The Exploits of the 'Homecle' Swindler Crew
It took about an hour to get from Young-hoon's house to Incheon Airport if the roads cooperated.
Since it was Sunday, the traffic wasn't expected to be bad.
Still, he figured they should arrive at least thirty minutes ahead of the elders, so he had already told Su-jin to leave around 9:30.
While they were having a light breakfast, Young-hoon asked Su-jin.
"Hey, sis, you can drive, right?"
"Of course. I've already driven myself out to the countryside and back several times. Stop worrying already."
"Can you handle a large sedan, then?"
"No, just a compact. Why do you ask about a big car?"
"I was thinking we could take that Bentley you saw last time to the airport."
"No way. I'll just drive the compact there and back. Expensive cars scare me — too stressful to drive."
Here, the difference between men and women revealed itself beyond any doubt.
Given the same situation, one hundred out of one hundred men would have chosen the luxury car.
Young-hoon felt a pang of dejection at the prospect of leaving the Bentley and Ferrari sitting in the garage and driving off in a compact instead.
And he'd been looking forward to a comfortable ride, too.
'By the way, when am I ever going to get to take that Ferrari for a proper spin?'
When they arrived at Incheon Airport around 10:40 a.m., Director Park was there to greet Young-hoon with a beaming smile.
Su-jin dropped Young-hoon off and drove straight back, so luckily she never crossed paths with the Director.
"Hello, Director. What are you doing here so early?"
"I'm just so excited at the thought of riding the white horse. Hehehe."
"Assistant Manager Park kept pestering me about why he isn't coming along to America."
"That boy should mind his own business. I can't imagine why he takes such an interest in his father's affairs. So what did you tell him?"
"I said you're the two chairmen's personal physician, so of course you're going."
"Good answer. Thanks to Representative Kim, I'll get to ride the white horse to my heart's content. How am I ever supposed to repay this?"
While Director Park and Young-hoon were chatting, Chairman Jang and Chairman Choi came into view at the airport entrance.
They hurried through departure procedures and made their way to the airport tarmac, where Chairman Wang Chenchen, President Chen Jianbang of Shanghai TV, and some ten unfamiliar secretaries and staff were waiting on the private jet track to receive Young-hoon's party.
The jet, however, was far larger than the one they'd flown on the previous week.
'Just how many private jets does Chairman Wang own? Could there ever come a day when I fly on one too? Ha, who am I kidding. I can't even drive the Ferrari sitting in my own garage.'
Once aboard the private jet, a flight attendant came around with drinks.
As he sipped a mildly sweet soda and asked about the flight time to LA, he was told it would take around eleven hours.
Eleven hours felt like too much to sleep through, and reading a book seemed like a chore — it was shaping up to be a tedious flight.
He ate lunch as the in-flight meal, dawdled around killing time, and eventually dozed off.
When he woke, he was told there were still seven hours left.
That was when Director Park proposed a round of Go-Stop, reasoning they might as well earn some pocket money for the American trip.
Truly, nothing beat Go-Stop for whiling away a boring stretch of time.
The four of them had been playing happily for a while when Chairman Wang started kibitzing from the sidelines and got an earful from Chairman Choi.
Told to stop hovering and jump into the game himself, Chairman Wang found himself swept up as an actual player.
Just like that, a domestic match turned into an international tournament.
Chairman Wang clearly didn't know the Go-Stop rules well, because for the first two hours or so he lost continuously.
He seemed to have dropped at least two hundred dollars.
But as time went on, he gathered momentum at a terrifying pace.
Just as the saying goes — a novice shaman can kill a man — he began sweeping up every bill laid out on the table.
They say even a junkyard dog eats with fifty percent confidence on its own turf, but should the private jet count as Chairman Wang's home turf, then? The game raged on until an hour before their LA arrival, and by the end, everyone except Chairman Wang had been fleeced.
Director Park appeared to have lost close to a hundred dollars.
No matter how cardsharp his skills, he was simply outmatched by a home dog playing with fifty percent confidence.
Young-hoon had lost nearly fifty dollars as well, and the two chairmen seemed to have dropped twenty or thirty each.
Director Park, grumbling, demanded a rematch in his hotel room.
But if they were going to do that, the only free time they'd have was at night — and who knew if they'd have any hours left for Go-Stop between all the boing-boing business?
It seemed that whether you were a chaebol or dirt-poor, losing money — even pocket change — left a sour taste in the mouth.
When they landed in LA, staff dispatched by Shanghai Media Group were waiting for Chairman Wang.
It was daytime in LA, but the long flight and the mental labor of the Go-Stop table had left everyone looking drained.
