Make the Money Clean
Leaving the Blue House, Kim Seong-ho headed straight for Pyeongchang-dong to report everything that had taken place there to Lee Tak-hyeon.
Upon arriving at the house in Pyeongchang-dong, he did not even greet Chu Suk-ja or Oh Min-yeong. He went straight to the study.
Inside, Lee Tak-hyeon sat alone, practicing calligraphy.
“Chairman. I’ve returned.”
At Seong-ho’s greeting, Lee Tak-hyeon paused mid-stroke, then turned his head toward the man who had entered.
“So. Did the conversation go well?”
“Yes. I came back without saying a word.”
“Well done.”
To anyone else the exchange would have been utterly incomprehensible, yet the two men looked at each other and smiled as if they understood each other perfectly.
Lee Tak-hyeon set down the brush, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked over to where Seong-ho stood.
“Let’s go downstairs first.”
“Yes.”
Seong-ho answered and glanced around the room.
“But Chief of Staff Hwang…?”
“He’s already down there.”
At the news that Hwang Do-beom was waiting in the secret chamber, a sharp current ran through Seong-ho.
So it’s today.
The moment he had long anticipated had arrived today; the certainty flashed through his mind. He gave no outward sign of it, however, and quietly followed Lee Tak-hyeon down toward the vault.
“Just as you thought—everyone was only after what belonged to someone else?”
“Yes. If the meeting hadn’t been held at the Blue House, it would have turned into a real brawl.”
“Heh. Of course. Of course it would.”
Lee Tak-hyeon gave a short laugh and opened the door.
As they descended the stairs that led underground along the side of the building, he spoke again.
“And that wasn’t the end of it, was it?”
“No. When I was about to leave after the meeting, the President stopped me.”
“I thought as much…”
Lee Tak-hyeon nodded as though he had expected exactly that, then stopped in front of the vault door and entered the code.
Beep-beep-beep-beep.
Click.
Before stepping through the open door he turned and looked at Seong-ho.
“The password is 52438726.”
Seong-ho remained standing and silently repeated the eight digits several times, committing them to memory. Lee Tak-hyeon waited without a word. When Seong-ho finally lifted his head to show he had it, a faint smile touched the Chairman’s lips and he walked inside.
Neither the man who had given the code nor the man who had memorized it asked why it was being shared. Just as they had understood each other without explanation back in the study when discussing the Blue House, they both already knew the reason.
They followed the lit corridor deeper inside until Lee Tak-hyeon stopped in front of a door opposite the room where he had summoned Seong-ho last time.
“You didn’t get to go in here last time, did you?”
“No.”
“From now on you’ll be coming and going often.”
Lee Tak-hyeon fixed him with a meaningful gaze. Seong-ho answered with a look of polite incomprehension, though his thoughts were entirely different.
As I expected—he’s handing over the vault keys today.
The place was new to him in this life, yet in the previous one it had been intimately familiar. Until the day he had returned to the past, he himself had been the one who managed this room.
Ilhyeon’s vault.
The place where every slush fund and every scrap of sensitive information was gathered and stored.
In the last life I only took charge of this place ten years from now…
Now, only a few years after marrying Lee Gyeong-eun, the keys to the vault were about to pass into his hands. Seong-ho felt the weight of Lee Tak-hyeon’s trust as he watched the door open.
“Chairman. You’ve arrived.”
“Yes. Everything sorted?”
“Yes. All finished.”
Hwang Do-beom, who had arrived first, greeted Lee Tak-hyeon and answered. The Chairman nodded and stepped inside; Seong-ho followed and surveyed the room.
White walls and ceiling, polished floor. In form it was no different from the secret chamber where he had spoken with Lee Tak-hyeon before. The only difference was the absence of the desk and chair the Chairman used for work; instead, bookshelves lined every wall.
Countless document files filled those shelves. Seong-ho knew exactly what they were.
From the previous generation of chairmen onward: nominee accounts, bearer bonds, the tax-haven accounts that had been used more and more frequently in recent years, and mountains of other information—everything he had handled in his past life.
“Well then, let’s sit and talk first.”
Lee Tak-hyeon took the sofa in the center of the room. Hwang Do-beom selected one of the organized binders from a shelf and sat opposite him. Seong-ho sat beside Hwang and glanced down at the file the Chief of Staff had brought.
“Curious what this place is?”
“Yes. I’m curious.”
He was not curious at all; he knew perfectly well. But the words that left his mouth were the opposite of those in his head.
“Of course you would be. Simply put… this is Ilhyeon’s vault.”
“Vault?”
Seong-ho put on a puzzled expression, tilted his head, and looked at the shelves lining the walls. Lee Tak-hyeon laughed as if he had anticipated exactly that reaction.
“Yes, it must look strange. But a vault it is—because everything in front of your eyes right now is a bundle of money.”
“You’re saying those documents are all money?”
At that moment Hwang Do-beom held the binder out toward Seong-ho. Seong-ho looked down at it, his expression growing even more bewildered, then turned back to Lee Tak-hyeon. The Chairman found it so amusing that he laughed even harder and spoke to Hwang.
“See? Even Director Kim never saw this coming, did he?”
