The 489 Billion Revelation
Even at Rule Breaker Sharp, the production costs were one thing, but the drawbacks were so severe that the lab had only been running test units. When ID Group requested a sample for the second-generation Egg PC monitor, they sent one immediately. In the past, they would have ignored a request from a Korean company outright, but the global success of the Egg PC had completely changed their minds.
The TFT-LCD's performance was abysmal, but its design was unmatched. The monitor had always been the bulkiest component in an all-in-one PC, wasting enormous amounts of space. This design slashed that waste dramatically. As a result, the second-generation Egg PC looked entirely different. The main body was a compact cube, with a sturdy metal stand rising from the back to support the LCD monitor. It evoked both E.T. and a cute little robot. The high-grade aluminum casing only strengthened that robotic impression.
Yet the original Egg PC's identity hadn't been erased. The elegant curves and polycarbonate accents preserved a clear sense of continuity. In any case, the result was an extremely slim machine that barely took up space on a desk.
From the moment it booted, the monitor's afterimages were severe. It was unsuitable for home use, but perfectly adequate for viewing office documents. Once the system finished loading, Yoo Jae-won navigated to the American Nextcom service, then logged into the ID Investment site using an administrator account. The screen, which had once resembled old PC communication interfaces, now looked like something a bank teller would use. It displayed ID Investment's vast ledgers in real time. Of course, editing was impossible. Due to hacking risks, only viewing was permitted, and even that was heavily restricted. Multiple security layers had to be cleared just to access the data.
"To check the account, you'll need the investment certificate. Did you happen to bring it?"
"Hmm, really? I didn't realize. I brought a whole stack of documents, but I can't quite remember if the certificate is in there. Let me check."
President Park Sang-kwon opened his briefcase and began spreading papers across the desk. Among the various copies and ledgers, a bankbook-like document bearing the ID logo caught Jae-won's eagle eye. He picked it up.
"This is it!"
It was an investment certificate folded in half. The front showed only the simple ID Investment logo. When opened, it revealed the investor's name, seal, resident registration number, and other details. What mattered here was the investor's personal identification number. To protect sensitive personal information, ID Investment did not link names directly to accounts. If names could be searched, tracing the owner of any funds would be trivial, and a data breach would expose financial records as well. Tracking the movement of capital would also become far too easy. Instead, ID Investment managed individual funds through randomly assigned sixteen-digit investor numbers, just like bank account numbers. Without the certificate, there was no way to claim one's money. Every purchaser of ID Investment products had been warned of this repeatedly.
Jae-won set the search field to "Personal Account" and entered President Park's sixteen-digit number. His slender fingers danced lightly across the mechanical keyboard before pressing Enter. A sandglass icon appeared, followed by the message "Searching..."
President Park swallowed audibly. He knew Jae-won had made a fortune in oil, but he had no idea whether that windfall extended to his own investment. He wasn't even certain how much he had actually contributed over the years. Every time ID Technology paid dividends, he had rolled the entire amount back into the fund.
A few seconds later, a single number appeared on the screen.
-48994350068KRW
"Er, what exactly does that number mean?"
President Park couldn't parse the figure at a glance. Jae-won quickly enabled the option to display digit separators.
-48,994,350,068 KRW
"That is approximately 48.994 billion won. It shows the current value of your investment converted to Korean won."
Jae-won read the number in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.
"What? That's my money?"
President Park shot to his feet. The shock was so great that his formal speech vanished entirely. Though old enough to be called "ajae," he clearly took good care of himself; his movements were surprisingly spry.
"Good heavens!"
Still not satisfied, he leaned in close to the Egg PC's LCD screen and traced the digits with his finger, reading them aloud one by one.
"One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand… hundred million, billion, ten billion!"
Ten billion won was actually displayed on the monitor.
"H-how is this possible? No, is this real?"
Park demanded, almost as if accusing Jae-won. The number defied every bit of common sense he possessed.
"Heh heh. Let me show you exactly how the money grew."
Jae-won manipulated the ID Investment management interface again. Another Enter press brought up a new screen.
"By the beginning of 1990, you had invested roughly 160 million won into ID Investment. The 330 million won dividend from 1990 was deposited in early January this year."
"That's correct!"
ID Technology distributed dividends annually. Jae-won had split the explanation into two periods because ID Investment itself was divided into Phase 1 and Phase 2. The initial 160 million won had been invested across both phases, while the later 330 million won had gone only into Phase 2. The dividing line, naturally, was the Iraq-Kuwait War and the subsequent Gulf War.
Phase 1 covered funds invested before the Gulf War, during the Iraq-Kuwait conflict, when ID Investment achieved an astonishing 88-fold return. President Park's 160 million won had participated in that legendary multiplier, becoming 14.08 billion won. Phase 2 began when the United States released its strategic petroleum reserves during the Gulf War. ID Investment had bet on falling prices. When the release caused WTI crude to plummet by eleven dollars, the fund profited accordingly. The leverage at that time was 3.4 times. The 14.08 billion won, plus the additional 330 million won, totaled 14.41 billion won, which then multiplied by 3.4 to produce the staggering 48.9 billion won now on the screen.
"This can't be real."
President Park stood frozen, utterly stunned. Running the rice bran oil factory and selling the byproducts as feed had earned him a little over 500 million won a year. Even the dividends from ID Technology had been substantial, yet because his lifestyle was already comfortable, he had simply reinvested everything. Now, in the blink of an eye, that money had grown three hundred times over. It was a sum he could never have earned by operating the factory for the rest of his life. For a moment he felt both terrified and hollow.
