If You Believe It's Right, Run Together
Once the nation borrowed from the IMF and the specter of national default was lifted, the composite stock index staged a rebound.
Riding the new administration’s policies and a general atmosphere of hope that the coming year might finally bring change, the index—which had plunged as low as 350—leapt all the way to 570.
The investors at Future Asset, who had begun liquidating once the 400 level broke, could only stare in astonishment at Jo Chung-sep’s judgment. Closing out the short positions at precisely the right moment made him look more prophetic than any spirit-possessed shaman.
The man himself, however, worshipped Kim Seong-ho as a god. He knew full well that he was nothing more than a medium channeling the divine—and that the true god was Kim Seong-ho.
Eyes still fixed on the newspaper, Jo Chung-sep spoke.
“So… may we start accumulating stocks with 280 as the bottom?”
“Who can say where the absolute floor is? But if we buy around here with the mindset that we won’t lose money, I think we stand to make a rather large sum, don’t you?”
“That’s true, but… companies are still going under.”
Jo Chung-sep lifted his gaze from the paper and looked carefully up at Kim Seong-ho.
The domino bankruptcies of corporations had yet to stop. Construction firms collapsed overnight; department stores shut their doors while you were out for lunch. Bankrupt clothing companies hauling their inventory into the streets to sell were so common you practically tripped over them. In a climate like that, putting money into stocks was terrifying.
Future Asset itself had been advising clients to hold off on investments and telling its staff to pour every effort into acquiring securities firms rather than chasing trades—keeping their heads down. And yet Kim Seong-ho was now suggesting they buy at these levels.
Kim Seong-ho’s mouth curved as he leaned back into the sofa.
“As you worry, President Jo, the situation is far from optimistic. Dozens of companies are folding every day, and even bank mergers are under discussion. When the money you deposited in a bank might simply vanish, who has the luxury of looking upward?”
“Exactly. The government itself has had to step in and tell companies to start listening for once—even the survivors aren’t running normally. Ah! Of course, Ilhyeon is the exception!”
Having blurted out his true thoughts, Jo Chung-sep hastily offered a non-excuse of an excuse. Kim Seong-ho waved a hand and smiled at the man scrambling to clarify that he hadn’t meant Ilhyeon.
“It’s fine. It’s the truth.”
He accepted the remark without concern and looked back down at the newspaper.
The index that had climbed to 570 had been halved again, sliding all the way to 280. And once it hit that floor, the index remained trapped behind the iron bars of 280, thrashing without direction all through the summer.
“Think about it rationally, President Jo. Two hundred eighty. Even if it falls from here, how much farther can it really go? Even if it gets cut in half again, we should be buying at these levels.”
Jo Chung-sep nodded at Kim Seong-ho’s words.
“You’re right, Director. But from the perspective of market participants, their hands simply won’t move. An index that fell from 1,000 points to 350, climbed back to 570, then crashed to 280—who’s going to buy that? At the very least, people need to see someone else buy first before they feel any urge to step in.”
“Which is why I intend to buy first.”
Jo Chung-sep’s face went blank with shock.
“How much of my money is left after the building purchases?”
Since Future Asset managed Kim Seong-ho’s accounts, Jo Chung-sep knew the exact figure.
“Of the total 280 billion won, we set aside 180 billion to acquire seven buildings across Gangnam. Roughly 100 billion remains.”
“Perfect. Put all 100 billion in.”
“All 100 billion?”
Not in stages—first, second, third—but all of it at once. Jo Chung-sep’s eyes went wide at the order.
“Director, perhaps start with 20 billion… If the index trapped at 280 crashes again, put in another 30 billion then, and when fear floods the market, deploy the remaining 50 billion to lock in the position. How does that sound…?”
“That’s the conventional approach, yes. But I have no interest in conventional investing.”
Kim Seong-ho clenched a fist in the air.
“When opportunity comes, you seize it. You stake everything in that moment. That’s my philosophy.”
“You’re saying… this is the moment to stake everything?”
A light flared in Jo Chung-sep’s startled eyes. In Kim Seong-ho’s words, he too could feel that opportunity.
Kim Seong-ho smiled faintly at those eyes. Not endlessly second-guessing whether his choices were correct, but—once he judged them right—running full tilt in the same direction. That was exactly the Jo Chung-sep he had wanted.
“We start accumulating everything from now. The focus will be construction, securities, and the Ilhyeon Group. When the composite index was at 1,000, deploying 100 billion wouldn’t have moved the needle. At 280, even 100 billion can make individual stocks swing.”
“I understand. Leave it to me. I’ll accumulate quietly and steadily—without a single ripple.”
Dumping 100 billion all at once could send individual stocks straight to the daily limit-up. And if word spread that the surge came from buy orders in a handful of accounts, every detail of whose account bought what would be laid bare. That kind of exposure would make them a target and could leave them with their hands and feet tied. Kim Seong-ho had issued the warning; Jo Chung-sep answered by asking to be trusted.
Kim Seong-ho smiled faintly at the reply.
“I do trust you, President Jo. Which is why I have one more favor to ask.”
“One more? What is it…?”
Jo Chung-sep’s mind was already halfway back at the office, electrified by the news that Kim Seong-ho was finally deploying capital. While turning over Kim Seong-ho’s accounts they would need to turn over their own, and they would have to call the clients they had told to rest and get them moving again. But at the mention of one more request, he pushed that excitement back down and listened carefully.
Kim Seong-ho held out a file folder.
“What’s this?”
“Transfer the share certificates into the accounts listed there, and manage those accounts.”
“Accounts and share certificates?”
Not understanding, Jo Chung-sep flipped through the thick file with a puzzled look. It was the same folder Kim Seong-ho had received from Lee Tak-hyeon in the secret vault.