The condition when Young-hoon's party had originally been invited to America was a suite for each person at a top-tier hotel, and Chairman Wang had honored that promise to the letter.
The hotel was at least on par with the one they'd stayed at in China.
Chairman Michael of the PBS network had invited them to dinner, so everyone agreed to rest in their rooms until then.
After resting up properly in his hotel room, Young-hoon came down to the lobby at 6:10, carrying two bottles of Magic Additive Wine.
In the lobby, Chairman Jang was deep in conversation with a middle-aged Western man.
Young-hoon sensed instinctively that the man was Chairman Jang's son-in-law.
Sure enough, Chairman Jang noticed Young-hoon and introduced the Westerner.
The business card he received identified him as managing partner of the Smith Law Firm.
Attorney Smith also exchanged greetings with Chairman Choi and Chairman Wang as they appeared, and his Korean was fluent enough that there was no real need to labor through conversation in English.
Before long, the luxury limousine Chairman Michael had arranged for them arrived.
Young-hoon's party set off for the dinner venue, and where the car finally stopped was Chairman Michael's private estate in Beverly Hills.
Befitting a mansion of staggering scale, the drive from the gate to the main building took over five minutes by car.
It looked considerably more spacious than the Blue House where the President of South Korea resided.
As they stepped out of the car, a man who looked well past seventy, along with what appeared to be his family, was waiting at the entrance to receive Chairman Wang's party.
But the old man at the head of the group seemed utterly drained of vitality, leaning his whole body on a cane.
Young-hoon realized this was today's primary target: Chairman Michael.
The others, it seemed, had reached the same conclusion, for he could see them quietly steeling themselves anew.
Ushered into the dining room under Chairman Michael's guidance, Young-hoon's party was stunned yet again.
A long table straight out of a movie was laden with every delicacy imaginable.
He felt as though he'd been transported into the shoes of a medieval nobleman.
The formal American-style dinner was quite sumptuous indeed.
They ate with wine, and while the food was passably good, the wine was simply not.
Chairman Wang cast a few furtive glances around the table, then rang the opening bell of battle.
Reaching into the bag Young-hoon had handed him, he pulled out the elixir and dropped his bait.
"Chairman Michael, this is a truly magnificent dinner. I'm satisfied with everything — except, perhaps, the wine. As it happens, I have a rather good bottle on me. Shall we give it a taste?"
Chairman Michael felt a strong curiosity at Chairman Wang Chenchen's confident bearing, but it quickly gave way to disappointment.
The moment he saw the bottle, it was unmistakably a cheap, bottom-shelf wine.
Still, he was a guest, and he couldn't let his feelings show.
Strangely, though, Chairman Wang poured the wine for him and him alone.
It somehow made him feel like a laboratory specimen, and he was on the verge of taking mild offense when Chairman Wang, reading him like a psychic, spoke up.
"This is a precious elixir I went to great lengths to obtain in Korea. I treasure it dearly myself. I'm offering it to you specially, for the sake of introducing it to you. Please, set your worries aside and just have a taste."
Chairman Michael knew perfectly well that Chairman Wang was not a man to spout nonsense, so he resolved to take a sip, telling himself he'd simply let himself be fooled.
And seeing how Chairman Wang cherished the stuff stirred a flicker of expectation, too.
The moment he cautiously tilted the glass and swallowed, he lost all grip on himself.
It was a taste and aroma he had never once experienced in his entire life.
Chairman Michael had loved wine so dearly that he'd walked the path of a wine connoisseur since his youth.
Even now, the wine cellar beneath his estate held thousands of bottles of fine vintages on display.
But this flavor, which seized hold of his mind from the very instant it touched his tongue, was without question the first of its kind.
It slid smoothly down the throat, and a subtle, honeyed fragrance swept through his brain.
Every taste bud on his tongue stood on end, as if determined to let nothing of the wine's flavor and aroma escape.
It was as if he'd taken some narcotic — all his consciousness transcending reality itself.
Only now did Chairman Wang's confident demeanor make sense.
At the same time, Chairman Michael could not calm his pounding heart.
For the boastful Chairman Wang to share it with no one else — to hand it to him alone, and just a single glass at that — could only mean it was extraordinarily difficult to obtain.
Having now tasted the Magic Additive Wine, Chairman Michael could not help but burn with longing.
"Chairman Wang, in honor of my distinguished guests, I served what I considered a rather decent wine — and I've committed a grave error. I apologize. Until now, I believed the wines I'd drunk over the years held nothing to be ashamed of before the world's finest. All of that was a delusion. No — to even call this thing a wine would be an insult. It must be called the drink of heaven itself, savored by God."