After his father's sudden death, all ties with the Park family of Busan Group had been severed. The only assets his father had secretly left behind were some cash and shares, which Park had used to establish the rice bran oil factory. There had been difficulties, but rising edible oil consumption and feed demand in the 1980s had allowed stable operations. Then this genius boy named Yoo Jae-won had appeared out of nowhere. Out of curiosity, Park had invested—and now he had struck a jackpot larger than everything he had built over a lifetime.
"This should be enough to help you, wouldn't you say?"
"Huh? Of course! It's not just helpful—it's more than enough!"
President Park's voice overflowed with unmistakable joy and confidence. He looked nothing like the cautious man who had entered the office earlier.
"By the way, what kind of plan did you have in mind that suddenly required such a large sum?"
"I'm aiming for Busan Brewery."
Busan Brewery. Together with Jincheon Brewery, it dominated the Korean liquor market. Jincheon's flagship product was Crown Beer; Busan's was OB Beer. OB had long held a commanding lead until the Nakdong River phenol contamination incident erupted. A boycott of OB Beer had begun, and its market share was plummeting. For now, there was no choice but to weather the storm, and even after the phenol scandal subsided, there was no guarantee the brand would regain its former position. If the management of rival Crown Beer had any sense, they would not let this opportunity slip by.
Amid this turmoil, a rumor had reached President Park that made his ears perk up: the chairman of Busan Group was stepping down. Power abhors a vacuum, and so do corporations. With the chairman gone, a successor had to be chosen. According to Park's sources, the official next chairman was the second son, but in practice the third son—Park's own younger brother—was slated to take over. Furthermore, Busan Brewery itself had been designated for reform; a professional manager would be appointed, and the shares held by Chairman Park Sang-yong would be sold on the open market.
"It's all smoke and mirrors. I may share their blood, but their obsession with money is beyond imagination. Busan Brewery's image and stock price are already collapsing rapidly. If the family dumps their shares onto the market, who on earth would buy them?"
If President Park hadn't asked the question, Yoo Jae-won would have raised his hand on the spot. Busan Brewery would survive the phenol scandal and eventually dominate the Korean beer market completely. A liquor business was an excellent cash cow that could be leveraged for years to come. Yet to an investor without future knowledge, recommending Busan Brewery now would only earn him ridicule. In any case, the only people likely to buy Busan Brewery shares at this moment were one specific group.
"Ah. No one except the owner family, I suppose."
"Exactly. They're just moving money from the right pocket to the left while pretending to be clean. They might even be using this stock-price collapse to attempt a third-generation succession."
"Oh!"
Jae-won hadn't considered that possibility. It was a perfectly plausible analysis. With the stock price in free fall, transferring shares cheaply to the third-generation chaebol heirs would allow them to avoid a massive inheritance tax while moving wealth within the family.
"I intend to seize this opening. That's why I've been preparing various measures to raise funds for purchasing the shares. I've already applied for a loan using the rice bran oil factory as collateral, and I've even considered selling my shares in Yukyeong Foods to ID Investment. I was also prepared to liquidate my other assets. But then the funds I invested with you…"
President Park couldn't finish the sentence. Five hundred billion won—only slightly less than that in cash alone. He had never imagined such a figure. Yet Park was not the only beneficiary of this windfall. The principal's investment had grown to a similar scale, and even the homeroom teacher from Deokjin Elementary School's sixth grade, who had followed the principal's lead, had become a billionaire worth over ten billion won.
"With this money, I could buy up every single share of Busan Brewery on the exchange and still have plenty left over."
After checking the balance on the Egg PC once more, President Park muttered in awe again and again. Watching him, Jae-won suddenly felt curious.
"Is there a particular reason you're targeting Busan Brewery? If you're willing to let me help, why not aim for a stake in Busan Group itself?"
"I don't have the confidence to run such a large corporation stably. Busan Brewery is simply the company I was originally promised. That's the only reason I'm being greedy about it."
The company he had originally been promised?
"It was something my father had promised in his will. He even gathered all of us children at his deathbed and made us swear to honor it, and they all agreed. But the moment he passed, they did a complete about-face. Now that a crack has finally appeared, I thought it was time to try reclaiming what should have been mine."
Jae-won nodded at President Park's words. If that was what the man wanted, there was nothing more to say. Still, no one could predict how human affairs might shift. Jae-won pictured Park Sang-kwon as president of Busan Brewery. The image suited him surprisingly well.
Hmm. Busan Brewery, huh. Ah, chicken goes perfectly with beer.
Currently, Yukyeong Chicken and the other chicken franchises did not sell beer alongside their chicken. They didn't even provide carbonated drinks as standard. Yukyeong Chicken was the most progressive, offering a simple salad of cabbage with ketchup and mayonnaise. Yet the best pairing for chicken was a crisp, refreshing beer. If Sukyeong's family supplied the chicken and Park Sang-kwon supplied the beer and grain, the synergy would be enormous. After all, beer production required vast quantities of grain—the same grain used for poultry feed and edible oil.
"Understood. I'll do everything I can to support you."
President Park tried to decline, saying there was no need to go that far, but Jae-won had already made up his mind. If Park became the owner of Busan Group, it would be nothing but beneficial for Jae-won. There was an added bonus, too. If things went well, he might get to witness, in real life rather than on television, exactly how a chaebol family's muddy power struggle unfolded.
"Then I'll begin the withdrawal process. There is a penalty for early termination, proportional to the investment amount. Since the principal is so large, the penalty would be substantial. Therefore, I'll handle the withdrawal by purchasing this account at market value."
"Is that acceptable?"
"Of course. You're a shareholder, after all. Let's get started!"
Carried away by Jae-won's overwhelming decisiveness and momentum, President Park could only nod. With Jae-won's declaration of support, the aftermath of the Nakdong River phenol contamination incident began to flow in a direction no one could have predicted.