Industrial Spy
As the sun sank low over the evening, Jeon Hyeon-su was climbing the hill road through Huam-dong. On the days he came home from tutoring a middle-school boy in some rich household, the steep lanes of Haebangchon felt especially cruel. He returned drained, the gulf between wealth and poverty driven into his bones.
Even so, Hyeon-su would not let go of hope. Somehow he would succeed, and change not only his own life but the lives of his family with it. Above all he wanted to repay the brother five years his senior, who was wearing himself raw so that Hyeon-su could study.
At the last climb up to the house, he found his brother, Jeon Il-su, waiting for him.
"Hyung? You're back already?"
"You haven't eaten, have you?"
"No."
"Then eat out with me tonight."
Hyeon-su turned and went back down the steep hill with Il-su. At a cheap wine house below the ridge, his brother ordered two bowls of makgeolli, the cloudy rice wine of the taverns.
"Have a drink first. Then we'll talk."
Hyeon-su drank it down beside him. On an empty stomach the alcohol rose fast and hard, and he studied his brother, who was giving off a feeling unlike his usual self. Il-su had something to say.
"Hyeon-su. I've decided to leave Seoul."
"All of a sudden? What are you talking about? Why? Where to?"
"Yeoncheon."
"Yeoncheon? What are you going to do there?"
"I'll farm. Your sister-in-law will work in a factory cafeteria."
"What do you mean, out of nowhere?"
Hyeon-su could hardly believe his brother was talking about leaving Seoul like this.
"Hyeon-su, I think the country would be better for Grandma than living in a place like this. And there's almost nothing your brother or your sister-in-law can do in Seoul. If we stay as we are, I feel like all six of us are going to starve..."
Hyeon-su knew the reality of it. But it was far too sudden.
"Hyeon-su. I'm sorry. After Mother and Father died, I never managed to be a proper older brother to you. I'm truly sorry, leaving you to get by in Seoul on your own..."
Jeon Il-su bowed his head.
The sight of it stung at the bridge of Hyeon-su's nose. No one had lived for the family more than his brother. Il-su had looked after their ailing grandmother, taken whatever work came to hand alongside his wife, and still managed to support Hyeon-su and their younger sister. Hyeon-su himself had done nothing for them. Wasn't he only clinging on, desperate to stay in university at any cost? He had lived on the thought that he would succeed someday and repay what he owed them, and yet of all the family he was the most useless—old enough to be earning money for them, and scrambling only to scrape together tuition in the name of study.
Shame rose in him, and he spoke.
"Hyung, I'm the one who ought to be sorry. I never told you, but not long ago I sat the exam to be chosen as a student for study abroad..."
"I know, Hyeon-su. You did well. You did very well."
"How do you know that?"
Hyeon-su lifted his head and looked at his brother.
Il-su drew a thick envelope from his trouser pocket and set it on the table.
"It's money from President Lee Ki-jo of Cheongsan Development. Your scholarship. He put in living expenses too, more than enough."
"The president of Cheongsan Development...?"
"Yes. He asked me to tell you he was sorry for failing you this time."
"I didn't think he thought well of me..."
Dazed, Hyeon-su stared at the envelope of cash.
"He's also the one who told us to bring the family and come live in Yeoncheon. He gave us a house, and work besides."
"Why... would he do that?"
"He said that only if we're living well can you put your abilities to full use. Every word of it was so right I had nothing to say back..."
"That's not true. The one who helped me was you, Hyung. I was the selfish one... I'm sorry."
Hyeon-su lowered his head, and Il-su soothed him.
"President Lee said you were more than qualified to study abroad. But he also said that if you set your mind to it, there are other chances. The moment you open your eyes to one of them, he said, he'll help you however he can."
"Other chances...? I don't understand what that means, Hyung..."
"Go see President Lee and hear him out yourself. He seemed fond of you."
Hyeon-su said nothing. He was thrown into confusion. What opportunity could there be besides studying in America? He would have to go to President Lee Ki-jo and ask him directly.
That night he climbed the steep hillside shantytown of Haebangchon with his drunken brother leaning on his shoulder. Bracing himself against Hyeon-su, Il-su spoke.
It was the first time he had ever seen his brother dead drunk.
