Construction Is Not a Business for Just Anyone
Construction was not a business just anyone could run.
Even on the most conservative estimate, it required hundreds of billions to trillions of won in capital, along with labyrinthine permitting procedures, crushing fixed costs, labor unions and subcontractor disputes, tight networking with local governments, and the ability to raise project financing on top of it all.
It was an industry that demanded not merely deep pockets but a wealth of hard-won know-how and an expansive web of connections. Limitless had nothing going for it except money — and yet, thanks to Chairman Koo Hoe-jin's help, its entry into construction proceeded smoothly and at breakneck speed.
The media churned out article after article about Limitless's entry into construction, and nearly all of them took a critical view of the decision.
Commentator after commentator chimed in to say it couldn't be done. But before long, news began pouring out that silenced every last one of them.
KG Group had suddenly committed a staggering 3 trillion won, and Limitless — as if it had been waiting for exactly that — promptly announced a large-scale development project of its own.
In truth, the project was being funded by the 3 trillion won that KG Group and the Korean government had paid as the price for Veratian. But because that arrangement had to remain secret, it ended up looking as though KG Group were handing Limitless an astronomical sum for no reason at all.
And so… the shareholders of KG Construction had every right to see red.
As KG Construction's stock kept sliding, its furious shareholders could barely contain their rage. But their voices failed to capture the public's attention — because Limitless was scratching exactly where the public itched.
Limitless had set out to expose, without flinching, the practices the construction industry treated as simply the way things were — and to turn the whole board over. And its business philosophy, true to its word, caused an absolute earthquake.
This was a world where it was nothing out of the ordinary for the ceiling of a home — financed by a thirty-year mortgage, scraped together with soul and all — to start leaking filth, or for tearing up the floorboards to reveal a graveyard of construction debris and trash. For ordinary consumers, left to swallow every loss with nowhere to lodge a single complaint about their defect-riddled homes, Limitless's arrival was something to welcome with open arms.
Of course, plenty of people were quick to point out that the plan was absurdly unrealistic.
And so, to dispel the mountain of misunderstandings and controversy, I booked a live television interview for the first time in a long while.
After News — the current affairs program that aired right after the nine o'clock news, the highest-rated broadcast of the day. Because the news could only cover stories in brief snippets, this show dug into them in depth, with investigative reporters appearing in person to fire sharp questions at guests. Despite airing past ten at night, it boasted impressive ratings.
And there, I addressed the recent controversies surrounding Limitless one by one.
I explained the reasons behind Limitless's entry into construction and its relationship with KG Group exactly as we had agreed beforehand, but the investigative reporter eyed me with a look of lingering doubt.
Still, with nothing left to press me on, he moved on to another topic.
The reporter was asking whether it could make money. But since making money had never been the point, I simply shrugged.
The reporter wore the expression of a man thinking, what on earth is this guy talking about? Then, as if he'd finished the mental math in a flash, his face froze in disbelief and he asked again.
At my answer, the studio plunged into silence.
Everyone sat frozen, mouths agape, unable to utter a word. They say more than ten seconds of dead air counts as a broadcast accident — but no one seemed to even think of that. Even the producer just stared at me blankly, wearing a dopey expression.
The reporter stared at me as if to say, how does paying 100 million a year for mere manual labor make any sense? But I looked back at him with wide, innocent eyes and asked in return.
On live television, with the whole country watching, he couldn't bring himself to say what he really thought. I watched him trail off for a moment, then turned toward the camera with a smile.
Limitless held a stake in a product the whole world was desperate to buy.
And so my outlandish, "unrealistic" schemes — the ones poised to lay waste to the existing construction industry — suddenly acquired a logic and plausibility that no one could deny.
To everyone frantically punching numbers into their calculators, glaring at the new order I was building — I flashed a faint smile and said:
Pocket change like that — whether I had it or not made no difference at all.