A Call from Oh Ha-young's Friend

Kim Chirok had a fairly clear idea why Oh Ha-young's friend was calling.

She was almost certainly trying to confirm whether he really did work at a small company.

Vicious little snakes. They must think I lied to the judge about working at an SME.

After hanging up, Kim Chirok felt a twinge of regret. He wondered if he'd been unwise to give her the name Hyangnam Tech.

Then again, Hyangnam Tech would be gone before long. It probably wouldn't matter.

If that bitch Oh Ha-young has even a shred of conscience, knowing I'm stuck at some countryside SME ought to sting. A woman with a conscience wouldn't keep this up, would she?

The next day, Kim Chirok went to the bank intending to take out an employed worker loan. He currently had not a single won of debt to his name, and he had never once let a credit card payment lapse. The loan, he figured, would go through without a hitch.

He made an employment certificate for Hyangnam Tech himself. He was the one in charge of issuing them, so it was easy enough, and he stamped it with the corporate seal in his possession. Then he logged into the Four Major Insurance Information Linkage site and issued a confirmation of his four major insurance enrollment as well.

He hadn't been at Hyangnam Tech for long, though, so he pulled an H Group employment certificate too. H Group was a conglomerate — there was no need to go all the way to the company in person. Anyone who had worked there could issue a certificate of employment from the company homepage, the same way you downloaded a diploma from a university website.

Kim Chirok went to the bank in Hyangnam-eup and applied for a worker loan. The clerk studied the H Group employment certificate with more than casual interest. Going from H Group to Hyangnam Tech had clearly struck him as strange. It wasn't unheard of for a man to take a job at an SME after hitting mandatory retirement. But a young man leaving a conglomerate for a shoestring operation? That was another matter entirely.

Kim Chirok ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠smiled.

"I'm applying for 50 million won."

"No loans from other financial institutions?"

"None."

The clerk nodded without a word. Employed worker loans were assessed on credit rating, income, and repayment ability. Kim Chirok's income was low at the moment, but his credit rating was decent enough — which was probably why the clerk had nodded.

Why was Kim Chirok trying to invest a hundred million won when he might well end up at a conglomerate?

The answer was simple enough. He could put the money in and collect interest on it. If he joined the startup and worked there, he would draw a salary and receive dividends besides. But if the Oh Ha-young case resolved itself and he moved to a conglomerate, recovering the money would become difficult — it would already have been spent as startup capital. In that case, he would simply remain a shareholder and collect dividends. His stake was fifty percent, after all.

Dividends, however, required profits. So if he left, they could reduce the company's capital, pull out the money he had put in, and book it as a loan. Then he could collect interest. What tiny company anywhere operated with zero borrowed money? These days, even buying a little house, most people carried a bank mortgage.

He couldn't simply lend it unsecured, though. He would need to put a lien on the injection molding machines, or on the factory lease deposit.

And if the Oh Ha-young case dragged on? Then he would have no choice but to keep working at the startup.

I'll join the founding, get the new company on solid footing, and then I can leave.

With that settled, Kim Chirok decided to throw himself into the startup for the time being and work hard.

He came back to the office and sat down, and a text arrived from the bank. It was about the employed worker loan being approved.

That was fast.

Kim Chirok checked his passbook. The money was in.

The next day, Factory Manager Ma called.

Kim Chirok had never started a business in his life, so he researched it online. He looked up the procedures for founding a company, then stopped by the Hwaseong Library in Hyangnam-eup, borrowed a stack of books on entrepreneurship, and studied them.

Hmm. Incorporate a corporation and file for a business registration. That should do it.

There were a few judicial scrivener offices in Hyangnam-eup. If he hired one, the incorporation would be done in no time.

I'll need to open a corporate account with two hundred million won in capital, too.

He carefully noted down every step of the incorporation process. And he found, to his own surprise, that the work was interesting. He had written business plans for new ventures at the conglomerate, but those had never been his. This was small, but it was his business. That made all the difference — he was completely absorbed.

Sunday arrived. Kim Chirok walked out to the park near his studio and waited for Factory Manager Ma in front of the convenience store.

A little later, Ma's Sonata pulled up. Even as a department head, Factory Manager Ma was nothing like a department head at a conglomerate. His salary, title notwithstanding, was less than what an assistant manager made at a major corporation — which was probably why he drove a Sonata instead of a luxury car. The car was relatively new, though. Manager Cho, the production manager, was already in the passenger seat. He was chomping on a piece of gum. He rolled down the window and grinned.

Kim Chirok climbed into the back.

"I do feel rather unworthy, riding in the back while the department head himself drives."

"What's wrong with that? We're chauffeuring the future boss!"

The factory in Songgok-ri was relatively clean. It looked as though it had been built recently, put up to be rented out. At three hundred pyeong — roughly a thousand square meters — the place looked small. Tiny, compared to the Hyangnam Tech factory. But you couldn't start a business putting on airs with something huge from day one.

The floor could easily take four injection molding machines. Stretch it, and eight looked possible.

"This much space, an extruder would be tight," Factory Manager Ma said, "but four injection machines is more than enough. I'd say even eight is doable. Still room left after that. Raw materials and semi-finished goods can go in the warehouse over here."

Manager Cho spoke up, still working his gum.

"We could even set up a cutting room. You said you'd outsource the cutting, hyung — I mean, sir — but we could still hire two housewives as staff."

"That's a conversation for when all four injection machines are running."

There was an office section partitioned off with panels. Kim Chirok figured four desks would fit easily, with space left over for a round table when visitors came.

If four injection machines were running, with four foreign workers, two housewife employees, plus Factory Manager Ma and Manager Cho — it would be just right. Including himself, that made nine people, not seven. A classic shoestring factory operation.

"Good thing there's a bit of yard space," Factory Manager Ma said. "A container truck might not fit, but a four-ton truck can get in no problem."

"Looks that way."

"And it'd be good to have a forklift. Over in that corner we can put two containers."

Manager Cho turned to him.

"For the Bangladeshi guys, no need to get them a boarding house — just put the containers there. Then they sleep inside the factory and can watch the place too."

"We can just move the container boxes Hyangnam Tech is using now. Two six-meter containers should fit just fine."

Kim Chirok figured the factory was small, but they'd have all the pieces in place. If there was enough work to keep all four injection machines running, this was a business worth trying.

Manager Cho spoke up again.

"Sir — we shouldn't name the company we're founding Hyangnam Tech, right?"

"Why would we use a failed company's name? I think we should change it."

Kim Chirok couldn't think of a good name either. He wondered if there was a cool English name out there somewhere. Then it occurred to him: this place was on the east side of Hyangnam-eup. What about just Hyangdong Tech?

He pulled out his smartphone and searched. No company was using the name Hyangdong Tech.

"How about just Hyangdong Tech? This factory's on the east side of Hyangnam-eup."

"Hyangdong Tech? Not bad. Easier to recognize than an English name. Let's go with that."

And so the name of the new company became Hyangdong Tech.

It wasn't a polished name like Mitsutek Co., Ltd. But since no other company was using Hyangdong Tech, they decided to go with it.