The next day Jeon Hyeon-su came to the Cheongsan Development office. Grateful for what had been done for his family, he meant to return the scholarship to Ki-jo.
"Thank you, sir. But I won't accept the scholarship. Helping my family is more than enough."
"As it happens, the house I used to live in at Yeoncheon was sitting empty, we needed someone to farm, and the factory was short of hands, so I made the offer to your brother. You don't need to feel burdened. Keep the scholarship. From now on you'll have to get by on your own, without your family, won't you?"
Ki-jo spoke as if it were nothing and pressed the money back into his hands. Hyeon-su took it, hesitated, then said,
"Sir, when my classes are finished, I'll come here and work. Please—just give me anything to do."
"There's no need for that..."
"No, sir. I won't feel right otherwise."
"Then do as you please. I have things to attend to, so we'll leave it there."
Ki-jo stood, and Hyeon-su rose with him.
"Sir, my classes all ended this morning. Starting today, I'll help you."
"Is that so? All right."
Ki-jo turned to Jang Ma-ryang, who had been getting ready to go out with him.
"Manager Jang, I'll be going out with this young man today, so stay and mind the office."
"You sure you'll be all right, sir?"
"I expect so. Hyeon-su's a bit on the thin side, but the bones look strong. He'll do."
Ma-ryang looked the student over with a dissatisfied eye and held out the ledger and bag he was carrying. Pressed down by the fierce-looking man's presence, Hyeon-su bobbed his head and took them.
"Well then, shall we go, Hyeon-su?"
"Yes, sir."
Ki-jo led him out of the office and toward Myeongdong. They stepped into a Chinese restaurant there and ordered two bowls of jajangmyeon, noodles in black-bean sauce.
"Lunch first. If we're going to work, we ought to start with full stomachs."
"Yes, sir."
Before long Hyeon-su witnessed a strange scene. They had ordered nothing but two bowls of noodles, yet dumplings came out on the house, and even the owner himself emerged to greet Ki-jo with scrupulous courtesy. Ki-jo laughed easily and traded jokes, as if they were old friends. Watching them, Hyeon-su supposed it was only because this was a regular haunt.
He slurped his noodles a little faster than Ki-jo ate, and the moment Ki-jo rose he snatched up the ledger and bag and stood at his side. Ki-jo went to the counter—Hyeon-su thought he was about to pay—but instead the owner handed money over to him.
"Please look after us next month as well, President Lee."
Ki-jo took the cash, passed it to Hyeon-su, and said to the owner,
"I'm sorry, but next month will likely be the last delivery."
"What? Why? Has some problem come up?"
"Our stock is nearly gone. These days it isn't easy to bring goods over from Japan. The dollar's climbing, and I expect the price will only keep rising..."
"Aigoo... this is a real trouble. What you supply us has been good on price, and we could trust it..."
"Please find another supplier in advance, from the month after next."
"Wait a moment, President Lee."
The owner pulled cash from the money box under the counter, counted it quickly, and held it out.
"President Lee, please take this, and send us double the usual amount next month."
"We don't have that much stock..."
"Just take it for now. Please look after our shop. I'm begging you."
"All right. I'll make a special exception, just for you."
Ki-jo took the additional cash and gave it to Hyeon-su, then entered the figures in the ledger. Stuffing the wad of bills into the bag, Hyeon-su wondered what on earth was going on.
They left the Chinese restaurant, stepped into another eatery, and much the same thing happened again. Owners pressed money on Ki-jo and pleaded for more goods; Ki-jo, as if he could hardly refuse, took the money and marked it down. After six shops the bag was growing heavy. What in the world was he selling, to be taking in this much—and as advance payment, no less? Hyeon-su was desperately curious.
Having made a circuit of the Myeongdong restaurant district, Ki-jo led him into the Myeongdong branch of Korea First Bank. The moment they stepped inside, a clerk hurried out from behind the counter, bowed deeply, and ushered Ki-jo in past it. This time the branch manager himself came out to welcome him warmly and had a clerk take the bag Hyeon-su was carrying. When Hyeon-su hesitated to let it go, Ki-jo's look told him it was all right.
Shown into the manager's office, Ki-jo drank coffee and began to talk.
"President Lee, I hear you've deposited more dollars at the Jongno branch. Could you perhaps do something for our branch as well..."
