TOIGC 64

Chapter 63 …

I Am the Luxury (3)

Laurent couldn’t believe his eyes.

The person who walked through the door wasn’t the business partner he was expecting, but an Asian teenager who looked like he had stepped right out of a classic romance manhwa.

“Who are you…?”

Laurent’s gaze drifted past the teenager, spotting Cho Chung-woo standing nervously behind him, which allowed him to piece together a quick deduction.

That guy must be the representative. But why bring a kid along? Still, it’s incredible. The kid has a gravity so intense it practically turns everyone around him into minor planets orbiting a sun.

However, that theory shattered the moment the boy took a seat, proving he wasn’t just an accessory, but the central figure.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Choi Yoongi, the actual owner of YK Department Store. My foreign friends just call me ‘Yoon’.”

His English was fluent.

Since Laurent was no slouch in English himself, Yoongi’s polished delivery forced him into a second double-take.

“Are you a Korean-American?” “No, I’m a Korean born and raised in Korea. I’ve just studied English quite a bit.” “Pardon me for asking, but how old are you…?”

In Western culture, asking age is rarely a priority. Korea’s age-hierarchical culture—a legacy of Japanese occupation—meant people separated by a single year struggled to even be peers, whereas Anglo-American cultures don’t typically interrogate age upon meeting. But today, pure, unadulterated curiosity compelled Laurent to ask. He half-expected the boy sitting across from him to possess some bizarre Asian genetic anomaly for extreme youthfulness.

“I’m fourteen in Korean age, and thirteen internationally. My birthday has already passed this year.” “Thirteen…”

No matter how relaxed a culture is about age, business operates on a different plane. Experience outweighs mere years, and experience is tied to age. Unable to mask his bewilderment, Laurent opened his mouth again.

“So you’re telling me you are the one who requested a product shipment from us?” “Yes. I desperately want to stock Hermès in my department store. Since my previous inquiries were repeatedly turned down, I set up this meeting to make my case in person. There are some things a phone call simply cannot convey.” “As for that matter, corporate policy dictates I must decline. And besides, does it have to be our brand? A small market like Korea could easily thrive with other luxury houses.”

Laurent offered it as a gentle letdown, but to Yoongi, it was the opening salvo.

“I’m asking because I genuinely love Hermès.” “You love Hermès?” “Doesn’t looking at me make that obvious?”

Yoongi gestured to his outfit, finally prompting Laurent to take in his entire ensemble rather than just his face.

“Good grief… Is all of that Hermès?”

Yoongi nodded.

“If it’s made by Hermès and wearable, I’m wearing it.” “My word…”

While Laurent sat stunned, Yoongi kept the pressure on without missing a beat.

“I truly love Hermès. That’s why I want to sell it in my department store. I want to show people just how extraordinary a luxury brand Hermès really is.”

No one dislikes hearing their brand praised. Even so, Laurent’s reaction remained lukewarm.

“That may be, but department stores in Korea are entirely different from the luxury boutiques we envision. From what I understand, Korean department stores are flooded with everyday commoners, and our brand simply doesn’t retail in environments like that. Markets are for buying dinner ingredients and street food, not luxury goods.” “Ah, it appears my staff failed to properly brief you on YK Department Store.” “What do you mean?” “Allow me to give you a brief overview of what YK Department Store represents.”

Yoongi had recently settled on naming the enterprise YK Department Store. It was formed from the initials of the English translation of his name. There had been a push to use YG instead, but since his grandfather’s name, Deokbae, featured the syllable “Ki,” YK won out in the end.

“…As you can see, YK Department Store is an exclusive, dedicated shopping complex designed purely for high-end retail. Furthermore, the seventh floor will operate as a dedicated VIP shopping lounge, guaranteeing that Hermès’s brand prestige will never be compromised.” “Hmm…” “I am completely confident. If you prefer, we can start with a short-term trial agreement. Allocate a limited batch on a special consignment basis. If we fail to move the inventory, the partnership ends right there. If we clear it, we move to a short-term contract, and if sales hold steady, we transition to a long-term deal. What do you say?”

Laurent stared at Yoongi once more.

He speaks with a poise that makes you completely forget his age, and more importantly, he pulls off our Hermès pieces better than anyone. If he wasn’t a client, but rather one of our actual models, he’d wield incredible influence across the Asian market…

Laurent’s train of thought was drifting precisely where Yoongi wanted it to.

The sole reason Yoongi had plastered himself in Hermès and shown up at headquarters was simple: persuasion through optics. He wanted to project an aura of absolute familiarity with the brand to disarm them. Securing even a micro-batch of inventory would have been a victory, but Laurent was already beginning to see commercial viability in Yoongi himself.

“Would you mind waiting about thirty minutes? This isn’t a decision I can make unilaterally.” “I can certainly spare thirty minutes.”

With that, Laurent sprang from his seat and hurried out of the room.

“Are you in here?”

Out of breath, Laurent burst into the office of Fabien, the Director of International Business. Fabien paused mid-handwash and replied,

“Ah, it’s you. Did you finally escort those visitors from that country called Korea out?” “No, actually, I didn’t.”

The neat, circular mustache framing Fabien’s mouth suddenly twitched into a rigid rectangle.

“What? Then what are you still doing here?”

Wiping sweat from his bald crown with his palm, Laurent rushed to explain.

