Chapter 108
Chapter 108
Translation: Godtl
"..."
After the meeting ended, the Chairman and the department head walked out in silence for a while.
Each seemed lost in their own tangled thoughts.
"Chief Jo. What do you... think about what President Jeong Jin-ho just said?"
"It's utter nonsense."
Chief Jo Sang-sik shook his head.
"First of all, the very idea of selling all the shares held by the National Pension Service to liquidate them into cash is absurd. When does he expect us to sell all those shares? And selling them now would mean taking losses, wouldn't it?"
What they had wanted was Gwangun Securities' investment techniques.
They had hoped to learn exactly how Gwangun predicted stock prices, gathered information, and made final investment decisions.
After all, who was Gwangun?
An institution rewriting the history of the financial world.
They hadn't expected all their trade secrets, but at least some advice. Yet the words from the person in charge there had been shocking from the start.
"And short selling, no less! This is telling us to gamble—with the people's assets, no less!"
The National Pension Service was built with the people's money.
They had a responsibility to protect and safely grow that money.
That's why the National Pension Service had internal regulations.
Invest only in safe places, pursue stable returns.
Avoid high-risk investments like short selling or derivatives.
"Liquidating all our current holdings by selling them already violates those rules. Even though the Singapore incident shook global markets, they'll stabilize soon. Selling now would clearly mean taking losses—anyone can see that."
"..."
"But to go even further and suggest short selling... That's beyond irrational."
Telling them to sell off a staggering 700 trillion won worth of shares and liquidate them was already insane, but then to use that for short positions?
Was he in his right mind?
"You're right. It is a crazy idea."
"Yes, you're putting it mildly. It's completely, utterly insane."
"Right. You're absolutely correct."
But for some reason, the Chairman's expression was inscrutable.
"Chairman... You—you can't possibly be—"
"Chief Jo. But tell me—isn't the current situation itself even crazier?"
"Huh?"
"Why did we go to President Jeong Jin-ho in the first place, clutching at straws? Because the situation itself has gone mad. We're on the verge of missing our golden window, and no one is taking this crisis seriously."
The golden window.
Perhaps the last chance for the National Pension Service to survive through reform.
Yet no administration dared touch it.
Because doing so would mean political suicide.
So everyone kept quiet.
"When the situation's gone mad, don't we need a mad solution?"
"B-but this goes beyond mad—it's far too extreme. If we take losses, there'll be no coming back from it."
"I know. But you know this too—if we continue like this, there'll be no coming back either."
If they didn't act now, the depletion of the National Pension would become reality.
And history would condemn these two for standing by.
"I don't want to back down like those politicians, scared of losing votes. Shouldn't someone take responsibility and lead the change?"
"But this is gambling. Gambling with the people's fate. What if we lose the money? If we lose even 10%, it'll only accelerate the pension's depletion."
The Chairman's hands trembled slightly.
The mere thought was horrifying.
But whether they withered away slowly or died right now—
"Since the outcome would be the same either way, I'd rather choose the latter."
Because at least one of the two options offered a slim chance of survival.
"You're saying we should entrust our fate to that one person?"
"Not just any one person. The very man who built Gwangun into a colossal conglomerate. And in such a short time at that."
The chairman had been closely observing Gwangun for a long time.
Jeong Jin-ho, now called the real power behind Gwangun Group.
He was the man who'd reshaped the financial landscape of South Korea.
"No one knows what he was doing before joining Gwangun Securities. He appeared out of nowhere one day, shook the financial world to its core, and turned Gwangun into a conglomerate. And that's not all. He boldly expanded overseas, crushing anyone who stood in his way—no matter who they were."
In short, the current Gwangun was an empire built on blood.
"Jeong Jin-ho... That man. He might appear to be the kindest person in the world on the surface, but in truth, he's the most ruthless. Do you have any idea how many corporations and nations have fallen to him?"
"And you still want to entrust our fate to someone like that?"
"Though he seems utterly merciless when it comes to money, surprisingly, there are lines he won't cross."
"What do you mean?"
"He never touches Korean companies."
Those truly obsessed with money don't discriminate by nationality when profit is at stake.
Judging by Jeong Jin-ho's track record so far, he'd wielded his blade without hesitation, pursuing only profit with neither blood nor tears to hold him back.
