Expansion (5)
"Team A, you've all worked hard this semester." "Shall we hear the next presentation?"
What presentation? It was finally time for our group project presentations, the grand finale of the semester. The class president had even shown up in a suit, treating it like some major event. I prepared myself to listen with anticipation.
First came our team's introduction. Our group name was Ocean World. A pretty common name, really. If you heard it out of context, it might sound like an amusement park. When I was registering the business, I asked my teammates for name suggestions, and this one stuck. I bought everyone dinner in exchange. That seemed fair enough.
The class president began by sharing our thoughts on trade. He explained what we'd studied through seniors and acquaintances, then moved into stories about the hands-on experience we'd gained with their help. Suddenly a video started playing—an interview set against a backdrop of shipping containers.
Wasn't that Hye-seon from the company? I was going to have to say something. A friend supposedly living a normal organizational life, casually showing her face like that. She hadn't known the first thing about trade until I put her to work, yet there she was, shamelessly giving a polished interview. She even pretended to be the senior in the footage, and she pulled it off like a professional actor.
Next came a montage of our preparation process—well-edited footage of us readying the goods, filing export and import declarations, and even snippets of email exchanges with Mr. Gonzales. The grand finale was footage of the container being loaded onto a ship in Busan. Later I heard that before entering the port, they'd only managed to film the container itself and felt it was lacking. A truck driver had noticed them and asked what they were doing. When they explained they were students on a practical training exercise, he'd told them to wait, made a single phone call, and arranged for them to enter with a driver and port official so they could film properly.
?? Was port security really that lax? Even with an official escort, something felt off. Still, watching the container being lifted onto the ship stirred something in me.
The video ended with our teammates sharing their reflections. The professor applauded. An A+ was looking pretty much guaranteed.
"I've assigned this project every semester, and this one feels the most thorough by far."
"What I like even more is knowing how valuable the experience must have been for the students while preparing it."
"Most of you will likely end up working in trade-related fields."
"These experiences will accumulate, one by one, and become the foundation for when you start businesses, pursue research, or walk whatever path you've chosen."
"That concludes the class. The teams that completed the group project have worked hard all semester. The rest of you, good luck on your finals. I'll see you again in summer session or next semester."
"Well done, everyone."
"Cheers!!"
That afternoon we started the after-party. Everyone was eager to recount everything that had happened. Why were there so many classmates at our group project after-party? About twenty people showed up. The moment the professor left, the class president had shouted at the school gate that we were having the after-party at Myeongdong Chicken. Without any prior agreement, the others just stared at him blankly until he declared he was paying and rang the golden bell. I shot him a glare. But when he dragged me along, what he said next was oddly endearing.
"Hyung, there's still some of the entertainment budget you gave me last time left. Let's use that."
I flicked him on the forehead and left the classroom in good spirits. The drinking session began even though the sun hadn't set yet.
After an hour or two, when the alcohol had loosened everyone up a bit, I made an offer to my teammates.
"How about becoming my colleagues?"
The friends who'd already tasted money all nodded without hesitation. I made good use of my phone's recording function that night.
The next morning, I uploaded the recording file to the group chat and shared the details I'd received from Mr. Gonzales—split into similar products and one or two containers' worth, of course. Hye-seon had organized the materials. Myung-jae started saying something complicated when Yun-jeong elbowed him in the side. Something about how consent given while drunk was invalid because it was given under duress. I also handed the class president a check card loaded with two million won for operating expenses. He probably wouldn't need to touch it for a while.
I was having Vietnamese pho for a hangover cure and lunch when a message arrived.
Our Pakistani logistics specialist from Afghanistan, Ali, had contacted me. I asked what was going on, and it turned out to be about the Cheonan factory.
He wanted the job of installing the production line. Hadn't he already made plenty from the product commissions last time? When I pointed that out, he laughed and said he'd figured it out because the delivery address had suddenly changed. He mentioned spotting Yeoni working at the Cheonan factory, which turned out to be a pharmaceutical company with no apparent connection to our organization. I told him I'd look into it and contacted Deputy Park to give him a warning. These things needed to be reported immediately to avoid bigger problems later. He apologized a hundred times. Then I told Ali to go ahead and install the line.
Come to think of it, Ali didn't know how to install lines himself. The Vietnamese soldier had handled that last time. Before I could ask, another message came through.
Without me even asking, our Ali launched into a passionate speech about his business plan and his own commission. He said several abandoned factories near the Haman plant were up for sale cheap. He offered to buy and remodel them if I just gave him the job. I decided to put him in his place.
So there had been a mole all along. I informed the executives about the Cheonan facility installation and the Haman factory offer, then requested an investigation into Ali and our other collaborating contacts. Mai and Ali seemed to know far too much about our organization. I understood they'd known us since the early days, but it didn't sit right that they were learning about new ventures this easily. It was time to make use of the IT team we'd recruited.
Executive Ha's reply was a little unsettling. Three days later, both Executive Ha and Ali contacted me at the same time. Had they coordinated? Executive Ha reported that Ali seemed clean and reliable, and that the plan looked solid. The issue was the source of funds for purchasing real estate. When I suggested using the paper company that currently owned the Haman factory, he told me to wait a moment. I had a feeling he was consulting Director Jo. Two minutes later, a reply came.
He was referring to the accountant who'd handled the Cheonan factory—Kim, I think. While I waited, I looked over Ali's proposal. That crazy bastard… I couldn't help but swear at the sheer scale of Ali's plan. He wanted to acquire and merge four factories including the one at Haman, totaling just over ten thousand pyeong. The main business was a recycling center—essentially a waste recycling operation. His reasoning was that recycling facilities smelled and attracted the wrong kind of attention, whereas no one would deliberately visit a garbage dump. He claimed that simply collecting, sorting, and shipping materials wouldn't require the same level of scrutiny or environmental compliance as actual processing. For the building layout, he proposed demolishing the Haman factory to turn it into a parking lot, building a three-story office building with the first floor for offices and the second and third floors as dormitories, converting the innermost buildings near the mountain into production lines, and using the largest outer building for sorting and shipping. I forwarded it to the executives who were waiting.
Our executives seemed to think differently than I did.