Paying It Back with Interest
Five and a half years was an extraordinarily long stretch of time for anyone in business.
It was long enough for companies to rise and vanish several times over.
Lee Tak-hyeon broke off his train of thought and looked up at Hwang Do-beom.
“What’s the projected performance according to the Secretariat?”
He had already heard the forecasts and actual targets from Kim Seong-ho himself. Still, Lee Tak-hyeon wanted the judgment of the Secretariat—the people he trusted most. Only then, he believed, would he get a truly accurate answer.
“We expect second-half results will not differ greatly from Director Kim’s projections.”
“Of course. The second half is almost over. Unless heaven and earth reverse themselves in the next few days, the numbers will come out as expected. What about next year, then? Director Kim claimed twenty-five hundred billion. Does that look achievable?”
Hwang Do-beom hesitated for a fraction of a second. The Secretariat had run the projections more than once, refusing at first to believe the figures. Even now, standing before the Chairman, he found it hard to voice a report he himself still struggled to trust.
Lee Tak-hyeon read the expression at a glance.
“The Secretariat’s numbers came out beyond what you expected, I take it. It’s all right. Speak. Knowing you, if the figure surprised you, you would have checked it several times. If it still held after that, then it’s correct. So how large a number is it that even you are hesitating?”
After years together, Lee Tak-hyeon knew Hwang Do-beom’s temperament too well to doubt the verified figures. And he expected the surprise to be on the good side, so he waited with a light heart.
The number that left Hwang Do-beom’s mouth, however, vaulted clean over every expectation.
“According to the Secretariat’s estimate… if this trend continues, we may approach three thousand billion.”
Lee Tak-hyeon wondered if he had misheard and asked again.
“How much? Three thousand billion?”
“Yes. And that is the most conservative figure. Assuming the rooms remain in good condition and even the suite-class luxury rooms sell out completely… the total could climb as high as thirty-five hundred billion.”
“Thirty-five hundred billion? Haha.”
Lee Tak-hyeon let out a dry laugh and looked up at Hwang Do-beom.
“So when Son-in-law Kim said even twenty-five hundred billion was a conservative estimate, he meant it.”
“It would seem so.”
Even twenty-five hundred billion had sounded absurd. Yet, exactly as Kim Seong-ho had claimed, it had been nothing more than a cautious floor. After repeated calculations, the Secretariat’s forecast exceeded three thousand billion; under the most favorable conditions the figure could reach thirty-five hundred.
“When Director Kim first took over the hotel, annual revenue was around three hundred billion, wasn’t it?”
“Slightly above three hundred billion, yes.”
“I promised him a gift if he merely doubled annual revenue. He answered that he would hit twenty-five hundred billion—said it publicly in front of the entire executive team—and now the projection is as high as thirty-five hundred?”
Still half-incredulous, Lee Tak-hyeon allowed the corner of his mouth to lift and spoke to Hwang Do-beom.
“In that case there’s no need to wait until next year.”
“Chairman, then…?”
“I have something special to announce. Tell the children not to go anywhere at year-end. Gather them all.”
“You intend to make the announcement at year-end?”
“Yes.”
Lee Tak-hyeon nodded, the smile deepening.
“I’m going to install Son-in-law Kim as President of Ilhyeon Hotel.”
Hwang Do-beom had not been unaware of the possibility, yet the moment he pictured the consequences, the urge to stop it flooded his mind.
“Chairman. Would you reconsider just once more?”
“Reconsider?”
The smile remained, but Lee Tak-hyeon’s eyes narrowed. He clearly disliked anyone interrupting a moment he was enjoying.
Hwang Do-beom pressed on regardless, laying out what would follow if Kim Seong-ho became President.
“Chairman, give him some other gift instead. If you place Director Kim in the hotel presidency, every one of the children will rebel. It could easily turn into… a family war.”
Even “family war” was a mild way of putting it, in Hwang Do-beom’s view.
“For the sake of the Ilhyeon Group’s stability, I believe reconsideration would be wise. Rather than the presidency itself, something equivalent would be—”
“Are you trying to make my word into empty air?”
“Chairman.”
“Enough.”
Lee Tak-hyeon waved a hand, the gesture making plain he would not tolerate further interference. A short silence followed. Then he spoke again, wearing a meaningful smile.
“You think Mun-jong and the others won’t sit still? Wouldn’t that actually make things more interesting?”
The look on Lee Tak-hyeon’s face left Hwang Do-beom speechless.
Lee Tak-hyeon smiled more broadly still.
“They’ll fight? I think that’s fine. How much prettier it would be if they didn’t simply swallow whatever I toss them, but fought tooth and nail to seize it for themselves.”
“Chairman… if Mun-jong should be wounded in the process…”
Succession battles inside a group were never clean. Hwang Do-beom did not want the authority of Lee Mun-jong—already half-confirmed as the next Chairman—to be damaged in the struggle. A damaged heir sitting on the throne would invite dangerous thoughts from those below. That was why he had tried so hard to prevent any open fight.
Lee Tak-hyeon saw it differently.
“If Mun-jong can be shaken, then that is all he amounts to.”
“Chairman.”
“Anyone who wants to lead the group cannot avoid a fight simply because he might get hurt. He has to know how to use the fight.”
