The Perfect Alibi
Two weeks later, morning.
The only sound filling the quiet dining table was the soft clatter of dishes.
My mother broke the silence first.
"Is Seon-a doing well with her studies? She's starting high school now."
Seon-a swallowed the food she'd been chewing and nodded at my mother's question.
"I'm doing fine."
"Good to hear. Our Seon-a takes care of herself so well, I never have to worry."
At the tail end of those words, the atmosphere at the table shifted almost imperceptibly.
My mother's and Seon-a's gazes landed on me at the same time.
Here it comes.
"And you, Seon-woo. Before the break started, you were always telling your driver to go on ahead while you went off somewhere, weren't you? And lately, I hear you've been going out alone without him altogether."
"That's true. Oppa really does seem busy these days. He's always sitting in front of his computer at home, too."
Ah. That would be the errands I'd been running to meet Kim Seok-jun after school, once I'd sent the driver home.
These days I made a point of not using the car whenever I went out, worried someone might follow my trail — and it turned out that very caution was what had drawn suspicion.
I set my spoon down with practiced calm and answered.
"Ah, it's club activities. I feel bad making the driver wait around, and a lot of the time I end up moving around with friends afterward anyway."
"Really?"
My mother narrowed her eyes and studied me.
"Of course. You saw that I won the mock investment competition, didn't you? I was so busy preparing for that."
The moment the word win left my mouth, my mother's expression melted like snow in spring.
I caught a flash of the way she'd beamed when I'd shown her the plaque last time, practically ready to have it framed.
I drove the wedge in deeper.
"And these days I'm busy meeting with a club senior who's heading to university next year. She just got accepted to Yonsei's business school, actually. I've been picking her brain about admissions strategies and study methods."
"Yonsei business school?"
"Yes."
"Well then, that's a relief."
As expected, nothing makes a more airtight alibi for a Korean parent than study sessions with a senior from a prestigious university.
My mother nodded, visibly reassured.
"Oh, and one more thing — I've started doing a bit of stock investing."
I steered the conversation along naturally.
"With your own money?"
"Yes. It's going pretty well, actually. I'll show you the results when they come in."
"Still, your priorities are—"
"I know, I know. I'm managing my time strictly so it doesn't interfere with my studying, so don't worry. Just think of it as an extension of my economics studies."
Having preemptively raised my shield, I left my mother with nothing to add.
"How about you, Mom? How's work?"
At my question, my mother paused her chopsticks for a moment, lost in thought, then spoke.
"It's fine. I've more or less adjusted to the atmosphere at the company now."
"That's a relief. I saw the news recently that your company bought a ship."
"You even keep track of things like that?"
"I do invest in stocks, you know. I have to watch the shipping industry too. By the way, Mom — what kind of ship was it? I'm curious."
My mother wore the expression of someone being asked about every little thing, but she didn't seem to mind her son's interest.
"Hmm. A container ship. You know, the kind that carries those big square containers across the ocean."
"Ah. That's a relief."
A sigh of relief escaped me before I could stop it.
A container ship, of all things.
The time was fast approaching when the Baltic Dry Index — the freight rate for bulk carriers — would start its wild dance. It would be a volatility born of collapsing raw material prices, an unstable stretch ahead.
But if the boss had secured container ships rather than bulk carriers, the direction wasn't bad at all.
Container shipping rates would keep climbing on the back of steady Chinese demand.
"A relief?"
"Oh, no, nothing. I just meant it's good that you've adjusted well."
"Right. And Seon-woo, you can stop worrying about your mother now and focus on your studies. University is—"
"Yes, yes, understood."
I cracked a joke, finished my meal, saw my mother off to work, and returned to my room.
Just then, the phone on my desk buzzed. The name on the screen was Jung Tae-sung.
"Yes, Director Jung."
"The management expert you selected for the Chairman has been appointed the new CEO of Shinhwa Weltech, effective today."
A few days earlier, Jung Tae-sung had sent me a list of recommended candidates, and I had picked the one who seemed the best fit for Park Jin-hyuk.
He also struck me as someone who would keep the finances rigorously in check.
"Good work. How's the mood at Shinhwa Weltech?"
"It's still a bit unsettled right after the acquisition, but with a professional manager now in place, it will settle down quickly. Think of it as everyone simply adjusting."
"I see. Please pass this along to the new CEO: for this year, the goal is to maintain the status quo. No hasty restructuring — but grow the research staff and facilities aggressively instead."
This was a company where technology was life. You protected the people and grew the technology.
"And let him know that any major investment will come after the first half of next year. Please give Park Jin-hyuk a heads-up about that as well."
"Understood. I'll keep that in mind. I'll report again later."
"Sounds good. Keep up the good work."
After hanging up, I sank deep into my chair. The acquisition of Shinhwa Weltech was complete, and the management team was in place.
"Hmm. Time to start paying attention to the stock market."
The work of growing my personal assets and SJ Holdings' investment capital in earnest. I powered on the computer and launched the HTS. The screen filled with red numbers.
"Steel, autos, shipbuilding... all three of them are soaring."
Riding the China-driven supercycle, my portfolio's returns were climbing by the day.
My seed money of 9 million won had somehow grown to 15 million won.
But now it's time to rotate. Those positions need to be liquidated.
I was in the middle of selling off my long-held stocks when the phone on my desk buzzed briefly.
Checking the screen, a smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.
It was Han Jae-yi.
Perfect timing, really. There was something I'd been wanting to tell her in person, too.
"Guess I'll go see her today."
I sent a short reply, got up from my seat, and started getting ready to go out.
Ah. Year's end really does feel like year's end.
At a café near Han Jae-yi's place, I sat staring out the window, a steaming cup of coffee in front of me.
