The King Ant of Bukchon
January 2004. A new year had dawned.
A quiet teahouse, its air calm and still, a faint fragrance of tea leaves drifting through the room.
I sat across from Jung Tae-sung.
"As you instructed, I will replace the entire SJ Holdings portfolio."
I laid out for him the same logic I had explained to Han Jae-yi only days before — trimming our exposure to the steel, shipbuilding, and machinery sectors that had surged on China-driven tailwinds, and rebalancing toward telecom equipment and component stocks.
Jung Tae-sung jotted everything down meticulously in his notebook, without offering a single word of commentary.
"We will execute the sell-off in tranches to minimize market impact."
"Good. Do it that way."
Having finished his notes, Tae-sung closed the notebook and looked at me.
"Anything else you wish to instruct?"
Instead of answering, I simply held his gaze in silence.
Inside the teahouse, the only sound was the soft murmur of water coming to a boil.
As the silence stretched on, doubt began to frost over in Jung Tae-sung's eyes.
"Director Jung."
"Yes, sir."
"It's time you decided where your loyalties lie."
Tae-sung's eyebrow twitched.
"I'm sorry? What do you mean by—"
"I mean that it isn't clear who you actually take your orders from."
At my bluntness, obvious bewilderment flickered across his face. He straightened his posture at once and pushed back.
"I am a man who moves on your instructions, sir. Not once have I ever gone against your will."
"That's true. But there's one extra step you take before executing anything."
He said nothing.
"Managing Director Kim is indeed a man I need. And yes, he believes in me and supports me. But when I give an order, and you carry it to Kim Seok-jun for his sign-off before you move — that isn't following my orders, is it?"
Tae-sung's mouth clamped shut. I had hit the nail squarely on the head.
Caught off guard, he dropped his gaze slightly and tried to offer an excuse.
"That's..."
"You didn't think I'd never find out, did you?"
I let out a long sigh before continuing.
"Of course, I understand. You were originally on Managing Director Kim Seok-jun's line, and the whole reason you were assigned to me in the first place was to watch me as much as assist me."
"...Surveillance? That's absurd, sir."
"But it does need to be sorted out."
I looked him dead in the eye.
"There can't be two decision-makers."
Tension drifted across the table like a low fog.
Jung Tae-sung was a capable professional. Everything I'd seen him do had only deepened my approval of him — which was exactly why the traffic needed untangling now.
"I'm not telling you to stop reporting to Managing Director Kim. After the fact is fine. Letting him know what I've done, what results we've achieved — that's no problem at all."
He stayed silent.
"What you need to stop is asking his permission before you carry out my instructions. If this is how you intend to keep working, then frankly, you'd be better off going back to him. I don't like my judgment being second-guessed."
Jung Tae-sung said nothing. His lips pressed into a hard line. A long moment of silence passed, and I could see a whole storm of emotions flickering through his eyes.
It certainly wasn't an easy choice — not for him.
But for my sake, he had to answer as though it were the easiest choice in the world.
Only then could I trust him going forward.
Well, sure, from my side there's the anxiety that I might lose him entirely... but it still has to be done.
After a long pause, Jung Tae-sung drew a deep breath and lifted his head. His eyes were far more settled now, composed and clear.
"Understood."
"From now on, I will report after carrying out your instructions. I will no longer seek approval beforehand."
Only then did a smile touch my lips.
Everything I'd observed of Jung Tae-sung told me he wasn't the sort of lightweights who said one thing and did another. If he'd given me his word like this, I could entrust him with far more.
"Will you really be all right? As I understand it, you've served Managing Director Kim Seok-jun for a long time."
"...That is true. But when the Managing Director sent me to you, he told me you were the man I would be serving from then on."
Tae-sung spoke with quiet conviction.
"From the very first day I met you, I resolved to serve you, sir. Honestly, having you settle this now makes me feel lighter than ever."
"Now it finally feels like we're real partners."
"I will not disappoint you."
