The Puppet and the Script
A few days later, mid-morning at the golf club clubhouse.
Kang Byung-chul sat reading the morning papers spread across the table, a magnifying glass in hand.
Sensational headlines plastered the front pages. Every article sang from the same hymn sheet: the owning family's grip on Sunjin Sangsa was vulnerable, and predatory foreign capital was circling to swallow the company whole through that weakness.
"Reading the papers this morning, I see you handled the press quite skillfully."
At the compliment, Kang Tae-yong, seated across the table, dipped his head with practiced modesty.
"It was easy. Journalists are hyenas — throw them a single piece of bait and they rip into it with relish. They wrote the whole fiction for us, unprompted."
"Hahaha! Exploiting the instincts of those reporter bastards — that's a talent of yours too."
Kang Byung-chul nodded with evident satisfaction. Public opinion had been shaped. The word crisis was now embedding itself in the public mind, which meant that later, when they swept in as the cavalry, their justification would already be in place.
"The operation is proceeding without a hitch, so don't fret over it."
"Fretting isn't the issue. It's just... I wonder if you're pushing the share price up a little too fast."
Kang Tae-yong fiddled with his teacup as he broached the subject carefully.
Their strategy was a pincer maneuver. Up front, an overseas shell corporation disguised as foreign capital displayed an aggressive buying appetite; behind the curtain, shadow accounts belonging to Sunjin Aluminum and its affiliates quietly accumulated stock — a classic parking strategy. The goal was to combine the two stakes later and seize a majority in one decisive stroke.
"We now need to mobilize the affiliates and begin securing the parked shares in earnest, but if you push the price up this quickly, the acquisition costs will become unmanageable."
"I know. That's why I already told the director to report on the matter. I warned him explicitly — under no circumstances is he to move the price."
Knock knock—
Just then, a knock broke the silence.
"Come in."
At Kang Byung-chul's word, the door opened and the Planning Director in charge of the operation's fieldwork stepped in. His expression was anything but bright.
"Chairman, may I have a word?"
"Go ahead. How are the share acquisitions coming along?"
The director swallowed dryly and unfolded his report.
"First, the disguised foreign stake through the BNP account has reached our target of 14.28 percent."
"Fine, that side's done. What about the domestic side?"
"That's the problem... Sunjin Sangsa's share price is climbing far more steeply than we anticipated. Someone must have leaked word of a control battle to the market — the retail investors and institutional money have swarmed in."
Kang Byung-chul's brow furrowed.
"So the parked shares — where do we stand?"
"I apologize, sir. Our original target was 20 percent combining headquarters and affiliate funds, and the budget was fully allocated... but at the current price, I fear we'll only manage about 13 percent."
Kang Byung-chul clicked his tongue.
"Thirteen percent, is it..."
Even combined with the 14 percent disguised as foreign capital, that barely reached the mid-20s. To take control of the company with certainty, they needed at least 35 percent — 40 or more to be safe. As things stood, it was precarious. It was the kind of number Kim Ja-young's side could still defend if they scraped together every friendly share down to the last soul.
"The reality is we need more capital. The price has simply run too far..."
As the director finished his report, Kang Tae-yong cut in.
"Uncle, why not bring in some funds from Myeongdong?"
"Myeongdong?"
Kang Byung-chul's face darkened.
"Word travels too fast down there. And if we borrow from loan sharks and it blows up later, we'll have a mess on our hands."
"Uncle, Myeongdong isn't what it used to be."
Kang Tae-yong allowed himself a sly smile as he continued.
"In the old days, they'd discount a fraudulent promissory note or lend emergency cash at ruinous interest — but the real-name financial system put an end to all that, didn't it? These days they're called financial boutiques. They shape themselves to fit whatever we want."
"Shape themselves to fit?"
"Exactly. It's not a loan at all. We simply ask them to use their own money to buy and hold Sunjin Sangsa shares on our behalf."
So-called share parking backed by a proxy voting arrangement. The loan shark buys the stock with his own money and delegates his voting rights to Kang Byung-chul. Once Byung-chul seizes the company, the corporation repurchases the shares at a premium with company money, or buys them back with interest tacked on.
It was a new breed of scheme — one that deftly skirted the letter of the law while throwing off any money trail.