“One hundred billion won.”
“One hundred billion?!”
Jo Chung-sep stared at him, eyes wide, then examined the certificates again. Each one was marked with a face value of 100 million won.
“Th-this is…”
His mind went blank; he couldn’t form a sentence. He had never seen paper securities worth 100 million each, and now he was being asked to deposit them into accounts and turn over 100 billion won. His thoughts refused to organize themselves. On top of that, the accounts that were to receive the 100 billion in certificates belonged to people he had never heard of.
“This is…”
That was all he could manage.
Kim Seong-ho spoke in a calm, even voice.
“Don’t overcomplicate it. Just like any ordinary securities firm: the account holders requested that their share certificates be deposited into their accounts, then submitted discretionary management requests. Future Asset simply carries out the clients’ instructions.”
“Who are these account holders?”
Jo Chung-sep pointed at the paper listing personal details and looked at Kim Seong-ho.
Kim Seong-ho glanced at the indicated page.
“Those are the documents verifying the account holders. A securities firm doesn’t need to know who the account holder is or what they do.”
“That’s… but…”
If the paperwork was complete, even livestock could be accepted as clients. You didn’t need to know who they were or what kind of people they were; you weren’t supposed to wonder where 100 billion won had come from, and you weren’t supposed to ask why they wanted the accounts managed. That was the relationship between client and firm.
Kim Seong-ho’s voice remained perfectly steady.
“You are carrying out a request I made, President Jo, and I take full responsibility for everything. So just do exactly as I say.”
“Yes. Understood.”
Jo Chung-sep added nothing further. He knew full well he was being asked to launder funds—and because the request came from Kim Seong-ho, he accepted it.
Watching him organize the file, Kim Seong-ho added one more instruction.
“There’s no need to grow the money aggressively. Of course, even if you tried to lose it at these levels, you probably couldn’t—so I’m not particularly worried about that either. What I want is volume of turnover. And after all that turning, the final destination must be Ilhyeon Trading stock. Just keep those two things.”
“Ilhyeon Trading… Understood.”
Jo Chung-sep carved the name deep into his chest. He had a powerful feeling that Ilhyeon Trading would prove to be the key to the entire Ilhyeon Group.
Kim Seong-ho watched him gather the documents.
He called it 100 billion for now.
He knew this was a test—100 billion handed over as a trial run. And if the test succeeded, he could roughly predict that the next infusion of capital would be on an entirely different scale.
Thinking of the Ilhyeon Group and the slush funds Lee Tak-hyeon controlled, Kim Seong-ho briefly mapped the flow of money in his mind.
Worried about Lee Gyeong-eun at the event, Kim Seong-ho stuck to her side and refused to leave. She, however, seemed to find his hovering a bit tiresome; she jabbed him in the ribs and murmured,
“There are a lot of people watching. Stop it and give me some space.”
“What does it matter if people are watching? You only just got out of the hospital, no matter how fine you say you feel.”
“Aigoo~ I have a secretary too.”
Afraid someone might overhear, Lee Gyeong-eun frowned slightly and went on.
“I have a secretary and plenty of people to attend me. Besides, this is an Ilhyeon Department Store event—if anyone sees you glued to me, they’ll think you’re a fool.”
The words were exasperated, but warmth and gratitude ran underneath them. She continued in a low voice.
“I’m not going to scold you for coming because you were worried. But you still have work to do, don’t you?”
She gestured toward the line of reporters and Ilhyeon Department Store staff in front of them and shot Kim Seong-ho a look. He nodded reluctantly and stepped back, though he couldn’t resist one last worried remark.
“Still—if you feel dizzy at all, tell me right away. You’re more important to me than any event, Gyeong-eun.”
“Aigoo, I know.”
Even after her reassurances, his worry wouldn’t ease; he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Why did she insist on attending… She didn’t have to…”
He muttered under his breath as he watched her move away.
Even while hospitalized, Lee Gyeong-eun had never been afraid of the press finding out. She had summoned staff to her room and kept working on the coffee brand launch without pause, squeezing in preparations for the duty-free store bid in between. Kim Seong-ho had urged her to rest for a while, but she had refused, saying that if she stopped, Ilhyeon Department Store and Ilhyeon Hotel would stop with her. And the moment she was discharged, she had put on a wig and come straight to the coffee brand’s opening ceremony.
“Starting with the ○○ Women’s University branch, we plan to open fifteen company-owned stores within the year. Next year, we will expand into major cities and nationwide, bringing a new wind of change. That is my goal.”
In her interview with the reporters, Lee Gyeong-eun laid out an ambitious plan. Then she became the coffee brand’s very first customer and placed the inaugural order herself.
“Two iced Americanos, please.”
“Yes. Two iced Americanos coming right up.”
Flash! Flash!
The moment she ordered and the barista took it down was captured by the reporters’ cameras. So was the image of her walking away with a transparent plastic cup of coffee in each hand.
Beaming, Lee Gyeong-eun raised an iced Americano high and declared the star-shaped coffee brand officially open.
Clap clap clap clap!
Thunderous applause erupted, followed by a wave of congratulations. Raising her voice, she called out to the crowd,
“The ceremony’s over, so everyone have a cup on me!”
She turned toward the store staff.
“Don’t take money from any customers who come in today. I’m covering everything.”
The moment she finished, people began lining up with thanks. In the heat and sweat, the sight of ice in those clear cups made the drinks look even more refreshing; the moment they received their iced coffee, people drained them in one go. They were startled once by the cold, and twice by how clean it tasted.
People carrying plastic cups spilled out of the store into the street, drawing every eye that passed.