I Never Said I Wouldn't Acquire It
Seated in the chairman’s office, Lee Mun-jong stared at Kim Seong-ho with a look of pure disbelief.
“Say that again. What exactly did you go and tell them?”
“I told them we would not participate in the Doa Automobile bidding.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Lee Mun-jong was so stunned he could barely form words. He turned toward Lee Tak-hyeon, who sat expressionless in his chair and finally spoke to Seong-ho.
“And the reason you said that?”
“Yes—what possible reason could you have for saying we wouldn’t bid?”
Seong-ho looked from one man to the other before answering.
“First: the union’s resistance.”
“Hmm.”
Lee Tak-hyeon nodded, as if that much at least made sense. Seong-ho continued under the chairman’s gaze.
“Their opposition is fiercer than we expected, yes—but more than that, they refuse even to hear what future we might offer them. They’re simply against us, full stop. That alone tells me that even if we acquired Doa Automobile, the outlook would remain completely opaque. That’s the reason I gave.”
“The union… All right. What’s next?”
“Second: the expected bid price.”
“Hmm…”
Lee Tak-hyeon made a short sound in his throat, but Seong-ho pressed on without pause.
“Right now the creditors are hoping for a bid somewhere between five and six trillion won.”
“Of course they are. They’ve got more than ten trillion sunk into this thing—so from their point of view even that figure is a major concession.”
Lee Mun-jong spoke as though the creditors’ demand were entirely reasonable. Seong-ho’s view was the opposite.
“We can’t think in terms of their sunk costs. The bid price should be set by the company’s intrinsic value alone.”
He turned fully toward Lee Tak-hyeon.
“Doa Automobile’s present value is zero.”
“Zero?”
“Yes. The Restructuring Headquarters has judged that it has no value.”
Lee Mun-jong’s face twisted in incredulity.
“Zero means we ought to get it for free, then?”
“Even free would be too expensive.”
Seong-ho’s voice carried absolute conviction.
“We would actually have to put money into it for the acquisition to make any sense at all.”
“What kind of nonsense—”
Lee Mun-jong swung his head toward Lee Tak-hyeon. The claim was so outrageous he wanted to object at once, but what mattered first was how the chairman himself would take it.
Lee Tak-hyeon, who had listened in silence until now, lifted one corner of his mouth.
“So what did the new Deputy Prime Minister say?”
“He asked whether I was serious. And then…”
Knock-knock.
The chairman’s office door opened and a secretary stepped inside.
“A call from the Office of the Deputy Prime Minister for the Economy, sir.”
“From the Deputy Prime Minister’s office?”
Chief of Staff Hwang Do-beom asked the question on Lee Tak-hyeon’s behalf.
“The Deputy Prime Minister himself is on the line. He says he must speak with the chairman.”
“He dialed himself?”
At that detail Lee Tak-hyeon’s smile deepened.
“How shall we handle it?”
Hwang Do-beom asked carefully. This was no ordinary call; a newly appointed Deputy Prime Minister had placed it personally, and the decision was not one Hwang could make on his own.
Lee Tak-hyeon waved a hand.
“Tell him I’m busy.”
“You’re not going to take it?”
Lee Mun-jong’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at his father.
Lee Tak-hyeon shook his head.
“He’s calling to check whether Headquarters Chief Kim meant what he said. What reason do I have to pick up?”
He shot Seong-ho a look that asked whether the assessment was correct; Seong-ho nodded once. Lee Tak-hyeon’s smile stretched almost to his ears.
“Not answering is the cleanest way to deliver our message. So tell him I’m busy and hang up. From this moment on, no calls from the Deputy Prime Minister’s office—or from anyone else—are to be accepted.”
“None at all…?”
“None.”
Lee Tak-hyeon turned his smile on Seong-ho.
“As of now we are officially withdrawing from the Doa Automobile bidding. Make that our public stance.”
“Understood.”
Hwang Do-beom received the order and left the office. Lee Mun-jong stared at the closed door for a moment, then turned back to Lee Tak-hyeon in open shock.
“Chairman—are you truly pulling out?”
“If the Restructuring Headquarters has reached that judgment, we follow it.”
“But even so—”
Lee Mun-jong flicked a glance at Seong-ho before addressing his father again.
“Then you really mean to hand Doa Automobile over to some other group just like that?”
“Vice Chairman, I believe you’re under a misconception.”
“A misconception?”
Lee Mun-jong spun toward Seong-ho, his eyes demanding an explanation.
Seong-ho allowed himself a faint smile.
