The launch of Lost Fantasy M faced many ups and downs.
Due to conflicts with management, development was on the verge of cancellation. When OTK Company decided to invest in development costs, Ichikawa Shigeru left Linix Pentagon with the development team.
With the 1 billion yen investment, he established OTK Games and began independently developing Lost Fantasy M. Being the developer of the Lost Fantasy series and a former representative of Pentagon, he held the production rights.
An additional 400 million yen was later invested, and costs rose further with his direct publishing efforts.
The total investment amount was 18 billion won.
The one who insisted on making the investment decision was Oh Taek-gyu.
He believed that whether it succeeded or failed, Lost Fantasy series, made directly by Ichikawa Shigeru, had to be released.
Taek-gyu was confident in its success.
“I’ve played most games out there, but this is something else.”
“Isn’t it just because you like Lost Fantasy?”
“No. I played it during beta service and it’s going to be a huge hit.”
Senior Sang-yeop remarked, “The internet reaction seems pretty lukewarm.”
“Don’t worry about it. A game destined to succeed will succeed.”
While there were many diehard fans due to the series’ history, it’s tough to turn a profit with just a niche group. It’s uncertain how many console gamers would switch to mobile.
I chuckled and said, “Even if it’s a success, how much money could it possibly make? If it at least breaks even on development costs, that would be fortunate.”
“I’m telling you, it’s going to be a real hit.”
I nodded nonchalantly.
“Sure, sure. If it does well, that’s great. It’s just money spent on a hobby, so let’s not be stingy about it.”
Taek-gyu protested, “What do you know about games?”
***
The condition Taek-gyu set for his investment was very simple: a simultaneous release in Korea and Japan. He didn’t touch on anything else.
This is the first time the Lost Fantasy series will be released as a mobile game, rather than on consoles or PC. The internet is filled with mostly negative opinions.
– Who would play a game that’s already lost its charm?
– It’s not a casual game; making an MMORPG for mobile is a mistake from the start.
– The release is too late. If it had launched last year, it would have been different, but recently, big titles are flooding the market.
– Looking at the system, it doesn’t seem different from other games at all.
– Let’s be honest; even Shigeru seems to have lost his edge.
– If this flops, he might consider retirement.
While this negativity from Korean gamers is expected, there were additional reasons for the negative reactions from Japanese gamers. OTK Company was temporarily misunderstood as a Japanese company due to its name. Japanese people cheered for a company that had achieved significant results in the global financial market, believing it to be Japanese.
However, when it was revealed that the CEO is Korean, they seemed to feel a sense of betrayal.
– The parent company of OTK Games, OTK Company, was behind the attack on the Japanese foreign exchange market during Brexit, causing major damage.
– Who would play a game invested in by a Korean?
– Just go bankrupt and withdraw from the Japanese market.
– Koreans should get out of Japan!
– Get lost, traitorous company!
In contrast, Lost Fantasy fans expressed positive opinions. Ichikawa Shigeru stated in a media interview that OTK Company’s investment was driven by pure fan sentiments rather than profit, allowing them to develop happily without any interference.
– Was it not an investment but just otaku passion?
– A successful example of an otaku!
– Indeed, it’s Otaku Company.
– If it weren’t for OTK Company, Lost Fantasy M wouldn’t have even been released.
– If only I had more money, I would love to support the production of the anime I want to see.
Ichikawa Shigeru was confident in their success.
“Lost Fantasy M is the highest quality game in the Lost Fantasy series to date. Those who played the original Lost Fantasy will feel nostalgia, while newcomers will experience something fresh.”
Amidst anticipation and concerns, the official release date approached.
It was launched through various app stores, and like most mobile games, it adopted an in-app purchase system. The game itself is free, but players can buy items within the game.
So, what were the results?
[Lost Fantasy M launched simultaneously in Korea and Japan]
[Japan’s first-day user count: 5.8 million, revenue: 3 billion yen!]
