Dollar Dealings
I answered because the cop hyung said it was urgent, but the payment turned into the real problem. Why suddenly ditch our own currency, the won, and demand dollars? I'm Korean, for God's sake. Starting to feel the pressure myself, I asked our guide Flashmob hyung for advice. He gave me three different methods. As expected from our Zhuge Liang. The first trick from his bag of wonders was to go to the bank and exchange it legally. Sounded like the suggestion was to do it above board if the amount was small. But from what I knew, a hundred thousand dollars was serious money that could violate foreign exchange regulations. When I told him the amount was fairly large, he asked how much. The moment I said I needed a hundred thousand dollars, he hummed thoughtfully and suggested using the Sky Bank application.
Remember that app? Among the withdrawal options, there was an "other pickup" function. It said you could request delivery in different currencies like dollars, yen, or yuan. But what he said next stuck in my craw. After Flashmob hyung warned me the fees were brutal, I checked it myself. Total rip-off. The rate was 120 percent of the base trading value, nearly 1,500 won per dollar. Their reputation is well earned. Even worse, there was a delivery charge on top. Converting a hundred million won into dollars would cost almost as much as a professional mackerel gutting—sliced clean in half.
The last option was to find a private currency exchanger. When I said I didn't know any, he asked why I was ignoring Itaewon. Every conversation with our strategist hyung makes me question the IQ inside my own skull.
The reply came quickly.
I told him a hundred thousand dollars and asked about the rate. It wasn't cheap. Including commission, it came to about 10 percent above the base rate—around 1,400 won per dollar. Still, since I'd received the goods on credit, I figured I had to pay the price of trust. I transferred 140 million won through the banking app and requested the exchange. Thankfully, my American soldier hyung didn't charge a delivery fee. I'd have to ask the cop hyung to knock a bit off the price. Wait—ten thousand won per gram for ten kilos should be a hundred million, right?
He was being short. Was he on the run or something? Should I just throw out a number?
Nice. Money saved.
I stopped by the safe house, picked up the product, and inspected it. It wasn't premium grade, only regular. Still, I'd bought it cheap, so even if it was a little disappointing I was satisfied. I contacted USarmy hyung to ask when I could pick up the dollars. He told me to come right away, so I headed to Itaewon. At a bar that was still preparing to open, I received a thick bundle of dollars wrapped in a black plastic bag. Of course they were used bills covered in fingerprints. A hundred thousand dollars is only a thousand Franklin notes; it didn't look like much at all. I contacted our hot-tempered cop hyung, asked for the delivery address, packed the money into a post office box, and sent it by express courier.
The following week I learned why the cop hyung had been in such a rush. It came through the public broadcast.
The season when cicadas cry was drawing near. Even the cicadas scream like that to find a mate. As a young man in his twenties, I suppose I should hurry up and find a partner too. But would any woman love me? Someone doing this dangerous work. No insurance. Income that isn't stable. A 3D job with zero stability? Maybe I should cry too. Like a cicada.
I promoted Hamo hyung again. He'd been working like a dog for three months straight, so I moved him up to manager. In a small company the boss can do whatever he wants, right? I also promoted the regular employees to deputy level and built a point-based organization. The method was through the Sky app. I thought it was rather clever. Since I was running at 37.5 degrees the errand center wouldn't open, remember? I matched primarily with the 36.5-degree newbies, collected their contact information, and had the deputies start them on simple errands. They evaluated work aptitude, how well they followed the seniors' precautions, mentality, greed for the job, and various other factors, then recruited in groups of three.
It turned out Hamo the manager and his deputies had struggled too; they recruited nine people in less than a week. We established a clean 1-3-9 structure for the distribution network—one manager, three deputies, nine employees. I realized three really was the optimal number. I told them not to divide strictly by territory but to rotate everyone evenly. Before I knew it I had become a nationwide operator.
I contacted Flashmob hyung in Incheon and Bucheon, USarmy hyung in Itaewon, blueandgreen hyung and the Vietnamese brother in Gyeongnam, and Candle hyung as well, telling them all to set up their own branches. My conclusion in this line of work is that dispersing risk is always advantageous. Then, I don't know whether this hyung was following Keynes' animal spirits or what, but he handed the Yeongcheon farm over to a junior and disappeared onto an island off the west coast. I asked whether water and electricity reached the place. He said there was rainwater and a generator, so not to worry. I was so concerned I pressed for details. How do you get there? Can you come out when you need to? Is it safe? What about housing?
Candle hyung, who seemed to have no one to talk to lately, chattered away enthusiastically. Transportation was by boat. He'd bought a small fishing vessel that doubled as a personal car. So coming and going was no problem. Safety? There were birds, snakes, and deer, but no dangerous predators. The island was the perfect size. When I asked whether bigger islands weren't better for living, he explained that if it was too large people would notice and patrols would come, making it risky. If it was too small it would be vulnerable to typhoons and other natural disasters. The current size was just right. Finally I asked about the house. He said he'd already built it, procuring materials through connections he'd made while living on the farm. Well prepared indeed.
Right now they were producing about one kilogram per month. I told him to prepare to double that. He said it was entirely possible.
While I was reorganizing and running the organization, I received another call from last year's loyal Busan hyung.
The "school" he was talking about clearly wasn't any regular elementary, middle, high school, or university. When I asked, he said that last year while doing business he'd had bad luck and gotten caught by the police. He received a six-month sentence. It was a repeat offense, so no suspended sentence—he had to serve the time. But the only thing he'd learned in there was theft, and he couldn't find any other work, so he contacted me. Listening to him talk, he reminded me of Hamo hyung. He had the aura of real talent. These days deals of a few dozen grams don't even register in my eyes, but back then our loyal friend had been a major player to me. So I asked how he'd sold the two hundred grams that time. I was asking the obvious. The answer was Busan tourists. You know how it is—only in summer does that forest of parasols appear. With so many people coming for vacation season, demand skyrocketed and he sold everything. During that period peddlers from all over the country flooded into Busan, so even the organizations couldn't keep track of it all. Hearing that, I finally understood why the duel tickets had never reached me. The executive uncle on that side must have had his hands full.
So what about this year?
Time to break into Busan. That summer I handed five hundred grams over to the loyal guy. Of course it was clean prepaid. Since he sold a lot more than last time, I asked for his trade secret.