The Crown Prince

March 1st—Independence Movement Day.

It was a public holiday, and the alley in Jongno ought to have lain quiet. Instead it was in an uproar.

"Ma-ryang! What's the idea, hoisting that up all by yourself? Spare a thought for the rest of us!"

"Out of the way, all of you! Easier if I carry it myself!"

The racket was a move. Hansu, who had lived in the house next to Ki-jo's, was relocating to Sajik-dong, and they were hauling his household goods.

Kim Seogwang, Jang Ma-ryang, Shim Hansu, Seong Dae-ik, and Ki-jo had all thrown themselves into the work, loading the belongings onto a pushcart. Whatever went onto the cart was wheeled out of the alley and heaved up onto a truck.

Ki-jo was in poor shape from drinking too hard with Hee-jun the night before, but he rolled up his sleeves to help Hansu all the same. Sunrye, Soon-young, and Seogwang's wife were helping Hyun-kyung shift the household things as well.

Once the heavy pieces—the wardrobe and the rest—had been moved in one great bout, the men wiped the sweat from their faces and sat down to rest in the shade of the alley.

Sunrye came out with honey stirred into water for them.

"Have a little of this while you work."

"Thank you, ma'am. Truly, there's nobody like our madam."

Seogwang brightened as he took the bowl.

When Sunrye went back inside, the men lit cigarettes and fell to talking.

"Hansu. Why go and move? Stay in Jongno and keep living in the same neighborhood as the chairman and the rest of us."

Seogwang let his regret show, and Hansu answered, looking sorry.

"My wife's younger brother is getting married soon, and the Jongno house hasn't enough rooms. He'll be having children too. It's a bit small for two families under one roof."

Hyun-kyung's younger brother, Yeong-gi, was a disabled veteran working at a wholesale agency for Miwon seasonings. He had lost his right leg on the Nakdong River front, and not long ago he had met a woman blind in one eye and promised to marry her. As a rule a younger sibling set up a separate household upon marriage, but in those days plenty of people went on living together after the wedding. It was an age when a marriage often meant more souls under one roof, not fewer.

"This isn't you running off because you don't want to see the chairman even after work, is it?"

Seogwang meant it as a joke, and Hansu took it as one.

"Well... I wouldn't say there's none of that."

Everyone laughed. Ki-jo didn't bristle at the teasing of the Cheongsan family. He laughed along with them.

"I can't allow that. I'll have to move to Sajik-dong myself and go on being Mr. Hansu's neighbor."

The men traded a few more idle jokes while the sweat cooled, then set to work again.

March 1, 1961, was the day they moved Hansu's family to Sajik-dong.

The next day, after seeing Shim Hansu and Jin Hyun-kyung off with real ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠regret, Ki-jo found his own name in the newspaper. The piece ranked the people who paid the most tax in Seoul. His name stood fourth.

A quiet pride rose in him as he read it—had he really come this far already?—and at the same time the title of high taxpayer sat uneasily on him. In those days a rich man, a chaebol, was spoken of in the same breath as a man who had built his fortune by illicit means, and the thought left him a little heavy.

His mind went to Lee Byung-chull, whose name never failed to appear in the news of illicit wealth. In mid-February he had seen a report that the special prosecutor investigating illegal election funds from the Liberal Party years had sent Lee Byung-chull a summons. Not long after that piece, another appeared: Lee Byung-chull ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would distribute to the destitute 1,400 sacks of flour, five million hwan worth.

A man who could have done his good works quietly was taking care to have his charity written up in the papers. Ki-jo read it as a gesture made with public opinion in mind, and the special prosecutor too. Lee Byung-chull's standing inside Korea was growing worse by the day. Ki-jo was not rattled enough to start shrinking from every shadow, but he did think he had better be careful in what he said and what he did.

He was turning that over when Dae-ik stepped into the chairman's office with unwelcome news.

"Chairman, there's been some ugly talk lately from the firms we do business with."

"Ugly talk?"

"Yes. They say Hanil Bank is discriminating against companies that trade with Cheongsan."

Hanil Bank belonged to Lee Byung-chull. He had bought it when the government sold off its bank shares under the Liberal Party, and for all practical purposes it was Samsung's own bank.