"So all we need is the proxy for the voting rights, and once we've secured control of Sunjin Sangsa, we buy the stock back with the trading company's money. Not a single won of our own, you see."
The proposal was intoxicating. Kang Byung-chul deliberated for a moment, then nodded.
"There's sense in that."
He turned to his director and gave the order.
"You heard him?"
"Yes, sir. I'll look into a reputable boutique in Myeongdong."
"Good. Let's proceed on that basis for now and assess before committing more funds."
Kang Tae-yong rose from his seat.
"Well then, Uncle, I have company business to attend to, so I'll be off. Good luck with everything."
"Right. I'll be in touch."
Once Kang Tae-yong bowed and left, only two men remained in the room: Kang Byung-chul and the director.
Setting down his teacup, Byung-chul fixed the man with a sharp look.
"Something on your mind? Why that face?"
"...Chairman. Using Myeongdong money could be dangerous. Those people from the underworld have no sense of honor."
"Perhaps. But do you have a better option? The share price is going berserk as we speak."
"It might be wiser to simply request funding from Chairman Kang Tae-yong—"
Tsk.
Kang Byung-chul cut him off with a razor-edged click of his tongue.
"Take that bastard's money, and the accounting gets complicated down the road."
"I'm sorry? Aren't you in the same boat regardless?"
"Who said we were in the same boat?"
A cold sneer curled across Kang Byung-chul's lips.
"Look at how that creature operates. He can't bear to part with his own money, so he eggs me into borrowing from the Myeongdong loan sharks — and then he slips out the back door entirely."
"..."
"He means to have me rolling around in the filth up front while he sits in the back watching the show and eating his cake. Do you take me for a fool, that I'd do his dirty work for him?"
Kang Byung-chul glared at the door through which his nephew had exited. A nephew, yes — but in the end, a rival. Once Sunjin Sangsa was devoured, the next target on that boy's list could well be Sunjin Motors itself.
"It seems it's time, as his uncle, to teach the whelp that nothing in this world ever goes the way he wants it to."
Muttering the words to himself, Kang Byung-chul swallowed them and turned back to the director.
"Regardless, we need the money. Contact Myeongdong. Bring me someone sharp — clean hands, sealed lips."
"Understood, sir. I'll start the search."
Kang Byung-chul gazed out the window. His eyes, glistening with greed, shone as if they would devour the whole of Seoul.
After school, I slid into the waiting car at the rear gate with practiced ease. But the air inside was different from usual.
"Good afternoon, Boss."
A deep, unfamiliar voice. Turning my head, I found a stranger in the passenger seat — a middle-aged man with a solid build and sharp eyes, yet an overall impression of discipline and composure. He twisted around and bowed respectfully.
"My name is Choi Sung-hoon. Thank you for taking me in."
Choi Sung-hoon. Once the right hand of Kim Jong-soo, the Bukchon King Ant — until my information network crushed him. He was exactly the man I had instructed Jung Tae-sung to bring in after he'd lost everything.
"Nice to meet you. We haven't crossed paths before."
I set my bag down and studied him squarely.
"You don't seem fazed by seeing me like this? I half expected you to be thrown off by a high schooler."
"I'd already heard whispers of your extraordinariness from the Chairman back in Bukchon, and on the way over, Director Jung talked my ear off about you."
"Good. Then you'll be working with me from now on — are you comfortable with that? It may be more exhausting than your last job."
At my question, Choi Sung-hoon's eyes gleamed.
"Absolutely, sir. I intend to repay the grace of your trust with everything I have, and serve you to the fullest."
Perhaps because he'd fallen to rock bottom and been thrown a rope, there was a grim resolve underpinning his manner. It came off as slightly exaggerated devotion — but it wasn't bad. Nothing was a more useful weapon than the desperation of a capable man.
Jung Tae-sung, watching the exchange through the rearview mirror, spoke up.
"Boss, we've assigned Mr. Choi the role of Managing Director of Security at SJ Holdings. We've also allocated a confidential operations budget of roughly 200 million won per month."
"200 million, is it."
As I mulled over the figure, Choi Sung-hoon hurriedly spoke up, visibly tense.
