Year's End, and My People
It was late December 2004. I slipped through the arrival gate at Gimpo Airport and climbed into the limousine van waiting outside. The automatic doors slid shut and the car pulled away smoothly, and I leaned back into my seat before speaking. "Thank you all for your hard work." Once Nakamura Kenji and I had reached our broad agreement, the working-level negotiations had gone off without a hitch. Both sides knew exactly what they wanted and how far they could concede, so there was no wasted motion. Thanks to that, we'd signed the memorandum of understanding and made it home within our scheduled trip. All that remained now was for the major law firms retained by each company to draft the legally binding master agreement, and for the executives to put pen to paper. If everything went to plan, construction on the joint venture's production line would begin at the Shinhwa Weltech site in Ulsan by the second half of 2005 at the latest. "Not at all, sir. You carried the heavier burden. We merely added a spoon to a table that was already set." "That's excessive modesty, Director Jung." At Jung Tae-sung's words, I smiled and turned to Park Jin-hyuk in the seat beside me. "Director." "Yes, sir." "You'll be heading straight down to Ulsan?" "Of course. I need to check on the research institute while I've been away, and now that the joint venture with Shinei is taking shape, I'll have to draft a roadmap for what our researchers need to prepare immediately. I'm going to be swamped." There was no fatigue in Park Jin-hyuk's voice—only excitement and drive. But a corner of my heart felt heavy. The first future I had envisioned for Shinhwa—the success or failure of domestic materials production—rested squarely on his shoulders. "I feel as though I'm piling far too much onto you, Director. I'm sorry for that." "Oh, come now, sir. Don't say such things. Lately, every single day has been a string of surprises for me." Park Jin-hyuk waved his hand dismissively, laughing. "And wonderful ones at that. Just having the technology I'd spent years building finally see the light of day, sitting next to a genius like you... I feel like a genuinely useful person for the first time in my life. I can hardly contain it." "Thank you for saying so. Director Jung." "Yes, sir." I fixed Jung Tae-sung with a serious look. "Support Shinhwa Weltech to the fullest extent possible at the SJ Holdings level. In particular, raise the salaries of the existing staff and researchers substantially next year—enough that no one feels shortchanged." "Understood." "A technical team will be dispatched from Shinei's headquarters in Japan before long. They'll be paid in yen, and paid handsomely. Make sure our people feel no relative deprivation when they compare themselves to the newcomers—no, make sure they can walk with their heads held high instead." "I'll keep that firmly in mind. I'll prepare a revised salary table immediately." Watching Jung Tae-sung jot notes in his planner, I turned to Choi Sung-hoon at the wheel. "Team Leader Choi." "Yes, sir." "It's about time your team struck out on its own and established a proper company." In the rearview mirror, I caught the flash of surprise in Choi Sung-hoon's eyes. Until now, he had scraped together street-level intelligence, reported it, and handled my personal security. On paper his group was a security team under SJ Holdings, but the network of unofficial informants he managed had long since outgrown anything a mere team should be running. "With your people renting a corner of the SJ Holdings office, I imagine you feel self-conscious about expanding the headcount." "Not at all. Director Jung has been generous with support. We've had no complaints." "Even so, I think it's time to divide the roles cleanly and specialize." "...Did you have a particular field in mind?" A current of tension ran through Choi Sung-hoon's voice. "Start with a comprehensive security firm. Something that goes beyond physical protection to cover corporate security, information asset protection—and eventually, cybersecurity." Physical security dominated the field now, but as smartphones spread and networks grew, the importance of information security would increase exponentially. To prepare for the future, you had to start sharpening the blade now. It didn't hurt that "security firm" made a respectable front for bringing in talent under the banner of information gathering, either. "Recruit capable white-hat hackers and build out the systems. I want to grow it big enough to take on outside contracts, not just serve our own group. Can you manage that?" Choi Sung-hoon was silent for a moment. The task was heavier than he'd expected. This wasn't an order to remain a security team leader—it was an instruction to become the CEO of an actual enterprise. But he soon seemed to make up his mind, nodding with a hardened expression. "I'll do it. I'll build it properly—something that can serve as your eyes, your ears, and your shield." "That's the answer I was waiting for. Work out the capital and the incorporation procedures with Director Jung and get it done right." "Yes, sir." I gazed out the window at the passing scenery of Seoul. "Good. From here on out, I'm stepping back from the operational work. Starting next year I'll have school to attend, and things are going to get busy for me personally. I can leave things to all of you with confidence, right?" "Of course." All three answered loudly, as if on cue. I let a satisfied smile spread across my face. In my previous life, there had been no one around me I could trust. Everyone had been a hyena—after my money, or watching for a chance to stab me in the back. But it was different now. I had people I could turn my back to. "Good. Let's grab a good meal before we all head home. We came back from Japan—we can't skip a bowl of kimchi stew, can we?" At my words, Choi Sung-hoon smiled and changed lanes. The cold winter wind somehow felt warm on the way home.
