The Chaebol Maker, Lee Jaseung
The dissolution of the Yuseong Group.
With that single line of information alone, Lee Jaseung held an overwhelming advantage.
And if he could see far more of the future than even that—how should he put it to use?
Own companies?
The thought flickered through his mind. He shook his head almost at once. Too obvious. Make trillions through investments, buy up every promising firm in sight… Wasn’t that painfully one-dimensional?
Besides, he had already lived through it once. Ownership meant responsibility—sometimes for things he hadn’t even done. Ownership was a burden. Influence was real power.
In that case…
“I’ll target the people.”
If he could get the chairman of the Yuseong Group into his pocket, there would be no need to own the group itself. The timing was perfect, too. Generational succession among the chaebols. Survival games between siblings. For heirs who had to prove their management chops, the breakup of the Yuseong Group would become the perfect stage.
Who would seize which affiliate? Who would fill the vacuum left in the market? In the process, the successors would have to demonstrate their capability. And Lee Jaseung could reshape the entire business landscape simply by controlling how, when, and to whom he delivered information.
So the work ahead was clear.
“Succession consulting.”
He would take the ambitious young shoots racing toward the group chairmanship and mold them. The dissolution of the Yuseong Group would become his first portfolio piece.
The first thing Lee Jaseung did was print business cards.
“I’ll need to settle on a corporate form first…”
He intended to consult for chaebols. But for that consulting to carry real weight, he needed capital to match. Is there a way to run consulting and investing under the same roof?
Consulting firms were barred from investing, and launching a fund meant choking regulations. That left only one option.
“A family office it is.”
A family office managed the assets of the wealthy. That very nature placed it at the intersection of financial institutions and chaebol families.
Next he went hunting for an office. In truth, that part required little worry—he already owned several office buildings in Gangnam. Any vacancies among my own buildings?
As it turned out, a long-term lease on the Cheongdam-dong building had just expired. Perfect. A prime-grade office suitable for dealing with chaebols: still Gangnam, yet free of the noise of Teheran-ro, private enough to enjoy. He decided to renovate and move in.
He left the remaining formalities to a law firm. A few days later the corporate registration certificate and the new company seal arrived. He slit the envelope with a letter opener and drew out the certificate. The trade name at the top read:
“Makers.”
Chaebol-making.
“Company’s done. Now I just need to land the clients.”
Three months later, a financial fraud scandal would explode at Yuseong Securities. Yuseong Group corporate bonds would turn into junk, tumbling straight into speculative grade and wringing bloody tears from countless investors. The financial world had a special name for those stuck holding such toxic paper.
Creditors.
And Lee Jaseung already knew who was sitting on two hundred billion won of Yuseong Group bonds.
“Seo Seong Securities.”
The group’s main creditor. Exactly. He planned to walk into Seo Seong Securities and tell them, “Those two hundred billion won in bonds you hold are about to become garbage”—to the rivals currently fighting for the CEO seat, no less.
Who should I tell…?
The succession battle there was entertaining in its own right. Lost in thought, Lee Jaseung’s gaze drifted to the clock on the display shelf. The digits flipped to 2:59 a.m.
I’ll have to check the future to see who’s better.
He casually tossed the ball that sat on the table into the air.
If it’s there, reality. If it’s gone, the future.
Tick.
Three a.m.
The ball vanished mid-air. With the now-familiar sensation, Lee Jaseung crossed into the future.
Once my consciousness settled, the first thing I did was check the date.
…?
May 13th.
That’s today?
The date hadn’t changed. Yet the ball I had been holding was gone, and when I turned to the wall—
As expected.
The entire ball collection on the display shelf had vanished. Only finance books remained.
“Definitely the future. In that case…”
I walked to the window and pulled the blinds. Harsh morning sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass. A dry laugh escaped me.
It was 7 a.m. I had arrived four hours into the future.
“Ah, right. Four hours ahead is still the future.”
How far ahead didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom to do things impossible in reality.
I read the memo on the desk—notes I had written only moments earlier.
Seo Seong Securities
The core financial affiliate of the top chaebol, Seo Seong Group—one of Korea’s Big Three securities firms.
CEO Seo had built a picture-perfect family: a lioness of a wife, a rabbit of a daughter… and the illegitimate son, Seo Minjae.
Seo Minju? Seo Minjae?
I was still deciding between the two.
Who should I hand the information to?
On personal terms, I was close to both. Seo Minju was the older sister I had known since childhood through chaebol gatherings. Seo Minjae was the friend who had been with me from high school through our study-abroad years.
Each has pros and cons.
Seo Minju’s position was rock-solid. Yet female executives remained vanishingly rare at securities firms; finance was still an old boys’ club. Seo Minjae was the illegitimate son—but finance had plenty of professional managers, so that fact carried less of a penalty.
So who made the better first client?
I can just test them directly.
This was the future. Whatever I did here would leave no trace once I returned to reality. Time to move fast. No need for subtle probing. I dropped the bomb on both of them at once.
Bzzz.
Bzzz.
Immediate responses, as expected.
·
·
·
I went to see Seo Minju first. No particular reason—she simply replied faster.
Seo Seong Securities sat only a short distance from Yuseong Securities. I took the elevator and checked the floors. Seo Minju on the tenth, Seo Minjae on the ninth. Same building—efficient routing.
Meet Seo Minju, then drop down to see Seo Minjae.
I stepped off on the tenth floor and headed for the division head’s office. Seo Minju, Head of Global Business Division. Running a core division at thirty-three. Under the CEO’s full backing she had been stacking solid results.
When I entered, Seo Minju greeted me warmly.
“You’re here.”
“It’s been a while, Noona.”