Yet amidst that madness, he'd clung to one thread of reason—when it came to Korea.
"I've heard Jeong Jin-ho say this often: rather than competing with Korean companies, he wants to grow alongside them. He wants Korean companies to thrive more than foreign ones."
"Do you... really believe he means it?"
"Surprisingly, yes. Think about it—has any major corporation in Korea tried to suppress Gwangun, despite its explosive growth?"
Come to think of it, he was right.
When a company grows as rapidly as Gwangun, conglomerates usually apply pressure.
Sure, in the beginning, some tried leveraging political influence.
But now? None.
"Those gentlemen know it too. They're aware that their own companies have profited thanks to Gwangun. Just look at Kangsung—they partnered with Gwangun and seized control of the foundry market, which had been stagnant for years."
Whenever Gwangun stepped forward to dismantle a nation or corporation, the companies behind them feasted on the scraps that fell.
"Gwangun mercilessly cut down anyone trying to dominate the market under the guise of being a Korean company while relying on foreign stakes. The collapse of LK was just the beginning. Since then, they've been diligently nurturing domestic companies. That's how you know his desire to grow alongside this country is genuine. Now do you understand why I'm willing to place my hopes here?"
Finally, the director began to grasp the chairman's reasoning.
In this insane situation, they needed an equally insane idea.
But... but still...
"Isn't shorting 700 trillion won a bit... excessive?"
＊＊＊
Would the National Pension Service go short?
Half right, half wrong.
The NPS shorts for hedging purposes—that is, purchasing various derivatives to manage risk.
But they absolutely never engage in highly speculative short selling.
Ethical concerns play a part, but the biggest reason is risk.
Especially since short selling carries enormous risk, making such a gamble impossible.
And the advice given wasn't to short sell immediately.
It was simply to liquidate all holdings into cash.
"If the NPS tries to liquidate everything, bonds will be the first problem. Nearly half of the NPS's funds are tied up in bonds. And when an entity as massive as the NPS suddenly starts selling bonds, rumors inevitably spread like wildfire through the financial sector."
"What if we take it slow?"
"The National Pension Service has an enormous amount of capital. But if they take several months to carefully unwind their positions... it's not impossible. They could liquidate without causing too much shock to the market."
"How long would it take?"
"Given the Pension Service's expertise, about three months."
Three months to unwind all positions.
And that was only possible because they had skilled veterans handling it.
Just look at us—even unwinding positions worth over 10 trillion won took more than a week.
But for them, it was a staggering 700 trillion won.
If they wanted to quietly unwind their positions without disrupting the market, it would inevitably take time. Frankly, three months was already a short timeframe.
"What about our side?"
"Following the Singapore incident, we've liquidated all our positions as per your instructions and haven't reinvested anywhere."
This was because of the visions my intuition had shown me.
No matter which market I looked at—whether the U.S., China, Korea, or Europe—every index was poised for a massive crash.
So for now, we'd pulled all our assets out.
"But, sir... Did you really advise them to sell off all their pension assets and convert everything to cash?"
"Yes."
"Do... do you think the Pension Service will actually accept that?"
I didn't know.
But one thing was certain—if the National Pension Service continued down this path, all their funds would be depleted, causing massive social upheaval.
"They probably won't, right?"
"Selling everything off and converting to cash isn't an easy decision."
"And you even told them to prepare for short selling."
"...Then they'll definitely refuse. The National Pension Service has internal regulations strictly prohibiting speculative investments like short selling."
It wasn't illegal by law, but they couldn't violate their own corporate policies. And above all, the National Pension Service was funded by the people's money.
Even to me, telling them to gamble with it sounded insane.
"Let's forget about them. I doubt they'll take our proposal anyway."
"Understood. Then... should we enter short positions ourselves? Exactly which markets should we target?"
That was the problem.
Which markets to target?
After the Singapore incident, our assets had grown again, and we now had 15 trillion won to inject into the market. We couldn't dump it all into a single market, so we'd have to spread it across multiple ones.
The issue was that every market we considered was flashing insane crash warnings. No matter where we placed our short positions, it wouldn't be a problem.
The real challenge was the allocation and timing.
Which markets should we target with the optimal ratio? And when should we enter?
Now, we had to decide that.
This is going to take some time.
Manually setting all of this up was more time-consuming than expected.
