Not a Seat for the Third Generation
"What do you know about semiconductors? Go on. Tell me I'm wrong."
Silence. He had plainly expected a boy struck dumb, honey sealing his mouth.
He wants an answer?
I stole a glance at Grandfather. Show off now, and I might only drag myself closer to actually running the company. Then what?
The thought evaporated almost at once.
Look at this tuxedo. It's as good as decided already.
This was the moment to throw in any variable I could find.
"Chairman, may I say a word about semiconductors?"
Perhaps it was the unchildlike way I said it. Curiosity stirred in Chairman Jeong's eyes.
"Semiconductors are a field I've always wanted to invest in."
"Why? You planning to make chips and supply them to our Daebo cars?"
The grandsons at his back burst out laughing. I paid the reaction no mind and went on.
"Chairman Jeong Yeongju, as far as I know, you think on a larger scale than anyone alive. You flew to Britain with a single business plan and came home with the order. That says it all."
Where was this going? Chairman Jeong shot me a sidelong look and waited in silence for the rest.
"A company led by a man like you has always made the big finished things. Ships, automobiles, construction. A record that deserves respect. And yet..."
Sensing the real point was coming, Chairman Jeong leaned toward me.
"At home, maybe. Overseas, competing with finished goods has a ceiling. Unless the country's image rises with them, no matter how fine a product you make, it gets marked down. That's simply how it goes."
It was a simple argument. A German car and a Chinese car. Even if the performance were much the same, which would a buyer choose? Put it more plainly. If Starbucks had been a Chinese company, would it be enjoying a boom like the one it has now?
"The parts market is entirely different. Specs matter more than image. You clear the table of every ornament and compete on technology alone. That's why I chose semiconductors."
This was a child who had only just finished elementary school. Chairman Jeong must have been startled. He said nothing. A giant who had weathered every storm, he kept a face of astonishing calm.
His grandsons were another matter. Their eyes flew wide open. Faces, one might say, that still needed a good deal more experience.
Let them gape. I kept my gaze fixed on Chairman Jeong and continued.
"You may not agree with me. If the country's image needs lifting, solving the problem yourself is more your style."
"Solving it myself?"
"Yes. Rather than leave the nation's fate in the hands of swindlers, you might find it more satisfying to step into politics yourself. Of course, I hope it never comes to that."
Chairman Jeong had been through every kind of weather. He was not a man to be shaken by the chatter of a fourteen-year-old. Up to now, that had certainly been true.
But this time the giant's throat bobbed, hard.
"Jihun, was it?"
"Yes, Chairman."
"You don't seem fond of businessmen going into politics. Your grandfather teach you that?"
"No. It's entirely my own thinking."
"Your own thinking?"
"Yes. If you ran for office, it would have to be the presidency. Nothing less."
At the word presidency, Chairman Jeong's eyes narrowed and trembled.
"The public won't tolerate a chaebol seizing political power on top of everything else. One man enjoying every privilege in the world. How many voters would allow that?"
Years from now, Chairman Jeong would run for president. This was about the season for him to make his decision. Or perhaps he already had, and was drawing up the plan. And in the middle of it, he heard this from his old rival's grandson.
Displeasure plain on his face, he turned to Grandfather. The look said, if you have something to say, say it yourself. Don't hide behind a child. He still couldn't bring himself to admit that all of it had come out of my head.
Grandfather, by contrast, bared his teeth in a bright smile. Whatever wild conclusion Chairman Jeong reached, it wasn't the truth, so what was he going to do about it? Maybe that confidence stoked the anger.
"I should be going."
Chairman Jeong turned on his heel in a temper. Grandfather, for his part, saw him off with words he didn't mean in the slightest.
"What's so urgent in the middle of the night that you're leaving already? You came all this way. Wouldn't it be better to look at the paintings before you go?"
Chairman Jeong walked on as if he hadn't heard a word.
"W-we'll take our leave."
"Congratulations on the exhibition, Chairman."
The grandsons bowed to my grandfather and hurried after Chairman Jeong.
The Daebo Group family was just vanishing when Grandfather turned to me, as if seeking my agreement.
"Coming to another man's feast and leaving without a single bowl of rice. Does that make any sense?"
Hm. Rival or not, a child speaking ill of an elder behind his back would be poor manners.
"He must have had something urgent."
It must have been an answer he rather liked. A faint smile hung at the corner of Grandfather's mouth.
The greetings ran another thirty minutes before the event proper began. The congratulatory address fell to Prime Minister Lee Woongho, once president of Seoul National University. True to a professor of economics, he earnestly laid out the ripple effects da Vinci's work would send through the economy.
Soon after, Grandfather took the podium.
"You came to look at the paintings, not to listen to me. Drag a scolding out long enough and both sides end up miserable, don't they?"
At Grandfather's rank, people were ready to laugh at whatever he said. Perhaps that was why the room brightened at once.
"Cut this, cut that, throw out every useless word, and something still remains. I'll say that one thing and step down."