[Korea’s first-day downloads: 2.5 million. Revenue: 12 billion won!]
[Lost Fantasy M sees explosive success!]
[A new horizon for mobile games has been revealed!]
As soon as it launched, the number of concurrent users exceeded 100,000, causing the servers to crash. An emergency inspection was conducted, and they barely managed to recover by morning, but access and waiting users continued to surge.
We were taken aback by the completely unexpected success.
It was beyond what could be described as a hit. It already surpassed the traditional mobile game powerhouse ‘Emperor of World’ to claim the top spot in both countries’ app stores.
Just how much revenue had it generated?
With the first day’s revenue alone, they could recover the development costs.
Only Taekgyu, who had predicted this situation, burst into laughter.
“Ahaha! What did I tell you?”
“…”
They had invested without any expectation, only to hit this massive jackpot!
The gaming industry is a goose that lays golden eggs. It’s difficult to achieve success, but once you do, it consistently generates revenue.
A hit like this only happens once every few years, if that. By now, Linix Pentagon must be regretting their decisions.
“Did you really expect this level of success?”
At my question, Taekgyu gave a sly smile.
“It’s Shigeru. Trends may be temporary, but class is eternal.”
“…”
Is this guy just lucky, or does he have a good intuition?
***
When Lost Fantasy M became a huge hit, other development companies hurriedly began creating similar mobile games.
The media pointed out the excessive focus on in-game purchases and gambling-like content. In fact, there were already posts claiming that people had spent millions on it.
The Lost Fantasy series succeeded in Korea, the U.S., Europe, and Southeast Asia. Given the current situation, it seemed inevitable that it would also be a hit in other countries.
OTK Games’ 100% stake is held by OTK Company, with 12% allocated to stock options for the executives.
If the game had failed, they wouldn’t have exercised those options, but with the success, things changed. Naturally, Ichikawa and Shigeru, among the developers, exercised all their stock options and secured that 12% stake.
On a roll, Ichikawa and Shigeru announced they would create Lost Fantasy Online. Since they could cover development costs with current revenues, there was no reason to stop them.
Amid the continued success of Lost Fantasy, I sought out a paper written by Professor Kim Ho-min. He had published about 100 papers, including co-authored works.
I printed and read his most recent paper published in a foreign journal. Since a translation wasn’t available yet, it was in English.
“The aluminum substrate forming the anode… anode active materials… composed of anode and cathode materials and a separator… NCM battery…”
“What the heck does this mean?”
The numbers and symbols were intricately tangled, with dozens of unfamiliar terms. Even though they were all recognizable words, I couldn’t grasp the meaning.
I’m glad I didn’t choose a science path.
I leaned back in my chair and muttered, “Nobel Prize in Chemistry…”
Korea’s IT technology is world-class. However, while a former president received the Nobel Peace Prize, there has yet to be a single recipient in the field of science.
The reason is that Korea has neglected basic science. In contrast, developed countries like the U.S., Japan, and the U.K. invest heavily in fundamental research.
Korea does invest, but both the government and corporations expect significant results within one or two years.
Given this situation, proper research in basic science is unlikely.
“What kind of battery did they develop?”
According to what I’ve seen in my prediction, Professor Kim Ho-min will be the first person in our country to receive a Nobel Prize in the field of science.
However, with limited information, it’s unclear when he will win the Nobel Prize. It could be as soon as next year, or it might be several decades from now.
In any case, since he holds the key to next-generation batteries, it’s essential that I meet him in person.
I wondered if any of the employees knew Professor Kim Ho-min. I wasn’t very hopeful, but surprisingly, one employee was a graduate of Korea University’s Chemistry Department.
His name is Park Kwang-hyun. After graduating from university, he completed the CFO program and worked at a fund company before transferring to our company.
I called him to the CEO’s office.
A moment later, a man in his mid-thirties entered. He had a plump build and a friendly demeanor.
“Hello, CEO. I’m Park Kwang-hyun.”
