Chapter 77
Chapter 77
Translation: Godtl
"...Am I seeing this correctly right now?"
"You're seeing it exactly right, Chairman. These are Gwangun Group's quarterly profits."
Most conglomerates receive dividends from their subsidiaries once a year.
It's both easier to calculate and the most common practice.
But financial holding companies operated differently.
Especially Gwangun Group—with its securities firm as the main business, rapid cash flow was crucial, so they distributed profits quarterly.
"No. How in the world did we hit 3 trillion won?"
Three trillion won in quarterly profits.
The revenue figures were significantly higher than that.
"Enflix alone cleared over $1 billion in net profit just this quarter. Nearly half of that gets transferred to our Gwangun Group. On top of that, our KW Exchange saw explosive growth in new users due to server issues elsewhere, pulling in another $1 billion."
Though Enflix wasn't a subsidiary under Gwangun Group's direct control, Gwangun Securities currently held a staggering 40% stake in it.
While Enflix had substantial revenue, production costs, marketing, and other expenses meant its net profit wasn't as high as one might expect.
But the exchange was different.
If you could draw enough users, there was no easier way to make money.
Hadn't countless exchanges been born and made fortunes during the Bitcoin craze?
But when other exchanges halted trading due to server failures, users flocked to KW Exchange—resulting in an astonishing $1 billion windfall.
"President Jeong Jin-ho's foresight was decisive. When launching KW Exchange, some questioned whether we were overbuilding server capacity. But that became the critical factor in our current growth. While other exchanges can't process buy or sell orders, ours remains extremely stable."
The frightening part was that KW Exchange's growth was only just beginning.
Bitcoin, which many thought would briefly spike then vanish, had now surpassed $3,000 per coin.
Internal projections already indicated it would likely hit $10,000 within the year.
Meanwhile, altcoins kept flooding the market, and even companies that initially dismissed the Bitcoin frenzy were gradually showing interest in coins—aiming to create and sell their own.
Wasn't it said that establishing dominance early to monopolize influence was crucial? KW Exchange stood squarely at the center of it all.
Even if server issues stabilized elsewhere, KW Exchange had already absorbed the majority of users. As long as Bitcoin kept growing, the exchange could simply sit back and collect transaction fees.
As everyone agreed—owning the world's largest exchange was far more profitable than buying Bitcoin directly.
"But our real revenue source is right here. Shipping. As Gwangun begins dominating global shipping, profits have skyrocketed."
Gwangun Shipping had always been profitable.
But by acquiring failing shipping companies one after another, they'd expanded at an unbelievable rate.
Kim Du-yeong, appointed as Gwangun Shipping's CEO, immediately purchased any worthwhile assets he identified, rapidly growing the company's scale—all in an remarkably short timeframe.
Kim had announced ambitions to nearly double the fleet to 500 ships by early next year.
At this rate, it seemed entirely achievable.
"This was only possible because we followed President Jeong's advice and stockpiled massive oil reserves."
By purchasing and storing billions worth of oil in advance, Gwangun became a dominant force in shipping.
A mere few billion in investment was creating a company generating tens—no, hundreds—of trillions in returns.
"With 3 trillion won in quarterly net profit, where does that rank us nationally?"
"At least top three. Kangsung, currently first, posted over 15 trillion won amid record-breaking performance. Second-place Daegwang Motors' exact figures are unclear but likely fluctuates between 3-4 trillion."
Gwangun Group hadn't even existed for a full year yet.
Yet here they were with 3 trillion won in quarterly profits.
They didn't even have that many subsidiaries.
This was the result of selectively nurturing only the most lucrative ventures.
"Chairman... what should we do with these funds...?"
"Well, does anyone actually have a place to spend it?"
"If any subsidiaries face financial difficulties, we could invest to support them... but truthfully, there's nowhere for this money to go right now."
While other companies were in a state of emergency, scrambling to plug countless financial leaks with no idea where to start, Gwangun was the exact opposite.
