The Chairman and Fried Chicken
Samjung Cultural Foundation’s instrument lending program had been running for nearly thirty years, all the way back to 1997.
Samjung Music Fellowship.
When he had first been choosing a foundation, Samjung had been one of the candidates on the list.
In the classical music world, it was the kind of systematic, prestigious program people called a dream form of support. The foundation owned a large collection of world-famous instruments, including a 1708 Stradivarius, as well as Guarneri del Gesu and Gasparo da Salo violins.
For any selected performer, not only would the instrument be loaned free of charge for up to five years, but the foundation would also cover the insurance and maintenance costs, which ran into the hundreds of millions of won.
Si-woo carefully typed out a long message.
He told the story of Hassid and emphasized that if Samjung took in the instrument of a genius brought low by war and illness, it would be more than simple patronage. It would be the finest story they could use to etch the foundation’s stature into the minds of people around the world.
And on top of that, it would be appearing on the Nutflix broadcast.
Any foundation would welcome a proposal like that.
Even so, there was a reason he was planning to send the message directly to Chairman Lee Jae-yong instead of Samjung Cultural Foundation.
Ordinarily, he would have submitted an official proposal to the foundation office, arranged a meeting with the person in charge, and let it move upward through internal review.
But there was no telling how long that process might take.
On top of that, Samjung had one advantage other foundations did not: it was Korean.
The story would be easier to spread around, and there was even a direct line he could use.
He might as well use it while he had the chance.
Besides, Chairman Lee Jae-yong had told him to get in touch if he ever needed help, so there was nothing wrong with sending a text.
Unlike what he had expected, he stared at the smartphone screen and wrote each character with care.
[The owner of this instrument does not wish for a private sale, but for it to be placed somewhere the world can hear this sound again. I believe Samjung Cultural Foundation’s long-running instrument lending program is in keeping with the owner’s wishes, so I am contacting you shamelessly to ask for your consideration.]
After writing the last sentence, he stared at the screen for a long time.
His thumb hovered over the send button, then came back down.
Oh, right.
Lost in thought, he had ended up pressing send as naturally as breathing.
Well, whatever.
He set the smartphone down on the desk and leaned back deeply in his chair.
* * *
The reply came sooner than expected.
It had been less than an hour since he sent the text.
When the notification sounded, he looked at the screen without much thought, then startled.
Chicken and beer, of all things.
The last time they had met, it had been at an upscale Korean restaurant in Seongbuk-dong.
Of course, it wasn’t that he disliked chicken.
In fact, it felt less burdensome.
He actually felt more at ease.
He sent a reply right away.
When the Nutflix documentary aired, the whole world would come to know Hassid’s story.
And if that instrument ended up in Samjung’s care, the name of Samjung Cultural Foundation would naturally come with it.
It was a proposal that was not bad for Samjung, either, but-
Of course, it was not the chairman’s place to handle this personally.
With that settled, he got to his feet and grabbed his coat.
"Team Leader Choi Yi-seo. I have an appointment today, so I’ll head out early."
Choi Yi-seo, who had been organizing documents, looked up.
"Pardon? An appointment? There’s still a long way to go before quitting time."
"Something came up suddenly, so I should probably change clothes and get ready in advance."
Choi Yi-seo set down her pen and tilted her head, looking puzzled.
"Uh... is it a blind date?"
Si-woo let out a short laugh, then put on a serious expression.
"Hmm... it’s a meeting more nerve-racking than a blind date."
"More nerve-racking than a blind date? What on earth is that?"
Choi Yi-seo spun her chair around and stared at him with wide-eyed curiosity.
Si-woo held back for a moment, then spoke.
"I’m having dinner with Chairman Lee Jae-yong of Samjung. At a chicken place."
Choi Yi-seo blinked, as if she hadn’t heard him properly.
"...What?"
"It’s about Le Chant du Silence."
"Wait. You’re joking, right?"
"No. I’m serious."
Leaving the stunned Choi Yi-seo behind, Si-woo waved and walked out.