He looked puzzled about why he was called in.
“I heard you graduated from the Korea University Chemistry Department, is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
He is several years my senior.
I got straight to the point.
“Do you happen to know Professor Kim Ho-min?”
“Kim Ho-min… Ah! That professor?”
“Do you remember him?”
“Of course.”
“What is he like?”
“He typically teaches only one subject per semester and mostly stays in his lab. He seems a bit eccentric, but he’s a good person. His skills are beyond question.”
Korea University has various research facilities on campus. The university provides direct support, and large corporations or foundations also fund research.
“Are there any other notable things about him?”
“Um…”
He paused for a moment, deep in thought, then recalled something.
“Ah! You might be quite close with the head of the business department.”
“Really?”
So, he was friends with our department head? This makes things a bit easier.
Park Kwang-hyun cautiously asked, “But what’s this about?”
I couldn’t exactly say it was because he was expected to win a Nobel Prize for developing next-generation batteries.
So, I gave a vague response instead.
“Well, our company is investing in batteries along with Seosung SB. Professor Kim Ho-min is an authority in that field, so I thought I’d ask him something.”
“Oh, I see.”
After the conversation ended, he said goodbye and left.
I immediately called the department head.
[Hello?]
“Hello, Professor. This is your student, Kang Jin-hoo.”
***
I drove to the university.
It’s been a while since I went to school. Is this the first time since finishing the first semester last year? So much has happened since then.
Upon arriving, I parked and headed to the department office. As I entered, Professor Kim Myoung-jun stood up and welcomed me.
“Who is this? Is that Kang Jin-hoo from OTK Company?”
“It’s been a while, Professor. How have you been?”
“Very well. Please, have a seat.”
As I sat down, Professor Kim Myoung-jun smiled at me.
“You’ve done a great job of hiding all this time.”
I smiled awkwardly.
“I’m sorry.”
“I never thought that the investor who cashed in on the forex market during Brexit would be my student. Do you know the whole school was in an uproar when the press conference happened?”
“I heard about it.”
I got the news from Yuri.
“Have you thought about returning to school?”
“Right now, I’m a bit busy with work, so I’ll think about it slowly later.”
Professor Kim Myoung-jun said with a hint of exaggeration.
“I wonder if I have anything to teach the CEO managing a large corporation.”
“There’s still so much to learn. The work is all handled by the people around me.”
“Managing people well is the foundation of management. You’re doing it just as you learned.”
“All thanks to you, Professor.”
I gradually brought up the topic.
“By the way, how did it go with the request I made?”
Professor Kim Myoung-jun nodded.
“I’ve mentioned it, so you can just visit the lab.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh! Before you go, sign something for me. I’ll hang it up next to the Southwell sign and brag about it.”
“…….”
***
The science and engineering buildings were located deep inside the campus.
I entered the research lab next to the College of Natural Sciences. To go up to a different floor, I needed a visitor’s badge.
I spoke to the staff at the desk.
“I have an appointment with Professor Kim Ho-min.”
“What is your name?”
“My name is Kang Jin-hoo.”
The staff looked at my face in surprise. Then, he handed me a visitor’s badge.
“You can go to room 705 on the seventh floor.”
“Thank you.”
I took the elevator up and knocked on the door of room 705. There was no response, and the door was slightly ajar.
“Excuse me.”
I cautiously stepped inside. It looked like a personal library. The interior was filled with books, and a large blackboard hung on one side.
The blackboard was densely covered with numbers and symbols. It looked as if it hadn’t been written all at once; the slant and size of the handwriting varied, resembling scribbles.
At that moment, a voice came from behind me.
“Do you understand what it says?”
I turned to see a man in his early 40s wearing glasses.
“Professor Kim Ho-min?”
He nodded.
With disheveled hair, a gown stained with kimchi juice, and blue Crocs, he looked less like a professor and more like a bum.
The future Nobel Prize winner in chemistry appeared more like an unemployed person than an esteemed academic.