"I've arranged to deal in dollars only with the Jongno branch..."
"Jongno or Myeongdong, we're one family all the same, but please give our branch a little consideration too. Ha ha."
"I'll think about it."
Sitting beside him, Hyeon-su could not help his astonishment. Even a bank branch manager was pleading with this man. By the time a cup of coffee had been finished, a clerk returned with the empty bag and a passbook. Ki-jo checked it and stood, and the manager scurried to open the office door for him.
Leaving the bank, Ki-jo ranged next through Euljiro and Jongno. The work was no different from Myeongdong—nothing but taking advances and recording them in the ledger. Carrying the now-heavy bag, he deposited the money at the Jongno branch of Korea First Bank, and with that the day's business was done.
On the way back to the office, Hyeon-su could no longer contain himself. Walking side by side with Ki-jo, he asked,
"Um... sir. May I ask what the money we deposited today was payment for?"
Ki-jo answered as if it were nothing much.
"Ajinomoto."
"Ajinomoto?"
"Don't you know it? The Japanese seasoning."
"Ah, I know it... I just didn't know it was that expensive..."
"It's dearer because it can't be made in Korea. You have to change won into dollars, go to Japan, and buy the goods there."
"Yes..."
Hyeon-su nodded.
"Can't the seasoning be made in Korea?"
"It can."
"Then why doesn't anyone make it here?"
"Because we don't have the technology."
Ki-jo said it simply.
"So if we only had the technology to make Ajinomoto, we could make it in Korea too."
"That's right."
Having given the answer, Ki-jo suddenly stopped. He looked at Hyeon-su.
"If I only had someone to go to Japan and steal the technology, I could build an Ajinomoto factory here. I already have the money to build it."
In that instant Hyeon-su understood what it was he had to do.
"Sir, if I go to Japan and learn the Ajinomoto technology, would you be able to build the factory?"
"Why wouldn't I? I'd be glad if you did."
Ki-jo grinned, then started walking again. Hyeon-su stuck close beside him.
"Sir, please send me to Japan."
"And your studies?"
"My studies..."
The scenes he had witnessed over three hours of following Ki-jo flickered before his eyes. Was studying really the answer? Did a man have to go to university to succeed? Doubt stirred in him.
Then Ki-jo, looking ahead, said,
"You can always study later. But I was thinking of sending you to Harvard next year. Wouldn't it be better to endure this year, and go to Harvard the next?"
Hyeon-su's heart wavered again.
Harvard, or Ajinomoto.
Then the faces of his grandmother, his brother, his sister-in-law, his younger sister, and his brother's child rose before him. Graduate from Harvard, enter DuPont, and bring home fiber technology? Fine—if it ever actually came true, it would be a dazzling future. But what would become of his family in ten years? Would Grandmother even still be alive? When would his brother, farming out in the country, and his sister-in-law, working a cafeteria, ever know a day of ease? If his younger sister Su-yeong said she wanted university, who would pay the tuition? The same would be true of the child.
Hyeon-su squeezed his eyes shut, opened them, and caught Ki-jo by the arm.
He dropped to his knees in front of Ki-jo.
"Now, now, Hyeon-su, get up. What are you doing, out in the street?"
Ki-jo caught hold of him and pulled him to his feet, then asked again,
"Truly—can you learn the technology and bring it back within a year?"
"Yes. I'll bring it back, no matter what. I'll copy the entire Ajinomoto factory into my head."
"Do you really think you can?"
"Yes, sir! I'll see it through."
Ki-jo nodded. It was not impossible. Lim Dae-hong, the man who had created Miwon, had crossed to Japan, taken a job in an Ajinomoto plant, and learned the technology in a single year. There was no reason Jeon Hyeon-su, a chemistry major, should fall short of him. If Dae-hong had burned with a fierce passion to make glutamic acid, then what lay banked in Hyeon-su's eyes, thick as an old grief, was the hunger simply to live well.
Send him to Japan this year, and Ki-jo could be a full year ahead of Lim Dae-hong, who had left for Japan in 1955. He could build a factory far larger than the roughly five-hundred-square-meter plant Dae-hong had raised in Busan. It was a hard thing to do to Lim Dae-hong—but in this history, it seemed the Daesang Group would never come to be.