyone else.  

But… Devon truly hadn’t come to sell pizza.  

‘So! What is the optimal price, anyway?!’  

To the unanswered question.  

Devon clutched his head so fiercely that the truck shook.  

***  

‘As expected, American-style pizza hits differently.’  

It’s delicious.  

Really delicious.  

But strangely, pizza always tastes better when I’m eating it with my teacher.  

After finishing the meal.  

I was reviewing the documents Dmitri handed me.  

“As you requested, I’ve compiled the records of racing prospects from F2 to F4.”  

I had asked for this list for one simple reason.  

To verify the records of the greatest racer in motorsport history, Max Schumacher.  

‘Here it is!’  

At 18 years old in Korean age.  

‘He’s one year older than me.’  

Under normal circumstances, he would debut in F1 two years later.  

There’s no age restriction, but.  

No team is bold enough to give a driver seat to a teenager.  

‘But I’m bold enough to take that gamble.’  

The first thing I would do after acquiring Ferrari would be to recruit Max Schumacher.  

Max Schumacher’s prime years would be in his mid-20s…  

While there’s doubt about whether he’s the right driver to secure a championship within two years.  

‘But if I, knowing Max’s potential, fully back him from the start?’  

It’s a gamble worth taking.  

Besides, each team can field two drivers.  

‘Just like applying to college, you need to aim high for at least one choice!’  

After carefully examining the F2 drivers’ records.  

It was clear that F3 or F4 drivers would be difficult to deploy immediately.  

Most of them were 17 years old or younger.  

Still, you never know… so I kept checking.  

Huh?  

An unexpected name popped up.  

Tennessee Grosvenor.  

Listed as an F3 driver with recorded lap times.  

For his age group, he had fairly impressive results.  

Hmm.  

Honestly, Tennessee being here wasn’t too surprising.  

The Grosvenor family sponsors the McLarn team.  

And nobles often gravitate toward elite sports, from flying light aircraft to shooting.  

So Tennessee made sense.  

But then… what is this?  

Olivia Warren.  

Wait, why is Olivia here?  

Just like Tennessee, she’s listed as an F3 driver.  

Her lap times… are even better than Tennessee’s.  

No, she’s among the best in all of F3.  

She even holds several track records.  

‘Haha.’  

It must have been earlier this semester.  

Olivia did mention she wanted to become a professional driver.  

At the time, I only half-listened.  

Who would’ve thought she actually held records!  

“Shall we get going if you’re finished?”  

“Excuse me?”  

“There’s someone I’m eager to meet.”  

* * *

New York, Watkins Glen Circuit.  

To my surprise, Olivia was racing on the track.  

According to an official, she shows up at the circuit at least three times a week.  

“Is that her car?”  

At my question, Dmitri flipped through some papers.  

But before he could answer.  

Whoosh!  

The car sped past at incredible speed.  

At least 200 kilometers per hour.  

Even the sound alone was enough to make my ears ring.  

‘The sense of realism is great, but.’  

From the spectator seats, it was hard to fully appreciate Olivia’s driving skills.  

However, judging by the steadily decreasing lap times displayed on the scoreboard, it was clear she wasn’t an ordinary driver.  

After about ten laps.  

Whoosh—whew!  

At an especially sharp sound, I glanced up at the scoreboard.  

The phrase “Sector Best Time” appeared.  

Hmm.  

Practicing three times a week sounds impressive, but.  

Considering the cost of renting a race car and the circuit fees, it must be costing her hundreds of millions of won a week.  

‘This isn’t just a hobby.’  

As expected, Dmitri’s face was filled with astonishment.  

“That girl we met at the yacht party… I never imagined she’d actually compete in races.”  

“Exactly.”  

“Ah… so there are things even you don’t know, sir.”  

He has a knack for stating the obvious with such seriousness.  

About a minute later.  

Whoosh—whew!  

Olivia’s car sliced through the air once more.  

“Sir, I hesitate to say this, but…”  

“……?”  

“If we recruit Olivia as a driver… at least the marketing effect would be undeniable.”  

The only female driver in F1.  

An American national whose father is one of the greatest designers the Americas have ever produced.  

Even a brief appearance in a documentary would draw massive attention.  

“The story couldn’t be better, either.”  

“The story?”  

As a child, Olivia submitted a design to a competition and unexpectedly won an award.  

But the public accused her of winning unfairly, claiming her father’s influence.  

At that moment, Olivia turned to racing.  

It was the only way to escape the malicious and judgmental stares filled with misunderstanding and hostility.  

Now imagine her overcoming all that adversity to debut on the F1 stage.  

More than anything.  

‘If we can capture that journey entirely in a documentary.’  

Breaking into the U.S. market wouldn’t just be a dream.  

At that moment.  

Whoosh—whew!  

With the sound of air being sliced once again, the phrase “Sector Best Time” reappeared on the scoreboard.