Meanwhile.

Before the meeting began, the directors of Envid had already reached a rather strange agreement.

No matter what Ha Si-heon said, they would respond in only one of two ways: either outright oppose it or completely ignore it.

The reason Ha Si-heon joined the board was clear.

He probably thought that once inside, he could steer the company in whatever direction he wanted.

However, that was a huge miscalculation.

The board was a body that operated on a majority vote.

If all the directors plugged their ears and shouted opposition without giving their votes, there was nothing even “that Ha Si-heon” could do.

‘If we keep this up, he’ll eventually get exhausted and give up.’

That was the board’s ultimate scenario.

Of course, there was a reason why they disliked Ha Si-heon this much.

Let’s just live quietly.

Most of the board members were experts or former executives.

For them, a board seat was the most ideal position they could hold after retirement.

Labor?

Almost none.

Salary?

Around $300,000 a year.

Responsibility?

Jackson took care of everything anyway, so what was there to worry about?

If the CEO had been incompetent, the board members would have had to take the whip to him, but the current CEO, Jackson, was a competent leader who boosted the company’s performance on his own.

Moreover, if he ever made a reckless decision, it was the board’s job to put the brakes on it, but Jackson was actually someone who preemptively prevented risks through meticulous, data-driven decision-making.

He avoided risky moves while delivering consistent results.

As a result, the board members barely had anything to do.

Their actual role, at most, was to attend quarterly meetings, listen to Jackson’s reports, and nod their heads.

On top of that, despite the light workload, a board seat at Envid came with a generous salary, and the “director” title brought sweet perks.

They were recognized as part of Silicon Valley’s elite, receiving invitations to exclusive wine gatherings, private director networking events, and closed-door investment forums.

Thus, they had been enjoying this leisurely, peaceful lifestyle all along.

A life as sweet as sugar, as predictable as an Excel sheet, and as harmless as sunlight.

For them, Envid’s board meetings were not battlegrounds but rather luxurious tea parties held four times a year.

This was no exaggeration.

The hottest debate they had recently was whether or not to allow decaf coffee to be served as refreshments.

That’s how it had always been...

Then suddenly, a disaster named Ha Si-heon crashed into their board.

If left unchecked, their peaceful $300,000-a-year tea time would turn into quarterly crisis response meetings.

They had to drive him out somehow.

The directors exchanged glances, once again reaffirming their unspoken message.

No reaction or absolute opposition. There was no other choice.

But just then, Ha Si-heon dropped an unexpected bomb.

“Stark is about to declare an AI war.”

The directors couldn’t hide their bewilderment.

‘Why is Stark coming up here now?’

Stark was, after Ha Si-heon—no, perhaps even more than him—an unbelievably troublesome figure.

“He will try to break Gooble’s AI monopoly. He’ll pour all his assets, capital, and influence into it, no matter what.”

Starting an AI company and waging a war just because he hated Gooble?

It sounded absurd on the surface...

‘But if it’s him, it’s possible.’

Things were different if the opponent was Stark.

Wasn’t he the eccentric actually pursuing a Mars colonization plan?

Compared to migrating to Mars, an AI war almost seemed normal.

Of course, they couldn’t take Ha Si-heon’s words at face value.

Several directors quickly pulled out their smartphones under the table and checked Stark’s social media.

But then...

I originally planned to acquire BigMind first. But Gooble was faster. Suspiciously fast. Why was that?

AI itself is not dangerous. But what about AI made by advertisers?

I’m not against AI. I’m against the world’s most ethically bankrupt organization monopolizing it. The one that starts with ‘G’ and rhymes with ‘ooble’.

Stark had already issued his challenge via social media.

The directors quietly put down their phones, muttering to themselves.

‘That guy should just stick to launching rockets... what is he planning now...’

Meanwhile, Ha Si-heon continued his explanation.

“You said the criteria for deciding to launch a product are ‘demand’ and ‘ecosystem,’ right? If Stark and Gooble collide, both camps will prioritize securing computing resources, causing demand to surge explosively. Moreover, both sides will actively pursue external collaborations with startups, research labs, and freelance developers, which will naturally build an ecosystem.”

In this way, Ha Si-heon, who had easily broken through Envid’s objections, suggested a concrete execution plan.

“My proposal is to complete production of the new product and keep it in a ‘launch-ready’ state. Pre-position the finished products at logistics hubs so that we can release them to the market the moment the trigger is pulled.”

In other words, stack the finished products in warehouses so they could be immediately released as soon as the war started.