I had to gather data on each market, then adjust the ratios one by one based on my intuition.
"Then, for now, let's start with the report—"
Just as I was about to give the order—
"Sir."
An employee stepped into the conference room.
"We just got a call from the National Pension Service."
"The Pension Service?"
"Yes. They said they'll follow your proposal. They're requesting the relevant documents..."
At that, our team members were even more stunned.
"What? They're... following it?"
"Wait, hold on. So they're really liquidating everything and using that money for short selling?"
The employee, who had only come to report, nodded awkwardly.
"700 trillion won? Seriously?"
"I'm just relaying the message..."
The team knew.
They just couldn't believe it.
And honestly, neither could I.
I never expected them to actually accept the proposal.
"Sir, you need to approach this carefully. If this investment fails..."
It wouldn't just be us taking the loss.
"The worst-case scenario could unfold where the entire South Korean populace suffers losses."
"The one silver lining is that even if the National Pension Service follows your directives, invests, and ends up losing money, you won't be held responsible. After all, we haven't established an asset management company to handle their funds on their behalf."
But what if this investment succeeds?
"Then wouldn't the pension fund want to entrust all their money to us? We'd establish Gwangun Asset Management and take full control of the National Pension funds. That would bring substantial profits to our company."
Of course, there was the drawback of having to strictly manage the funds according to the National Pension's regulations. But through this incident, they had decided to disregard all the rules they'd upheld until now and cross the line.
The first crossing is difficult—the second comes much easier.
In other words, if this single investment succeeded, they would gain the National Pension Service—a formidable ally managing over 700 trillion won.
＊＊＊
"Chairman! Wh-what on earth is going on here?"
He'd known they would come storming in.
The directors had rushed to the chairman's office this morning, frothing at the mouth over the directives issued earlier.
"You all heard me last time. I went to Gwangun and received direct advice."
"And that advice was to liquidate all our assets into cash?"
"But selling off every single asset without exception? And within three months at that!"
The timeline was tight, but not impossible.
What they were really questioning was why such orders had been given.
The chairman let out a dry chuckle.
He could already imagine how much more they'd lose their minds when they heard what came next.
"It's not just about converting to cash. No directives have been issued yet, but once the materials arrive from Gwangun, we'll be establishing new positions accordingly."
"Wh-what does that... Are you saying some stock is about to surge?"
"No. Quite the opposite. President Jeong Jin-ho predicted a financial crisis surpassing anything we've seen—a full-blown depression."
"What?! Wait a minute. Then you're planning to—short sell...?"
The directors' minds went blank, momentarily robbed of speech.
They shot sidelong glances at the division head sitting beside the chairman.
He too shook his head as if to say he'd tried to dissuade him to no avail.
"Chairman, the market outlook is extremely positive right now. Yet you're ordering full liquidation and then planning to short sell with that massive capital?"
The market, shaken by Singapore's turmoil, had stabilized and was now soaring vertically.
And now they were to not only sell all assets but also short sell?
"Absolutely not."
It was unconscionable by any reasonable standard.
"My mind is already made up."
"Then we'll stop you, Chairman."
"Then you'd better hurry. The directives have already been issued. To stop me, you'd have to drag me out of this seat—and that won't be easy. It'll take at least a month. By then, we'll have already converted about half our assets to cash."
"Chairman!"
The chairman rose from his seat as if he'd heard enough and walked toward the window.
"I'm fully aware of the gravity of this situation. I'll take full responsibility. If we fail, I'll wear the handcuffs myself. But if we succeed—wouldn't that be nothing short of a revolution to save future generations?"
The directors knew the chairman's stubbornness well.
Look at that glint in his eyes.
They could feel his unshakable determination—once he set his mind to something, nothing could bend his will.
"..."
In the end, the directors gave up and left the office.
Only then did the division head, who had remained silent throughout, cautiously speak up.
"The directors won't stay quiet."
"I know. That's why we must move faster."
"...Are you really alright with this?"
"I'm fine."
No. In truth, he wasn't fine.
Any sane person would feel the same.
Every passing second felt like sheer terror.
This wasn't just about him—the fate of South Korea's citizens hung in the balance of this unprecedented gamble.
"I've already steeled myself."
Yet the chairman forced himself to appear composed.
Even as the hand in his pocket trembled uncontrollably.