The Reason for Revealing What Should Have Been Hidden
“So you’re saying that so far, the amount people have put into the Buy Korea Fund is… ten trillion won?”
Lee Jeong-eun asked again in a trembling voice, repeating what Kim Seong-ho had just told them.
Kim Seong-ho smiled as if he fully understood her reaction and gave a quiet nod.
“Yes. The money collected so far is about ten trillion.”
“If ten trillion has already come in… that means more could still come in after this?”
Lee Mun-jong, just as startled as Jeong-eun, hurriedly turned the question on Kim Seong-ho.
At that, the smile at the corners of Seong-ho’s mouth deepened.
“The Securities Association recently released a report estimating that capital inflows into the fund could reach as high as twenty trillion going forward.”
“Twenty trillion?!”
Lee Jeong-eun and the rest of the siblings shifted restlessly in their seats.
“Th-then what do you plan to do with all that money?”
Lee Sang-jong was the first to speak up, turning toward Kim Seong-ho.
“Ilhyeon Construction has a new project planned right now, and if you could just invest… two trillion into it…”
“Why are we talking about Ilhyeon Construction all of a sudden?”
Lee Jeong-eun cut her brother off and fixed her gaze on Seong-ho.
“You know Ilhyeon Card is doing incredibly well right now, right? We’ve put together one brilliant plan. We’re thinking of creating a financial product exclusively for Ilhyeon Card holders. How about investing in that? If you put the money there…”
“In the end you’re just telling him to play the money game.”
“Money game?”
Jeong-eun whipped her head around to glare at Sang-jong, who had just mocked her.
“Did you not hear me say financial product?”
“Dress it up all you want—it’s still a money game.”
“Oppa!”
Jeong-eun shouted and glared daggers at him, but Sang-jong did not so much as flinch. Instead he snorted and turned back to Seong-ho.
“Playing the money game doesn’t look good, and if word gets out it’ll only invite ugly misunderstandings. Wouldn’t investing in a construction company like ours look a whole lot better?”
Even so, Kim Seong-ho showed no reaction. It was Jeong-eun who rose to the bait.
“If what we’re doing is a money game, then what you’re doing is gambling.”
“What? Gambling?”
“Of course it’s gambling. That project you’re talking about is the residential-commercial complex in Dogok-dong, right? Who’s going to move into a mixed-use building that isn’t even proper apartments?”
“Hey, are you finished talking?”
“Think about it coldly. Would you want to live a few minutes’ walk from a shantytown? And you’re building it as a luxury complex. Why would anyone with real money move in there? Honestly. How do you expect to run a business with zero sense?”
Sang-jong had nothing to say in reply. Even he had felt uneasy about building a high-end residential-commercial complex in Dogok-dong. But with twenty trillion sitting right in front of them, he could not afford to back down. He kept arguing with Jeong-eun, still trying to push Seong-ho for an investment.
Jeong-eun refused to yield either, trading barbs while insisting the money should go to Ilhyeon Card.
In the end Lee Mun-jong, who could no longer stand watching the two of them, stepped in.
“That’s enough.”
“Leave them. It’s entertaining. I want to see how far they’ll go.”
Lee Tak-hyeon set down his teacup as he spoke, and Sang-jong and Jeong-eun had no choice but to stop. Even after the argument died, however, neither of them could let go of the twenty-trillion figure; they simply stared fixedly at Kim Seong-ho.
Seeing their transparent thoughts written all over their faces, Seong-ho smiled and opened his mouth.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t invest in either Ilhyeon Construction or Ilhyeon Card.”
“Jeong-eun just put it strangely. About Dogok-dong…”
“Oh, enough. Dogok-dong this, Dogok-dong that. Just clear the shantytown and put up the building. Kim Seobang. Listen carefully to the financial product we’re about to launch and you’ll change your mind. The product is—”
“No.”
Kim Seong-ho raised a hand to silence both of them.
“I’m not refusing because the businesses themselves are bad.”