Tae-sung bowed his head.
"In that case, there's one more thing I need you to do. This one, I'd rather you didn't report to Managing Director Kim at all — even after the fact."
"...Yes, sir. Go ahead."
Tae-sung's expression sharpened once more.
"Find me someone who will lend me money."
"Money... you say? If you need capital, you could pursue a capital increase, or make a request to the main family—"
"No. I want money that leaves no paper trail — or a deep-pocketed player outside the system."
"You mean you intend to borrow from the curb market?"
"Private lender or a Myeongdong moneylord, it makes no difference to me. The bigger the sum, the better."
Deciding it was no longer his place to question, Tae-sung nodded slowly.
"I'll look into it."
"Find me one who's as discreet as possible — and a solid source. Not some fly-by-night outfit."
That night.
The only light in the darkened room came from the monitor glowing on my desk.
Chin propped on my hand, I stared at the red figures scrolling across my HTS screen.
The returns weren't bad. No — if any retail investor had seen them, they'd have called them miraculous.
There was just one problem.
My seed money is far too small.
Since the stakes I was playing with were measured in units of ten million won, no matter how spectacular my percentage gains, the absolute growth rate had a hard ceiling.
To be sure, there were accounts under my own name, along with the shares my father had left me at his death — inheritance worth tens of billions of won.
But the inheritance tax matter was still being processed, so none of it was truly mine yet. And even if it were...
Money I couldn't touch recklessly.
The bulk of the estate was Sunjin Group stock. Even with my name on it, I couldn't cash it out.
These were shares needed to defend the family's control of the company. And the cash? Until I came of age, touching a single won of it required my mother's approval.
Which was why I needed money I could use right now.
Pure, untraceable cash.
That was what I needed.
The DMB theme would soon sweep through the market, and the catalysts were scattered everywhere like kindling. To ride that wave properly, I needed the bullets to grow my position. Ideally, a scale that could swell into serious money within a short window of time.
In truth, that was exactly why I had secretly ordered Tae-sung to hunt for a place to borrow.
I was deep in thought when—
Bzzzt—
The phone on my desk buzzed with a short vibration. When I checked the screen, a wry smile escaped me.
It was Han Jae-yi.
As expected.
It matched, precisely, the stock I'd been quietly accumulating.
No matter how rigorous your analysis, picking the one winner out of hundreds of candidates takes a sense that goes beyond skill. Han Jae-yi had it.
Her instincts were sharp as a blade. I tapped out a reply.
The moment I hit send, the phone buzzed again.
Bzzzt—
I assumed it was her reply — but the name on the screen was Jung Tae-sung. I pressed the call button at once.
"Yes, Director. Don't tell me you've already found someone? It's only been since this afternoon."
Tae-sung's calm voice came through the receiver.
"I found him. Or rather — there was never any need to search."
"Now that's interesting. What do you mean, no need?"
"There's a name that has reached my ears by degrees over time. One of the moneylords of the Myeongdong curb market — known only by the nickname Bukchon King Ant."
The Bukchon King Ant!
The moment I heard that name, a memory flashed through my mind.
A figure now so thoroughly veiled that ordinary people didn't even know he existed. But my future self knew exactly what lay beneath the veil.
"I've heard it said this Bukchon King Ant extends funds to members of other chaebol families as well."
Tae-sung continued.
"These rumors didn't come from his side — they leaked out quietly from the borrowers themselves, so I don't believe security is a concern. Rather than combing the general curb market, I thought routing through this line might be safer and more certain, which is why I'm reporting it."
Tae-sung's judgment was spot on.
For a man whose whole game depended on secrecy, there could be no better quarry.
I nodded.
"Good. Then dig into him a little deeper."
"Understood, sir."
Excellent.
Time to prepare my meeting with the Bukchon King Ant.
Inside a black sedan bound for Bukchon, I spread a file across my lap and listened to Tae-sung's briefing.
The subject: the hidden giant of the shadow lending market — the Bukchon King Ant.
