The Price of a Rescue Mission
In a private members’ club in Cheongdam-dong, Gangnam, Seoul.
Only a heavy silence hung inside the secluded room.
“Executive Vice President Yoon. What exactly is going on here?”
The middle-aged man in a tailored suit, the representative of Argon Capital, a private equity fund, tapped the newspaper on the table with a finger.
Across the front page was a dazzling photograph of Hanseo Defense’s Hunt-Dog robot leaping into the air.
“The stock price went up. Isn’t that the picture you wanted, too, sir?”
“Who says I hate rising stock prices? The problem is timing and justification.”
The representative swirled his whiskey irritably and went on.
“What we planned was to make the ground systems division look rotten. That way we could use it as a pretext for restructuring, strip out the profitable robotics division, and either spin it off or sell it. But look at the situation now.”
He jerked his chin toward the monitor.
On the screen was an article headline: Chairman Cho Seunghyun’s determination proves true in Hanseo Defense’s salvation.
“Public opinion has turned completely in Chairman Cho’s favor. If we call a board meeting in this atmosphere and try to split up the division, people will be out in front calling us corporate raiders before the ink is dry. And there’s no guarantee we’d even win a shareholder vote.”
Executive Vice President Yoon bit his lip.
It was not an unfair assessment.
One variable named Baek Gunwoo had thrown their painstakingly designed exit plan into disarray.
“I’m sorry. I underestimated Director Baek too much.”
“Save the apology. Move on to Plan B.”
“Plan B, sir?”
“Ride the current. If we can’t split it apart right now, then we either make the whole thing bigger so we can sell it at a premium, or we create bait that foreign heavyweights will find impossible to ignore.”
The representative’s eyes glittered.
“Keep using Baek Gunwoo. As long as he keeps cleaning up the messes he makes, the company’s value will keep rising.”
“So... you’re saying we should just leave him alone?”
“Of course not. He still needs a leash.”
The representative smiled with pointed intent.
“That heavy-torpedo matter you said was on the verge of exploding? Throw it to Baek Gunwoo.”
“That’s... a huge risk, isn’t it? If he can’t solve it, the blame could come back on us.”
“And if he can’t solve it? Then we reprimand him and cut him loose. A hero can become a traitor in an instant. But if he does solve it? Then we save our money. It’s a win either way.”
It was the logic of capital, cold and thorough to the bone.
Only then did Executive Vice President Yoon finally ease the stiffness from his face and nod.
“Understood. I’ll get on it immediately.”
*
The next morning, in the chairman’s office.
“Come in, Director Baek! No, our company’s hero!”
Chairman Cho Seunghyun sprang to his feet and welcomed me with both arms spread wide.
The sharp eyes that had tested me so severely just yesterday were gone, replaced by the warm satisfaction of a man looking at his own grandson.
“Thank you, Chairman.”
“I should be the one thanking you. Thanks to you, it feels like a sore tooth has finally been pulled. You should’ve seen those Taeseong bastards’ faces turning sour, hahahaha!”
The chairman laughed heartily, then gave Executive Director Kang a glance.
Kang set a thick envelope and a file folder down in front of me.
“This is the promised special bonus. We’ve already arranged the tax handling so it’ll be favorable to you.”
“I appreciate you taking care of it.”
“And this... is a personnel appointment authority.”
The chairman tapped the folder.
“You need to build your technical audit team properly, don’t you? The friends you worked with this time... Department Head Maeng Giyong, Team Leader Park Kwangchul, and Senior Researcher Jo Seokhun. I’ll transfer all of them under you. Personnel authority is entirely yours.”
It was an outrageous offer.
The authority to pull in the key people, the best operators from each department, and place them wherever I wanted.
Any ordinary striver would have accepted it without hesitation, but I shook my head.
“No, Chairman. I’ll pass on that.”
“Hm? Pass? Do you not want those men?”
“Of course not. They’re the finest engineers in the company. But... they shine brightest when they’re in the field.”
I spoke politely, but firmly.
“I know this because I’ve done the work myself. If a key middle manager suddenly disappears, the assistant managers and managers beneath him are the ones who end up in hell. Projects stall. The site goes numb. I can’t make my own life easier by making my colleagues suffer and cutting the company off at the waist.”
Chairman Cho’s eyes widened.
It looked as though he truly had not expected me to say something like that.
After a moment of silence, a deep smile spread across his face.
“Hah... you’re bigger than I thought.”