If Ha Si-heon’s prediction came true, this would be the most effective strategy.

However, the directors exchanged looks and shared a silent command.

‘Absolutely do not agree.’

At that moment, making a better managerial decision didn’t matter.

The urgent priority was to kick Ha Si-heon out of the board.

“An AI war... honestly, it sounds utterly preposterous. It’s laughable that we’re even listening to this seriously.”

One director, known to be particularly picky, spoke in a mocking tone. But in his next sentence, he made a fatal mistake.

“No matter what, the likelihood of that actually happening is practically nonexistent...”

The point he meant to make was that it was “an event with extremely low probability in reality.”

But the person who picked up his sentence was none other than Ha Si-heon.

“You’re right. This is a Black Swan event.”

...

This made it hard to refute him by simply calling it nonsense.

Of all things, Ha Si-heon was known as a specialist in predicting Black Swan phenomena.

‘How do we overturn this...?’

If they clumsily tried to nitpick, he would likely start listing his track record of accurately predicting the Greek default or the Chinese financial crisis.

While the directors struggled to think, Ha Si-heon calmly continued.

“Of course, you don’t have to believe me right now. But even if an event has a low probability, isn’t it wise to prepare in advance? Just like getting insurance.”

They had to counter him.

Even if all the directors shared the same interests, they still needed some justification to vote against Ha Si-heon.

While they were desperately searching for a counterargument, CEO Jackson finally spoke up.

“Insurance is for when the loss from not having it would be catastrophic. But the scenario you’re describing is different. Even if your prediction is correct, what we would lose is merely a few months of market lead time, correct? There wouldn’t be any serious financial damage.”

At those words, the directors’ faces subtly brightened.

‘Come to think of it...’

Ha Si-heon’s prediction wasn’t exactly a ‘disaster.’

If anything, it was closer to ‘a rare chance that might come along.’

So even if they didn’t follow his prediction, there wouldn’t really be a ‘loss.’

“On the contrary, what if we rushed to launch and failed? If the market response is lukewarm, it would be seen as a branding strategy failure, which could lead directly to a stock price drop and visible losses. Also, pre-positioning products at logistics hubs would incur significant fixed costs.”

As expected of Jackson.

The directors let out a sigh of relief at his clean and logical rebuttal.

All they had to do now was reject every proposal Ha Si-heon threw at them and block all of his suggestions.

Just as everyone silently reached the same conclusion.

"Do you really think the shareholders would agree with you?"

Ha Si-heon shot back.

"You’ll have to explain at the shareholders’ meeting that you ‘knew in advance but did nothing.’ Are you sure you’re okay with that?"

The directors flinched.

What if they ignored the information Ha Si-heon provided and ended up losing profits?

The shareholders would never sit quietly.

However, Jackson faced him head-on without hesitation.

"It’s fine. I’ll explain it myself."

"Are you saying you’ll also take full responsibility for it?"

"Of course."

Jackson answered without a moment’s hesitation, but the directors' true feelings were completely different.

‘That responsibility… it’s not really yours to bear!’

The shareholders would never oust Jackson.

He was the soul and symbol of the company.

Meanwhile, what about the board?

They were practically nothing but decorations.

The only real use the directors had left was to become scapegoats to take the fall when problems arose.

‘If we end up getting dismissed…?’

It wasn’t just about losing a cushy, high-paying position.

Having a record of being disgracefully expelled would make it nearly impossible to sit on the board of another company.

And many of them were so-called “professional outside directors” who served on multiple boards at once.

In other words, they could lose all their positions at once if things went south.

While the directors were frantically running through these complicated calculations in their heads, Jackson firmly declared.

“As I’ve said before, Envid always makes management decisions based on objective, real-world data. Your proposal does not align with our corporate culture. Therefore, we cannot accept it.”

His words carried the confident tone that only someone truly self-assured could deliver.

But Ha Si-heon gave a meaningful smile.

"You don’t get to make that decision alone."

The moment Jackson’s eyes narrowed, Ha Si-heon calmly but clearly added.

"This is a board meeting. All motions are decided by vote, aren’t they? Please formally table it."

.....

That was right.

No matter how much of a heart and icon Jackson was to the company, in this room he had only one vote.

The same went for Ha Si-heon.

Each person had one vote and one vote only.

The directors’ minds raced with calculations.

Now was not the time to push forward with the "ignore strategy" to get rid of Ha Si-heon.