“I met with the representative who flew in from Korea, and it turns out he is an absolute devotee of Hermès.” “An affinity for Hermès is entirely separate from business. Wait… did you just refer to him as a ‘he’?” “That’s right. He’s a thirteen-year-old Asian boy, but his visual impact is genuinely unreal. What’s more, he’s decked out in Hermès from head to toe. Honestly, we could easily use him as a promotional model for the Asian market.” “Don’t we already have a model in Japan?”

When it came to Asian promotional models, Japan was essentially the only market generating meaningful revenue for Hermès. Consequently, Fabien remained entirely unimpressed by Laurent’s pitch. Short of seeing it with his own eyes, Fabien took Laurent’s words as nothing more than the excuses of an underperforming subordinate.

“If it were up to me, I’d swap campaigns immediately. He’s thirteen, but he stands well over 170 centimeters and possesses a striking blend of mature features and youthful charm. If we used him for promotions, it would subtly plant the idea in buyers’ minds that wearing Hermès makes you look timelessly youthful.” “What nonsense are you…”

As Fabien chuckled openly, mocking him to his face, Laurent pressed on with a desperate edge to his voice.

“Why don’t you just see for yourself? Come down and look with your own eyes. Then you’ll understand why I’m making such a bold claim.” “Are you willing to stake your reputation on that claim?” “Yes.”

Faced with Fabien’s stern query, Laurent answered without a moment’s hesitation.

Laurent held the title of manager—roughly equivalent to a mid-level supervisor—yet his actual scope of authority bore little resemblance to the title, meaning he lacked the executive power to greenlight this venture himself. Fabien, however, was a director, holding the corporate weight of a department head with direct channels to the Vice Presidents.

“If your little stunt turns out to be hollow noise, you’d better prepare yourself for a devastating performance review.”

Though the blunt threat made Laurent flinch internally, the die was already cast. He nodded firmly.

“See for yourself. But if I’m right, I expect my performance review to reflect it.”

Seeing Laurent—who usually followed orders without a peep—stand his ground like this, Fabien finally let out a defeated, dry laugh.

“Fine. Let’s go take a look.”

Wiping his hands on a towel stamped with the Hermès logo, Fabien stepped past Laurent and led the way back toward the reception lounge.

The moment he pulled the door open, Fabien questioned his own sanity.

The sun, draped entirely in Hermès, was sitting right in front of him.

No matter how much makeup a person wears, can they really pull off a look like that?

Korean fashion magazines from the 1980s showcased styling and makeup choices that felt remarkably dated by 2019 standards. In particular, the slicked-back, hard-parted pomade styles favored by corporate salarymen in their thirties were ubiquitous, and teenagers weren’t far behind. In a country where students and recruits were churned out like factory products, individual flair among youth was heavily suppressed.

Yet exceptional raw material changes everything. With the expertise of three professional makeup artists specializing in Merrill’s team, complete with a carefully styled wig, Yoongi looked like a walking halo of light.

Yoongi’s original plan had been to rely on vague memories to instruct domestic Korean artists with zero connections to Western high fashion, but collaborating with Merrill had created an explosive multiplier effect.

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Fabien, Director of International Business for Hermès.”

Despite Yoongi clearly being a boy, Fabien initiated the handshake first.

“A pleasure. I’m Choi Yoongi, owner of YK Department Store. Please, call me Yoon.” “I understand you’re interested in purchasing inventory from our house.”

As Fabien cut straight to the chase, Laurent flashed a triumphant inner smile, though he kept his expression neutral. He was, after all, a capable professional holding a management title at Hermès headquarters. If anything, he was impressed by how quickly Fabien was taking charge.

Well, when a golden opportunity walks right into headquarters, you don’t let it slip away.

True to Laurent’s intuition, the conversation progressed at a brisk pace.

“Yes, I truly love Hermès. While YK Department Store will feature several luxury brands, I firmly believe that when it comes to Hermès-tier prestige, only Hermès should occupy that space.”

Covering the entire seventh floor with Hermès inventory was obviously unrealistic, so Yoongi reiterated the measured pitch he had made to Laurent earlier.

“Certainly, we cannot simply turn away someone who professes such genuine devotion to the brand. Doing so risks alienating a truly valuable consumer.”

In truth, Yoongi cared very little for Hermès as a fan, but he had no intention of admitting that, and Fabien had no way of knowing. This was the nature of business: white lies traded freely in pursuit of a grander objective.

“If you allocate a shipment, I guarantee you’ll inspire a wave of new Hermès devotees in Korea alongside myself. Isn’t that a mutually beneficial arrangement?”

Fabien, however, shook his head.

“Even so, we cannot release inventory on sentiment alone. Hermès is a sacred brand.” “Given that you bothered to come down here in person, I assume you have a counter-proposal.” “Indeed. Currently, Hermès is scouting for a promotional model in the Japanese market. Laurent insists you are the ideal fit. If you agree to a modeling contract, I am willing to authorize a limited, short-term shipment.” “Provided we include a subsidiary clause guaranteeing a transition to a long-term contract upon meeting sales targets, I’ll accept.” “Naturally.”

Fully aware that he was holding the weaker hand in negotiations, Yoongi didn’t push his luck any further. Securing inventory—even a limited run—was a massive victory in its own right.

Yet while Yoongi’s strategy had achieved its primary objective, Merrill’s side quest remained unresolved.

Screeeech—!

The reception door suddenly flew open. Laurent and Fabien snapped their heads toward the entrance simultaneously, letting out synchronized gasps of astonishment.

““Merrill?””