“That’s too much praise. If those men could just support me from time to time when I need them, that would be more than enough.”
“Good. I like that very much. Come eat with me. I’ve already reserved a place I’m fond of.”
*
A hanjeongsik restaurant in Seongbuk-dong.
Without even a sign, it was one of those hidden places only top figures in the business world knew about through quiet introductions.
Sizzle-
Ssssizzle.
Only the sound of marinated ribs searing appetizingly over the charcoal grill filled the room.
All the attendants had withdrawn, leaving only Chairman Cho Seunghyun and me in the spacious room.
It might have become awkwardly silent, but surprisingly, the atmosphere was not bad at all.
After all, the old man ranked among the very top of South Korea’s business hierarchy had rolled up his sleeves and taken the tongs himself.
“Chairman, let me do it.”
“Leave it. It’s the only pleasure an old man like me has left.”
Chairman Cho smacked my hand away and turned the meat with practiced ease.
“Everyone freaks out and stops me whenever I try to do anything. If not here, where else would I ever get to hold tongs? Just think of it as food grilled by a senior from the company and eat in peace.”
A senior from the company, he said.
I quietly picked up my chopsticks.
Sure enough, there was no sign of the intimidating force one expected from a conglomerate chairman. He simply looked like a retired engineer who missed the smell of machines and wanted, very badly, to smell people again.
“Have a drink.”
The chairman tipped the kettle.
I held out my cup with both hands.
“When you tried to snatch the tongs from me, it reminded me of my youth. Those days when I stood in a cramped factory by Cheonggyecheon, shaving steel all night beside a single lathe.”
Chairman Cho smiled bitterly and filled his own cup.
“Back then, even if I went hungry, just hearing the machine go whirr and run properly made me feel full. But once the company grew... all that remained around me were men talking numbers. Profit margins this, stock prices that.”
He downed the liquor in one go.
“Not a single soul in the executive meetings knew why the machine was actually hurting, or how rough the hands of the men on the floor really were.”
It was a pointed remark.
Regret toward the finance side, and toward executives who only preached efficiency.
“That’s why I liked you. You smell like machines.”
From the small bag he carried around, Chairman Cho took out a thick envelope and set it on the table.
“The two billion won we promised last time has already been approved. Naturally, it’s yours.”
“Thank you.”
“And this... is an additional settlement.”
An additional settlement?
I opened the envelope with a puzzled look.
Inside was a detailed breakdown.
Contribution from the stock-price increase tied to the Hunt-Dog project’s success, incentive based on projected future revenue, brand-value enhancement, and more.
The formulas were complicated, but what caught my eye was the single number printed at the very bottom.
Amount Scheduled for Payment: 2,700,000,000 won
2.7 billion won.
For a moment, I wondered if I was seeing the zeros wrong.
I counted them again. No mistake.
Combined with the previous 2 billion, it was nearly 5 billion won.
Crazy... is this actually real?
“The tax handling got a little complicated, so I thought about splitting it into stock and stock options, but given your skill, I suspect you’ll keep earning around this level going forward anyway. Cash is cleaner, isn’t it?”
Chairman Cho put a piece of meat into his mouth as if this were nothing at all.
I swallowed hard and reached for my water glass.
Clink.
The glass knocked against the coaster with a cheap little sound.
My fingertips were trembling faintly.
Why the hell am I acting like this?
Get a grip, Baek Gunwoo.
I shouted that inwardly, but my reflexes refused to cooperate in front of a sum I had never even imagined touching in my life.
Just as I was trying to steady my shaking hand, Chairman Cho saw my reaction, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Puhahaha!”
He burst into open laughter.
“So you are human after all?”
“...Pardon?”
“I thought you were some kind of machine with no blood or tears, the way you pulled off things other people couldn’t do in a lifetime. But seeing you shake when money came up... that’s a nice bit of humanity. Very nice.”
Chairman Cho laughed so hard he even wiped at the corners of his eyes.
I coughed awkwardly and took a gulp of water.
The effect of financial therapy was certainly immense.
It felt as though every bit of fatigue I’d been carrying a moment ago had been washed away.
He drained his own cup with obvious satisfaction.
Then, a moment later, he changed expressions completely and got to the point.
“All right. Since I’ve paid for the meal, I suppose I should have you do some work.”
“Please tell me.”
“The Saudi export deal. You know about that, right? The Team Korea project, where Taeseong and we go in as a package.”
“More or less. K2 tanks, our armored vehicles, and air-defense weapons bundled together for sale.”
