Two Years, and the First Tremor
“Will today be one where Director Choi and I may escort you?”
Two months later, June 2005.
It had been a hectic two months. I finished my first semester of university, applied for my military leave of absence, and the days blurred past in a scramble to tie up every loose end. And today was the day I reported to boot camp.
I was on my way to Pohang in a car driven by Jung Tae-sung, with Choi Sung-hoon riding shotgun.
“Yes, well—I told my family I was heading out with friends, more or less.”
At my words, Jung Tae-sung gave me a puzzled look in the rearview mirror. His expression clearly asked: did that actually work?
“It wasn't easy. My mother and my sister insisted on seeing me off today, all the way to the end. But if they had, it would've only made things harder for me.”
“Harder in what way? When I enlisted, my entire family came to see me off. I'm the eldest grandson, you see—my grandmother came too.”
Choi Sung-hoon's remark from the passenger seat drew a wry laugh out of me.
“I'm not bragging, but you know my position. I'm part of a chaebol family. My mother is the chairman of the group, after all.”
“Ah. I understand exactly what you mean. The eyes around you would be…”
I nodded. In my previous life, when I'd reported to boot camp with my mother and sister in tow, the camp commander himself had come out to personally greet her. One star is still a star, no matter how humble. The moment her rank showed, soldiers swarmed from every corner to escort her with full ceremonial deference.
And it didn't stop at the gate. Wherever I went during my service, the high-ranking brass kept fawning over me, and military life became an ordeal. My fellow trainees kept their distance, and even my superiors tiptoed around me. I know it sounds like a rich man's complaint—but comfortable was, in fact, anything but comfortable.
“So that's why…”
“Yes. It's part of why I chose the Marine Corps. Something about that place felt like it would be different.”
In my previous life, I had quietly enlisted in the Army. This time, I was volunteering for the Marines for exactly that reason. I'd heard that the Marines treated everyone the same, whatever they'd done in civilian life. Whether it was truly so I couldn't say—but I figured it had to beat the Army.
“The batch you're entering, sir, is reportedly the 1,000th. Doesn't that make it something of a monumental one?”
I let out a small laugh at Choi Sung-hoon's comment. It hadn't been intentional, but it was, indeed, a monumental class—just as he said.
“Might I ask why you're leaving so early, sir?”
Jung Tae-sung posed the question carefully, hands steady on the wheel. I had told him long ago that he was free to ask whatever he was curious about, and by now we shared our thoughts and questions openly.
“I judged this year to be the right time.”
At my words, both men's attention sharpened.
“My mother and everyone around me said I should finish at least two years of school first. But I'm not someone who's just here to attend classes.”
“…….”
“Everything is about to change fast. China's recent rise, the shifting industrial landscape—this is exactly the transitional period. I decided that the service I'd have to do regardless was best done now, in the middle of it.”
Two years from now would be 2007. I remembered 2007 as the year everything changed. That was when the subprime mortgage crisis—epitomized by the collapse of Lehman Brothers—would erupt in the United States and bring the financial system crashing down. The crisis would spread into the real economy, ushering the entire world into the doorway of a decade-and-more era of low growth and low interest rates. 2007 was that threshold.
To be ready for it, I had to enlist now. Waiting out the crisis for two years after it hit would cost me too much.
“And two years from now, everything I've set in motion should be settling into place, shouldn't it?”
Shinhwa Weltech, Synapse Robotics, Han Jae-yi—rather than launching anything new, this was the season to step away and let what I'd built take root. Whichever way I looked at it, this was the optimal window for my enlistment.
“So that's why you called for me today as well.”
At Choi Sung-hoon's words, I nodded.
“Yes. How is the founding of the security company coming along?”
“Thanks to your and Director Jung's full support, it's progressing steadily. Recently I gathered men from the UDT and the police SWAT units and put them through training with professional bodyguards.”
“And the office building?”
“That's the problem. Since most of the facilities we'll be guarding are in Ulsan, I'm not convinced it makes sense to lease an office in Seoul…”
Choi Sung-hoon seemed genuinely torn. It felt like the right moment for me to point him in a direction.
“Don't build anything grand. Seoul is where you gather information, so make that office for your informants plus a cyber-defense team. Put the facility-security team in Ulsan. That's the right structure for now. Later, I'll see to it that you get a proper unified headquarters.”