Beyond the glass, the year-end atmosphere was thick in the air.
Before long, the door chimed and a familiar face walked in.
Thud—
Before even a word of greeting, Han Jae-yi dropped a thick binder onto the table with a slap and flopped down across from me.
"Long time no see, sunbae."
"Long time? You've been badgering me with texts every single day."
Han Jae-yi snorted as if the nerve of it astounded her.
The red flush on her cheeks spoke to just how cold it was outside.
I gestured at the binder on the table with my chin.
"This it?"
"Yep! The homework you assigned."
"Mind if I read it?"
Before she could even answer, I picked up the binder. It had a satisfying heft to it.
This was the assignment I'd given Han Jae-yi. When she'd begged me to teach her how to get good at stocks, I'd told her to start with corporate analysis.
Her strength was a ferocious, dogged instinct for recovering capital — but what she lacked now was the ability to analyze companies and the eye to pick out the sectors that would lead the market in the years ahead.
"Though, why telecom equipment, exactly?"
I looked up from the documents at Han Jae-yi's question.
Her face still said she didn't get it.
"I did research it because you told me to, but this sector is completely dead right now? It hasn't recovered at all since the IT bubble burst."
"And yet you wrote in your notes here, 'strong possibility of a rise ahead,' sunbae?"
"I said there was a possibility of a rise. It's true that it's dead right now. Anyway, word's been going around the market that the telecom carriers will be ramping up capital investment next year. Hansung Telecom's CEO even publicly declared his intention to invest, actually."
Accurate.
Han Jae-yi had a decent nose for the market. I nodded, closed the binder, and spoke.
"Sunbae, in the near future, you'll be able to watch TV on your cell phone. Same with car navigation systems."
"What?"
Han Jae-yi's brow furrowed.
"What's so surprising about that?"
"No, I mean, who's going to sit outside hunched over a tiny phone watching TV? And do you know how much money it burns to download anything on a phone? You remember that guy who accidentally hit the internet button and got slammed with a monster bill?"
In this era, a mobile phone was for calls and texts — nothing more, nothing less — so Han Jae-yi's reaction was perfectly natural.
"Ah, that's because of the old data communication method. But soon, phones will come with broadcast receiver modules built in. Satellite or terrestrial — a world is coming where you can watch for free, without paying a won."
"...And that's real? That's why you had me dig into this sector?"
"Yes, yes. Who do you take me for?"
I pretended to glance around, then leaned forward and lowered my voice toward Han Jae-yi.
"I'm a chaebol heir, remember? I have access to information that never leaves the top floors."
Of course, my information came not from a chaebol family's dinner table, but from memories of the future.
But there was no better cover story for moments like this than the title of third-generation chaebol.
"R-really?"
"I don't tell just anyone, you know. I'm letting you in on it because you're my sunbae. Consider it special treatment."
At my conspiratorial whisper, Han Jae-yi swallowed hard and nodded quietly.
"Anyway, at the earliest, the government will start moving in early next year. Setting the standard, selecting the operators — it's a busy process. Let's see... only four days left in the year now."
"That fast?"
"Yes. For my part, I finished rebalancing my portfolio today."
"You liquidated while steel and shipbuilding are taking off like that?"
Han Jae-yi's eyes went wide. She and I shared part of our portfolios, after all.
The companies she'd picked were concentrated in China-beneficiary stocks, much like mine.
"Yes. We're at the peak now."
"The peak? It keeps going up, though?"
"China's economy is overheated — badly."
I said it flatly.
In truth, China's growth rate in this era was steep — almost too steep.
Double-digit annual growth was accepted as a matter of course, and that very fact was becoming poison for the Chinese economy.
Raw material prices had skyrocketed, driving up the cost of living, and signals were flashing everywhere that ordinary people's livelihoods were falling apart.
"Look at the local Chinese news sometime — it's chaos. People are crying that their salaries don't cover daily life anymore. Prices have climbed that high."
"..."
"The Chinese government is going to slam the brakes on this insane growth soon enough."
"So growth just... stops?"
"No. Growth will continue. They'll just ease off the gas. They're going to move into fiscal tightening."
"Tightening..."
"So which sectors get hit first? Construction and infrastructure — the economic stimulus industries like steel and cement. Those are the first targets."
According to the memories of my previous life, the Korean stock market in 2004 would be struck by the China Shock.
When China — that black hole of raw materials — announced its austerity policy, the Korean market, which had been riding high on the China-driven supercycle, would be scorched earth in an instant.
"So treat this as the shoulder of the move, cash out, and rotate your positions one by one — into that telecom sector we talked about."
"You're sure about this?"
"Do you still doubt my skills?"
"It's not that... sometimes I look at you and get chills. It's like you're solving the test with the answer key open."
Han Jae-yi clicked her tongue and muttered. I flinched inwardly, but laughed it off with a straight face.
"Anyway, the homework passes. Pick exactly one company out of the ones you researched and text it to me."
"I have to choose?"
"I can't spoon-feed you forever, can I?"
"Hey, you—"
"The whole point was to sharpen your eye, sunbae. I'll evaluate your pick. If it fails, just think of it as tuition."
At my teasing, Han Jae-yi hugged the binder to her chest again, her face full of agonized deliberation.
The way her lips darted back and forth made her the spitting image of a student the night before an exam.
Watching her, I rose from my seat.
"Where are you going?"
"Come on. Let's get food."
"Food?"
"It's year's end — I feel bad for dragging you out here. I'll buy you something good, so let's go."
I left Han Jae-yi sitting there dazed and started walking.
"Hey, wait! I'm buying. Consider it payment for the information."
"You? Then we're going somewhere expensive."
"...You little punk."
And so, 2003 was quietly slipping away.