SK Asset, Part Two

"Secretary Kwon! Don't let anyone in. Not a single soul. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

Having drilled the order into his secretary, Cha ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Jinpyo stepped into the chairman's office and swept the room one more time. He stopped before a landscape painting two meters across. When he carefully worked the cords on either side, the painting descended, and a black vault revealed itself behind it. He set the dial to 1106.

A thin metallic click. The door opened.

The vault—fifty centimeters to a side and a meter deep—was packed solid with cash. He already knew the figure. Thirteen-point-two billion won in bills, and another 1.2 billion in checks of one million won each. Crisp notes and checks: a slush fund of 14.4 billion won.

Cha Jinpyo glanced back over his shoulder, then drew out four bundles. He slipped two hundred million won into a paper envelope, locked the vault with care, and returned the painting to its place.

Without cash on hand, business would have suffered badly. He did feel a pang of guilt toward his two sons, Cha Dohyeok and Cha Gihyeok, who had torn the place apart hunting for the vault. Not that he had the slightest intention of dividing what was inside it.

Ah, that empty-headed fool. The thought of Choi Seonggi brought a smile to his lips unbidden.

So the man had taken five percent of Gwangmyeong Country Club in exchange for installing Yoo Jeonggyun as president. On paper the stake was worth over ten billion won, but who was going to buy it? No trading, no dividends. If it ever actually changed hands, would it even fetch two billion? No—one and a half billion would be doing well.

And why had that razor-sharp little schemer Jiseon handed the shares over in the first place? Sixty percent of Gwangmyeong Country Club already belonged to Gwangmyeong Corporation, so the stake couldn't touch management control. Better, she must have judged, to make her husband president and skim the privileges from the inside.

He might have been sitting in his chair, but Cha Jinpyo missed nothing.

"Secretary Kwon. Step in for a moment."

He summoned the man over the intercom. The door opened at once, and Secretary Kwon entered with his head bowed.

"Take this envelope to Gwangmyeong Country Club—the Asan Club, Parking Lot 2. Give it to the owner of the Palisade parked at the very end."

"Ah. Understood."

"If you can't find him, call."

"Yes, sir!"

Secretary Kwon went out with the paper envelope and its two hundred million won.

He was quick enough on the uptake not to ask who it was for, which was pleasant. Age, though, seemed to be dulling his instincts. Last time he had even missed Choi Seonggi's camera pen. Find some sharp kid in his thirties to replace him?

The thought alone exhausted him.

"All right. I've paid him, so he'd better earn his keep. Kwon Dongseon..."

Kwon Dongseon, four-term lawmaker of the ruling party, had agreed to introduce a bill this session supporting exports by the major conglomerates. On its face the measure seemed to cover ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every large corporation, but stack the provisions and run the numbers, and the real beneficiary was Gwangmyeong Electronics. Expected gain: roughly two hundred billion won, once the bill passed and the profit materialized. Then he would have to feed the man a few hundred million more.

"Hahaha... Come to think of it, that bastard's a lucky charm!"

Pity flickered through him at the thought of Choi Seonggi, even as the corner of his mouth lifted. The man had gone to all the trouble of bringing Chairman Cha Wonseok back, and Jinpyo himself had plucked the fruit. If Seonggi hadn't given him that number, he would have had to gut the entire front of the chairman's office and remodel it. A billion won, easily. Hauling the vault out and drilling it open would have been a headache, and everyone pulled into the job would have needed tens of millions apiece to keep their mouths shut.

He could indulge such thoughts only because the vault was full of money. Had it been empty, he would have burned tens of billions and walked away with nothing but grief.

"Now. What do I do with this one..."

A hanger-on, in any case, and his usefulness was spent. All Jinpyo needed was a suitable excuse to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drive him out. An annulment would be difficult, but a divorce? That wouldn't be hard.

"To manage that, I'll have to bring him inside first."

Only then could he pin some charge or other on the man and throw him out. Cha Jinpyo laughed as if the prospect delighted him. Naturally, he had no idea that Choi Seonggi had already secured a fortune on the order of ten trillion won—perhaps worth even more than that.

