The Decision to Start a Business (2)

Kim Chirok returned to the office.

The Accounting Manager was not at her desk. She was heading into the president's office with green tea in hand, and it sounded as though a meeting was underway in there. A moment earlier, though, he had noticed she was carrying only two cups, and the Managing Director's voice was audible from inside. Apparently the President and the Managing Director were discussing something between the two of them.

The Accounting Manager caught sight of Kim Chirok and tossed a remark his way.

"If I'm not at my desk, you're supposed to hold down the office. Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry. The car I've been driving has been giving me nothing but grief, so I took it in for repairs."

"Then you should have called. The Managing Director was asking where everyone had gone."

"Was he? I'm sorry."

While they were still talking, the door to the president's office opened and the Managing Director stepped out. He spotted Kim Chirok at once, beckoned him over, and said,

"Kim Chirok! A word."

Kim Chirok felt a jolt in his chest. Had they found out he was planning to start his own company? He and the Production Director had been away from their desks a great deal lately; of course they were suspicious. They had almost certainly discovered that he intended to lease a factory in Songgok-ri and run the exact same business as Hyangnam Tech. They would ask, without a doubt — What makes you think you have what it takes to run a business like that? Have you even secured any clients?

But this was a capitalist society. Anyone was free to found a company and go into business. The President had no authority to interfere.

The one potential issue was the mold management contract Hyangnam Tech had signed with Mitsutech. He hadn't spirited away any molds, though. Not yet. Kim Chirok's conscience was clear.

And when he looked at the Managing Director's face, it was not the face of a man about to dress anyone down.

Kim Chirok went into the president's office. He had expected the Managing Director to speak first, but it was the President who opened.

"Kim, my boy. Tomorrow's the auction for our company's factory site."

The President called him Kim, as one might a son. Kim Chirok was younger than the President's own boy; that was probably why.

"Yes, sir. I'd heard."

"Tomorrow's auction will be held in Courtroom 4 at the Suwon District Court. It opens at ten in the morning, so I want you to go and see what our factory sells for."

"Me, sir? …Understood."

Beside him, the Managing Director smiled faintly.

"Meaning don't bother coming into the office tomorrow. Go straight to the courthouse in Suwon."

"Ah. Yes, sir. Understood."

"That car of yours still running all right?"

"Yes, sir. It runs fine."

"Fill the tank all the way up before you go. I'll tell the Accounting Manager to take care of the receipt."

"Yes, sir."

"All you need to find out is the winning bid and who walks away with it."

"Understood. I'll take care of it."

The President muttered, half to himself.

"Times are hard for small businesses with the economy the way it is. I doubt the winning bid will crack two and a half billion."

The Managing Director nodded in agreement, then lifted his head and looked at Kim Chirok.

"That's all. Off you go. Have a good trip tomorrow."

Kim Chirok bowed to the President and the Managing Director and left the office.

Going to the auction the next day to confirm the result was no work at all. If anything, getting out and stretching his legs beat sitting around the office bored out of his mind.

From the President's point of view, a high winning bid would be the better outcome.

The President could always learn the sale price later through the court. He simply wanted to know a little sooner, which was why he had sent Kim Chirok. A company might go under, but if the debts were settled to some degree, at least you wouldn't have to feel quite so ashamed in front of your creditors.

When Kim Chirok returned to his desk, the Accounting Manager spoke up.

"What did the Managing Director want?"

"He said tomorrow's the auction for our factory. Told me not to come in tomorrow morning and to go to the courthouse instead. Wants me to see what it sells for and report back."

"Then text me the winning bid too, would you? I'm curious myself."

"Will do."

"Aigoo. So this is the end of the company, then?"

Kim Chirok had been planning to file for a business registration the next day. The tax office was in Bongdam-eup, which would have meant being away from his desk for a long stretch yet again. Being sent to the auction court, he realized, was a stroke of luck. He could stop by the tax office on the way back from the Suwon District Court.

He stepped out of the office, climbed up to the rooftop, and called the Production Director.

Kim Chirok gathered the documents he would take to the tax office the next day — a certified copy of the corporate register, the articles of incorporation, the lease agreement. He packed his identification, his bankbook, and a certificate of his registered seal as well. Whether he ended up needing every last one or not, it was better to bring them all. If even a single document was missing, he would have to make the trip all over again.

A business registration could be filed through the National Tax Service's HomeTax website. Going to the tax office in person, however, meant the certificate could be issued the same day. That was why Kim Chirok had decided to apply in person. And once the certificate was in his hands, he intended to stop by the bank and open a corporate account as well.

The next day arrived.

Kim Chirok did not go into the office that morning. He drove straight to the Suwon District Court, taking every document related to the new corporation's business registration with him.

The courthouse was far more crowded on auction days. There were far more people here than when he had come for Oh Ha-young's criminal case. It was packed like a marketplace.

The auction began. People jostled to write down their hoped-for winning bids on the properties they had their eye on. Watching them, Kim Chirok smiled.

This was the kind of scene you never even got a glimpse of at a conglomerate.

Before long, the bid sheets were opened, and a court clerk began announcing the winning bidders.

Kim Chirok checked the case number he had written down for the Hyangnam Tech factory site. Today's sale was the third auction for the property. A factory appraised at 4.8 billion won had failed to sell twice, and the starting bid now stood at 2.352 billion. Anyone who wrote down 2.352 billion or more would take the factory.

