The Foundation Board Seat
I accepted Kim Young-soo Representative’s invitation after receiving his call the night before.
Kim Young-soo Law Office in Seocho-dong.
Across the building’s exterior, the name “Kim Young-soo Partners” and its logo were engraved in gold with imposing dignity.
I parked in the lot and went up to the lobby.
The first-floor lobby was luxurious, with polished marble floors that shone under the lights.
Dozens of employees moved briskly through the lobby, each carrying a briefcase.
It felt exactly like one of the most prestigious law firms in the industry.
I walked up to the information desk.
One of the staff recognized me and came over first.
It was the same employee who had looked at me suspiciously when I first came to meet Kim Young-soo Representative about the independence movement artifact.
“Welcome, Mr. Kim Si-woo!”
I smiled back at her greeting.
“Hello. I have an appointment with Kim Young-soo Representative.”
“Yes. I’ve already been informed. I’ll show you the way.”
The female employee guided me with great courtesy.
There was no trace left of her earlier coldness.
She led me toward the VIP elevator.
After swiping a card key, she opened the elevator doors for me.
“Um... I’m really sorry about last time. I was very rude, wasn’t I?”
I hurriedly waved it off.
“No, not at all. Even I would have thought I looked terrible back then. It was completely understandable.”
At the time, I had barely slept and had come back covered in dust from an abandoned house.
When I said it was fine, the employee thanked me and bowed her head.
“These days, after seeing the articles, I’ve realized what an incredible person you are, Mr. Si-woo. I’m completely a fan now. I’ll be cheering you on quietly from behind.”
The woman laughed shyly.
It was the first time I had ever heard someone call me their fan.
Unless you were a celebrity, it wasn’t the sort of thing people said very often.
After thanking her, I stepped into the elevator.
“Once you’re upstairs, the secretary’s office will guide you.”
At the very top of the building was Kim Young-soo Representative’s private floor.
Past the secretary’s office, a huge conference room and executive office opened up inside.
“Haha. Come in, Si-woo.”
Kim Young-soo greeted me warmly and hugged me.
“Sit down here and make yourself comfortable.”
Beyond the wide window, Seocho-daero spread out below at a glance.
Cars streamed along endlessly.
Beyond them, the forest of high-rise buildings made it feel unmistakably like the heart of Seoul.
The office was spacious and elegant.
One wall was lined with a massive bookshelf.
It was packed tightly with legal texts.
Then my gaze drifted to a paperweight resting on one corner of the desk.
Light was coming from it.
A paperweight carved in the shape of a haetae, made from blue jade.
Even through the precision of the carving, it carried an unmistakable air of refinement.
Ding-!
[Appraisal Result]
[Name: Blue Jade Haetae Paperweight]
[Date of Manufacture: Joseon Dynasty, King Jeongjo’s 18th year (1794)]
[Made by royal artisan Yang Jin-su. A paperweight crafted by one of the era’s foremost jade processing masters, who produced items exclusively for the royal household]
[Description: A haetae seated proudly with its head held high. A paperweight is a desk object used to hold down paper while writing, and the haetae, as a divine beast that judges right from wrong, symbolizes the king’s fair rule and justice]
[Features: A royal paperweight used directly by King Jeongjo in Juhapnu Hall at Changdeok Palace. Made from rare blue jade, with the haetae’s mane and scales rendered in exquisite detail]
[Historical Value: An artifact produced during the height of King Jeongjo’s reformist rule, symbolizing the founding of Gyujanggak and the flourishing of literature and the arts. As an animal representing law and justice, the haetae embodies Jeongjo’s philosophy of governance]
[Estimated Value: At least 500 million won]
A chill ran up my spine.
It wasn’t because of the price.
I didn’t even touch it... and the status window reacted.
It was the first time the status window had activated just from looking at something.
Had my ability evolved?
It was too soon to be certain.
If this kept happening, then...
I might be able to identify luminous artifacts from photos or video without ever touching them.
Kim Young-soo followed my gaze and smiled faintly.
“Si-woo. Do you know what that is?”
“It looks like a paperweight from the Joseon era. The blue jade is carved with a very delicate haetae.”
“As expected, you recognized it. I bought it a week ago from a private owner. I had it tracked down through my agent in the United States. It seems to have been taken out during the Korean War, and it’ll soon be returned to the National Palace Museum through the Cultural Heritage Administration.”