AMC, which everyone had expected to be the biggest money drain, was collaborating with Kangsung to establish factories, and with HK now joining forces, AMC was poised to receive even more technological support.
Not to mention, the "big brothers" were providing financial backing on their own, allowing AMC to practically feast on the market.
The shipping sector was no different.
Only a portion of the incoming profits was being allocated for acquiring shipping companies, with the rest unnecessary at the moment.
In other words, even with massive earnings, there was nowhere to immediately invest the money.
But a former securities firm president couldn't just sit on a pile of cash.
Letting earned money gather dust was nothing short of a cardinal sin.
"Then there's only one answer. We'll leave all decisions on how to deploy this capital to President Jeong Jin-ho."
There was no need to directly hand the money over to the securities firm.
Just as all funds entering the securities firm were managed by Jeong Jin-ho, all capital flowing into the holding company through subsidiaries would now also be handled by him.
'What kind of scheme will Jin-ho pull off this time...?'
Frankly, it was impossible to imagine now.
He had bought oil in advance with hundreds of billions, creating the current shipping giant, and used that as leverage to pressure TSNC and swallow up the semiconductor market.
Was that all?
By triggering a semiconductor shortage and causing server issues, he catapulted KW Exchange to the top global exchange in one fell swoop.
And those companies had all achieved explosive growth.
Meaning, 3 trillion won was just the beginning.
'Wasn't there talk of a corporation surpassing nations?'
The conversation he'd had with Vice President Kang Ji-hwan suddenly came to mind.
A global enterprise beyond the control of any nation.
A shadow entity controlling the entire global economy.
Mega Corp.
That was Jeong Jin-ho's ultimate destination.
＊＊＊
"President, I've brought the report you requested last time."
"Oh? Is that the Nation of Late-night Snacks report? I ordered salad through them just yesterday."
Nation of Late-night Snacks.
Last year's revenue: 85 billion won. Operating profit: 3 billion won.
A 70% increase in revenue compared to the year before.
Moreover, this year's revenue was projected to exceed 150 billion won.
And in just one year, the total transaction volume processed through Nation of Late-night Snacks had surpassed a staggering 1.8 trillion won.
It was a clear indicator of how massively the delivery market was expanding through their platform.
"Representative Lee Beom-jun played a huge role in this growth trajectory. Starting with Gold Reagan, he secured investments from various sources and aggressively scaled up through marketing."
When he'd first reviewed the Nation of Late-night Snacks report before, it hadn't left much of an impression.
That was likely because of Representative Lee Beom-jun.
Someone had to drive this company's growth—and that someone was him.
Only now was his intuition kicking in.
What did that mean?
With momentum accelerating, this was the perfect time to enter.
"Foreign companies tried acquiring Nation of Late-night Snacks before. The offer was around 300 billion won at the time, but Representative Lee Beom-jun turned it down."
"So he wants a higher price?"
"Representative Lee Beom-jun even gave an interview saying he'd never sell a domestic delivery leader to a foreign company."
"So it's not about the price?"
"Let's be honest—it is about the price. Running a business, buying and selling—that's not a matter of patriotism, is it?"
Now that he thought about it, that made sense.
How many entrepreneurs would really sacrifice profits for patriotism?
Those people didn't care about the nationality of money.
"And isn't there a saying? When negotiations stall, just throw more money at it."
Meaning, unless the offer was impossible to refuse, he wouldn't sell?
"Apparently, he reiterated his stance against selling this time too. But he also expressed openness to further investments from other companies. Rumor has it Labor, Korea's top portal site, plans to invest around 70 billion won."
"But the real issue is competitiveness. Sure, Nation of Late-night Snacks is the top delivery app domestically, but rival apps are rising fast. It's a world where you could be overtaken any moment."
Yet, if his instincts were reacting now, didn't that mean Nation of Late-night Snacks was poised for overwhelming growth?
"Just how much would it take to acquire this company?"