“And if someone manages to wound Mun-jong deeply in the course of it?”
“Then that someone has real promise.”
Hwang Do-beom’s face darkened. That scenario, more than any other, felt like the moment succession would plunge into chaos.
“If the fight is going to happen anyway, I want to see it soon. So I might as well be the one who beats the drum that starts it.”
Only then did Hwang Do-beom understand the Chairman’s true intent.
He wanted to watch the succession war among his children.
That was Lee Tak-hyeon’s real desire.
Hwang Do-beom left the study to carry out the order, his expression still heavy.
In the living room, Kim Seong-ho saw that face and allowed himself a thin smile.
So he’s learned the Chairman’s true feelings.
One glance at Hwang Do-beom told him exactly what conversation had taken place inside the study. He understood Lee Tak-hyeon nearly as well as he understood Lee Mun-jong.
In that case, I should go meet the Vice Chairman myself.
Kim Seong-ho had no intention of dancing to Lee Tak-hyeon’s tune. He would move first, precisely so he could step outside the picture the Chairman was trying to paint.
I have no desire to be swept up in your little war.
On the living-room television, a report about the Korea–China FTA was playing; Chinese officials could be seen entering a hotel.
A car pulled up in front of the hotel.
The doorman checked the license plate and frowned.
“3884? Who is that?”
Nothing in his memory matched the number. He carefully opened the door and bowed in silence. Normally he would have delivered a polished greeting—“Welcome, President So-and-so”—but with no information coming to mind he could only stare at the ground.
A secretary and a man who looked like a boss stepped out and entered the hotel. The doorman closed the door gently, then turned to a colleague who had just arrived for the shift change.
“Do you know whose plate 3884 is? I can’t place it at all…”
“3884?”
The colleague tilted his head and searched his mental list. Ever since Kim Seong-ho had begun paying bonuses for memorizing plates, the doormen had collectively committed roughly a thousand numbers to memory. They did not all learn the same ones, so cross-checking usually produced an answer.
After a long moment the colleague shook his head.
“I don’t know 3884 either.”
“Really? Who on earth is it, then?”
The doorman frowned.
“He had a chauffeur and an executive secretary, and the car was high-end. Definitely someone important. I may not have known him this time, but next time I ought to recognize him and greet him properly.”
“If it looked important enough that we really should remember it… wait. 3884?”
Something clicked. The colleague’s eyes went wide.
“3884 is the Vice Chairman!”
“Vice Chairman? Of what?”
“What do you mean, of what? Our Ilhyeon Group’s Vice Chairman!”
“Our Vice Chairman?!”
The doorman’s eyes widened just as large. He spun toward the door Lee Mun-jong had just walked through.
“Back when I worked at the Myers Hotel before coming here, the Vice Chairman used to visit now and then, so I had the plate memorized. Once I transferred here I never saw him, and I forgot…”
“I’ve been here more than half a year and this is the first time I’ve seen the Vice Chairman. He never once set foot in the place. Why would he come now?”
“Not for a meal, that’s certain… Probably to talk with Director Kim.”
“That must be it.”
The two doormen watched with open curiosity as the Group Vice Chairman—absent for half a year—walked into their hotel for the first time.
Lee Mun-jong, who had avoided the hotel long enough to make even the doormen stare, headed upstairs with an irritated expression toward the coffee shop on the top floor.
“Welco—”
A staff member began to greet him, only for Lee Mun-jong’s secretary to cut the words short and ask in a low voice:
“Please show us to Director Kim.”
At the mention of Kim Seong-ho the employee realized who stood before him and hurriedly led Lee Mun-jong inside. After walking deep into the lounge they reached a private room. The staff member bowed.
“Director Kim is waiting inside.”
Still wearing a thoroughly displeased face, Lee Mun-jong jerked his chin at the door.
“Open it.”
The secretary opened the closed door. Kim Seong-ho, who had arrived earlier, rose from his seat and greeted him warmly.
“Hyung-nim. You’ve arrived.”
Lee Mun-jong strode straight up to him and growled,
“This is the last time I come because you called.”
He jabbed a raised finger into Kim Seong-ho’s chest.
“Who the hell do you think you are, ordering your elder brother around when you’re the youngest? Have you lost your mind?”
Kim Seong-ho never lost his smile. Instead he drew out a chair so Lee Mun-jong could sit comfortably and invited him to take a seat.
“Please sit first, and then we can talk.”
Lee Mun-jong glared for a long moment before dropping into the chair. Kim Seong-ho returned to his own seat and opened the conversation.
“I am truly sorry I could not come to you and had to ask you to come here instead. But the situation left me no choice.”
“No choice? Of course. Our great Director Kim is far too busy for anything else.”
Before answering the sarcasm, Kim Seong-ho studied Lee Mun-jong carefully. He had faced this man countless times in his previous life, yet this was the first time since his return that they sat alone together.
Facing Lee Mun-jong one-on-one, Kim Seong-ho felt a deep, buried fury begin to boil up from the pit of his chest. The man who had ordered his death sat right in front of him; every instinct screamed to unleash the stored rage.
No. Not yet. I have to repay him tenfold—no, a thousandfold.
He would return everything he had received, with interest compounded on top.
Kim Seong-ho forced the anger down as far as it would go and began the work of dragging Lee Mun-jong into the abyss.