The Price of Information

"It's been a while, Chairman."

When I bowed in greeting, Kim Jong-soo, the King Ant of Bukchon, gave a slow nod. He stared at me through his magnifying spectacles for a long moment, then gestured to the seat before him with his chin.

"Sit."

"Thank you."

The moment I took my seat, Kim Jong-soo asked bluntly.

"Come to pay back the money?"

"Hardly. I've come to borrow more."

At my shameless answer, Kim Jong-soo let out a baffled, hollow laugh.

"Hah, you brat. Bold as brass, and you're not even here to retrieve what you've already left with me."

That was what he said, but reading his expression, I found no trace of displeasure. If anything, his eyes gleamed with the interest of a man watching a remarkably audacious young animal.

Kim Jong-soo lifted his teacup and tossed out a remark as if it were nothing.

"I hear you've taken in Director Choi."

As expected.

I feigned surprise and shrugged.

"Truly, the Bukchon chairman's information network is razor-sharp. I brought him in myself, and you've already caught wind of it."

"Director Choi is a fine man. Use him well."

"And yet you let him go, sir?"

At my pointed remark, Kim Jong-soo's eyes narrowed for an instant.

"You cut mistakes loose from the very start. Show leniency once, and the mistakes keep coming. That's my principle."

Well, I don't see it that way.

They say people can't truly change—but someone with genuine desperation is different. A man who has hit rock bottom runs harder than anyone else, if only to make sure he never returns to that place.

Still, there was no need to voice the argument. I let it pass.

Kim Jong-soo set down his teacup and moved to the heart of the matter.

"So. You're here for money, and it's about Sunjin Sangsa?"

He had already seen through the reason for my visit. Convenient—I wouldn't have to explain myself at length.

"That's right."

"How much do you want?"

"As much as I borrowed last time. No more."

"Ten billion won?"

"Yes."

Kim Jong-soo leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

"The amount is no trouble. But this time, what do I get in return?"

Without a word, I pulled a folded slip of paper from my inside pocket and slid it across the table.

"What's this?"

"Stocks that will rise soon."

Kim Jong-soo snorted.

"Hahaha! Have you forgotten why they call me the King Ant of Bukchon? When it comes to stocks, I—"

"As I mentioned before, the country is about to be thrown into chaos."

At my low voice, the mirth drained from Kim Jong-soo's face in an instant.

"But that will be merely an uproar. A storm that passes."

"……I've been wanting to ask you. What exactly is this chaos of yours?"

"An impeachment will begin."

In that moment, Kim Jong-soo's face went rigid.

The impeachment of a sitting president. An unprecedented crisis was bearing down on the constitutional history of the Republic of Korea.

"I gave you that information some time ago, so I imagine your informants in Yeouido have been whispering about it. That the mood in the political world has turned ugly lately."

"……"

Kim Jong-soo said nothing. His silence was affirmation.

The word impeachment was already being passed around, gingerly, among the seasoned veterans of Yeouido.

"These are the stocks that will rise in the middle of that chaos. Bury your money in them, and the interest on what I've borrowed will be pocket change to you."

Kim Jong-soo glared at the slip of paper for a long moment, then finally waved a hand in dismissal.

"I have more money than I know what to do with. That's what I'm telling you. Just managing what's already in motion is giving me a headache."

"Is that so?"

I looked Kim Jong-soo dead in the eye.

"I don't know exactly how much cash you're holding, Chairman. But it's not quite enough to acquire a savings bank, is it?"

"What did you say?"

Kim Jong-soo's eyes wavered violently. I had struck the mark dead center.

"You're not planning to sit in the lender's parlor for the rest of your life. It's time to come out into the daylight and step inside the system."

"……"

"Soon, a mutual savings bank will be up for sale."

Kim Jong-soo fell silent, as if someone had stuffed honey down his throat. My prediction had landed, just as I'd expected.

This was the era when enormous pools of underground money, long confined to the curb market, would rebrand themselves as savings banks and come flooding into the institutional system.

The reason is obvious.

For a loan shark, a savings bank was nothing short of a dream stage. A channel to launder shadowy black-market money into legitimate financial capital—and a means to legally gather customers' deposits under the aegis of the fifty-million-won depositor protection law.

Capture the real estate-backed lending market on top of that, and you effectively had legalized usury. And being hailed as a local elder statesman, wielding political influence? That came as a bonus.

"Chairman……"

Kim Jong-soo's voice had gone thin and unsteady.