"Representative Lee Beom-jun isn't the only shareholder. There are multiple investment firms involved, so acquiring full shares would likely cause significant price fluctuations. Considering all that and estimating Nation of Late-night Snacks' current valuation... it would be around 400 billion won. That 300 billion acquisition offer from the other company seems fairly accurate."
300 to 400 billion.
That was our firm's valuation for Nation of Late-night Snacks.
But this price didn't feel right.
At this valuation, Representative Lee Beom-jun would never agree to sell.
Hadn't he already rejected a 300 billion offer?
"..."
I gradually increased the numbers in my notebook.
The rising figures stopped at a certain point.
I'd worried the amount might become absurd, but...
'...This isn't as bad as I thought?'
＊＊＊
Vice President Kang Ji-hwan adjusted his tie as he arrived at the meeting location.
His counterpart was already waiting in the private room.
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Kang Ji-hwan, Vice President of Gwangun Securities."
"Ah, yes. I'm Lee Beom-jun, the representative."
Though Lee Beom-jun had shown up, his expression clearly showed he couldn't fathom why Gwangun had suddenly taken interest in his company.
"I've heard much about Gwangun. Aren't you the hottest conglomerate in Korea right now? Is Gwangun really looking to invest in our company?"
"Does that make you uncomfortable?"
"Well... the truth is Labor has already promised a 70 billion won investment. Taking additional funding at this stage would be..."
"I see. But we're not here to invest."
"Pardon?"
"Gwangun has come today to personally meet with you, Representative Lee, for the acquisition of Nation of Late-night Snacks."
Representative Lee's face momentarily showed surprise before hardening again.
"I've received multiple acquisition offers before. I've rejected them all every time. I have absolutely no intention of selling Nation of Late-night Snacks."
"How much were those companies offering?"
"The highest bid was 400 billion."
400 billion.
Even Vice President Kang Ji-hwan thought that was a perfectly reasonable price.
Yet he'd refused even that amount.
Was the man overly greedy, or did he have some personal conviction?
Had it been Kang Ji-hwan, he would never have offered more than 400 billion.
Just looking at operating profits, paying 400 billion already felt excessively generous.
The problem was that the investment decision didn't rest with Kang Ji-hwan, but with Gwangun Securities' President, Jeong Jin-ho.
"800 billion."
"...Excuse me?"
"That's Gwangun's acquisition offer to you, Representative Lee."
"!?"
Kang Ji-hwan didn't miss Lee Beom-jun's expression.
The man couldn't hide the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
So it wasn't about personal conviction after all.
The previous offers had simply been too low.
Ahem. "Th-this is... rather sudden. I did say I have no intention to sell..."
"Then that's unfortunate. There's nothing more to discuss with someone who doesn't wish to sell."
As Kang Ji-hwan rose from his seat, Lee Beom-jun startled and grabbed his arm.
"My, you're quite impatient."
"Representative Lee. With all due respect, at our securities firm, we account for every minute and second. Time is literally money. If you can't give me a definitive answer about the transaction, I can't afford to waste any more time."
"...When I said I had no intention to sell, that was directed at foreign corporations. Isn't Gwangun a homegrown Korean company? Your credibility is unquestionable."
Kang Ji-hwan sat back down.
"I've brought a draft contract. Would you like to review it?"
"I should probably examine this briefly and consult with our legal team first..."
"We'll wait until tomorrow. If we don't hear back by then, we'll consider this transaction null and void."
"Ah, that should be more than enough time. Though there are several investors in our company, so you'll need additional negotiations to resolve their shares..."
"We'll handle that ourselves. All we need is for you, the majority shareholder, to make the final decision."
There was absolutely no reason for Representative Lee to refuse.
He'd be selling a company valued around 400 billion for double that price.
In this uncertain delivery app warzone, who would turn down an opportunity to exit with this much capital?
The answer was clear just from seeing Representative Lee Beom-jun's beaming face as he accepted the draft contract.
"But is this really going to be okay?"
He knew people were ordering delivery more and more these days.
But could this really be worth over 800 billion won?
***
"Did you mess up another business venture this time?"
"Ah, hyungnim. There you go worrying needlessly again."
