Young-hoon's Parents (1)
November 15th, Wednesday.
When Young-hoon woke up, Su-jin was already asleep—she must have come home in the wee hours of the morning. What a sister he had: living under the same roof, yet he could barely catch a glimpse of her face.
Still, she had left a simple meal out for him to eat before work. Moments like these, he couldn't help but think fondly of her.
Young-hoon ate breakfast with a pleased heart and left the house. When he arrived at the office, once again he was first in, as always.
By today, the qualified bidder for the Myeongseong University tender would be submitting its final bid price, which meant the pre-bid report needed to go up for approval. He had already completed over ninety-five percent of the report, so he planned to run one final simulation, fill in the remaining five percent, and submit it for sign-off.
And in the evening, there was a family dinner for Girin Entertainment's staff and their loved ones at the Seoul Hotel. His parents and Hye-in's parents were coming up to the city, so he had to head out to Dong Seoul Terminal by five o'clock to pick them up.
Young-hoon had not yet told his parents about the enormous sum of money he'd made. They would be shocked, no doubt about it. Naturally, they would press him with endless questions, and if he couldn't explain the reason, they would worry—wondering if he'd somehow committed a crime.
So he resolved to find a plausible pretext first and explain later.
He also felt sorry for his mother, who lately seemed to be living in his neighbor's shadow—specifically, Hye-in's mother's. He decided this was the perfect opportunity to restore her pride. After all, nothing propped up a parent's dignity quite like a fat wad of spending money. A billion won or so seemed about right. Five hundred million each for Mother and Father—would they be happy? Or would they faint dead away? Ah, whatever. He'd worry about that after he handed it over.
Young-hoon's mother had been busy since the crack of dawn. Today was the day she was heading to Seoul, where her eldest son and youngest daughter lived.
The week before last, the daughter of the Shin family next door, who worked as a singer in Seoul, had thrown a neighborhood feast to celebrate sending home one hundred million won after a big break in her career. The sight of the woman next door bragging so shamelessly had gotten under her skin, and she'd stormed back to her own house right in the middle of the party.
Then, a few days later, her youngest daughter called. She'd moved into her big brother's place, she said, and launched into a gushing brag of her own—the house was over a hundred pyeong in size. Their current home was just over thirty pyeong and already felt too big for two people. A hundred pyeong? It was beyond imagining.
And then came the infuriating discovery that her thoughtless son hadn't even bothered to tell her he'd moved. In the end she had to make the call herself, only to be told to come up to Seoul today alongside the couple next door. At least the boy seemed to know he'd been in the wrong, inviting her up like this. Still, of all days, did she really have to endure the neighbor woman's bragging while sitting beside her on the same bus?
With the Seoul–Yangyang expressway now open, the trip took only two hours, so she just had to catch the 2:30 bus from Hyeon-ri in Inje. But her heart was fluttering so much that from seven in the morning she was in an absolute flurry, running a full-blown housewife's riot getting ready to go up to the city. She'd pack up the autumn harvest, bags stuffed to bursting, and bring it all for her boy.
Hye-in's mother was busy from the morning too. At Chuseok, when her daughter had come down and sobbed that she was giving up singing to take a factory job, the two of them had cried their hearts out together. But then, back in Seoul, the girl announced she'd keep singing after all. And recently she'd sent home one hundred million won—an unthinkable sum. A contract had come through, she said, with a big advance, and they should use it for her younger siblings' education and living expenses. And she'd be sending at least ten million won every month from now on.
Good things come to those who endure, they say—tears welled up again at the thought that her child was finally seeing the light after all that hardship. In her joy, she threw a neighborhood feast, and when the villagers fussed over her and showered her with congratulations, she floated on air.
Then, a few days ago, word came that the daughter had booked them a room at a five-star hotel in Seoul and would treat them to dinner. She'd been bursting with the news and couldn't resist bragging to the woman next door, who, evidently chafing, had been avoiding her ever since.
But two days ago, the counterattack came: Young-hoon had moved into a house like a royal palace. The woman and her husband were going up to Seoul today to see their son's place—and by sheer coincidence, on the very same bus. Still, she felt certain her Hye-in was doing far better than Young-hoon, so her mood wasn't soured much. Her daughter beat that man who couldn't even get married past thirty. Though, well, if Young-hoon had truly made it big, the two of them getting together wouldn't be the worst thing either.