"I understand several savings banks in the provinces are already surfacing on the market. But you're hardly the sort to play with pocket change out in the countryside, are you?"

At my words, Kim Jong-soo sat speechless, like a man caught red-handed with his hidden desires laid bare.

For a curb-market veteran, acquiring a savings bank was no mere investment. It was social ascension—and the perfect elimination of risk.

Kim Jong-soo had surely been quietly hunting for the right opportunity, dreaming that very dream. In my previous life, he had attempted a savings bank acquisition only to be arrested in a stock manipulation scandal—so by now, he'd already be drafting concrete plans in his head.

"You'd have to make contact before it goes officially on the market. The moment it hits the open market, even the chaebols will start salivating."

"……You're telling me you know the name of a mutual savings bank that's about to be listed for sale?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Of course."

Kim Jong-soo's gaze changed. It was no longer the look of a man regarding an insolent child.

"A provincial savings bank and a Seoul savings bank are different creatures entirely. Seoul grants no new licenses. It's a seller's market—whatever the price asked, someone pays."

The major cities—Seoul and the capital region especially—simply did not approve new savings bank charters. Deposits there were far larger than in the provinces, and the authorities wanted to prevent private-lending money from flooding into the capital. The government had already ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deemed the market saturated.

And in that climate, if a savings bank operating in Seoul were put up for sale? Not only would the loan sharks pounce—since savings banks fell outside the separation of banking and commerce rules, even the big conglomerates would come running.

In fact, in my previous life, a major corporation had acquired one.

"I know that. It's precisely why they're so hard to come by."

"The information I'm offering is in Seoul—and it's a gem. Approach before it's officially listed, and your odds of acquiring it go up considerably."

I drove the wedge home with a leisurely smile.

"How soon could you manage it?"

At my question, Kim Jong-soo deliberated for a moment, then spoke as if arriving at a decision.

"Ten billion won. I'll have it ready by tomorrow."

"Chairman."

I cut him off, waving my index finger.

"One more condition has just been added to this negotiating table. A measly ten billion is merely the price of that stock memo I gave you."

"Hah."

"Make it twenty billion."

Kim Jong-soo's jaw dropped.

"It's not a gift, mind you—I'm borrowing it. A fair price for inside information on a bank acquisition, wouldn't you say?"

Twenty billion won. Even for the biggest ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of big hands, that was a sum that stung to produce in cold cash.

But the savings bank information was worth far more than that.

Kim Jong-soo looked at me and burst into a helpless, disbelieving laugh.

"You really are something else……"

He shook his head slowly from side to side. But on his face lingered a strange, unmistakable pleasure—the expression of a man who had never, in all his years, met someone young enough to play him like this.

"Fine. Within three days, I'll have the money wired to the paper company account you gave me."

The deal was closed.

I rose from my seat with a grin.

"I'll spend it well and pay it back. Point your radar at Jinseong Mutual Savings Bank. Until next time, Chairman."

Without waiting for Kim Jong-soo's reply, I turned and walked out of the room. Behind me, I could hear him snatching up the telephone in haste.

The moment I stepped out of the building, a familiar black sedan glided to a stop in front of me.

I settled into the back seat, and Jung Tae-sung glanced at me through the rearview mirror from the driver's seat.

"How did the meeting go?"

"I borrowed twenty billion won."

"Excuse me?"

Jung Tae-sung echoed in genuine shock, and I could see his hands tighten on the wheel.

"As far as I'm aware, borrowing money from the King Ant of Bukchon is difficult even for chaebol family members. He's famously exacting even when the collateral is ironclad—yet you walk in and simply……"

"Well, I suppose the old man likes me. Home, please."

I turned to the window as if it were nothing at all.

Jung Tae-sung still wore an expression of disbelief, but he asked nothing further and pulled away.

"The money will land in Reborn Capital's account within three days. Prepare to transfer it to Park Nam-gyu to cover exactly 4.5 percent of Sunjin Sangsa's shares."

"Understood."

The fake bait that would flow to Kang Byung-chul through Park Nam-gyu. The funds for that bait were now secured.

"And with the remaining funds, execute the acquisitions I mentioned the other day."

"The impeachment-related stocks, sir."

"Yes. We'll mirror SJ Holdings' portfolio exactly. Sweep up the shares through both accounts simultaneously."

"Yes, sir. I'll see to it."

Listening to Jung Tae-sung's reply, I closed my eyes.

The bait to deceive my enemy, and the investments to exploit the coming chaos—every piece was in place. All that remained now was to sit quietly and wait for the other side to take the hook I had cast.