Late December 2004. The streets of Seoul flashing past the car window were buzzing with year-end festivities. Christmas trees glittered on every corner, and the faint sound of carols drifted into the car. "Your gains on Eugene PharmaTech have reached 1,200 percent." At Jung Tae-sung's matter-of-fact report, I let out a low whistle. Good grief. I never could have imagined, in my old life, that making money could be this easy. Knowing the future was as good as a cheat code. SJ Holdings' 90 billion won investment in Eugene PharmaTech had soared 1,200 percent, blowing well past the one-trillion-won mark, while Ribbon Capital's 21 billion won had swollen to over 270 billion. In a matter of months, we had conjured up a trillion won in cash. "Time to wind it down." Before long, a shocking exposé from an investigative journalism program would reveal that the stem cell miracle was a nationwide fraud. From that moment, the related stocks would plunge like a roller coaster going off its rails until they were worth no more than wastepaper. "Yes, sir. Also, my reports suggest that once the joint venture with Shinei is established, we'll need roughly 300 billion won for initial capital and facility investment. SJ Holdings should be ready to inject funds into Shinhwa Weltech. Did you have a method in mind?" I pondered the question for a moment before answering. "Use a rights offering through third-party allocation. SJ Holdings takes up one hundred percent of the new shares." A third-party allocated rights offering. Rather than granting existing shareholders subscription rights, the company issues new shares to a designated third party—in this case, SJ Holdings—to raise capital. Through this method, we could pour large sums into Shinhwa Weltech quickly, while simultaneously firming up SJ Holdings' stake and securing absolute control of management. "I'll prepare it." "Good. And sell down the Eugene PharmaTech shares quietly, but as fast as you can manage." "Yes, sir." Before long, the car pulled into a quiet café alley in Apgujeong. "I'll get home on my own. Please handle the things I've assigned you today, and I'll be in touch later." I stepped out of the car, pulled my coat tight, and headed into the café. Ding-a-ling— The cheerful chime rang out as I entered, and a familiar face seated by the window waved at me. "Why are you here so early?" I asked as I walked over. My appointment was with Han Jae-yi. "Because you're always the one who shows up first and waits. It kind of stings my pride, you know." Her pouty answer drew a snort of laughter from me as I took the seat across from her. "Good attitude. Nobody shows up exactly on time these days." "Hey, if I come early you complain, and if I'm late you complain. Honestly, talking to you feels less like a junior and more like some uptight office supervisor." As she pursed her lips and grumbled, I shrugged. "How's university life treating you?" When I changed the subject, Han Jae-yi's face promptly died as she propped her chin on her hands at the table. "I'm exhausted. It's only been one year, and I'm already wondering how I'll survive the three that are left. And why is there so much homework?" "Because you work too hard." It was something I'd learned from the text messages we occasionally exchanged—she was running an unrivaled top score in the Business School at Yonhee University. "Senior, do it at eighty percent." "What did you say?" "Nobody goes through college giving it a hundred percent or more." I looked at her seriously. "At your level, eighty percent would still make you top of your department. What are you running yourself into the ground for?" "Still... I'm on a scholarship. I have to earn my keep." Han Jae-yi was receiving full tuition and living expenses from SJ Holdings under the name of the SJ Scholarship Foundation. "Does SJ Holdings ask you for your transcript?" "No, not exactly... but don't they quietly investigate you on the side? They're the ones paying." "They don't. I guarantee it." "How would you know?" I stroked my chin for a moment, studying her. It was about time I revealed my identity to Han Jae-yi. She had already proven herself, and she was destined to become an indispensable partner in my plans. "Senior, do you remember what I said when we won that competition?" "Where is this coming from...?" "I asked you to become someone I could trust with my work. I'm asking whether that offer still stands." At my grave question, Han Jae-yi was visibly flustered by the sudden shift in the weight of our conversation, but she nodded before long. "Of course. Why do you think I'm working myself to death? To keep up with a genius like you." "SJ Holdings is mine." "...What?" Han Jae-yi shot up out of her seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor behind her. Every eye in the café swung toward us at her outburst. I let out a small sigh and gestured. "Sit down. Don't go springing up like a jack-in-the-box." She awkwardly lowered herself back into her chair, glancing around at the stares, but her eyes stayed wide open like a startled rabbit's. "What... what does that mean? It's yours?" "Exactly what it sounds like. SJ Holdings is my personal company, and your scholarship comes out of my pocket—which is why I'm telling you there's no need to worry about anyone checking up on your grades." "So... back then, when you said you could arrange that scholarship for me... it wasn't a connection you were offering. It was you, directly." The look on Han Jae-yi's face was that of someone watching every puzzle piece finally click into place. The