"Eat plenty, now..."

Madam Go gazed at Cha Yohan the way one might watch a grandson with a splendid appetite.

It was the hour when everyone gathered for dinner. The table was a feast of mountain and sea: cabbage kimchi, fresh seasoned greens, and young-radish kimchi for a start; marinated beef ribs, steamed cockles, and grilled rock bream; seasoned green laver; three kinds of salted seafood—pollack roe, changnan, and early-season oyster—along with seasoned seaweed flakes and a cool marsh-clam soup. Cha Yohan, meanwhile, was eating a Chicago pizza all by himself.

"You've worked so hard."

"Not at all. These days the recipes are all laid out so well, it really wasn't difficult."

Madam Go, who until now had cooked nothing but Korean food, was baking pizza for Cha Yohan at every meal—mixing the flour herself, making the dough, even letting it proof.

"Plenty of side dishes, I'll grant you... but the rice tastes like sand."

"Why? Is it undercooked?"

"Not that. I mean it's uncomfortable."

Choi Seonggi knew perfectly well why the man was grumbling. Until recently the employers had eaten with the employers and the employees with the employees. That meant setting two tables, so Seonggi had simply declared that everyone would eat together at one.

Manager Shim, used to dining at ease with Madam Go alone, couldn't help feeling self-conscious once he was seated beside Choi Seonggi.

"It may be a little awkward, but try to get used to it."

"I'd be fine just stepping outside, tossing in this namul and that, and mixing it all up..."

"Don't do that anymore. Eat a proper meal."

"A man's got to be at ease for the rice to go down. Since when does a servant share a table with his master?"

"I told you to stop thinking that way. I like it just fine."

Eating together had lightened Madam Go's work. Breakfast at seven, lunch at noon, dinner at seven—three meals set out, and anyone late or absent was responsible for feeding themselves. It was the special measure Seonggi had taken for her, now that she had to bake a pizza at every meal. And he no longer liked the old habit of splitting the table between employer and employee.

"Oh, and Secretary Na. Get me two cars a young person would actually want to drive. A sedan and an SUV."

"Why? We have the limousine."

"That's what chairmen ride around in. Sometimes I need to drive myself, so I'll want them. Register both under SK Asset."

"Hyundai-Kia, then?"

"Yeah."

Choi Seonggi was nodding when Cha Yohan finished and stood.

"Thanks for the meal."

"Why the rush? Eat slowly."

"Gotta go play with Nasdaq!"

"What? You're trading American stocks too?"

Cha Yohan nodded and scurried up the stairs.

"Hey! You still have to take a walk! Did you forget our deal?"

"Already did it with Moneyball!"

With that he thundered back up the stairs.

Whether it was the stock-market games he loved, or simply living quietly out in nature, his expression had brightened and his energy had improved.

"It's true. He walked with Moneyball earlier."

"Secretary Na, I'm holding you responsible. See to it that he walks three times a day!"

"Yes, sir."

"I can do that! I'm outside working anyway."

Manager Shim muttered it, looking thoroughly unenthused.

"That would be even better."

The seating was a little awkward, but time would smooth it. They were just finishing the meal when the phone rang. Cha Jiyeon.

"Hey! Honey, what's going on?"

"Then what am I supposed to call you? Darling?"

"All right, all right. So why'd you call?"

He'd only been playing familiar because the other employees were around, and she shut him down cold.

"That's tomorrow?"

"Let's do that."

She hung up. He wasn't some toddler she'd set down by the water, so what was with all the nagging?

The phone rang again.

"I know, I know! You want me to just sit still, right?"

Seonggi's eyes went wide as saucers. A deep, heavy voice—the call was from his legal father-in-law, Cha Jinpyo.

"Ah, no, sir. I thought it was Ms. Cha Jiyeon."

Why is he being like this?

When Seonggi had given him the password Chairman Cha Wonseok left behind, he'd assumed the man had already sucked him dry. This was not someone who spoke so warmly.

"Yes, Father."

"Understood."

"Yes, sir. Take ca—"

The line cut at that instant.