Kim Young-soo opened the case and took the paperweight out to show me.
“I bought it for 700 million won.”
I studied the paperweight carefully.
“You got it at a very good price.”
It was a good deal.
For something worth at least 500 million won, 700 million was a fair market price.
If it had appeared at a famous auction and drawn competition, it wouldn’t have been strange for the price to go several times higher.
“Hoho, right?”
Kim Young-soo smiled in satisfaction.
By then, a secretary came in, set down coffee, and left.
Kim Young-soo took a relaxed sip before speaking again.
“By the way, you’ve been busy lately, haven’t you? That Kato Kiyomasa sword caused quite a stir.”
“Yes, Representative. The reaction was bigger than I expected.”
“Naturally. It’s a sensitive matter for both Korea and Japan.”
After that, we exchanged a few ordinary remarks.
Once he had finished his coffee, Kim Young-soo finally got to the point.
“There’s a separate reason I asked you here today.”
He took a thick document envelope from his desk drawer and set it down.
“I heard you were already preparing to establish a foundation. Is this related to that?”
“Yes. Exactly. Preparations are nearly complete now. We’re in the final stage of forming the board as well.”
He unfolded the papers and showed them to me.
The foundation charter, the board list, the business plan, and more.
“Would you take a look at the planned board members?”
I scanned the list.
A university professor specializing in independence movement history. A representative descendant of independence patriots. A senior figure in the legal world. Cultural heritage experts. And more.
Every one of them was a person of high standing in society.
And then.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the name at the very end.
[Part-Time Director: Kim Si-woo (artifact appraisal expert, appraisal adviser for Eterna Gallery)]
“I’m being included on the board?”
I was taken aback to see my own name there.
Kim Young-soo looked at me over his silver-rimmed glasses.
“I’d like to propose you for a non-executive directorship at the foundation.”
“Representative, I have no degree and no career to speak of.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
His voice carried weight.
“If you hadn’t found my great-grandfather’s artifacts, this foundation wouldn’t even exist.”
“But...”
“A degree? A career? Did those uncover the artifacts? No. Your ability and your passion did. And you’ve kept proving yourself ever since.”
Kim Young-soo’s tone was firm, as though he would not hear a refusal.
“First, hear the scale of the foundation.”
He opened the record of the foundation’s endowment contributions.
[Kim Hak-jun Foundation Endowment Details]
Kim Young-soo’s personal contribution: 300 billion won
Donations: 50 billion won
My mouth went dry.
A staggering total of 350 billion won.
It was so unbelievable I had to read it again.
“350 billion won?”
It was a sum I had never even imagined.
“That’s right. I personally contributed 300 billion won, and another 50 billion came in from the legal world and various companies.”
Kim Young-soo spoke as calmly as ever.
“My law firm brings in about 500 billion won in annual revenue. I’ve worked for decades as one of the founding senior partners. Recently, I’ve received nearly 10 billion won a year just in dividends. After investing that in real estate and stocks, the money has grown quite a bit.”
For the representative of one of the most prominent law firms in South Korea, it was certainly possible.
“350 billion is only the beginning. I plan to keep expanding the foundation by selling off the real estate and stocks I own. Within five years at the latest, I want to grow it to 700 billion won.”
Kim Young-soo unfolded another page.
“If we keep 350 billion won as the basic asset, the annual operating return alone will be around 14 billion won. With that money, we can buy artifacts from overseas auctions. The budget will keep growing little by little.”
He took a sip of water to wet his throat.
“If news about the foundation goes public, more donations will come in. Just the fact that one person put up 300 billion won of personal money will draw the attention of the government, academia, and the media. Si-woo. I want you to take part in this.”
An enormous opportunity.
And yet I couldn’t answer easily.
“I want the foundation to keep drawing attention and have a good influence. We’ll support wronged victims, descendants of impoverished independence fighters, and people across society who need help.”
“That’s a good idea.”
Kim Young-soo said meaningfully, “Your value and your visibility will only rise from here. They won’t fall. In the first place, this foundation exists because of you, so it wouldn’t be overstating it to say that without you, its meaning would fade.”
There was a resolve in Kim Young-soo’s expression that said he intended to include me in the foundation no matter what.
