Chapter 58: The Super Intern’s Hard Carry (2)
At that moment, every gaze in the meeting room fixated on me.
I barely managed to maintain a neutral expression, but inside, I felt like I was dying.
‘Ugh, why did he have to mention me out of nowhere?’
I understood that my kind supervisor, Matthew, was trying to acknowledge my contributions as an intern.
But as someone who preferred to stay out of the spotlight, this sudden attention was overwhelming.
CEO Lee Jong-hoon’s eyes sparkled with interest as he pointed at me, clearly intrigued.
“Oh? Dylan-ssi was the one who first brought up Studio SH? Dylan-ssi, could you briefly explain why you chose to recommend them?”
A directive from the company’s CEO himself—how could a mere intern refuse?
Letting out a deep sigh inwardly, I grabbed the table microphone with a composed expression.
“This is Dylan, an intern from Team 2. Before I begin my presentation, let me first touch on the unique nature of the gaming industry. It’s like comparing painkillers and vitamins. Most startups typically provide services that alleviate pain points or inconveniences for users. But games? They’re different. They’re more like vitamins—something you don’t need, but it’s nice to have. Whether or not you’re a gamer, most users would probably agree: ‘If it’s fun, great. If not, oh well’. That sentiment perfectly encapsulates the essence of the gaming industry. That’s why investing in games requires a slightly different perspective.”
The essence of games was pure enjoyment.
And because of that, gamers were brutally discerning.
No matter how much money went into developing a blockbuster game, if it wasn’t fun, it was doomed to fail.
“Studio SH is a company I first encountered during the B-CAMP demo day. Though I’m just an intern, I tried to watch their presentation closely from a VC’s perspective. Admittedly, CEO Song Si-ho’s presentation didn’t garner much attention at the time. Some attendees were even nodding off.”
The seasoned investment analysts let out faint chuckles.
Though their sharp eyes scrutinized me, there wasn’t a sense of condescension toward me as an intern.
“What caught my attention wasn’t the quality of the presentation but their ‘authenticity’ toward the game. I don’t know if you noticed, but CEO Song Si-ho was smiling the entire time he introduced the game they developed. It was like a proud parent showing off a child they had lovingly raised. Of course, that alone isn’t enough to deem a company worthy of investment, but it piqued my curiosity. So, I visited Studio SH’s office on my own over the weekend.”
Matthew’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
‘Don’t be shocked, Matthew-nim. If I hadn’t seen that golden light, I wouldn’t have sacrificed my precious weekend like that.’
“There, I had an honest conversation with CEO Song Si-ho and their team. As you can see from their career profiles, these people have practically dedicated their lives to games. It’s not an exaggeration to say that their collective experiences are extraordinary. Even the story of how they came together as a team is unique.”
That detail had been clearly articulated in the report, and the other analysts nodded in agreement.
“If we look at recent trends in VC investments, there’s been a steady interest in the gaming industry. Most of these investors share similar criteria when it comes to selecting gaming companies.”
I paused briefly, scanning the analysts’ gazes, which were locked on me.
“It all comes down to ‘manpower’. Gender or age doesn’t matter. When a development team is utterly, passionately obsessed with their game—or, rather, deeply genuine about it—users can sense that.”
At this point, I felt like I was giving an investor relations (IR) pitch myself, but it didn’t bother me anymore.
This game had potential.
One day, Song Si-ho had called Matthew and me over.
“Want to see something really cool?”
The entire team gathered, craning their necks to look at the monitor.
Click!
With a confident strike of the Enter key, Song Si-ho played a motion graphics video featuring a plump cat executing dazzling, fluid movements.
“Are you kidding me?! You actually finished this?”
“Ha! What do you think? Pretty killer, huh?”
“This is insane! Look at that fluffy fur. It’s ridiculously cute… Damn, this is so inspiring! Screw it, I’m pulling an all-nighter starting today!”
“Me too! Me too!”
Matthew and I watched, dumbfounded, as the two bespectacled team members stormed back to their desks, brimming with determination.
Amid this energetic chaos, Song Si-ho casually dropped a line that left a lasting impression.
“We spend our days imagining things and then bring those imaginations to life on a computer screen. And we get paid to do it. Can you think of anything more fulfilling or amazing than that?”
That memory faded, bringing me back to the present.
“CEO Song Si-ho worked at a gaming company for two years to conceptualize and refine his vision for Hunting Pig. During that time, he formulated hypotheses, rigorously tested them, and even secured seed funding after proving their success.”
I could feel the atmosphere in the room shift slightly.
The glint in CEO Lee Jong-hoon’s eyes was especially intense—so much so that it was almost unsettling.
“There’s a saying: ‘Seeing is believing.’ From that point on, Matthew-nim and I spent nearly a month visiting Studio SH’s office. We played and analyzed Hunting Pig with the team. Even for someone like me, who’s a complete novice when it comes to gaming, the game was easy to pick up and genuinely fun. We had countless conversations with them, and one thing became crystal clear: their lives were fully intertwined with the game. At least in the gaming industry, isn’t it people like them who are destined to succeed?”
I felt the stares of two colleagues sitting nearby, their expressions blank as they looked at me in apparent disbelief.
Even the previously impassive investment analysts subtly nodded their heads.
What meaning lay behind those nods was still unclear.
Oliver, the lead evaluator for Team 1, leaned forward and grabbed the microphone.
“Thank you for the presentation. I remember that team, but hearing such a detailed explanation does make them stand out differently now.”
Coming from Oliver, who was infamous for his strictness, his unexpectedly positive opening remarks brought a wave of relief.