The first thing that rose in his mind was vague, but ominous. That day at the Gapyeong estate, he felt he had seen the man called Cha Jinpyo from A to Z. Unless he wanted something from Choi Seonggi, he was not a person who would ever ask to meet first.

Seonggi was still turning it over when the phone rang again. This time he checked the number. Cha Jiyeon.

"Hello?"

Her voice had dropped low. Ordinarily it was lovely, but pitched like this it was almost frightening.

"I won't."

He was curious what would come next.

That temper of hers. Tsk.

"I'm getting a little curious what you're like when you're angry."

The line went dead.

From the moment Choi Seonggi got into the car, Cha Jiyeon wore a blank face and said nothing. So Seonggi said nothing either. For the hour or so of the drive, neither of them spoke. When they arrived she only jerked her chin, still expressionless, telling him to get the luggage from the back seat.

But the moment they reached the house and the door opened—

"Aigoo, Mother, you look so lovely. And Father, you're so handsome. Hohoho."

Had he ever seen a top-tier actress—a specialist in the iron-walled, cold-blooded city-girl act—fawn like a giddy sweetheart? Choi Seonggi was watching it happen with his own eyes.

"You must be tired, coming all this way."

"Our dear daughter-in-law, come in, come in. What's all this you've brought?"

Cha Jiyeon handed over the bundles she'd packed to the brim, then turned to Seonggi.

"Oppa, hurry and give them yours too."

"Huh? Uh, yeah."

Jiyeon had the light shopping bags. Seonggi had the heavy ones.

"Why did you pack so much again? I told you to come empty-handed and be comfortable!"

"It's nothing, Mother."

"Let's go in."

Mom and Dad went inside, fussing only over Cha Jiyeon. Their actual son, Choi Seonggi, they left standing there.

"Unni, you're here?"

"Young lady!"

His sister, Choi Eunju—twenty-three, a senior in college—didn't even seem to see her brother. She ran straight to Cha Jiyeon and threw her arms around her.

"I bought a present for the young lady too. Ta-da!"

"Whoa... this is Chanel perfume!"

"Don't spray too much. You know it's only two sprays, right?"

"Thank you, Unni! You're the only one!"

"Come, come, sit! I made braised short ribs because our daughter-in-law was coming. First, let's eat!"

It was a spectacle. Mom, who always wore a slouchy T-shirt, was in a housedress and a pearl necklace. Dad, forever in a tracksuit, had on a necktie and a suit. In their own house.

"Um... you aren't forgetting something, are you?"

Once everyone but him had taken a seat, Choi Seonggi spoke, his face full of grievance.

"Oh my, look at me! Son, you come sit too!"

"What's a grown man being so fussy for? Just come and sit."

If he'd shown up, they could at least pretend to welcome him. They fussed over Jiyeon and left their own son standing there with the bags. Seonggi set the luggage down, trudged over, and dropped into a chair.

"Mother."

"Yes?"

"This is spending money for you, Mother."

The moment she sat, Cha Jiyeon drew an envelope from her bag and offered it to his mother.

"Aigoo... child, you didn't have to go this far."

"It's from my heart, so please take it. If you don't, I'll be hurt."

"All right, all right. But don't bring things like this next time."

So she said, and accepted the envelope. The weight of it—stuffed with fifty-thousand-won notes—put a startled look on his mother's face.

"And this is for Father."

"You prepared one for me too? Aigoo, look at our daughter-in-law's generosity! I'll take it this time, but next time, do not prepare anything like this."

"I understand, Father."

When she held out another heavy envelope of cash, his father's face melted like ice cream.

"And this is for the young lady!"

"Unni! There's one for me too?"

"I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠put in a hotel facial voucher as well. If you're going to prepare for job hunting, you need to take care of yourself."

"Haa, Unni... Unni, really..."

Eunju looked ready to cry.

How in the world is this possible?

Choi Seonggi stared at Cha Jiyeon, dumbfounded. A fox spirit, plain and simple. To seize an entire family's hearts in an instant like this.

Even so—not a scrap of interest in the son who had left home and come back after six months. Wasn't that a bit much?