“I never said I wouldn’t acquire it.”
“You just said we wouldn’t bid—what else does that mean?”
“It means we are withdrawing from the bidding. It does not mean we will not acquire the company.”
“That’s the same thing. What’s the difference?”
“There is a difference.”
Seong-ho glanced briefly at the silent Lee Tak-hyeon, then spoke directly to Lee Mun-jong.
“We will acquire it. We simply have no intention of bidding at the present price. Least of all while the union is this hostile. That is Ilhyeon’s current posture toward Doa Automobile.”
Lee Mun-jong found himself speechless. At last he understood exactly what Seong-ho intended.
And on Lee Tak-hyeon’s face, as he watched the exchange, the smile only grew deeper.
At an economic roundtable chaired by the Deputy Prime Minister for the Economy, a bombshell dropped: Ilhyeon Group—long regarded as the leading contender to acquire Doa Automobile—was withdrawing from the bidding.
The newly inaugurated president’s plan to stabilize the market, beginning with Doa Automobile, had gone off the rails from the very first step. Public anxiety surged almost overnight. Expectations that a new administration would restore calm began to evaporate; instead a fear settled over the markets that the crisis would simply continue—or grow worse.
The government scrambled to soothe the unease. Convinced that the best way to calm the public was to appear on television, a vice minister went on air himself to explain the situation.
Watching the television, Kim Seong-ho murmured with a quiet smile.
“Not the first priority—the only option.”
Still seated, he looked down at the diary lying on the side table beside the sofa.
…The German automaker that was supposedly going to participate in the Doa Automobile bidding turned out to be nothing more than a rumor fabricated by the creditors and the government. Unaware of that fact, we had no choice but to enter the bidding at a high price. When the Chairman learned the truth he was furious…
Seong-ho already knew that every mention of a German automaker was pure fiction spun by the creditors. That was why he had spoken so confidently of withdrawing from the bid. He knew Ilhyeon Group was their only remaining card.
Knock-knock.
He closed the open leather diary and looked up as the secretary entered. Since his appointment as president, a newly formed presidential secretariat had been established; one of its staff members now stepped into the headquarters office.
“Headquarters Chief, Modu Bank has asked if you might spare them some time.”
“They want time?”
Seong-ho switched off the television and regarded the secretary.
“Yes. The president of Modu Bank would like to meet at whatever hour is convenient for you.”
“Did they mention a reason?”
Of course Seong-ho already knew the reason. He asked only out of curiosity whether the other side would volunteer it.
The secretary shook his head and relayed what he had been told.
“They said they would explain in person. They also said they contacted the Chairman first. The Chairman apparently suggested it would be better for them to meet with you, Headquarters Chief—so they called us.”
“If the Chairman put it that way, then of course I’ll meet them.”
Even without Lee Tak-hyeon’s word Seong-ho had intended to see them; the fact that the chairman had gone so far as to preserve his face only made refusal impossible.
Seong-ho glanced at the wall clock.
“Tell them dinner. Eight o’clock. Book a quiet restaurant and inform Modu Bank of the details.”
“Understood.”
The secretary left with the instructions. Seong-ho watched the closed door, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, then rose from the sofa. Picking up the leather diary that held the very reason the Modu Bank president wanted to see him, he walked to his desk.
Park Don-su, president of Modu Bank, had arrived well before the appointed hour of eight and was mopping his brow without pause.
“Bank President, shall I ask them to turn on the air-conditioning?”
Unable to watch any longer as Park wiped his broad forehead with a handkerchief, the vice president suggested speaking to the restaurant.
Park Don-su, collar half open, lowered the handkerchief and glared.
“Are you out of your mind? Do you even know what month this is, asking for the air-conditioner?”
“You just look so overheated…”
The vice president’s voice shrank.
Park scolded the cowed man whose head was already bowed.
“What does it matter if I’m hot? What do you plan to say if Headquarters Chief Kim arrives and asks why it’s freezing in here?”
“Well…”
“Right now a single word from Chief Kim decides whether either of us keeps our jobs. Remember that and nothing else.”
Still hanging his head, the vice president cautiously looked up toward the door. Confirming it remained closed, he spoke in a careful whisper.
“Will they re-enter the bidding?”
“They will. No—we have to make them. If we can’t…”
Park Don-su pictured the nightmare of Ilhyeon Group refusing to take over Doa Automobile, then raised the handkerchief again and wiped away the sweat that poured like rain.
“We have to force them back into the bidding and hand Doa Automobile over to them. Otherwise we go under.”