* * *
He went home, showered, changed clothes, and even shaved neatly before heading to the chicken place Chairman Lee Jae-yong had told him about.
It was a small shop tucked into a narrow alley in Jongno, Seoul.
The signboard was old and faded.
The glass door at the entrance was smudged with years of handling.
It was the sort of exterior that made it hard to believe this was the place chosen by a chaebol chairman.
As expected, the entire place had been rented out, so there were no other customers.
Inside, only the owner and a part-timer stood around looking completely at a loss.
Outside, two men who looked like bodyguards were stationed on either side, scanning the surroundings.
Chairman Lee Jae-yong sat at a table near the back.
He was dressed casually in a knit sweater and slacks.
It was quite different from the suit he wore on television.
Si-woo approached and greeted him.
"Good evening, Chairman."
Lee Jae-yong stood and extended his hand.
"Ha-ha. Welcome, Appraiser Kim Si-woo. You must be busy driving up your stock lately, so I’m honored you made the time to come."
At the chairman’s joke, Si-woo answered with easy composure.
"I happened to have time today, so I reached out."
"Is that so? I’ve already ordered the chicken. I hope it suits your tastes, Appraiser Kim Si-woo."
Would a chicken ordered by a chaebol chairman possibly taste bad?
The joke came right up to the tip of his tongue, and he barely held it back.
"It’s chicken ordered by you, Chairman, so I’ll eat it happily even if it doesn’t taste good."
Soon, golden-fried chicken was brought to the table.
The crisp skin gleamed with oil, and the savory smell tickled the tip of his nose.
His mouth naturally began to water.
Lee Jae-yong spoke easily.
"I used to have this chicken delivered often to the office. It reminds me of the taste of my childhood, so I still come back to it now and then. The first time I came here with my father, I think I was in elementary school? I still haven’t forgotten how it tasted then."
It was fair to say he had a surprisingly down-to-earth side.
Or maybe chicken was simply delicious enough to attract even a conglomerate chairman.
Either way, that was not the important part.
Just then, the owner carefully brought over two draft beers.
"Please enjoy."
White foam rose generously over the golden beer.
Draft beer and chicken.
There was no resisting that.
Lee Jae-yong lifted his glass.
"Let’s have a drink first."
They tapped their glasses lightly together.
The cold beer slid down Si-woo’s throat.
He bit into a piece of chicken.
The seasoning had penetrated all the way to the meat, and although it was not oily, the flavor was rich and deep.
"Thank you. I’ll enjoy this."
He took a bite out of a drumstick.
Juices burst out and mingled with the crisp skin.
Another sip of beer made it a perfect combination.
Lee Jae-yong watched him and smiled with satisfaction.
"I’m glad it suits your taste."
"Honestly, I’m surprised. I didn’t think you’d know such a good chicken place."
"Ha-ha. Good things don’t discriminate between people."
They ate and chatted for a while before Chairman Lee Jae-yong finally brought up the main point.
"I went and looked into Yosef Hassid after receiving your message."
Si-woo’s hand, which had been reaching for another piece of chicken, stopped.
"It really is a tragic story. A genius who shook the world at fifteen gave up the violin in just three years and died at twenty-six."
He took a sip of water and went on.
"What captivated me most was the story behind the instrument called Le Chant du Silence. I looked up Hassid’s performances that remain on YouTube. Thanks to that, I kept it on autoplay while I worked."
So it hadn’t just been lip service after all.
He even showed the viewing history on his smartphone.
"So then...?"
Si-woo asked in a voice full of expectation.
"Yes. As soon as I received your message, I contacted the person in charge at our foundation."
"Thank you very much."
Si-woo bowed politely, trying to keep his expression calm.
Things had gone better than he expected.
"The person handling it will contact you tomorrow. You can coordinate the details and procedures with them."
Si-woo set down his beer glass and asked,
"But if you were going to agree this easily, couldn’t you have just called me instead of meeting in person?"
"I was planning to have chicken today anyway, but I didn’t have anyone to share it with. The kids have all gone overseas to study, and I was feeling a bit lonely when your message came in, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and see you too."