“Understood, sir.”
“While I'm away, SJ Security will establish itself, won't it?”
“Absolutely. I'll make certain of it.”
“Then I'll leave it to you in trust—CEO Choi. Or should I say, Section Chief Choi no longer.”
At my words, Choi Sung-hoon lowered his head, meeting my eyes through the rearview mirror.
“You took me in when I'd been cast out of Bukchon with nowhere to go. I intend to prove my worth.”
His face was resolute. It was a heavy kind of trust to carry, but somehow, it didn't feel bad at all.
We talked on for a long while, and before I knew it, the car had crossed into Pohang. A little farther on, a place with a red sign came into view to welcome us.
“We'll come in with you.”
“Ah, no need. I'm not a child. I'll go in alone. You two head back to Seoul and each take care of what's yours.”
I stopped halfway out the door and looked at Jung Tae-sung.
“Director Jung.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I'm trusting you with it all.”
“I'll come report to you often.”
I wanted to tell him that wasn't necessary, but one look at Jung Tae-sung's face told me that arguing would only cause trouble, so I simply nodded with a smile.
“Then I'm off.”
Leaving the two men behind, I stepped out of the car and looked straight ahead. At the entrance loomed a massive sign—gold lettering on a field of red.
THE MARINE CORPS BEGINS HERE
Whoa. That's… intimidating. Did I really pick this place for a reason?
I let the thought sit for a moment, then drew a long, deep breath and started walking.
Right. If I'm doing this, I'm doing it properly.
“Our two-year cumulative return is 17.78%. Isn't that respectable enough?”
Summer, 2007. The Ribbon Capital office in Gwanak-gu.
Jung Tae-sung sat on the sofa, talking with Han Jae-yi across from him.
“No. Not even close.”
Han Jae-yi raked her hands through her hair, her voice edged with self-reproach. The Bloomberg terminal glowed on her desk, its array of monitors packed tight with charts and news feeds.
“There was so much money to be made this year. I missed the smartphone launch, and I missed the oil rally. All I managed was riding the raw-materials stocks on the China boom. Just look at how the Dow and the S&P 500 ran from January through June—”
“Hahaha, as far as I know, no asset manager or fund of any standing cleared an 18 percent return in only their second year. Perhaps you could be a little more—”
“I have to earn my keep, don't I? I got a scholarship through four years of college, and I'm drawing a salary on top of that. This isn't enough.”
Fatigue was written across Han Jae-yi's face. For two years she had buried herself in the American markets, living with her nights and days flipped. It had felt hopeless at first, but now she was starting to develop a feel for it.
And that was exactly what made it sting. She had clearly seen the opportunities—and missed so many of them for lack of conviction.
“I'd say you're doing quite well.”
As the two were deep in conversation, a familiar voice cut in. They turned their heads at the same moment.
At the entrance stood a man with a short-cropped military haircut. His face was far more weathered than two years ago, and his shoulders looked broader.
“Sir, you're here. Congratulations on your discharge.”
Jung Tae-sung rose from his seat and bowed.
“Hey—you… you!”
Han Jae-yi shot to her feet, eyes wide, her face a tangle of delight and disbelief.
“As for Shinhwa Weltech—as I reported last time, once the JV was formally established we moved into full production. We're at the yield-tuning stage now, and per CEO Park Jin-hyuk's report, the outlook is positive.”
Seated at my desk, I worked through the backlog of briefings from Jung Tae-sung.
“The yields are holding up well, I take it?”
“Yes, sir. The technology Shinhwa Weltech already possessed had been dragging yields down at certain process steps, but with guidance from the engineers who joined from Shinei, they've managed to lift them back up.”
“That's a relief.”
A good omen. The whole point of the joint venture with Shinei had been their ultra-pure raw materials and technical expertise, after all.
“We've solved our problem—now it's our turn to help solve Shinei's.”
“As it happens, CEO Hong of Shinhwa Weltech is already in contact with semiconductor companies. He's outstanding on the management and sales side, so expectations are high.”
“He doesn't need to chase the big Tier-1 names right away. Reaching out to mid-sized and small analog semiconductor makers is a perfectly good way to start.”