"It's not needless, you idiot. The distribution sector's profits are in the red right now."
"That's right. Kangsung Electronics is breaking profit records, our department stores are doing extremely well—so why is distribution like this?"
Kang Sung-ho and Kang Mi-ra began berating their youngest brother Kang Su-ho.
"Sigh... It's all because of this e-commerce nonsense. Back then, the whole nation used to come to Kangsung Mart, but now everyone wants to order everything online."
The world had changed rapidly.
No—it was still changing at breakneck speed.
And at the center of it all was this tiny smartphone.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say most people's lives now revolved around their phones.
Originally, everyone used to go to the mart to shop, but now deliveries arrive automatically when you place an order.
"Especially Lupin. Those bastards are the problem. They've secured another massive round of foreign investment and are preparing for bullet-speed deliveries. They're promising fresh products delivered by the next day if you order today."
"Is that even possible?"
"I told you—they're using the enormous investment from Japan's Hard Bank to build warehouses everywhere. They plan to use those as hubs for nationwide bullet-speed deliveries."
The e-commerce market was currently experiencing explosive growth.
The era of online shopping had arrived.
The problem was that this was a chicken game.
Only one.
Only a single player could survive this brutal chicken game.
"We're scrambling to prepare too."
"Is it even possible? Can we beat Lupin here?"
"These bastards play dirty. They've secured absurd amounts of investment capital. They've headquartered in America, taken all their funding from Japan, and completely circumvented our country's laws. The founder holds less than 9% of shares but controls 70% of voting rights."
Such a thing would be impossible in Korea, but by basing their headquarters in America, Lupin could create special shares to artificially inflate voting rights.
In other words, even with just 1% ownership, you could control the entire company.
Lupin was leveraging every possible advantage to keep attracting foreign capital.
"So if hyungnim would just invest a little, this little brother would do very well. Hehe. I heard Kangsung Electronics is doing amazingly these days."
Kang Sung-ho frowned.
He'd rather entrust fish to a cat than money to this guy.
"Oh right—speaking of which, didn't Gwangun just acquire Nation of Late-night Snacks, that delivery company, for 800 billion won?"
At Kang Mi-ra's words, Kang Sung-ho nodded.
"I heard about that too."
They'd acquired a company not even valued at 400 billion for double that price.
Frankly, it was a deal that was hard to comprehend.
"And wasn't it that Jeong Jin-ho guy who handled it? Gwangun makes good money too—isn't that guy just recklessly splurging because he's full of himself?"
Kang Sung-ho's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Hey. Watch your mouth."
"...Huh?"
"That's not someone you can carelessly badmouth."
"..."
Seeing his older brother's terrifying expression for the first time in years, Kang Su-ho slowly nodded with a stiff face.
"If you ever meet that guy, be careful not to slip up. He might be younger than you, but don't you dare treat him lightly. Understood?"
"Ah, yeah..."
The atmosphere had suddenly turned icy.
The youngest was clearly just provoking him, knowing full well his brother adored Jeong Jin-ho.
"Oppa. Doesn't Yoo-jin work in distribution here?"
Kang Mi-ra tried changing the subject.
"So?"
"You said it before—Ji Su-i is pretty and good at her job, so you'd like to set her up with Jeong Jin-ho."
"But what can I do if he keeps refusing to meet?"
They'd actually arranged several meetings, but Jeong Jin-ho always declined.
"That's because you're forcing blind dates on him. What about letting them meet naturally through business? Now that Gwangun has acquired that delivery app, doesn't that mean they're getting interested in distribution too? They call it delivery brokerage, but if developed properly, it could achieve the nationwide rapid delivery Lupin wants, right? So collaboration between the two companies wouldn't be bad. Use that as an excuse to get them together."
At this, Kang Sung-ho straightened his posture.
"Explain in more detail."
"Huh?"
She'd just brought it up to lighten the mood, but...
"W-wait, you're serious?"
Kang Mi-ra was flustered by how seriously her eldest brother was taking this.