Meanwhile, where had that useless old man slunk off to instead of helping her pack? Just wait till she got her hands on him.
Young-hoon went to the lounge and savored his coffee—coffee seasoned, of course, with his magical condiment. These days, a morning cup was essential; without it, the day never quite felt started.
Before long, as expected, a text arrived from President Lee Jae-man, and replying to it had become part of his morning routine. Nothing special this time: the headcount for today's staff family gathering, and an invitation from Sinabro Production for himself and the Five Girls members to join them for dinner.
While Young-hoon was trading messages with Lee Jae-man, the rest of the office trickled in one by one. Park Dae-ri arrived and tossed a joke his way.
"Whoa? Kim Dae-ri, working hard first thing in the morning? What's the occasion?"
"Yeah, well, I've got a field errand this afternoon."
"Ah, the Myeongseong University pre-bid report? So the numbers are all in?"
"Namseoul Distribution sent over the detailed construction cost breakdown yesterday, so all that's left is calculating the product price."
"It's a lottery bid anyway, so who cares. Your luck's been running hot lately, hasn't it? You'll be fine."
By the time the two had finished their back-and-forth, the whole staff had clocked in—everyone except, of course, that Hong Dae-ri character, off on his "training."
I wonder if he's actually attending his sessions at the training center? Hah. A guy who skips out on work at the office is really going to take his education seriously? He's probably sprawled out napping at the dorm.
Young-hoon gave the pre-bid report a final review and submitted it to Deputy General Manager Cho for approval. About ten minutes later, Cho called him over.
"Product price: 2.173 billion won. Construction: 1.289 billion won. Total bid: 3.462 billion won—that's what we're going with? You got the itemized construction costs from the dealership?"
"Yes, I received them yesterday. That construction figure includes the one hundred million won commission."
"Good, then let's go with it as is. It's a lottery anyway. The electronic bid closes Friday at eleven, right?"
"That's correct. So we'll need to notify the dealership of the amount by tomorrow at the latest."
"The product discount rate is going up to the executive director's approval anyway, so it won't take long. Good work, as always."
With the urgent business squared away, Young-hoon felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He was just returning to his desk when Park Dae-ri pulled him toward the lounge for a coffee break.
"Kim Dae-ri, all your pressing business done?"
"For now, yeah. Why? Something on your mind?"
"Ah, it's just... the president of Tae kyung Distribution wanted to see me. I was out in the field yesterday afternoon... You know he's the secretary-general of the Seoul regional dealer association, right?"
"Yeah. So what happened?"
"The cell phone and the official inquiry letter we got at the shopping district yesterday morning—they've been formally filed with headquarters' audit office."
"Wasn't that the expected sequence of events?"
"Well, the dealer association doesn't seem to be planning to let it end easily. They're out for blood, apparently."
"Isn't that only natural? They'll come out swinging at first, then let it fizzle out. Isn't that the textbook playbook?"
"You're probably right. But this time the mood felt... different. Somehow ominous. Eh, we'll see how it plays out. Let's head back."
When they returned to the office, Deputy General Manager Cho was already gone. A man like Cho shouldn't be galivanting outside like this... Lately he only showed his face for a few minutes in the morning and vanished entirely in the afternoons—and even when he was out, he never so much as called the office. Something was definitely off.
Young-hoon forced his worries about Cho out of his mind and waited for the group chat message the Five Girls members sent him around this time every day. These days, if the KakaoTalk didn't arrive by now, he'd actually feel a little hurt.
But today was strange. Only one message came—from Hye-in, and Hye-in alone.
Young-hoon felt unaccountably deflated, but she said she was busy, so there was nothing to be done. She was out there working hard and earning them money—technically, he ought to be thanking her. Still, disappointed was disappointed.
Suddenly finding himself with nothing to do, he figured he'd better go dig up some work. As if on cue, Secretary Byun called, telling him to come over to the Synergy Building now if he had the time. Chairman Jang was waiting. He was also told to stop by the local district office on the way and pick up a certified seal certificate and a resident registration abstract—clearly something to do with establishing the corporation. And absolutely, positively not to forget his personal seal.