"The information on my side of the business never comes free, you see. My people are rough characters who live down in the gutter — you have to put something in their hands before they'll open their mouths. So if the amount seems—"
"Oh, no — I wasn't complaining that it's too much."
I waved a hand and smirked.
"I was wondering whether it would even be enough. Information is lifeblood. Skimping on money and losing a lead costs you far more in the end."
"...I'm sorry?"
Choi Sung-hoon's eyes went wide. Apparently he'd expected a pay cut.
"200 million is generous, sure, but ask for more when you need it. Don't worry about the budget."
Then I turned to Jung Tae-sung and added, "Very good. Mr. Choi will handle recruiting his own field informants as he sees fit. And Director — set Mr. Choi's salary at the top of the industry scale. Make sure his performance bonuses are more than sufficient as well."
"Understood, sir."
Certain and generous compensation — the first principle of commanding people. I could see the tension drain visibly from Choi Sung-hoon's face.
Just then, Jung Tae-sung spoke again.
"One more thing. The moment Mr. Choi arrived today, he brought us a piece of intelligence."
"Already? He brought something in on day one?"
I looked at Choi Sung-hoon with genuine interest. If it was worth reporting the moment he walked in, it couldn't be street-level gossip — it had to be something that would help me immediately. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror.
"It's this... apparently someone in the Sunjin family has been poking around the Myeongdong curb market recently."
"The Sunjin family? Do we know which one?"
"Sunjin Aluminum, as far as we can tell."
My brow furrowed instantly. Sunjin Aluminum. Granduncle Kang Byung-chul.
"Are they looking to borrow money? Short on funds?"
"It doesn't appear to be a straightforward loan. If it were, they'd simply go to the bill discounters they normally deal with — but this time, they've attached a condition."
"What condition?"
"Someone with a deep knowledge of the stock market. In other words, they're shopping for a player."
"Since when?"
"The rumors started circulating yesterday. Not out in the open yet — it's passing quietly among the big players."
I rested my chin on my hand and sank into thought.
Why would Sunjin Aluminum be hunting for a stock operator in the curb market? Not simply money — a player.
"Director Jung."
"Yes, Boss."
"Where's Sunjin Sangsa's share price right now?"
"42,000 won per share as of today's close. Up about 15,000 won from last week."
"How much of the stake have we secured?"
"The SJ Holdings account stopped at 4.95 percent, and we've picked up roughly another 3 percent through Reborn Capital."
I ran the numbers through my head.
If they only needed money, they'd visit their usual lenders. Actively hunting for someone sharp with stocks means... they intend to have someone buy on their behalf.
The share price had rocketed far too steeply in too short a time. The budget Kang Byung-chul had originally allocated would now fall laughably short of the targeted stake.
They've run dry.
Then there was only one answer. Have someone else's money buy the stock, borrow only the voting rights, and promise — behind closed doors — to make it right with company funds once they won. For a job like that, they'd need a broker and a technician.
"Well, well... now the picture's coming into focus."
I curled the corners of my mouth and looked at Choi Sung-hoon.
"Mr. Choi."
"Yes, Boss."
"A while back, someone was playing stock games with a certain Boss Jo from Myeongdong — the man who left the Bukchon Chairman clutching the back of his neck. Who was that technician?"
"Ah, you mean Park Nam-gyu. He's rather notorious on the Yeouido circuit for stock manipulation."
Park Nam-gyu. Greedy, capable, and the kind of man who'd sell his own soul for the right price.
"Can you approach him?"
"I'm sorry?"
Jung Tae-sung and Choi Sung-hoon both stared at me in astonishment.
"It should be possible. Ever since he got burned by the Bukchon Chairman, he's been a pariah down in Yeouido. His money lines are probably cut by now — the man might be starving."
"And he talks a good game, I assume? He's thoroughly fraudulent by nature."
"...Born for it, sir. A man who could put up a Yeouido high-rise with nothing but his tongue."
"Perfect, then."
I smiled with cold eyes.
"I needed a puppet — one that scratches exactly where our opponent itches, and moves precisely according to the script we write for him."
"Surely not..."
A hilt has been placed in my hand. All that's left is to draw the blade.
I couldn't spend this life playing defense, same as the last one.
"Let's recruit Park Nam-gyu — and plant him inside Sunjin Aluminum."