mystery of a high school junior casually linking her to a scholarship—and of receiving such extraordinary support with no strings attached—dissolved in that instant. At the same time, complicated emotions flickered across her fiercely proud face. "There's no need for wounded pride. Like I said, I need someone I can trust with my work, and this is a sound investment in the future." "..." "You must have a hundred questions. But I can't answer all of them right now—explaining everything would mean starting from the days when I was still in diapers. All I wanted to ask today was whether you still intended to become my person. And since I've heard your answer, I'm telling you." Han Jae-yi stared at me blankly for a while, then burst into a hollow laugh. "Wow... that's a lot to take in all at once." "I took on the risk by revealing who I am. If the wrong person finds out, I'm finished." Something shifted strangely in her expression. She was probably recalling the management succession wars in my family that she'd seen on the news, and piecing together why I'd had no choice but to hide my identity. And my age didn't exactly help. "Anyone else, I wouldn't believe it... but coming from you? Maybe I can. You're genuinely the smartest person I've ever met." "I'm glad that lands. Anyway, the reason I told you to study at only eighty percent is because there's something else you need to get out of university." "Something else I need to get?" "Yes. Connections." I thought back on my previous life as I spoke to her. "University is the launching point for your life's network. Yonhee in particular is where the inner circles that move this country have formed for decades, for centuries." "..." "That's what college is for. If you bury yourself in the library, you're throwing that ticket away." "You didn't even go to college, and here you are lecturing me—oh, wait, right, you're off to Korea National University, aren't you." She nodded, recalling my perfect score on the college entrance exam. Oh, for heaven's sake. I lived through all of this once already. Looks like I'll be doing the campus life I never had—again. "Anyway, senior, you need to get inside that network. Professors, upperclassmen, classmates, or even a bright junior—whatever it takes. Make the name Han Jae-yi known among the smart people there." "Make my name known..." "Yes. In the future, when you're helping me with my work, all of those people will become assets. And if there's anyone you think we need, tell me, and SJ Holdings will extend a scholarship to them too." She turned the word "network" over in her mouth. She was sharp enough to grasp its importance without further explanation. "And you said you had something to tell me about stocks, right?" When I asked, shifting the mood, she gave a start and pulled a folder out of her bag, sliding it across the table. Her personal investment portfolio. "I hit a 2,200 percent return." As I flipped through the documents, I couldn't believe my eyes. 2,200 percent. And here I'd thought I was pulling off insane returns with my cheat code—when a real monster sat right in front of me, outdoing my numbers. "You know Dongbang Textile?" "Of course." Dongbang Textile. A small, struggling regional textile company listed on KOSDAQ. Its stock, once trading in five-hundred-won pennies, had recently gone on a berserk rally and was now eyeing the ten-thousand-won mark. Anyone paying attention to the market knew the name. "You invested in that? That's a pretty risky play." "You're right. I got in early, when the rumor first started circulating that an American biotech venture, VGX, was looking for a backdoor listing target—and that it would be Dongbang Textile. I caught it almost at the very bottom." People remember this era's theme-stock frenzy for the stem cell craze, but in truth, it was a period of madness where anything with the word "bio" attached to it turned stones into gold. Which was how a random textile company, riding the biotech theme, soared even higher than the leading plays. "Are you holding on to it?" "No, I sold everything yesterday. Closed it out." "Oh? Why? Looks like it could keep climbing." "My instinct says it's a manipulation play. Why would an American biotech suddenly want a backdoor listing in Korea—in a textile company, of all things? And it's supposedly an AIDS vaccine theme. That just doesn't add up to me." I couldn't help but chuckle. By now she could sense instinctively when to buy and when to sell, without any advice from me. That talent for investing really doesn't go anywhere, does it? "Well done. That's exactly the point where greed gets people burned." We'd been talking shop for a good while when the café door swung open and a welcome voice rang out. "Seon-woo! Han Jae-yi, sunbaenim!" Our heads turned toward the door in unison. Lee Min-jae was walking in with a bright face. Today, as it happened, was the day the three of us from the mock investing competition had agreed to get together for the year's end. I'd called Han Jae-yi out a little early in order to reveal my identity to her. "Min-jae!" Han Jae-yi waved cheerfully and rose from her seat. "I'm the last one here. Sorry about that." "Don't be. We just got here ourselves. Perfect timing." I stood and gathered my coat. "Well, now that Min-jae's here, let's go. Dinner's on me tonight." We walked out of the café, laughing together. The winter wind stung my nose, but strangely, I didn't feel cold at all. And so, my nineteenth year—and the fierce second life I was living—drew toward its close, along with the year 2004.