“Sit. Coffee?”
“I’m fine. I don’t think we have much time.”
She skipped the small talk and went straight to the point.
“I nearly jumped when I got your message this morning. Trouble with the Yuseong Group bonds? Is that real?”
“Certain. I heard it from my uncle. Figured you deserved to know first.”
“Is that so… I’ll verify and clean it up fast. Thanks for the heads-up. Is there anything I can do for you in return?”
She offered a light smile. Despite receiving critical information, her expression showed no urgency—calm from start to finish. Watching her reaction, I asked,
“You don’t seem particularly worried.”
“Hmm? Why would I be?”
“You led that investment.”
The two-hundred-billion-won bet on Yuseong Group had been Seo Minju’s project.
“If those bonds drop to junk, you won’t be able to dodge the blame.”
I had expected desperation. Instead she looked completely unfazed—not pretending, genuinely treating it as nothing serious.
“I can handle that much. Truth is, I wasn’t the only one involved. My little brother Minjae sat in on the investment decision too.”
“Ahh. So you can just dump it on Seo Minjae?”
A faint smile touched the corner of Seo Minju’s mouth.
“Why else would I ever accept an illegitimate son as my brother? Anyway, thanks for the early warning. I really should repay you somehow…”
“No need.”
I gave a short laugh and stood. I had already extracted everything of value.
My utility to Seo Minju is small.
She was a rising star who had thrived in abundance. The well-fed debate whether to eat a three-star Michelin meal; the starving pay any price for a single bowl of rice.
The information is useful to her—it will keep a stain off her record. But it only lets her solve alone what she could already solve, just a little more easily.
If I made Seo Minju my first client, I would become a capable staff officer, not a kingmaker. That was never the plan.
As I rose, Seo Minju looked at me with mild confusion.
“Where are you going all of a sudden?”
“To see your little brother.”
Back to reality.
In reality, Lee Jaseung had not fired off explosive texts at seven in the morning, so the half-siblings at Seo Seong Securities began their day in peace. Or rather—only Seo Minju did. Seo Minjae’s morning was different.
“Personnel order.”
Summoned to the CEO’s office, he found a transfer waiting for him.
Asset Management Division → Global Business Division
The head of Global Business was Seo Minju. They were placing Seo Minjae under his half-sister’s command. He glanced once at the order, once at his father, and swallowed a sigh.
Here we go again.
When the illegitimate-son scandal broke, CEO Seo had magnanimously acknowledged Seo Minjae and brought him into the main household as family. A mountain of unspoken deals lay behind that decision, but officially Seo Minjae received the same environment as the other children: a luxury Gangnam apartment, admission to a top-tier high school, expensive hobbies for social polishing, even study abroad.
Of course there was a price.
Human shield.
Seo Minju’s failures became his responsibility; any high-risk venture became his assignment. This transfer followed the same pattern. He was being sent to a newly created department whose failure odds made it too burdensome for Seo Minju herself.
Global Business Division — PBS Department Manager
“PBS Department. Newly established. Consider it a promotion to manager.”
“Wow… so I’ve been promoted.”
Seo Minjae’s dry marvel was deliberate. It was a promotion that felt exactly like a demotion.
PBS. Prime Brokerage Service. Securities lending, clearing and settlement, risk management—investment infrastructure for institutional clients. In Korea the field was still unfamiliar, only now being piloted by the larger securities houses.
“We have to leap toward becoming a global investment bank. If you take the pilot project and deliver results, the picture will look perfect, won’t it?”
“Hmm. A pilot project. Nice.”
A pilot project meant: not a core profit center, yet if it succeeded the credit went to Seo Minju, and if it failed the blame landed on him. Catching the stiffness in his face, CEO Seo asked,
“What, you don’t want it?”
“No, sir. You’ve trusted me with a brand-new department. Of course I’m grateful.”
Sensing the barb beneath the words, the CEO’s brow furrowed.
“If we’ve accepted you as a member of the Seo family, you need to play your part.”
“Of course. I’ll repay you with strong results.”
Seo Minjae offered a polite bow and left the office. The moment the door closed, the smile vanished from his face.
“Never easy.”
For an illegitimate son, every sentence came with a condition: fulfill your duty, and only then will we accept you.
Accepted me as a Seo? The mountain of privileges I received after being acknowledged boil down to one line: a card that protects the chaebol’s dignity. Impressive, sure… but it still feels like I just got a new card while standing in the same old place.
Was this truly being part of the Seo family? Sometimes the frustration made him want to walk out; every time, spite kept him rooted. The CEO seat of Seo Seong Securities—the chair his father currently occupied. If he sat there, could he finally cut the conditions free?
Finance is one of the few places that still leaves room for professional managers…
He clung to that thought and ground his teeth, yet the path only looked bleaker. Inside the elevator descending from the ninth floor he turned over his new mission.
PBS Department.
When do I build the team? How do I hunt deals? Where do I even find people—internal transfers or outside hires?
His head was already spinning when he trudged back to his office and found—
“…Lee Jaseung?”
An unexpected guest had already made himself at home. Lee Jaseung jerked his chin toward the opposite seat as if he owned the place.
“You’re finally here. Sit.”
Seo Minjae asked, half-bewildered,
“What the hell? What brings you here?”
Lee Jaseung lifted his wrist and checked his watch. In the future it had taken an hour to persuade Seo Minjae. Second attempt—no need to drag it out. Finish efficiently inside thirty minutes.
“You need results, don’t you?”
This work is a work of fiction. All characters, groups, place names, and events appearing in the story are entirely fictitious and bear no relation to any real persons or entities. Specialized knowledge presented herein has been restructured and adapted for narrative purposes and may differ from actual information.