Hwang Do-beom inclined his head slightly, acknowledging he had been wrong, then looked at the man sitting beside him. He had assumed someone like Seong-ho would have guessed; the fact that he hadn’t made Hwang wonder whether he had overestimated the man.
Seong-ho felt that gaze but did not turn toward it. No matter how carefully he hid the truth, a genuine reaction might slip out unbidden.
In reality he knew exactly what the file contained. Even if he had pretended to recognize it, no great problem would have arisen—it was not so unexpected that Hwang might not have guessed he would know. Still, he chose to play a little slow in front of Lee Tak-hyeon, to show a more human side.
From now on Lee Tak-hyeon would come to rely on him heavily. Taking charge of the vault meant stepping deep into the dark underbelly of both Lee Tak-hyeon and the Ilhyeon family. He would learn things no one else knew, and he would frequently confront fatal weaknesses that must never see the light of day. When a highly capable man learned those weaknesses, the one whose secrets were exposed could not help but grow wary. Seong-ho intended to keep that wariness from taking root by showing a touch of guileless confusion.
After laughing for a long while, Lee Tak-hyeon pointed at the binder with a finger.
“Check for yourself what’s inside.”
Seong-ho looked down at the file for a moment, then opened it.
The first thing he saw was a personal-information sheet: a photograph, age, address, and other rough details. Resting on top of it was what appeared to be the person’s resident registration card. Next came a seal and a bankbook. When he turned past those, something less familiar appeared—thick stacks of physical stock certificates, the paper securities that had vanished after electronic certificates were introduced in his previous life.
“Nominee accounts… and the stocks to be used in those nominee accounts.”
“This is…”
Seong-ho looked at Lee Tak-hyeon with eyes that held a carefully measured surprise.
“Start with a hundred billion. Begin with that.”
Seong-ho’s face said he had no idea what he was being told to begin.
“Hoo.”
Lee Tak-hyeon accepted a cigarette from Hwang Do-beom, lit it, drew a long pull, and exhaled. Then, face free of the earlier laughter, he looked straight at Seong-ho.
“Use the nominee accounts and move that money properly. You’re good with stocks, aren’t you?”
“You want me to grow the money through the stock market?”
Unlike moments before, when Seong-ho’s feigned denseness had kept him laughing, Lee Tak-hyeon now regarded him without a trace of amusement. Yet Seong-ho still wore an expression of polite incomprehension.
Of course he understood the order perfectly.
Lee Tak-hyeon studied him for a time, tapped ash into the tray, then gestured to Hwang Do-beom. The Chief of Staff turned in his seat and explained.
“He’s telling you to use the nominee accounts to turn it into clean money.”
“Clean money… you mean money laundering?”
“Exactly. Launder the money clean. A hundred billion. Start with that.”
The moment Hwang finished, Seong-ho looked at him with startled eyes. Lee Tak-hyeon watched the reaction in silence, exhaled a stream of smoke, and spoke.
“Do that as I said… Now, what did the President have to say?”
Blowing out another cloud of smoke, he began asking about everything that had happened with the President.
Resistance to the Big Deal was fierce.
Every company looked favorably on acquiring something; every company looked unfavorably on selling anything. With expected sale prices absurdly low, the conglomerates refused to put their own assets on the table and simply eyed everyone else’s.
The government responded with a hard line.
The Vice Minister of Finance and Economy, speaking in an official capacity, sharply criticized the conglomerates’ self-interest and urged their active participation, warning that the Korean economy might collapse before it could even be revived. The companies, however, remained unmoved. Instead they tightened internal discipline and declared in the strongest terms that there would be no sales.
“Director, is it true that Mirae Group has no intention of handing over any of its affiliates to another company?”
Jo Chung-sep looked at Kim Seong-ho with curious eyes. Seong-ho merely sipped his tea and answered with a light smile.
“And is it also true that Seonwoo Electronics is taking over KF Electronics, and that Mirae Group is taking over Seonwoo Group’s shipyard?”
“Who knows.”
Seong-ho set his cup back on its saucer and shook his head.
“Nothing has been decided yet.”
Jo Chung-sep regarded him with open disbelief.
“The market is full of rumors—more than one or two. Some of them even look highly credible. And you’re saying truly nothing has been settled?”
“Anything could happen, and nothing might happen.”
At that, Jo Chung-sep asked nothing more.
“I see. Then if something does come up, you’ll let me know in advance?”
“So you can buy ahead on my word?”
Jo Chung-sep’s face turned sheepish; he nodded.
“I was hoping to ride a little on your coattails… Is that not allowed?”
It was not illegal, but it did cut against principle; he watched Seong-ho anxiously, half expecting anger. Instead Seong-ho’s expression softened into a smile.
“There’s no reason it wouldn’t be allowed. Passing along word that such-and-such is going to such-and-such isn’t going to cause any great trouble for you, President Jo. But…”
Seong-ho glanced down at the newspaper lying to the right of his teacup.
“Do you really need that kind of information right now? No matter which stock you buy, it seems like a moment when you’ll end up making money either way—don’t you think?”
He finished speaking and pointed with one finger at a single article.