Five and a half years was, for anyone in business, an enormous stretch of time.

It was long enough for companies to rise and fall several times over.

Tak-hyeon Lee set his thoughts aside and looked up at Do-beom Hwang.

"What figure did the secretariat come up with for the projection?"

He'd already asked Seong-ho for both the forecast and his real target. But Tak-hyeon wanted it from the secretariat he trusted above anyone else — that, he felt, was the only way to arrive at an accurate answer.

"The second-half results shouldn't differ much from Director Kim's estimate," Do-beom said.

"That'd be right. There's only a few days left in the second half anyway. Short of the heavens splitting open, it'll come in as projected. So what about Director Kim's claim of 250 billion for next year? Does that look achievable?"

Do-beom hesitated.

He'd run the projection through the secretariat, but he hadn't believed it — he'd checked it over and over. Because even he couldn't quite trust the report, he balked at saying it to Tak-hyeon's face.

Tak-hyeon read it on him at once.

"The numbers the secretariat came back with overshot the estimate, I take it. It's fine. Say it. Knowing you, if an unexpected figure came up you'd have run it again a dozen times, and if it still came out that way, then it's correct. So what on earth is this number that has you hesitating?"

Long years together had taught Tak-hyeon his man's temperament, and he didn't suppose for a moment that Do-beom's figure was wrong. He waited for the answer with a light heart — because he expected the surprise to fall on the good side, not the bad.

But the number out of Do-beom's mouth vaulted clean past anything Tak-hyeon had imagined.

"By the secretariat's estimate… at this pace, I'd expect it to come in near 300 billion."

Tak-hyeon wondered whether he'd misheard, and asked again. "How much? 300 billion?"

"Yes. And that's the most conservative figure — 300 billion. If the rooms hold up and even the suite-class rooms fill to…