The Subcontractor's Subcontractor
Inside the black sedan bound for Ulsan, the highway scenery blurred past in the windows.
Director Jung Tae-sung, hands on the wheel, kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror as he continued his briefing.
"The banks turned out to be far easier than expected."
"I figured as much," I replied flatly.
"Just as you predicted, sir. The banks had already classified the outstanding loans Shinhwa Weltech took out as doubtful-grade non-performing assets and were preparing to write off the losses."
Banks are cold-blooded. Any loan from a company more than three months delinquent on interest gets reclassified as a bad debt. From the bank's perspective, it's money they'll never see anyway—so they stack up loan-loss provisions and prepare to wipe the loss off the books. And then, in that situation, someone appears and says, "I'll acquire this company and pay down the debt." What happens?
"When we proposed taking over management and immediately wiring the accumulated overdue interest, the branch manager practically threw his hands up in welcome. Their goal wasn't recovering the principal—merely converting a non-performing loan back into a performing one counts as a win on their books."
I nodded. "From the bank's standpoint, it's better to receive steady interest payments than to auction everything off at a fire-sale price. Well handled."
"Yes. With year-end settlements approaching, they were desperate to shrink their bad-loan portfolio."
It was a relief that our interests had aligned so neatly.
"We've also made contact with the unsecured creditors."
"And their reaction?"
"As expected. They know better than anyone that if the company enters court receivership, they'll be left with nothing. They're all terrified."
Jung Tae-sung paused for a moment before continuing.
"The loan sharks and second-tier lenders who extended simple credit loans happily settled on terms guaranteeing only fifty percent of principal. The problem is the suppliers."
"Suppliers?"
"Yes. The companies that delivered raw materials and never got paid. They're holding firm that fifty percent won't work. They're small operations—if they don't recover the full amount, they say they'll default themselves."
Concern had crept into Jung Tae-sung's voice. But I gave my instructions without a moment's hesitation.
"Tell the suppliers we'll pay one hundred percent of the outstanding receivables. Every won."
"...I'm sorry—did you say the full amount?"
"Yes. The unsecured credit loans, however, go forward at fifty percent, as agreed."
"That could push us over the budget you originally planned. Is it really necessary? They'd be groveling with gratitude over fifty percent—after all, if the company enters receivership, they won't see a single won."
He wasn't wrong. The negotiating leverage was entirely ours.
But this acquisition was never about buying an empty shell.
"Director, what does Shinhwa Weltech actually make?"
"Semiconductor and LCD cleaning chemicals, and automotive exterior coating chemicals."
"And making those requires raw materials. Ultra-pure hydrogen peroxide concentrate, sulfuric acid, ammonia—things like that." I looked quietly at Jung Tae-sung and went on. "The ones supplying those raw materials are precisely those suppliers. Even if we acquire the company, if they turn their backs and cut off the raw material flow, the factory stops. And lining up new supply channels takes time."
Shinhma Weltech's suppliers were veteran raw-material vendors with deep roots in the Ulsan chemical complex. The network itself was Shinhma Weltech's invisible asset.
"There's no reason to earn their resentment over pocket change. Offer them a hundred percent repayment, promise to keep doing business with them going forward, and they'll be loyal to us. Think of it as the cost of securing the supply chain."
"...Ah."
A short exhale escaped Jung Tae-sung.
"I hadn't thought that far. Supply chain stability... Understood. I'll settle the supplier debts at full repayment, as instructed."
"Good. Which leaves exactly one piece remaining."
The most important puzzle of all.
President Park Jin-hyuk.
"Will you truly be all right today?" Jung Tae-sung sent a worried look through the rearview mirror. "About meeting him face-to-face, I mean."
I had, in fact, decided to attend the meeting with Park Jin-hyuk personally. I could have sent Jung Tae-sung as my proxy and let him simply stamp the contract. But I'd concluded that doing so would be a mistake.
"I'll be fine. I can't hide in the shadows forever."
"Still, if your identity is exposed..."
"Well, then our connection to Shinhwa Weltech ends there. I'm going in hopeful that this Park Jin-hyuk isn't the type of businessman with a loose mouth." I shrugged. "More than anything—that man is going to be our company's CTO. He's the partner who will realize my technological vision for the next ten years—no, twenty. I can't have him working for a boss whose face he doesn't even know."
Trust is born from transparency. If I wanted to trust him enough to hand him full authority over technology, then I, in turn, had to reveal who I was and show him my sincerity.
"Wake me when we arrive. I need to rest my eyes for a bit."
I gazed out the window, lost in thought.
A garden-style restaurant tucked into a remote hillside on the outskirts of Ulsan, far from any foot traffic.
Park Jin-hyuk sat alone in a private room, fidgeting endlessly with his water glass. Beyond the window came nothing but the sound of the forest swaying in the wind—not a single passing car disturbed the silence.
"...It's too quiet in here."
The stillness only fed his anxiety. Park Jin-hyuk swallowed drily and checked his watch. Five minutes until the appointment.
Today has to go well.
