There are three core assets in AI.

Talent, GPUs, and data.

These three could be called the lifeline and source of competitiveness in AI.

If talent has already been "shared," then it was time to secure the next asset.

"Let’s start with the GPUs."

GPUs serve as the brains of AI.

However, at present, all products sold on the market are designed for game graphics processing.

Deep learning computations require far higher memory bandwidth and parallel processing performance.

Of course, I had no worries, since Envid’s next-gen architecture, the "Parser," was already stocked up in the warehouse.

"Although it’s already been manufactured and is sitting in storage, it's ready to be shipped anytime."

At my words, Stark immediately went to Envid and proposed an "Early Access Program."

This was a common industry practice—providing new products to select partners before launch.

Initially, Envid responded positively.

However—

Once Stark made his next request, the Envid representative’s face turned visibly troubled.

"What we want is the 'Golden Batch.'"

The Golden Batch refers to the highest-quality units from early production.

They are the most perfect samples, carefully checked for process variation, voltage, and thermal characteristics.

These units are typically reserved for selective testing or benchmark showcases—and Stark was asking for them.

Naturally, the Envid representative shook his head.

"I'm afraid that's difficult. Golden Batches are only provided to partner companies with pre-signed engineering sample agreements. Also, the current stock has already been contracted out."

"That partner company... would that happen to be Gooble?"

"I'm afraid I can't confirm that."

After a brief silence, Stark calmly asked,

"You said the stock is already on hand, which means the order was placed but not yet delivered, correct?"

"I'm afraid that’s not information I can share."

"Then let’s do this. Give us the products currently in stock, and provide Gooble with the next production batch."

"...?"

The Envid rep looked baffled.

Of course he did.

This was basically trying to intercept a contracted shipment from someone who wasn’t even the original buyer.

"I'm sorry, but that’s not possible. Even if we began production immediately, the new batch wouldn’t meet the original contract’s delivery deadline."

"Then how about we split them fifty-fifty? Isn’t 'sharing' the theme of our era?"

The rep gave him a look that said, "Is this guy insane?" but firmly shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but the Golden Batch must be distributed according to protocol."

Still, we weren't discouraged.

After all, getting the Golden Batch wasn’t our real objective.

The critical moment was this exact rejection.

Exactly one hour later—

Stark posted the following on his SNS account:

—Just got back from Envid. Gooble gets the Golden Batch, and we’re offered the standard one. So much for tech democratization—guess there are royal-exclusive GPUs now.

The message sparked a solid reaction.

Within 30 minutes, it reached 20,000 likes, and within an hour, several memes were born.

SNS was flooded with comments like:

—This is why you can’t trust Big Tech. There’s a caste system for GPUs now?!

—Gooble must dismantle their GPU caste system immediately!

—Gooble: 'Let’s move forward together!' (But the golden GPUs are ours)

—The AI version of Marie Antoinette.

Of course, from Gooble’s perspective, the situation was unfair.

That Golden Batch had been rightfully secured long ago through a legitimate contract with Envid.

‘In fact, it’s Stark who’s making absurd demands.’

It may be a crude analogy, but imagine going up to someone already sitting in a reserved seat and saying, “Let me sit here too,” and then after being turned down, saying, “Fine, let’s split the table,” and then when that fails too, shouting, “This is discrimination!”

That's textbook entitlement.

Sure, if given the opportunity to explain, Gooble could have clarified the situation.

After all, they hadn’t done anything wrong.

But the problem was—

People these days don’t take truth at face value.

No matter what Gooble tried to explain, the public had already formed a narrative.

—Gooble is hoarding the Golden Batch to block Stark!

—Big Tech is monopolizing technology and stopping fair competition!

If this issue gained traction, it would be more harmful than helpful to Gooble.

Even if they proved the truth later, the image of being a "Big Tech oppressor of startups" would’ve already stuck.

And Gooble knew that.

Which is why their response was swift.

We respect fairness and openness in AI. After discussion with Envid, we’ve decided to provide half of the Golden Batch to other AI companies. This is part of our ongoing efforts to share technology and expand the ecosystem...

Outwardly, it was "sharing."

But in reality, it was closer to being forced to eat mustard while crying.

Looking at the statement, Stark chuckled.

"Interesting... Those greedy bastards caved so quickly."

Honestly, I was a bit surprised too.

I didn’t expect Gooble to so quickly—and so willingly—declare a public "sharing" of their GPUs.

Well, that was good news.

"Good news?"

"This isn’t just image crafting. For them to offer such a key asset so easily means they view the situation as critical."

In other words, the term “monopoly” was a much deeper weakness for them than expected.

And when you hold someone’s weak spot, it becomes a lot easier to make them "share."

"In that case, we might be able to ask for something even better next time."

***

Meanwhile, ever since Stark entered the AI industry—

Gooble’s executive schedules had been filled with emergency meetings.

"Then, today as well..."

Ding-ling-ling-ling...