He glanced briefly toward Lee Tak-hyeon. The chairman was still only sipping his tea, showing no outward interest. Yet Seong-ho knew full well that Tak-hyeon’s attention was fixed on him. Twenty trillion was more than enough to move even the chairman, especially after the way Sang-jong and Jeong-eun had carried on.
“The twenty trillion is earmarked for the stock market.”
“The stock market?”
The hand lifting Tak-hyeon’s teacup paused for a fraction of a second. He was pretending indifference, but even he was curious about where that much money would go.
Of course he’s curious.
Confirming that his read was correct, Seong-ho answered the unspoken question in a calm voice.
“The fund’s uses will be limited to equities and bonds. At the government’s request a portion will go into national industrial development, but that will remain only a portion.”
“Limited strictly to equities and bonds? Does it have to be that way?”
Tak-hyeon set the cup down and looked at Seong-ho.
Seong-ho held back a smile as he replied.
“Most of the subscribers joined not to make money through investment, but out of patriotism—to save the country. Given how the money was raised, I believe it must be managed as safely as possible.”
“So using it for us isn’t safe, is that what you’re saying?”
Sang-jong snapped, raising his voice at Seong-ho.
Seong-ho shook his head.
“That isn’t the reason. Investing in construction or in a newly created corporate product counts as secondary investment, which makes the decision far more difficult. Please understand.”
He bowed his head slightly toward Sang-jong and Jeong-eun.
After listening to the explanation, Tak-hyeon let out a short sigh.
“Fine. With twenty trillion gathered, the fund will draw enormous attention, and every single move will be scrutinized. It won’t be easy to invest rashly. I understand.”
“Thank you for understanding.”
Once the exchange with Tak-hyeon seemed settled, Lee Mun-jong, who had been listening quietly the whole time, carefully directed a question at Seong-ho.
“Setting that aside… how much is Ilhyeon Securities going to make off this fund?”
Everyone had been so absorbed in the twenty-trillion figure that they had forgotten that part. Jeong-eun immediately chimed in.
“That’s right. How much did Ilhyeon Securities make? Let’s hear that.”
Watching them steer the conversation exactly where he wanted without any prompting, Seong-ho barely managed to suppress the laugh rising in his throat. He lifted the corner of his mouth for a fraction of a second—unseen by anyone—then arranged his face into an embarrassed expression.
“I set the fund’s management fee at 0.7 percent.”
“0.7 percent?”
At the number, both Jeong-eun and Sang-jong looked disappointed.
“Only 0.7 percent?”
“Not even 7 percent—0.7? What is that supposed to be?”
Unable to hide their letdown, they each tossed out a remark.
“Funds that came out before Buy Korea charged over 3 percent. Because of limited experience, they needed help from Japanese and Hong Kong asset managers, so the fees had to be high. But I didn’t want to impose an unreasonable rate on money that people entrusted out of patriotism.”
“If other places are charging 3 percent, what’s the problem? Why play the saint?”
Jeong-eun said it as if she could not believe her ears.
Tak-hyeon, however, offered praise instead.
“Well done. With so many eyes on it, you can’t afford to look like you’re simply out to make a profit.”
“Even so, 0.7 percent is way too small. Our card fees are higher than that. And you’re managing the money for them on top of it—0.7 percent? What good is that?”
“What good is it? 0.7 percent is by no means small.”
“How is it not small? 0.7 percent of… how much is that?”
Jeong-eun, unable to calculate it on the spot, turned to her husband. Cha Yeong-su answered in a small voice, doing the math for her.
“Twenty trillion at 0.7 percent… comes to about 140 billion.”
“140 billion? Right, so 140 billion—what good is—”
She had started to shout, then stopped mid-sentence. She spun around and stared at Cha Yeong-su.
“Did you calculate that right?”
Embarrassed that his wife could not even handle such a simple sum, Cha Yeong-su nodded with a sheepish face. Still unconvinced, Jeong-eun turned toward Hwang Do-beom, who stood quietly to one side. Catching her look, Hwang Do-beom gave a slow nod.
“Vice President Cha calculated correctly.”
“140 billion? We’re really making 140 billion?”
“And that’s every year…”
Sang-jong breathed the words toward Seong-ho with open awe.
