Chuseok Negotiations
Chuseok, one of our nation's greatest holidays, was drawing near. The full moon hung bright and beautiful in the sky. It had only been a few weeks since the new semester began, so I headed to the welfare center to pay my respects, check on the children, and look after the security team.
In the past month two more children had joined. I let out a quiet sigh. One was still an infant, likely left in a baby box. The other looked like her older sister, around four or five years old. I had no desire to hear their stories.
There was also one new worker at the factory attached to the welfare center. Looked like an office position, since the person was sitting in front of a computer when I walked in. They were in a wheelchair. Executive Ha told me the newcomer was a genuine talent. IQ over 140, excellent memory, sharp business sense, more than capable of handling all the office duties. The person could even run data analysis, so Director Jo was personally grooming them.
I worried there might be a security risk, but Executive Ha cut in. “Society has no interest in them. It’s fine.”
After making my rounds through the welfare center, I climbed the mountain behind it to the security team and handed over the gifts. Protein supplements and some beef as thanks for their hard work. Naturally I left supplies at the welfare center as well. Even a boss has to show his face once in a while.
When the subject of ammunition came up I mentioned I was still looking into it, feeling a little guilty for raising the issue first. Team Leader Lee waved it off, saying there was no need to worry. How often would they actually fire a gun in Korea anyway? Lately they had been focusing their training on hand-to-hand combat.
Back down the mountain, I sat with Executive Ha and Director Jo for tea and a status update. The conclusion was simple: everything was running smoothly.
The hashish from our Vietnamese brother, known as GW (Golden Weed), looked set to be a hit again this year. It remained one of the organization’s steady bestsellers. When I asked why, our staff advisor explained that because it was sold in small quantities and rarely resold, the distribution chain stayed relatively safe. In other words, buyers purchased it and consumed it immediately.
I had seen news reports about Vietnamese gangs formed by workers in China and Japan becoming social problems, so I asked whether we had any issues on that front. He replied that while they did gather in groups here, they rarely caused serious incidents.
The manufacturing situation was a little awkward. Even after pushing through all the regular-grade marijuana we had received from Brother Sida’s organization and the US Army contact, we were still short. I ordered them to supplement with premium product from the farm. What else could we do?
When the Vietnamese brother suggested mixing in additives, I firmly refused. Places that sell unadulterated product like ours are rare. Most operations mix additives to stretch volume or combine the product with other drugs already on the market. The so-called magic recipe that turns one gram into ten. I had once read an internet article about someone dying after adding bond to heighten the hallucinogenic effect. Moderation was key.
By maintaining this strict policy we had actually built greater trust, which occasionally brought in larger deals. Since the last reorganization I had instructed them to create a separate line that only handled transactions above a certain scale. We were seeing roughly one or two such deals per month. Even so, the clear leader remained Vice Director Seon’s line. After focusing on Seoul he had expanded into the Gyeonggi region and was now conducting occasional business in Busan and Daegu as well.
The usage plan for the Prior Medical facility we had recently acquired was also submitted. The idea was clever. They proposed selecting one of the recently terminated partners to serve as camouflage for actual production and delivery, then creating a single liquid product line. When I asked if that was feasible, they explained that one of the severed clients had already sent an offer: they would increase the order volume if we produced for them. The team wanted to integrate that order and launch a project to develop an edible product.
The concept seemed solid, so I instructed Director Jo to move forward with the contract once the fixed costs beyond labor were recoverable. They said it was perfect timing since they had been wanting to hire more staff anyway, and promptly presented an expansion plan for both welfare center personnel and production factory workers.
I had been told about the additional hire at the Haman Factory, but apparently I needed to ask again since no one had informed me directly. The same went for the office staff recruitment. When I shot them a look, Executive Ha shot one right back. “I did tell you, sir.”
“Ah… right.”
The farm and factory were operating smoothly according to the established sequence. Yeoni was still in the cautious probing stage. The money was ready, but the exact terms of what we would receive and what the other side would provide remained unclear, so negotiations were dragging. We held the superior position, after all.
Toward the end of the conversation I brought up the university project and the goods order from Gonzales back in Mexico.
“That sounds good. If the kids handle it, it won’t draw attention. You could even call it a lucky success.”
“After a few runs, once the deals grow larger, making money will become much easier.”
With approval from both key executives, we would move forward. After reviewing overall operations with the leadership, I rose from my seat.
I stopped by Donghak Temple on the way, presented the monk with Chuseok gifts, and left a small donation for his eternal practice. We talked for an hour or two. The peace it brought my mind was genuinely pleasant. I resolved to visit more often.
On the road up to the temple I purchased a car, registered under the welfare center’s name. Having my own vehicle felt excellent. I chose a discreet domestic mid-size sedan. The semi-autonomous driving technology was impressive.
The source of the money was strange. It turned out to be from an illegal online gambling service operating out of a real Philippine casino. They relayed the games and paid out winnings in cash. Once the internet made it possible, the illegal operation had sprung up immediately. When I waited for more explanation, the now-desperate salesman gave me a detailed briefing on the money’s origin.
They had slowly built up customers on the site and cashed out the profits, but the police had caught their trail. Bad luck. The rest of the story was predictable: they were trying to eat the loss and run.
“It’s stolen goods. I’m sorry, but I can’t handle it.”
Yet after the low bow and the Skylight guarantee lowered the perceived risk considerably, I found myself negotiating. In the end we settled on two parts dollars and eight parts yuan. Of course, if anything went wrong the deal would be canceled immediately. If he wanted to test the temperature of my candle, he could try feeding me bad information.
I turned the car that had been heading home back toward the welfare center. I wanted to check on the security team’s condition and oversee the operation in person.