"According to the whispers circulating in the business world, the second-generation heir of Shinsung Group recently invested in an IT company and failed. The money behind that bet, they say, came from the Bukchon King Ant."
"He failed? What size are we talking about?"
"Around thirteen billion won. The collateral was shares of Shinsung Distribution held by the heir himself, so as far as Shinsung Group is concerned, alarm bells are ringing right now."
My hand stopped mid-page-turn.
Shinsung Distribution — the group's cash cow. The heir, in his haste, had apparently pledged prime shares as collateral, and the outcome had gone badly.
Knowing the future Bukchon King Ant as I did, he would move without mercy to recover that money. The man had no blood to spare, no tears to shed — and certainly no reverence for chaebol dynasties.
"Still — Shinsung Group, of all people. Would he really sell off the collateral that easily? The group itself will apply pressure, surely."
I probed the question, feigning ignorance. Tae-sung shook his head firmly.
"The Bukchon King Ant will do it. This is a man who doesn't fear even the chaebol families."
"Doesn't fear them, hm."
"Yes, sir. They say the cash he can deploy at a moment's notice runs into the hundreds of billions of won. Add his liquid assets, and some whisper he commands well over several trillion. In private terms, he can likely move more cash than most chaebol chairmen."
An accurate analysis.
Since the real-name financial system was introduced, precious few people in Korea could move vast sums of cash like a shadow. Chaebol chairmen commanded assets in the tens of trillions, sure — but most of that was stock. Money shackled in place, impossible to sell freely because of control defense.
The Bukchon King Ant was different.
His money was a living creature — cash, ready to be thrown into the fight at any moment.
"So many chaebol families have borrowed emergency cash through him over the years that, if anything, public opinion could just as easily blame Shinsung Group for burning someone else's money rather than condemn the King Ant himself."
"That sounds about right. After all, it's the borrower who burned the money."
A man who wielded money as a weapon and gripped the chaebols by the leash.
Certainly, an alluring moneylord.
Creak—
Before long, the car climbed the hill of Bukchon and came to a stop before a serene hanok compound.
A mansion with high walls and an imposing, tightly shut gate — the place exuded an air of quiet intimidation.
"This is the house."
Tae-sung opened the car door for me and added,
"The meeting is arranged, but I'll have to wait outside. They refuse entry to anyone accompanying a guest — it's one of their rules."
I nodded. "Understood. Stand by here."
I smoothed my clothes and stood before the gate. When I pressed the doorbell, the massive wooden gate slid open with a whisper.
"Where do you come from?"
A man in a black suit asked gruffly.
"Kang Seon-woo. You should have an appointment in my name."
At my words, the man checked a walkie-talkie inside his jacket, then gave a curt nod and stepped aside.
"Come in."
The interior, once I was ushered in, stood in stark contrast to the exterior. Despite the traditional hanok façade, inside lay a Western-style parlor with marble floors and antique furnishings.
An otherworldly scene — as though stepping into the salon of an aristocrat from the Enlightenment era.
"Please wait a moment."
The man withdrew, and I settled onto a leather sofa, surveying the room.
Before long, the inner door opened and a man walked in.
A man in his mid-fifties, dressed in an expensive modernized hanbok. Sharp eyes and an arrogance worn into his very bearing.
He dropped heavily onto the sofa across from me, crossed his legs, and raked his gaze over me.
"So. Third son of the Sunjin family. Is there a reason you've come looking for me?"
No pleasantries, straight to business. The manner of a man who spoke as though he were the king of this domain.
Seeing it, I let out a small, involuntary snort of laughter.
"What's so funny?"
The man's brow furrowed. I leaned back comfortably against the sofa and spoke.
"I'll tell you when the real Bukchon King Ant shows up."
"...I beg your pardon?"
The man's face froze. I looked him dead in the eye and enunciated every word.
"I'm here to speak with Kim Jong-soo himself."
In that instant, the man's eyes wavered — hard.