“140 billion every year? Just from fees?”
“Yes. That’s only the management fee. There are sales fees and other charges as well, so the total earnings from the Buy Korea Fund will be a little higher.”
“Higher than 140 billion?”
Sang-jong’s face filled with shock. Jeong-eun, Mun-jong, and Chang-jong were no less stunned. A company that until recently had been teetering on capital impairment and talk of closure had suddenly become capable of earning hundreds of billions. Each of them sank into private calculation.
“I’m sorry.”
Just then Jo Byeong-jin appeared in the living room, his expression tightly controlled.
“What’s going on?”
Seong-ho rose from his seat the moment he spotted him.
“President, I think you need to come into the office.”
“Why? What happened?”
Seong-ho deliberately raised his voice so the others would hear. Byeong-jin answered with a tense face.
“You’ll need to approve the sale of the thirteenth fund.”
“We’ve already hit the target amount?”
“Yes. Without your approval the fund can’t be sold, so if you authorize it today we should be able to begin the thirteenth offering tomorrow.”
“Are people still lined up in front of the branches?”
“Yes. The crowds haven’t thinned at all.”
At Byeong-jin’s answer, Jeong-eun and Sang-jong both began to think the Securities Association’s twenty-trillion estimate might actually come true.
Seong-ho turned to Lee Tak-hyeon.
“Chairman, I’m afraid I need to go into the office.”
“We’ve finished the meal. Go do your work.”
With the chairman’s permission, Seong-ho offered a slight bow to Mun-jong, Sang-jong, and the others, then stood.
“I’ll head to the company first. You stay a little longer.”
“Be careful. Call if you’re going to be late.”
After saying a final goodbye to Lee Gyeong-eun, Seong-ho left the Pyeongchang-dong residence with Jo Byeong-jin.
Once outside, Byeong-jin wiped his forehead and looked up at the high walls surrounding the house.
“Hey. Don’t make me do this next time.”
“Were you that nervous?”
Seong-ho asked with a laugh as he opened the car door. Byeong-jin kept dabbing at his brow and opened the driver’s side.
“Nervous doesn’t begin to cover it. I thought I was going to die.”
He climbed in. Seong-ho followed and spoke to him from the passenger seat.
“If I don’t ask you, who am I supposed to ask?”
“You’ve got a secretary. Use the secretary.”
“Then it wouldn’t feel genuine.”
“Genuine?”
Byeong-jin turned to look at him as he started the engine. Seong-ho gazed out at Tak-hyeon’s house and explained.
“It wouldn’t feel like something had actually happened at the company. When you show up, it feels real—like the number of subscribers is still climbing and we have to rush another round of sales.”
“You’re something else…”
Byeong-jin shook his head and pulled the car away. Watching Pyeongchang-dong shrink in the rearview mirror, he asked,
“Is this really going to work out the way you planned?”
Seong-ho leaned back against the seat.
“A fund that brings in 140 billion a year just for sitting still, built on twenty trillion, with more money still pouring in. And Ilhyeon Securities is the one holding it. How attractive do you think that looks?”
“It looks attractive. Of course it does… so why tell them all of that?”
Byeong-jin glanced at Seong-ho in the passenger seat, unable to understand. Why reveal every advantage of something that should have been kept hidden?
Seong-ho reclined his seat farther and answered.
“Because I’m looking a little farther ahead. That’s why. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, you always know what you’re doing, so I’m not exactly worried…”
Byeong-jin turned his eyes back to the road. Seong-ho, still half-reclined, continued quietly.
“And by the time they come charging in to take a bite, I’ll already have eaten everything worth eating. Heh. After that they’ll get a nasty case of indigestion. Just wait and see. Looking back, we’ll have taken only the real meat and walked away.”
Byeong-jin wanted to ask what on earth that meant. But Seong-ho had already closed his eyes after finishing, so the question stayed unspoken.
I’ll find out when the time comes, I suppose.
As always, once everything played out he would understand Seong-ho’s plan. With that thought, Jo Byeong-jin drove toward Yeouido, where Ilhyeon Securities stood waiting.