"Haha, I hardly know what to do with such extravagant praise. But the reason I poured you this wine, Chairman Michael, was not merely so you could taste it. There is a far more important reason."
"What? There's another reason beyond this magnificent flavor?"
"Yes. The taste matters, of course — but compared to what I'm about to tell you, it's a mere drop in the ocean. The reason I poured the wine for you, and you alone, is this… because it will give you back your youth."
Chairman Wang Chenchen went on, introducing Chairman Jang and Chairman Choi.
"These two gentlemen I've brought from Korea are the living proof. They became my sworn elder brothers only recently, and both of them are in their mid-seventies."
At those words, Chairman Michael examined Chairman Jang and Chairman Choi with astonished eyes.
The two of them had been steadily drinking Young-hoon's magic wine for some time, and they looked rejuvenated to the point that not only their physical condition but the color of their faces and their very wrinkles rivaled a man in his prime.
For these two to be his own age was something Chairman Michael found hard to believe.
It was true that Easterners tended to look younger than Westerners, but what he sensed went beyond any simple East-meets-West difference.
"Is what Chairman Wang says true? Forgive me, but when we first met I thought you both looked younger than I am — clearly, I made a serious mistake. I could never have imagined you were my seniors."
Chairman Choi, batting second for the 'Homecle' Swindler Crew, began to rev his engine.
Originally, Young-hoon was meant to step up as leadoff hitter and sell the elixir himself, but Chairman Wang Chenchen had taken over that role, leaving him unable to even step into the batter's box.
Given the age gap, it no doubt looked better for Chairman Wang — who had some rapport with Michael — to take the plate rather than the green young Young-hoon.
"This wine is, in truth, a thing that ought to be called an elixir. You might say it's a product that carries the mysteries of the East within it — and it was procured for us by this young friend sitting beside me."
Chairman Choi flashed Young-hoon a look brimming with goodwill and smiled.
"In truth, before I drank this elixir, I had no vigor left at all. I was losing my will to live. A man ought to stand tall and proud wherever he goes — yet night after night, I could do nothing but bow my head. Mind you, things improved somewhat when I was prescribed Viagra, but even that had a limit of twenty minutes at most. Ever since I began drinking this elixir, however, I can run the full match for seven or eight hours straight."
Once the conversation turned to the elixir's effects, Director Park — batting third for the 'Homecle' Swindler Crew — rolled out the medical data in earnest.
"Good evening. My name is Park Jong-wook, and I operate a general hospital in Korea. Before I speak to its effects, please take a look at these documents first. Under normal circumstances, these materials could never, ever be leaked — I am showing them to you specially, with the permission of the two gentlemen present."
Chairman Michael took the documents and studied them in silence.
They had apparently anticipated the situation, for the papers were written in English, posing no difficulty whatsoever to read.
After letting the moment breathe, Director Park resumed his explanation.
"These documents contain the results of tests conducted one month ago. As you can see, Chairman Michael, these two gentlemen are in their seventies — and yet their biological age is recorded as fifty-two. Now, the other document… yes, that one. Those are the results from September, showing Chairman Jang at sixty-nine and Chairman Choi at seventy."
Chairman Michael, visibly astonished, looked back and forth between the documents and the two chairmen once more.
Director Park surveyed the sight with a contented expression and continued, matter-of-factly.
"The final set of documents comes from a test taken one week ago. There, too, both gentlemen's biological age reads exactly fifty-two. They first drank the elixir in early November and have been taking it regularly since. As an aside, I myself have also drunk the elixir — and my biological age has dropped by more than ten years."
"Putting everything together, then — the wine I just drank is not a liquor at all, but a medicine. My biological age grows younger, my performance at night becomes vigorous, and the taste is a bonus. Have I got that right?"
Seeing that Chairman Michael had come around considerably, Chairman Jang — the cleanup hitter of the 'Homecle' Swindler Crew — stepped up to end the game.
"It's been about thirty minutes since you drank the elixir, Chairman Michael, so the effects should be showing themselves any moment now. And if you stop by a hospital tomorrow for a full examination, you'll be able to confirm for yourself that everything we've said is true."
"Yes, I'll verify it exactly as you say."
"Ahem. And, well… the truth is, while we did come to see you for business reasons, there's also, how should I put it… a certain desire to savor this reclaimed youth of ours…"
At Chairman Jang's trailing hesitation, Chairman Michael put on the expression of a man who understood completely — one man to another — and declared boldly:
"If everything these gentlemen have told me tonight proves true, then every last bit of hospitality you receive until the day you return to Korea shall be my personal responsibility."