"Do you understand? Mr. Kim has created the perfect balance. For every rich fool who buys noble gear, there are thousands of grinders who keep hope alive. The cycle sustains itself. This is brilliance beyond measure."
Zhao Bowen raised a hand. "Sir… I think Mr. Kim might not actually—"
"Silence!" Fen Su snapped, his eyes wild. "Do not blaspheme. Mr. Kim operates on a plane beyond your comprehension."
Zhao lowered his hand. He wasn't sure if Fen Su was praising their boss or auditioning for a cult leader role.
Meanwhile, in the Steel Cup office, Suho lay sprawled across the sofa, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers.
Cho Rin set another report on his chest. He didn't move.
"Daily revenue hit two million," she said flatly.
Suho groaned, rolling over and clutching the report like it was a death certificate. "Why… why won't they stop? Do rich people not have hobbies? Stamp collecting? Golf? Anything cheaper?"