This was the rope thrown to a man dangling off a cliff. The banks had already turned their backs, and the suppliers were moments away from showing up to grab him by the collar. If this deal fell through, he'd be sprinting to the courthouse tomorrow to file for bankruptcy.
And yet, in a corner of Park Jin-hyuk's mind, suspicion still coiled like a snake.
SJ Holdings... what on earth are they?
Right after that phone call, he had mobilized every remaining contact he had to dig into the company. He made discreet inquiries across the investment world, the Yeouido securities district—even the private loan market.
The answer that came back was always the same.
"Never heard of them."
"They've got a corporate registration and zero track record. Sounds like a shell company to me."
They had no substance. A legitimate investment firm was supposed to have a portfolio—data on where they'd put their money, what returns they'd earned, the size of their assets under management. That was the baseline. But SJ Holdings was spotless. So spotless it was frightening.
They're not con artists... are they?
Corporate raiders. Hyenas that swoop in under the pretense of acquisition, strip a perfectly healthy company of its assets at fire-sale prices, and leave nothing behind but a hollow shell. What if that's exactly what these people were?
But the miserable truth was that this was no time to be picky about hot food or cold. Honestly, he'd take con artists if he had to—please, just let them have the money.
Slide—
The door opened. Park Jin-hyuk shot to his feet on reflex.
Two men crossed the threshold. The one who entered first appeared to be Director Jung Tae-sung from the phone call—a sharp, impeccably composed man in his early fifties.
But the man following him was the problem.
...Huh?
Park Jin-hyuk's eyes went round. The man wasn't just young—he was a boy. Sure, he wore a suit, but that baby-faced look and slight frame would have read as a college student at best, a high schooler if you were honest about it.
An assistant? Or a son?
"Ah—hello! Park Jin-hyuk."
Park Jin-hyuk bowed his head, half in a daze. Jung Tae-sung returned the greeting with formal courtesy.
"How do you do, President Park. Jung Tae-sung—I'm the one who called you."
Then Jung Tae-sung stepped aside and gestured to the young man behind him.
"And this is the gentleman I serve."
"Kang Seon-woo."
The boy—no, Kang Seon-woo—extended his hand toward Park Jin-hyuk. The motion carried not a trace of hesitation.
This person is... the CEO?
He wanted to ask. How old are you? Are you really the one with the authority to decide?
But what came out of his mouth was something else entirely.
"Ah... a pleasure to meet you."
The moment their hands met, a strange dissonance washed over Park Jin-hyuk. The hand was soft, but the eyes studying him were deep and calm in a way that didn't match the face at all.
"Shall we sit?"
Kang Seon-woo's invitation was gentle. His bearing was so natural it was as if he'd sat through a thousand meetings like this one—no, as if he owned this room. As if he owned the table they sat at.
Park Jin-hyuk nodded as if spellbound and took his seat. Whether from nerves or the presence of the impossibly young man across from him, his mouth had begun to go bone dry.
I studied Park Jin-hyuk across the table with care. The shoulders rigid as boards. The gaze that kept darting around with nowhere to land. The way he kept swallowing.
Nervous, I see.
Anyone could tell he wasn't used to situations like this. Far from concealing his cards at a negotiating table, he was broadcasting his anxiety with his whole body.
Astonishing. I could forgive it when it came to technology, but how on earth had he managed the business side all this time? Almost certainly he'd leaned entirely on his technical skill, winging sales and financing by the seat of his pants.
"First of all, thank you for making time on such short notice."
"No, no—I'm the one who's in a hurry, after all."
Park Jin-hyuk seemed curious about my age and identity, but he held back from asking outright. That much, at least, passed the test. People with pointless curiosity tend to have loose mouths.
"To begin, I'd like to understand precisely where Shinhwa Weltech's current technology stands."
"Our technology is... currently in use on Taesan Electronics' and Hanseong Semiconductor's production lines."
"Not as a direct supplier, though, as I understand it?"
At my words, Park Jin-hyuk's eyes widened. "Th-that's correct."
"Their main lines run on chemicals made in Japan, the US, or Germany, naturally. Shinhma Weltech can't supply Taesan or Hanseong directly—you're a secondary supplier bound inside the vendor chain, or a second-tier vendor, aren't you?"
In other words: the subcontractor of a subcontractor—a company supplying chemicals to the first-tier firms that supplied the two industrial giants.
Park Jin-hyuk lowered his head as if the sore spot had been pressed. "...That's right. I won't deny it."
"And even that's been cut off now, hasn't it?"
"The industry's in bad shape, you see. Semiconductor production volumes themselves have shrunk, so the majors are stretched just filling their own orders—our turn never comes around."
"Good. That's enough of a picture."
I leaned forward.
"So tell me—objectively, where do you think Shinhwa Weltech stands right now?"
"We..."
Park Jin-hyuk hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth with the air of a man who had made up his mind.
"Our limits, in our current situation, are clear. But given time, I believe we can climb high enough."
"Limits, you say."
"Yes. Frankly, entering Taesan's or Hanseong's first-tier vendor list is still beyond us."