“That said, there’s something you seem to have overlooked. While the growth potential of the gaming industry is undeniable, the perception of gaming in our country isn’t exactly favorable. Many still view games as a kind of addiction, and there’s a prevalent belief that they negatively affect youth education. Isn’t there ongoing discussion about imposing further regulations? I’m curious whether you’ve considered this aspect.”
I knew it.
I had a feeling someone would bring this up, and of course, it was him—consistent as ever.
“Additionally, let me bring up one more point. Despite the gaming market being worth over 13 trillion won, do you know why VCs are hesitant to invest in small game companies? It’s because the gaming industry is structured to favor a handful of major companies that dominate the market. On top of that, with Chinese capital entering the market, the VC landscape has deprioritized gaming investments. For instance, last year, the average operating profit margin for small and medium-sized game companies was -23%. Meanwhile, the ‘Big Three’ major game companies boasted operating profit margins of 30%.”
Does he actually memorize these stats?
I couldn’t help but wonder how he rattled off these market indicators so effortlessly.
“This growing disparity between the haves and have-nots will only worsen. Given this reality, do you genuinely believe Studio SH’s Hunting Pig can outperform the games of major companies and generate meaningful revenue in the Korean market?”
Wait, could this guy secretly be a gaming enthusiast?
His question cut straight to the core.
Matthew responded to the query, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of answer that made light bulbs go off.
It was functional but lacked a definitive punch.
Sensing the heated atmosphere, CEO Lee Jong-hoon, who had been quietly observing, stepped in to mediate.
“All of your points are valid. Let’s break into teams and deliberate. Once done, please provide your scores.”
As always, the proposal would face the scrutiny of Buksan Ventures’ signature 3-2-1-point system.
Securing this investment required a total of 10 points.
Frankly, it didn’t look easy.
What would normally feel like five minutes passing in the blink of an eye dragged on painfully.
Every second felt like an eternity.
Finally, CEO Lee Jong-hoon checked his watch and spoke.
“Time’s up. Let’s hear your scores, team by team.”
The scoring began, as expected, with Matthew, the lead analysts from Team 2.
“Team 2’s score is 3 points. If the investment goes through, I’ll take full responsibility for it.”
Next was Oliver, the lead analysts from Team 1.
“Our team’s score is 1 point. While venture investments are inherently high-risk, high-reward, I believe it’s still too early for a game like this to succeed in the Korean market.”
Given Team 1’s consistently negative stance, their score wasn’t surprising.
If anything, I was relieved they didn’t give a zero.
Then, CEO Lee Jong-hoon picked up the microphone again.
“Before we hear Team 3’s score, I’ll share mine first. My score is 3 points.”
A murmur spread across the conference room.
“CEO Lee is taking such an active stance?”
“This is surprising. He usually stays neutral in these matters…”
Noticing the reactions, Lee Jong-hoon gave a slight smile as he looked around the room.
“I’m no expert in gaming, but I trust Matthew-ssi’s judgment more than anyone else’s.”
From what I’d heard, when Lee Jong-hoon became CEO of Buksan Ventures, he personally flew to Silicon Valley to recruit Matthew.
It was said to have taken multiple attempts to finally convince him.
Apparently, Matthew was renowned in the industry for his unparalleled expertise.
In any case, my mentor Matthew was undeniably an exceptional individual.
“You all know how cautious and meticulous Matthew-ssi is when it comes to investments. For someone like him to spend an entire month evaluating this proposal and then bring it forward for review suggests there’s something here that goes beyond what can be conveyed in a report. Of course, from my perspective, the potential is evident.”
Why is CEO Lee winking at me while talking about Matthew?
Doesn’t he know that even a casual wink from a CEO can give an intern a mild heart attack?
In summary, the current score stood at 3-3-1, totaling 7 points.
Team 3 had to give a full 3 points for the investment to proceed.
Naturally, all eyes turned to Eden, the lead analysts for Investment Team 3.
“Our score is…”
Gulp.
The heavy tension pressed down on the room.
Why did the seconds it took for Eden’s lips to part feel so unbearably long?
“2 points.”
I felt the strength drain from my body.
“While I acknowledge that the game is better than expected, there are plenty of better alternatives available. I don’t see the need to take on this additional risk.”
And so, with a total of 9 points, Studio SH’s investment proposal was officially a no-go.
A quick glance at Matthew revealed he, too, couldn’t hide his disappointment.
But there was no helping it.
This was the company’s principal.
Principles are, by nature, the most fundamental and essential rules.
In venture capital, where hundreds of decisions must be made every day, principles are crucial.
If those principles waver, everything can collapse in an instant.
Lee Jong-hoon picked up the microphone again.
“With a total of 9 points, the investment in Studio SH will not proceed…”
It was frustrating.
Not because of the money, but because I was sure there was a way forward—it just wasn’t visible at that moment, and that made it even worse.
Then, like a flash of lightning, a memory struck me.
I shot up from my seat.
“Wait a moment!”
Everyone turned to me, their expressions frozen as if thinking, ‘Did that lowly intern just interrupt the CEO?’
But now wasn’t the time to hesitate.
I strode up to Matthew and whispered something in his ear.
His eyes widened briefly before he began stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Then, looking up at me, he nodded.
I returned to my seat and grabbed the microphone again.
“I heard there’s an exception clause to the 3-2-1-point system.”
The room buzzed with murmurs.
“An exception clause? What’s that?”
Lee Jong-hoon responded calmly.
“Yes, there is one. If a co-investment proposal is made, an exception can be granted even at 9 points, taking into account the offsetting of risk. However, that’s contingent on there being a…”
“There is a co-investor.”
The conference room erupted in chatter again.
Lee Jong-hoon tapped the table lightly to quiet the room, his sharp gaze locking onto me.
“And who would that be?”
“Sprout Investments.”
The room went silent.
Sprout Investments was my private investment firm.
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