Ki-jo nodded and asked what the discrimination actually looked like.

"The loan reviews and the oversight are stingier than for other firms, they say. When a loan comes due, the bank hikes the interest sharply or refuses to extend it. It doesn't do that to anyone else, from what I hear."

"I see. All right."

He would have to confirm for himself whether the rumor was true. A bank that made its profit on lending, and then refused to lend, was an unusual thing. The firms that dealt with Cheongsan were sound companies, and as Ki-jo saw it there was no reason to cut their credit or turn them away.

He took his hat and went to Hanil Bank's head office in Sogong-dong.

Hanil was not Cheongsan's main bank, so he knew no one there. He stepped up to the counter, held out his card, and spoke.

"I'm Lee Ki-jo of Cheongsan Group. I'd like to discuss a matter of loans. May I speak with whoever is in charge here?"

The teller who took the card recognized him and hurried back to report to the supervisor behind the counter. At that, the section chief came out and bowed politely.

"How do you do, President Lee? What brings you to Hanil Bank?"

Polite as he was, he was plainly curious what Cheongsan—whose house bank was Korea First Bank—wanted at Hanil.

When Ki-jo said he had questions about the bank's loan reviews, the section chief said he understood and went off toward the head-office branch manager's room. A moment later the branch manager himself came out to greet him.

"Chairman Lee of Cheongsan, welcome. Please, come through to my office."

He received Ki-jo with every courtesy. He knew Cheongsan had little to do with Hanil, and that it stood in a peculiar rivalry with Samsung, the bank's majority owner. But this was a company of formidable means—above all, it held a great store of dollars, the very thing Samsung, a domestic-market firm, lacked—and such a man could not be handled lightly.

Shown into the office, Ki-jo came straight to his business.

"I've heard that Cheongsan's partners and suppliers have been having difficulty with bank loans of late."

It was a sensitive subject, and the branch manager looked faintly ill at ease.

"As you know, business hasn't been particularly good lately. The president has ordered us to manage credit strictly. It isn't only the firms connected with Cheongsan. I hope you'll understand."

Ki-jo nodded, for the time being.

"Even so, the companies that work with Cheongsan are solid. Cheongsan can stand guarantee for them. If a guarantee from us would help the loans go through, I'm prepared to give it."

He could have shifted the partner firms over to Korea First Bank, Cheongsan's main bank. He chose not to. If Cheongsan put its stamp on Korea First as its house bank, those firms might gain by it—but a bank that knew some of them could not move might just as easily start doing business high-handed, sure of itself and of them. Ki-jo wanted his partners free to go from bank to bank and deal with whoever offered the better terms.

The branch manager took in the offer and answered.

"I'll convey your wishes to the president."

They were still deep in the conversation when a secretary entered the office. After begging their pardon, he leaned in and spoke to the branch manager in a whisper. Hearing it, the manager turned to Ki-jo with a slightly troubled face and asked his leave.

"Is there anything else you wished to ask?"

"Nothing."

"Then would it be all right to conclude here?"

He was plainly in a hurry to be done.

"Of course. I'll count on you."

Something urgent seemed to have come up, and Ki-jo decided not to press the talk any further. He shook the branch manager's hand, rose, and was stepping out of the office when a commotion broke out at the counter.

The tellers of Hanil Bank were quarreling among themselves. Staff fighting inside a bank was a rare sight.

"Why are you dumping Mr. Jeong Sang-hwan's work on me? A man ought to do his own job!"

"Now look here, Mr. Lee Maeng-hee! You get paid more than the rest of us! And you're the one who's supposed to be learning the work. Are you going to split hairs over yours and mine and never learn a thing?"

"I earn more because I hold a doctorate. Isn't that the reason?"

"What kind of talk is that? Staff who do the exact same work as you make forty thousand hwan, and you take sixty-six thousand! Don't go thinking more schooling means you deserve more pay. If you're paid more, then do more of the work!"