“Understood. I'll pass that along.”
I nodded and turned to the next page of the report.
“And Synapse Robotics has entered full research.”
“Yes, sir. I relayed your instructions word for word.”
I had told Seo Min-seung of Synapse Robotics to focus entirely on research—there was no need to chase results immediately. It was my way of saying: don't think about the money you aren't making. If a company fixates on red ink, it ends up building robot arms that turn a quick profit but didn't need building, and the research simply stretches out longer.
“Lastly, SJ Security is gathering intelligence daily, running facility security for the Ulsan companies, and providing close protection for Ms. Jae-yi here and our other key personnel.”
At that, I turned my head toward Han Jae-yi.
“Whoa. Careful, senior—laser beams are about to come out of your eyes.”
Han Jae-yi was glaring daggers at me.
“Hey. How could you go on leave—not once, but every single time—and not send even one text to me or Min-jae?”
The truth was, across two years of military service, I hadn't contacted Han Jae-yi or Lee Min-jae once, even while on leave. And she was clearly fuming about it.
“If I'd contacted you, I wouldn't have been able to see what you're capable of.”
“What?”
“I had faith you'd do well on your own.”
“…If you can't talk, at least don't be annoying about it.”
I meant it. If I'd reached out, I knew I wouldn't have been able to resist dropping hints. Watching someone who had become truly mine struggle through hardship—even if she wanted it that way—was more than I could have borne.
“And honestly, senior, you've been doing really well. I didn't expect returns approaching 18 percent.”
“You're making fun of me.”
“Not at all. I mean it.”
I looked down at the trade log written on her documents.
“An ability to read the macro at this level is genuinely impressive. Missing the oil rally was a bit of a shame, though.”
“…You're right. I saw the China raw-materials boom and thought oil would climb, but I couldn't actually pull the trigger. My execution is still lacking. And I never caught the smartphone, either.”
A laugh escaped me despite myself.
“What's so funny?”
“Just that you read the situation so clearly. Isn't that where growth starts? As for the smartphone launch—without inside information, nobody could have known. How would anyone have seen it coming?”
Days earlier, Apple had unveiled the iPhone and stunned the entire world. A phone with a touchscreen. One device to browse the internet, play music, and take photographs. People doubted it was even possible—until Steve Jobs demonstrated it live on stage, and every mouth in the room fell silent.
It was the moment the world changed. But only someone intimately familiar with Apple's internals could have known in advance—and invested accordingly.
“Regardless—growing the managed assets by 18 percent is a job well done. So stop beating yourself up. Director Jung.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What was the performance bonus set at?”
“Three percent of net gains, sir.”
“Let's see. 113.3 billion grew to 133.5 billion won… so the bonus comes to 606 million won. Pay it out in full.”
Han Jae-yi's eyes went round.
“Hey, what—”
“A contract is a contract. Beat it again next year with even higher returns. Drain my wallet dry for all I care.”
At that, Han Jae-yi smiled for the first time since I'd walked in.
“And starting tomorrow, I'll be back at work. So once today's market opens, liquidate the entire portfolio.”
“Liquidate the portfolio? The raw-materials exports to China are red-hot right now, everyone's scrambling to—”
“Did you check the noise coming out of Bear Stearns?”
Bear Stearns was one of America's five great investment banks.
“Ah—I heard something about a liquidity crunch, but it seemed fine? The New York Fed looked like it was stepping in quickly.”
“That's the beginning.”
“What?”
“The noise coming out of Bear Stearns right now isn't going to fade easily. Investment banks will start collapsing in a chain reaction.”
“What are you talking about? A bank that size—you're saying the US would just let it die?”
This was the moment the liquidity crisis at Bear Stearns had begun. And starting with Bear Stearns, the derivatives tied to subprime mortgages—home loans to low-credit borrowers—would detonate one after another, setting off the financial catastrophe the whole world would come to know. The bankruptcy of Lehman Brothers. The fire sale of Merrill Lynch. The bailout of AIG.
It was the overture to the great calamity that would shake the global economy to its foundations.
“Don't put too much faith in the idea that America is too big to fail. Because even if the US wants to save them, the too-big will die all on their own.”
At my words, Han Jae-yi and Jung Tae-sung froze in identical shock.