At that moment, smartphone notifications went off all around the meeting room.

The faces of the executives stiffened at once.

Because those alerts could mean only one thing.

"CEO ..."

"Does that man ever take a day off...?"

With faces full of fear and concern, everyone looked at their screens.

They were all looking at the same thing.

Stark’s SNS account.

—The weather’s insane today. Feels like anything could happen.

Sighs of relief came from all around, followed quickly by a flurry of complaints.

“Ugh… I’m seriously going to develop SNS trauma.”

“I mean, couldn’t he just stick to launching rockets? Why does he keep meddling here...?”

Stark was a difficult opponent, even for Gooble.

His public recognition was already at Steve Jobs-level at his peak.

At least Jobs was quiet outside of presentations, but Stark was even more troublesome—an attention-seeker who broadcast his thoughts several times a day.

“He must not, under any circumstances, drag us into this ‘Big Tech vs. Startup’ narrative he’s created!”

The CLO—Chief Legal Officer—almost shouted.

“If we slip up and say even one wrong word at this point, the investigations in Europe will intensify! And the FTC in the U.S. hasn’t stepped back—they’re just turning a blind eye for now!”

What they feared most right now was the FTC—the Federal Trade Commission.

A government agency that monitors and penalizes monopolies, collusion, and unfair competition.

If a company grows too large and starts stifling competition or harming consumers, the FTC can impose fines, restrict business operations, or even mandate corporate breakups.

And at the very top of the “companies that have grown too large” list was none other than Gooble.

“With the next administration, there's a high chance they’ll actually draw their sword. And if the Democrats win the election…”

That was why Gooble had recently and awkwardly been pushing this whole “virtue of sharing” campaign.

Because the Democratic party, currently favored to win, was highly likely to target Gooble once in power.

“Still… isn’t handing over the Golden Batch going too far?”

“At this point, we have no choice. Quietly letting it pass is the wise move.”

“But isn’t it foolish to empower your enemy just because you’re afraid of the blade?”

“If we hand over even GPUs, and Stark really manages to surpass us… what then?”

At that moment, the CTO—Chief Technology Officer—shook his head firmly.

“That’s not something you need to worry about.”

His voice was filled with confidence.

“Do you think having GPUs is enough? Orchestration, distributed computing, high-speed networking, machine learning pipeline optimization… It took Gooble years to build this infrastructure.”

No matter how hard Stark tried, the gap between him and Gooble in terms of infrastructure, manpower, data, and accumulated expertise wouldn’t be easy to close.

The CTO knew this better than anyone.

“No matter how much effort they throw at it, they’ll never catch up to us. At times like this, it’s wiser to keep our composure and maintain our dignity instead of showing unnecessary defensiveness.”

But then—

Ding! Ding-ding-ding!

Once again, alarms blared.

This time, everyone who looked at their screen let out a stream of curses.

Because what Stark was demanding now was utterly outrageous.

—The core of AI is training. And for training, you need data… But the company that monopolizes search is also monopolizing that data.

He was talking about data.

He was now demanding the very heart of AI training.

To AI, data is memory, experience, and the foundation for judgment.

No matter how large or complex the model is, without enough training data, it’s just a hollow shell.

Most AI companies relied on public datasets for training—scraping together bits of information scattered across the internet like dust.

But Gooble was different.

They held refined, behavior-based datasets that only they possessed.

It wasn’t just a collection of logs—it was higher-dimensional information capturing human patterns, context, habits, and emotional flow.

And now, Stark was zeroing in on that inequality.

—But is this data really Gooble’s property? Wasn’t it gathered with public cooperation, and therefore should belong to everyone? Should they really be allowed to monopolize it?

Soon, protests erupted all around the meeting room.

“Absolutely not! This isn’t just crossing the line—it’s undermining our very foundation!”

“Why should we hand it over?! What did we do wrong?!”

“We’re a corporation, not a public support organization!”

“If we set a precedent like this, it’s over. Once we give it up—”

At that moment—

A single voice cut through the chaos in the room.

“We have to give it up. We have no choice.”

The air in the room froze.

Everyone stared at him in disbelief.

Even he looked bitter, clenching his teeth in frustration.

“Is this because of the FTC again?”

“No. This… is a much more serious issue.”

He let out a deep sigh and continued in a heavy tone.

“What Stark has touched isn’t just data. The moment people feel that their 'search history, the videos they watched, their location data’ were used to train AI…”

The head of PR turned pale upon hearing this.

“That would be a PR nightmare.”

“Exactly. Once that kind of framing settles in, we’ll be seen as ‘Big Brother’ in the public eye. And once that happens, recovery is impossible. No amount of clarification or compensation will help.”

Only silence filled the meeting room.

The CLO continued in a somber voice.

“The longer this controversy drags on, the worse it becomes for us. As the only ones monopolizing the data, we’ll bear all the blame. In this situation…”

He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaled deeply, and made his conclusion.

“Sharing the data may be the wiser choice.”