"Why is that?"
"Our ultra-high-purity refining technology is nearly complete, but we lack the consistency needed for mass production. The beaker-scale samples that come out of our lab rival anything from Japan—but when we scale up to ton-level output, the defect rate climbs."
Honest. Most owners, trying to sell off their company, would be too busy wrapping it in rosy promises to breathe a word of trouble. This man was calmly appraising his own company's flaws—right in front of the person offering to buy it.
"Is it a money problem?"
"Yes. We're short on precision analysis equipment, and upgrading our production lines has fallen behind. To be frank, the infrastructure isn't there yet to chase the Japanese or American majors."
I smiled to myself. They said this man was obsessed with technology—turns out it's true. It's not that he can't lie. It's that he won't. Because in the face of technology, you have to be honest.
"How many years would it take?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Assuming funding were unlimited—how long until you could compete with the majors? That's the question."
Park Jin-hyuk stared into the air for a moment, running the calculation.
"...It would depend on the money poured in, but with sufficient research funding and equipment, I'd estimate fifteen years."
"Fifteen years."
Certainly not a short span. But weighed against the colossal undertaking of localizing semiconductor materials, it was by no means long either. Given the current gap, it was actually fast.
"Suppose we do buy controlling interest in Shinhma Weltech. Would it still work? Even after you've left?"
"E-even without me, it should be doable. My researchers are capable, and they're motivated. If you establish the right systems, they'll manage it."
Park Jin-hyuk answered without hesitation. It was a company he had built—but he was prepared to erase himself entirely if that was what the company's survival required.
This is enough.
I nodded. "Very well. I'll purchase your stake in Shinhma Weltech. Our due diligence put it at seventy-seven percent—is that right?"
"It is."
"Fifteen hundred million won."
Park Jin-hyuk's eyes wavered.
"Given the company's current value—three straight years of operating losses, debt on the verge of devouring the assets—that figure includes a management premium. I'm paying you very handsomely."
In truth, the shares were worth close to nothing. Enter court receivership and they'd be so much scrap paper.
Park Jin-hyuk's lips moved soundlessly as he deliberated. It surely wasn't deliberation over whether the money was too little.
After a moment, he nodded slowly. "...I have one condition."
"Name it."
"Will all employees be retained? Full succession of employment?"
"Of course. There will be no restructuring. If anything, we need to be hiring more."
"Could you... put that in the contract as well?"
"Yes, we'll include it."
"There's quite a lot of debt. The outstanding payments owed to the suppliers, especially..."
"We'll handle that too. The supplier debt will be repaid in full, in cash, the moment we take over. They're partners we intend to walk with for a long time."
At my answer, relief flickered across Park Jin-hyuk's face.
Ah, this man. Look at him—his attachments are dripping off him.
That sense of responsibility: even if he himself got tossed out, he wanted to make sure his employees and the owners of the firms he traded with were taken care of.
"All right. I understand."
Park Jin-hyuk let out a long breath, as if surrendering to fate.
"Then... I'll sell."
At his answer, I glanced at Jung Tae-sung. As if he'd been waiting for exactly this, Jung Tae-sung drew the prepared documents from his bag and spread them across the table.
"This is the share transfer agreement. You can write out the conditions you mentioned by hand in the special clauses section."
"..."
"These are standard documents with no legal issues, but if you'd like, you're welcome to call in a lawyer to review them—"
"No need. The company can't afford to wait. Getting the funds moving even a day sooner is what matters."
Even as he said it, Park Jin-hyuk read the contract line by line, meticulously. Each clause, each sentence—he pressed every word into his eyes like a parent seeing a child off on a long journey. Then he wrote full retention of all employees into the special clauses.
"Whew..."
At last he paused, pen hovering over the signature line, and took a long, deep breath. Then, with a trembling hand, he signed his name. He drew out his company seal and pressed it down, hard.
"Please initial and stamp each page here as well."
Following Jung Tae-sung's guidance, the sound of stamping, page after page, filled the silent room.
Every step of the process was complete.
Park Jin-hyuk slid his seal back into its case and looked at me. The rims of his eyes were red.
"Shinhma Weltech... I leave her in your hands. This is where I started my first company after university and gave ten years of my life. I'm handing her over like this because of my own inadequacy—but the technology is real. Please, I beg you..."
He rose from his seat and began to lower his head in a bow.
"One moment."
I stopped him.
"Yes?"
"There's one more document."
At my words, Jung Tae-sung drew out a different document envelope and placed it in front of Park Jin-hyuk.
"What is this..."
Park Jin-hyuk pulled out the papers with a puzzled expression.
"I'd like to contract you, President Park Jin-hyuk, as Shinhma Weltech's CTO—its Chief Technology Officer."
"...I'm sorry?"
"We'll handle the management side. You should devote yourself to the thing you do best." I grinned. "Technology development. You said it would take fifteen years, didn't you? I'll supply the money—so cut it down to ten."
Park Jin-hyuk stared blankly, his gaze bouncing between the documents and my face.
His mouth fell open.