‘What if an AI war really breaks out like Ha Si-heon says? And what if this becomes a major issue at the shareholders’ meeting?’

Again, the responsibility would not fall on the CEO.

In the end, one or more of the directors would have to be sacrificed.

Given that none of them really did any work, it wouldn’t be surprising if anyone got cut.

"Mr. Chairman?"

Prompted by Ha Si-heon, the chairman snapped out of it and opened his mouth.

"Yes, let’s proceed to a vote. The motion is to move the new product into a ‘launch-ready’ state. Those in favor, please raise your hands."

Hands shot up in unison.

There was no need to even count them.

"By a vote of 11 in favor and 1 against, the motion has passed."

***

Envid’s next-generation GPU, "Parser Architecture."

It was a product hailed as a “game changer,” taking AI technology to the next level by enabling massive-scale training.

I had somehow managed to persuade the board to prepare this product in advance.

But actually releasing it into the market?

I needed Stark to officially declare the AI war first.

The problem was, that wouldn’t be easy.

‘Right now, it’s an extremely busy time.’

Next week, Space Z’s rocket test launch was scheduled.

This was the event that would elevate Stark to legendary status.

‘From Stark’s point of view, there’s no reason to rush.’

Even if he wanted to expand into other ventures, it made sense to finish his current projects first.

But I had to make him jump into the AI field right now.

So I decided to call him.

[You want to meet now? Hahaha!]

I suggested meeting up since I was in California, and I heard loud laughter on the other end.

[I’ve been basically camping in the office for two weeks straight...]

To clarify, it wasn’t because he was “overflowing with passion.”

He was just an extreme control freak.

He had to personally handle everything himself and never trusted anyone else to do it.

The problem was that now I needed to get that kind of guy to move exactly the way I wanted.

[Well, I still have to eat, so maybe 20 minutes over a pizza would be fine...]

"Great. I’ll bring the pizza myself."

[You?]

There was obvious displeasure in his voice, but I had no intention of backing down.

"Yes, I’m rather picky."

[I’m pretty picky too...]

"I have a lot of allergies, that’s all."

[Well... I guess that can’t be helped. Okay, then please bring something good.]

Having to wage this kind of psychological battle just to choose a pizza…

I already felt tired.

Anyway.

That evening at 7 p.m.

I picked up two signature pizzas from a nearby restaurant and headed to Space Z’s headquarters.

"Normally, I’d give you a full facility tour..."

The Stark who came out to greet me looked scruffy and sensitive.

It seemed it wasn’t a lie that he’d been camping in the office for weeks.

"It’s fine. We can do the tour some other time when things are calmer. Today, we need to take care of this first."

Stark glanced at the pizza boxes I brought and smirked faintly.

A bit later, we went inside, and when he opened the box, he frowned slightly.

"This isn’t what I had in mind when I said pizza."

He probably imagined some greasy, cheesy pizza.

But what I brought was...

A creation more like a work of art, fired in a high-temperature oven for just 90 seconds, crafted with a chef’s sweat and stubbornness.

"This one is called ‘Bianca Verde.’ It doesn’t use tomato sauce at all and uses Italian ‘Fior di Latte’ cheese as the base."

"No tomato sauce at all... on a pizza?"

"That’s right. The dough is naturally fermented without yeast and cold-aged for 72 hours, creating a delicate fermentation aroma when you bite into it."

One corner of Stark’s mouth twitched upward.

"I can tell you put a lot of care into choosing it. But honestly, I’m not a big fan of these ‘fancy dressed-up’ pizzas."

"Sounds like you just haven’t had the real thing yet."

"I don’t know... A pizza without tomato sauce..."

His eyes flickered over to the desk.

At a Papa John’s flyer.

It looked like he was considering ordering new pizza, but after glancing at the wall clock, he seemed to realize he didn’t have time and gave up.

‘Man, he really doesn’t listen.’

Having to go to war with a guy who was this stubborn over a pizza.

I sighed inwardly.

"Please, try it."

I offered him a slice, and Stark eventually took a bite.

His reluctant expression immediately changed after the first bite.

After finishing even the crust cleanly, he nodded.

"This... is pretty good? Surprisingly..."

‘At least he doesn’t lie.’

He didn’t like letting others make decisions for him, but he acknowledged good quality when he saw it.

After that, he devoured three more slices in a hurry and wiped his hands with a napkin.

"When I said 20 minutes on the phone, I wasn’t joking."

He glanced at the wall clock again before speaking.

"That leaves exactly seven minutes. What did you come here to talk about?"