“Exactly. But... one of the core options in that package is causing trouble.”
Chairman Cho’s brow furrowed deeply.
“The Active Protection System. It’s the shield that intercepts enemy missiles and protects the tank. It was flawless at the test range in Yangpyeong, but the moment it goes to the Saudi desert, it supposedly turns useless.”
Dead in the desert.
Common enough.
High temperatures, blowing sand, and huge day-night temperature swings left plenty of variables.
“The MRO team and the finance team have been playing hot potato, each insisting it’s the other side’s fault. Finance says MRO neglected maintenance. MRO says it’s a design defect. It’s a complete mess.”
For the chairman to bring this up meant only one thing.
“Would it be all right if I went and took a look?”
“Would you do that? But... there’s one more thing.”
What was it? Something else too?
Chairman Cho paused for a moment.
He looked as though he was about to mention something awkward.
“The local person in charge there is... my youngest daughter.”
I stopped with my glass halfway raised.
“...Your daughter?”
“Executive Director Cho Yerin.”
What was that supposed to mean?
I stared at Chairman Cho blankly.
Cho Yerin.
A familiar name.
No, a name I knew too well.
“Do you mean Cho Yerin, born in ’93?”
“Yes, ’93. My youngest, the one I only managed to have in my mid-forties. Hah.”
“...I had her under me when I was a manager. She had just joined as a new hire then.”
Eight years ago.
She was the kind of person whose drawings were a disaster every single time.
So I’d marked up every line in red and told her to redo them, and she’d stayed up all night and brought back perfect work anyway, the stubborn little beast.
She disappeared at some point, so I thought she’d run off...
“She... no, I mean, was that person the chairman’s daughter?”
My voice had started to tremble before I knew it.
That seemed even funnier to him, because Chairman Cho roared with laughter.
“Kwahahaha! So that’s why she came home and complained about her direct supervisor like that. I thought, damn, she’s been stuck under a ruthless bastard. And that supervisor was you?”
“...That’s chilling. I think I may even have torn up her drawings before.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Even so, that girl never hated you. Or maybe she did? Hard to say. Now that I think about it, she may have gritted her teeth over you quite a bit.”
Chairman Cho chuckled and chuckled again.
Was he trying to tease me on purpose right now?
I had no idea how I was supposed to react in this situation.
While I awkwardly laughed and took another bite of meat, Chairman Cho wiped the tears from his eyes and gradually returned to a more serious expression.
“Anyway. I’d like you to go to Saudi Arabia. Yerin is currently in charge of the local MRO there. I pushed her into the planning office so she could get management training, but she insisted on volunteering for the toughest site because she didn’t want to lose to her older brothers.”
“So you’re telling me to go and fix the Active Protection System problem.”
“Exactly. Director Baek. Go and fix the machine for me... and give my daughter some pride while you’re at it. She’s a machine nut to the bone, just like you. The happiest she is is when she’s handling machinery.”
The former junior from eight years ago and the chairman’s daughter.
And a state-of-the-art defense system broken down in the desert.
My head throbbed, but at the same time I couldn’t stop the corner of my mouth from lifting a little.
I’d already been paid. There was nothing I couldn’t do.
For 2.7 billion won, I’d leap into hellfire if I had to, so a desert was nothing.
I set down my water glass and answered in a firm voice.
“Don’t worry. Machines don’t lie. Whether it’s the desert or Antarctica, if something doesn’t work, there’s a reason. I’ll go and find it for sure.”
*
Three days later, Incheon International Airport.
I was standing in front of the international departures check-in counter.
The moment I took the ticket hurriedly issued by the company, I involuntarily sucked in a breath.
Class: FIRST
Wow... first class?
Fifteen years into office life.
All I had ever done was get shoved into the cramped corner of economy and spend the flight with my knees crushed to dust.
Once in a while, if I was lucky, I’d get upgraded to business class, but a first-class ticket was something I’d never received in my life...
“Director Baek Gunwoo, this way, please.”
The airline employee opened the dedicated gate line and bowed politely.
Leaving behind the long economy queue and stepping into the corridor with the red carpet laid out felt like walking into another world.
Was this the taste of money, or rather the taste of power?
My chest thudded heavily.
But I couldn’t simply be happy about it.
I knew the weight of the responsibility included in that expensive ticket.
I stared through the glass beyond the gate at the huge plane.
Things were already noisy in Saudi Arabia, what with border disputes and all that... but once I got there, it would be fine, right?