Since he had nothing else on his plate anyway, he counted it lucky, quickly readied himself for the errand, and reported to Manager Kim that he'd probably take a field-leave dismissal for the day. Approval granted.
Leaving the office, Young-hoon first stopped by the bank where he'd opened his account. The moment he walked into the branch, a teller who recognized his face escorted him straight to the branch manager's office. He asked the branch manager to withdraw one billion won, requesting it be issued as two separate checks of five hundred million each.
Presently the branch manager returned with the two checks in hand and handed them over. Then he began hesitating, hemming and hawing as though he had something to say. When Young-hoon asked what was the matter, the man made a polite request: if at all possible, could he keep his funds parked with them long-term? If a large sum drained out all at once, he'd catch flak from head office—which Young-hoon could hardly blame him for. But since he had no idea when he'd need the money, he decided to leave it in short-term funds for now.
After that, Young-hoon swung by the district office to collect his documents and grabbed his personal seal from home. Since he'd have to pick up his parents that evening, he decided to give the Bentley some exercise and drove it over to the Synergy Building.
Stepping into Chairman Jang's office, he saw the two chairmen and two unfamiliar men.
"Welcome, Representative Kim."
"And what brings you calling on me today, gentlemen?"
"Representative Kim, have a cup of tea and catch your breath. Why the rush?"
"I figure those two gentlemen are the busy ones, not me."
"He's right, Jang. The paperwork just needs to be filed by end of day—let's take it slow."
"Understood. About the documents you asked me to bring... it really is the corporation registration, then?"
"That's our Representative Kim for you. Doesn't need it spelled out, does he? Yes, as we discussed yesterday, we're filing the incorporation."
"Representative Kim, these two are the lawyers who'll handle the incorporation."
"Ah, I see. A pleasure to meet you. I'm Kim Young-hoon."
When Young-hoon greeted the two lawyers, they bowed their heads with equal courtesy.
The process of establishing the corporation proved painstakingly rigorous. Reams of paperwork were required, and his seal had to be stamped on document after document. Roughly thirty minutes later, the lawyers declared the preparations complete and took their leave.
After the whirlwind, the two chairmen suggested they go grab lunch. There was a famous freshwater fish stew house near Paldang Dam, they said, so they drove all that way for the meal. The early-winter air had turned a touch chilly, but one scalding mouthful of hot broth warmed him straight through to his core.
After lunch, with time to kill, the three of them played a winner-pays Go-Stop match for the price of the meal. Because of a measly forty-thousand-won fish stew bill, the table became a blood-soaked battlefield. No quarter was given or asked in the contest, and in the end it was Chairman Choi who had to pick up the tab. And how he grumbled about losing! You'd think he was about to cough up the meal he'd just eaten. Rich or poor, apparently losing money stung all the same.
After a good round of jeering at the poor loser, they returned to Chairman Jang's office—it was already past four o'clock.
Young-hoon called his mother to ask where they were on the road, but she had no idea. She did say, vaguely, that they should arrive at Dong Seoul Terminal around five.
"Representative Kim, are your parents coming up from the countryside?"
"Yes, sir. They wanted to see the house I moved into, so I'm going to pick them up."
"Then off you go—quickly now. Come by again tomorrow or the day after. I have a rematch to win."
"Of course, sir. I'll take my leave then."
Young-hoon bowed to the two chairmen and drove off toward Dong Seoul Terminal. A luxury car really did make driving a different pleasure altogether. He could feel the envious stares from those around him drilling into him. Perhaps fearing a fender-bender, the cars ahead and behind kept their distance, and the vehicles beside him slowed to open a wide gap. So this is what it's like to drive a luxury car, he thought, pulling into the terminal.
After waiting about twenty minutes, he spotted the intercity bus from Inje rolling into the terminal. His parents and Hye-in's parents came stepping off. They had packed so much stuff—bag upon bulging bag—that Young-hoon could barely have lifted it all. Hye-in's parents were no different. Country folk, it seemed, were all cut from the same cloth.
When he saw his mother stepping down with a colossal bag in each hand, Young-hoon hurried over. Inside those bags, without a doubt, was every last scrap of last autumn's harvest, gathered up just for him.