Ki-jo watched Lee Byung-chull's eldest son, Lee Maeng-hee, arguing with his colleagues. Maeng-hee had finished a long stay abroad, come home to Korea, and was working the counter at Hanil Bank. The staff seemed to resent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that he drew more than half again their wages simply for having brought home a doctorate in business from America. Or perhaps the trouble was his manner.

Seeing his subordinates brawl so unseemly before the customers, the branch manager frowned. He went over to them and admonished them mildly.

"What is all this in the middle of a shift? Save private talk for after work."

He might have thundered at them, but Maeng-hee was the majority shareholder's son, and that seemed to tie his hands. A word of that kind from the branch manager ought to have smothered the quarrel for the moment. Unexpectedly, it did not die down. Maeng-hee's temper was fire.

"Branch Manager! I'm not saying I won't work. I'm saying each of us should do the work he's been given."

When Maeng-hee protested, the man he was arguing with stepped forward as well.

"On behalf of the tellers, I ask you to correct this unequal treatment. Ever since Mr. Lee Maeng-hee started at the counter, morale has been falling!"

It was a taut contest of wills. Ki-jo knew how it ended. The clash between Maeng-hee and the head-office tellers would blow open until the tellers went out on strike. The looks turned on Maeng-hee as he argued with the branch manager were not kind. Every one of them, it seemed, disliked him, and the branch manager, feeling that mood, looked more cornered still.

"Mr. Lee Maeng-hee, come see me."

He meant to take Maeng-hee into his office and put the fight to rest. Ki-jo watched the young man, unable to swallow his anger and fairly seething, follow the manager toward him with plain reluctance. As Maeng-hee passed close and their eyes met, Ki-jo offered a greeting.

"How do you do?"

On the receiving end of it, Maeng-hee looked puzzled. The branch manager made the introduction.

"Say hello. This is Chairman Lee Ki-jo of Cheongsan Group."

"Oh, is that so? A pleasure to meet you."

Maeng-hee offered his hand.

"Lee Maeng-hee, teller at the Hanil Bank head office."

Perhaps because he had not been back in Korea long, he did not seem to know who Ki-jo was. And perhaps because he thought of himself as the eldest son of the greatest chaebol in the country, he greeted him with perfect assurance even though he was nothing but a teller.

Ki-jo shook his hand and asked,

"A pleasure to meet you. I wonder whether your father is well."

At the mention of Lee Byung-chull, the light in Maeng-hee's eyes changed.

"You know my father?"

He asked it outright. The branch manager answered in his place.

"Chairman Lee Ki-jo of Cheongsan heads a company that does not fall short of Samsung."

Even at that, Maeng-hee was not the least cowed. He took it with the same assured air.

"I see. I haven't been in Korea long, so I don't know how things stand here."

"I'm no one of consequence, so of course you wouldn't know me. If your father should ever want someone to talk with, please tell him he may call on me anytime."

Maeng-hee said that he would, and Ki-jo smiled at him.

The two of them carried confidence of different colors. Ki-jo had been born in 1930 and Maeng-hee in 1931, so they were all but age-mates—and yet Maeng-hee was the eldest son of a distinguished house, of a firm that had early made the leap into the great corporations, while Ki-jo was a man who had built everything from the dirt with his bare hands. Both were in their early thirties, and both were brimming with confidence. Only the color of it differed.

Maeng-hee had taken a doctorate ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in industrial management at Michigan State University, and like one of the few true elites in Korea he could not hide what he felt. He gave off confidence the way the sun does—dazzling, brilliant, without restraint. Ki-jo was another kind of man. Speech and conduct held in check, he let his confidence show as moonlight does: softly, and without glare.

He did not think matters would improve if Maeng-hee went into the branch manager's office only to come back to the counter. At a moment like this, it would be better if the young man left early and put a little distance between himself and the staff.

Ki-jo made a quiet request of the branch manager.

"Branch Manager, I'd like to step outside and have a cup of tea with Mr. Lee Maeng-hee. I wonder if that would be all right."

"By all means. Mr. Maeng-hee, have your talk with President Lee today, and then go straight home."

The branch manager seemed to share the thought, and he urged the early departure readily enough. Maeng-hee, perhaps glad to escape the stifling bank, said he would. He went back to his place, gathered his coat and his bag, and returned.