After a considerable wait, their turn came. The clerk called the case number, and two middle-aged men stepped forward. They appeared to be competing against each other. Once both men were out, the clerk called out again.

Kim Chirok quickly jotted down the winning bid. At that price, he figured, the finance company that had lent money to Hyangnam Tech would recover everything it was owed. The raw-material suppliers, however, would not. The vendors who had supplied Hyangnam Tech on credit were going to get stiffed — and not just one of them. Several.

The one small mercy was that only the land and the building had gone to auction. The machinery and other equipment had not been put up as collateral, so they had been excluded from the sale. The machines were badly worn, and the land and building alone had been considered sufficient to secure the debt — or so it seemed.

Kim Chirok called the Managing Director of Hyangnam Tech.

With that, the Managing Director hung up.

He'll be reporting to the President now.

Kim Chirok texted the winning bid to the Accounting Manager as well.

The moment he left the courthouse, he headed for Bongdam-eup, where the tax office was. He went to the civil affairs desk, submitted the documents he had brought, and applied for a business registration. The clerk reviewed the paperwork and told him to wait.

Not long after, the business registration certificate came out. Same day, just as he had hoped. The clerk handed him the newly issued certificate.

"May your business prosper."

"Thank you."

Kim Chirok puckered his lips and planted a kiss on the freshly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠printed certificate.

He was a company president now. Himself.

Now I just have to make money.

He glanced at his watch. It was already past noon, so he bought himself a bowl of ox-head soup, ate, and headed back to Hyangnam-eup. There, at a bank in the township center, he opened a corporate account and had a corporate card issued as well.

With all of that done, he truly felt like a company president. The thought that a president's car was a Santa Fe on the verge of being scrapped, though, was simply absurd. He needed to start making money, and fast — enough to swap it for a Mercedes.

Kim Chirok arrived at the company. He did not go up to the second-floor office. He went straight to the production department office in the production building. Manager Ma happened to be there.

Kim Chirok showed him the business registration certificate, then the corporate account holding the paid-in capital. Manager Ma looked them over and broke into a grin.

"There's a printer here, right? Make yourself a copy of the business registration. And this is the corporate register — keep a copy of this too."

"Once we move to the Songgok-ri factory, we can keep these in the office. I suppose I can't call you Kim Chirok anymore. It'll have to be 'President' from now on."

"You can just call me Chirok."

"Haha. That wouldn't do. However small a new corporation is, it's still a company."

"I'm not particular about that sort of thing."

"Ah, by the way — the President has a major announcement at four this afternoon. Word went out for every employee ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to gather in the cafeteria."

"He's going to announce whether they're shutting down, I imagine."

"Right — you went to the auction court today, didn't you? What did it sell for?"

"2.421 billion won."

"What a waste. If we'd put that property on the open market, the factory would have fetched 3.5 billion at least. A real shame."

"The raw-material suppliers who put liens on the site won't recover a thing even with the auction done."

"That's why once we start operating, they won't give us raw materials on credit. They'll tell us to pay cash and take it."

"If we're not careful, things could get pretty tight."

Four o'clock arrived. Everyone wrapped up their work in a rough fashion and filed into the cafeteria. The company had no separate auditorium, so any all-hands gathering had no choice but to use the cafeteria. Kim Chirok went down as well. Even the foreign workers seemed to have been assembled.

In the front row, facing the gathered crowd, three men sat. The President occupied the center seat, the Managing Director to his right, the Plant Manager to his left. The President's face was a study in conflicted emotion. He lifted his head and spoke to the Production Director.

"Has everyone gathered?"

"Yes, sir. All present. Seventy people, including the cafeteria ladies."

The President's voice was low and heavy.

"As you've no doubt already heard, this factory went to auction today. We could have moved to a leased plant and continued the business, but I am an old man now, and the company's finances have deteriorated so badly that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it is no longer possible to keep operating."

Everyone sat with their heads bowed and listened.

"I have spent forty years of my life with rubber. I worked with rubber at a conglomerate, and I worked with rubber after I founded this company. But competitors have multiplied, raw-material prices have climbed, and it has become too difficult to keep the company going."

One of the married women on staff had tears welling in her eyes.

"Three years ago, a rash of defective products brought this company to the brink. Then Ilryung Precision, where we source our rings, raised their supply price sharply and put us under severe cost pressure. Mitsutech, for their part, refused to raise what they paid us for deliveries. It has been a hard road."

His voice caught, and he stopped for a moment. The Accounting Manager handed him a bottle of water. He drank a little and went on.

"All of you have worked extremely hard. But the company's soaring debt and falling sales have made it impossible to continue. I had hoped to transfer the business at a fair price to someone who wanted it, but even that did not go as I wished."

This time he drank deeply. He wiped the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief, then spoke again.

At that, the woman from the cutting room who had been sitting in the very front burst into tears.

"Hic… I was going to work under you for a long time, President…"

Here and there, the other married women on staff began to cry as well. At the very back, Ayako was wiping away tears with the back of her hand. The men did not cry. They only bowed their heads.

Watching the women weep, Kim Chirok felt something twist in his chest. He felt it in his bones: a business must never be allowed to fail like this.