Haa.
I swallowed a heavy sigh inside.
The title of board director at a foundation of this scale felt weighty.
That was why I had to think harder.
Was I really the right person to sit in such a seat?
I would become one of the final decision-makers handling 350 billion won in funds.
A powerful vote that would determine how an annual budget well over 10 billion won was allocated.
“Is it burdensome?”
“Honestly, yes. I don’t have much social experience, and I know nothing about foundation management. The other directors are all authorities in their own fields.”
Kim Young-soo burst out laughing.
“Hahaha! Everyone else is desperate for a seat like this, and you’re sitting there worrying over it. Si-woo, do you just not have any ambition?”
He stopped laughing and turned serious.
“That humility is exactly one of the reasons I want you. Someone who can stay humble in front of 350 billion won. That kind of person belongs in a place like this.”
Kim Young-soo rose from his seat and walked over to the window.
“You’re twenty-eight years old. Young, yes. But look back at what you’ve done.”
He kept his eyes on the city outside.
“Is this the kind of thing someone without credentials could do? You already have more than enough qualifications. And as for the foundation’s operations, Dr. Jeong Hye-jin will handle all of that. Si-woo. You just do what you do best.”
“Representative, I’m grateful for the offer, but... I think this would be a little difficult.”
“Difficult?”
I chose my words carefully.
“I’m currently working as an appraisal adviser for Eterna Gallery. As you know, the gallery also handles artifacts, and I think serving on the foundation board at the same time would go against professional ethics.”
A public foundation and a privately owned gallery.
Since both dealt with artworks and artifacts, taking on both roles might look like I was straddling two sides at once.
But as if he had already anticipated that, Kim Young-soo smiled with ease.
“I understand what you’re worried about. But you don’t need to worry about the foundation’s work.”
“Pardon?”
Kim Young-soo set down his coffee cup and continued.
“What you’ll do at the foundation won’t overlap with the gallery’s work at all.”
“Really?”
“In ordinary times, just focus on the gallery as you do now. You won’t need to concern yourself with the foundation.”
Kim Young-soo drew a firm line.
“The only time I’ll need your help is when the foundation tries to reclaim stolen cultural property that was forcibly taken abroad.”
“Stolen cultural property?”
“Yes. Our cultural assets abroad that were illegally looted or stolen, and other illicit goods. Those aren’t things the gallery deals with either. They’re difficult to profit from commercially.”
“That’s true.”
“We intend to bring back those kinds of items. The pieces that don’t make money, or the ones ordinary galleries can’t touch. Under the foundation’s name, we can request restitution from other countries or purchase them from private owners.”
Kim Young-soo looked at me.
The gallery handled items in the normal circulation route, while the foundation would focus on artifacts like looted cultural property.
The division of roles was clear.
“I understand. In that case, it wouldn’t interfere with my work at Eterna Gallery.”
“Exactly. To avoid interfering with the gallery, I’ve made the position a non-executive one. You’d only need to attend quarterly meetings.”
He had gone to such lengths for me that refusing would have been rude.
“I don’t know if I’ll do well, but I’ll accept.”
When I accepted the board seat, Kim Young-soo’s face lit up.
“Good. Thank you, truly.”
Relieved, he smiled and turned over another sheet of paper.
“By the way, since this is a public-interest foundation, non-executive directors are, as a rule, unpaid honorary positions. That means there’s no fixed salary.”
“That actually makes me more comfortable. Just being part of something good is enough.”
“Hoho, you. Still, I can’t have you doing work and sending you off empty-handed.”
Kim Young-soo laughed and pointed to the bottom of the document.
“There’s no salary, but I’ve set aside generous allowances for board meetings and professional appraisal consultations. It’s only proper compensation for your abilities, so don’t refuse it.”
He handed me another document.
[Regulations for Supporting Non-Executive Officer Activities]
Board meeting allowance: 3 million won per session
Professional consultation and appraisal fees: separately calculated per case
Domestic and overseas travel and activity expenses: fully covered
“Thank you for thinking of me.”
Then Kim Young-soo casually slid a business card across the table.
“What’s this?”
Kim Si-woo, Director, Kim Hak-jun Foundation
My name, “Kim Si-woo,” was printed in gold lettering on the finest business card, shining brilliantly.