His startling honesty made Si-woo laugh out loud.
"Did I intrude?"
"Not at all. I’m the one who’s honored. Please call me again some other time, if the chance comes up."
To be the chicken companion of the largest chaebol chairman in South Korea.
Where else would he ever find an honor like that?
Si-woo lifted his glass again.
After that, they did not bring up work again.
Lee Jae-yong recommended a Nutflix documentary he had recently watched and enjoyed, and Si-woo told him an amusing story from one of his artifact appraisals, the sort of thing that made it hard to keep a straight face.
Before long, their beer glasses were refilled several more times.
* * *
He took a designated driver home.
When he opened the front door, his mother was waiting in the living room.
Her arms were folded, and she looked anything but ordinary.
"Why didn’t you answer your phone, and what on earth have you been doing?"
Before long, Kkamangi came rushing over and rolled around at his feet.
It pressed down on the top of his foot as if asking why he had come home so late.
"Ah, it was an important meeting, so I’d turned my phone off and left it in my pocket. I couldn’t hear it."
"If you weren’t going to eat dinner, you should have said something. I was waiting after setting it out."
"Ah, sorry. I forgot."
His mother narrowed her eyes.
"That smells like alcohol, doesn’t it?"
"I was late because I had chicken and beer with Chairman Lee Jae-yong of Samjung."
His mother gasped and asked,
"What? You really drank beer with the chairman, just the two of you?"
"Yes. It was because of the violin matter I mentioned before. I sent him a text. I told Samjung Cultural Foundation that I had something to discuss about this case."
"Really?"
"Yes. The chairman replied to me personally, so we had dinner together."
His mother said with amazement,
"Oh my. Our son had dinner with a chaebol chairman."
"I already did that last time."
"Ho-ho. I won’t even be able to brag about it now. People probably wouldn’t believe me if I told them."
With a satisfied expression, his mother headed toward the kitchen.
"All right. You must be tired, so go wash up and get some sleep."
"Yes. Thank you."
"Nyaaang-"
Kkamangi rolled on the floor at his feet, showing its belly and acting cute.
Its tail swayed gently, sending him a signal to play.
Si-woo sat down on the floor.
When he stroked Kkamangi’s belly, the cat wrapped both front paws tightly around his wrist.
When he scratched under its chin with his fingers, it half-closed its eyes and tipped its head back.
It was the expression it made when it was pleased.
It was so adorable that washing up became an afterthought.
Because of this little creature, the exhaustion of the day melted away.
* * *
The next morning.
His phone rang.
"Good morning, Appraiser Kim Si-woo. I’m Hong Seok-man, secretary general of Samjung Cultural Foundation. I understand this was personally ordered by the chairman."
The tone alone was different.
Polite, yet without a single wasted word.
And when he mentioned the chairman, the tension in his voice was impossible to miss.
"Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Kim Si-woo."
If the order had come from the very top, then of course things would move this quickly.
"Would there be a time that suits you? I’ve cleared my entire schedule."
"Any time that’s convenient for you would be fine. Then may I come now?"
"Ah, no. I can come to you."
"It would be easier for me to go directly to Samjung Cultural Foundation and talk there. If you send me the address, I’ll be there in an hour."
"If that is more convenient for you... then very well."
As soon as the call ended, a text arrived.
The address was written out neatly, along with the instruction that once he arrived, he only needed to give his name at the front desk.
The man handled things quickly.
He went in to shower.
When he came out to the living room after washing up, Kkamangi was curled up on the top perch of the cat tower.
With its eyes half-closed and drowsy, it looked like a small black dumpling.
Si-woo approached carefully and patted its head a few times.
Kkamangi opened its eyes slightly, then closed them again.
It meant, go away, you’re annoying.
"All right. Sleep well."
He dressed properly, put on his shoes by the entrance, and called toward the inside of the house.
"Mom, I’m leaving."
His mother’s voice came from beyond the inner door, where she was tending the vegetable garden.
"All right. Do your best and come back. You’re eating dinner at home, right?"
"Yes. I’ll be back early today."
"Okay. Be careful."