What was he about to say? Every eye in the hall fixed on a single point. Then, smoothly, Grandfather turned toward me and went on.
"The foremost authority on da Vinci declared this painting no genuine article and nailed the case shut. Even so, someone fought tooth and nail, invented a whole new method of authentication, and in the end proved it was da Vinci's after all. You know that, don't you? And at the time, I thought..."
He added the rest without a pause.
"How fine it would be if our executives were like that. I tell him it can't be done, and instead of tucking his tail he charges straight through to the end. A youngster who rams the thing through by sheer grit. How would that feel? Just imagining it gives you a thrill, doesn't it?"
At that passage Grandfather set the microphone down and strode toward me.
Naturally, everyone gathered in the hall turned to look at me. He opened his mouth as if savoring the moment.
"Oughtn't you to say a word too?"
"Sorry? ...Me?"
"You brought the painting. Put the authentication team together yourself. Don't you think the people here want to hear from you?"
It was a room full of people who understood how things worked. By now they could guess Grandfather's intent well enough. Sure enough, with no one waiting to see who would start, applause broke from every side.
Tuxedo, bow tie, hair slicked straight back. I had thought something was coming when they dressed me like that.
I never imagined he'd put a microphone in my hand in front of the distinguished guests.
The clapping kept pouring down, and I couldn't very well ignore it. I walked slowly toward the microphone. If he had wanted a simple greeting, he would have had me give it from where I stood. Hmm. Once I held the mic, I had to say something.
For now, this is a chance to introduce the painting.
I explained, as briefly as I could, how the work had come into our hands, then touched on the authentication story already mentioned.
"I'm grateful Grandfather spoke so kindly, but there was nothing grand about it. I hated to waste the effort I'd already spent, and it was too much of a shame to give up like that... so I asked for help in a few places. That was all."
Perhaps because the answer sounded like a child's, pleasant laughter broke out.
"Oh, and earlier, something Grandfather said. I remember him wishing for an executive who would keep charging even after being told no."
Eyes flicked busily between me and Grandfather.
"As I understand it, we already have an executive like that."
"And who would that be?"
"Have you forgotten already? You warned him off again and again, and still Father fought to the end and started the semiconductor business. The share price seems to have climbed quite a bit lately. Hasn't it?"
Laughter burst out once more. The mood was ripe enough. Time to drive the wedge home. I opened my mouth as calmly as I could.
"As Grandfather said... if I have grit, persistence, stubbornness, then I learned all of it by watching my father."
At that point the audience grew solemn.
"But there was an edge in my father's eyes. Eyes that never doubted success. I still remember that look of resolve, clear as day."
With that I gave my father the credit, and at the same time declared outright that Hyeon-gang's next power belonged to Vice Chairman Park Jongin alone. There was no seat at that table for the third generation. Modesty and self-interest, taken in the same breath.
Had they guessed what I was after? Thunderous applause poured down, and still Grandfather watched me with a strange look in his eyes.
Thirty minutes later, Jo Sudeok prepared the exhibition briefing with a flushed, keyed-up face. Every notable figure in the country had gathered in one room. Even a veteran like him was bound to be nervous. Perhaps that was why the murmuring around him came through so clearly.
"I thought it was odd, the way they were boosting even the third generation. Now I see why."
"What did I tell you? Blood is a frightening thing. He's only just heading into middle school, and already this good... wait until he graduates from university. He'll be flying."
When one's president is praised, the corners of the mouth usually rise of their own accord. Jo Sudeok's expression was not particularly good. And no wonder.
His goal is the exact opposite of what you people think!
Our president wants to rest. Making money amuses him now and then, but management doesn't interest him in the slightest. Please, enough of those hopeful looks.
Contrary to Jo Sudeok's wishes, the voices around him only grew louder.
"So we should take the third-generation succession as settled?"
"Of course. They've already declared semiconductors the next great business, and the third generation is the major shareholder? What else is there to say?"
Unable to listen any longer, Jo Sudeok hurried out in front of the guests.
"I am Professor Jo Sudeok, and I will be guiding today's exhibition. To receive such distinguished company in person is an honor beyond words."
He bowed from the waist without preamble. The talk cut off at once, and applause spilled out. Good. Quiet at last.
"The exhibition begins with Kim Hwanki and Lee Jung-seop, passes through Picasso, Monet, and Salvador Dalí, and concludes with Leonardo da Vinci. I will speak to the individual works as we move."
The appraisals picked up the moment Jo Sudeok closed his mouth, as if they had only been waiting.
"Tall, and that face is clean-cut and handsome."
"Yes. Looks matter too."
He had told them to look at the paintings, and here they were harping on the president again. To say it once more: our president couldn't care less about management or any such—
And then a thought struck him out of nowhere.
But it's nothing but praise from one end to the other. What am I getting worked up for?
Scratching the back of his head, Jo Sudeok gave it a hard shake, trying to drive the useless thought away.