Barcelona
***
In Barcelona, Spain, Chairman Kang emerged from the airport hand in hand with Min-ho. Though the long-haul flight had clearly worn him out, his face shone brighter than ever.
"Grandpa, you must be exhausted."
"This old man is fine. To see such brilliant sunshine after coming all this way—what a reward for the trouble."
"You're tired, so let me take you straight to the hotel."
"Yes, that sounds best."
Confirming his grandfather's wishes, Min-ho turned to check for the car, but the vehicle that was supposed to be ready was nowhere in sight.
"Butler Moon, what's going on with the car?"
"It seems there's been an unexpected delay. I'll take the interpreter and go find out."
"Grandpa didn't touch his in-flight meal because he didn't like it. Please hurry."
"Understood."
Butler Moon left with the interpreter, but he soon came rushing back, his face uncharacteristically flustered.
"Chairman, I'm sorry. They say construction on the road is holding them up a bit."
This was the kind of thing that would never happen in Korea. Contrary to expectations that the weary chairman would erupt in anger, he instead offered a gentle smile and patted Butler Moon reassuringly.
"Coming to a foreign land, there's so much to see. Even seeing your flustered face, Sang-oh."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"This is another country, after all. There's not much we can do about it. We'll just wait patiently—they'll arrive before sunset, won't they?"
Chairman Kang tossed out the casual comfort and promptly plopped down on the nearby flower bed.
Butler Moon wasn't the only one shocked by the unimaginable sight. Min-ho jumped in surprise and quickly pulled out a handkerchief.
"Grandpa, at least let me spread this for you."
"A little dirt won't kill this old man. You're tired too—sit down already."
"Yes, Grandpa."
As Min-ho sat beside him, his grandfather stroked his hair with loving eyes. Worried his grandson might get bored, he began sharing old tales dusted with faint white powder from the ground.
"Truth be told, this is my first trip abroad."
"Really? So the plane was new for you too?"
"I flew to Jeju a few times before, but nothing this long."
"Why didn't you ever go overseas? Were you too busy?"
As expected, Min-ho reacted just as Chairman Kang hoped, drawing a sly smile from him.
"Just thirteen years ago, no one under fifty could leave the country. The age limit dropped over time, but they still made you take ideological training because they worried about spies."
"So unless it was for business or studying abroad, it was impossible?"
"Exactly. Back then, you even had to deposit two million won just to board a plane. That's nearly a section chief's annual salary."
"I was shocked to hear this is your first time abroad, Grandpa."
"If I really pushed for it, I could've gone somehow, but there was no need to go that far. Being able to travel freely like this is still a recent thing."
Min-ho listened intently. Sweat beaded on Chairman Kang's forehead in the sweltering summer heat. He fanned himself vigorously with the fan in his hand. The breeze from his grandson's fanning was more refreshing than words could describe, bringing a satisfied smile to his face.
"My boy, your arm must be getting tired. That's enough."
"European summers are like Korea's—brutally hot. This is the least I can do for your first time abroad. How is it so far?"
"The warm sunshine is nice, and all these new buildings and blond-haired folks—everything's a wonder."
"We've got a few days, so let's eat all the good food and make sure to watch Hwang Young-ho win his gold medal."
"Yes, let's do that."
Just then, several sedans pulled up. Black-suited security personnel rushed forward and bowed to Chairman Kang.
"Sorry for the delay."
"No need for apologies—life happens. Let's get moving first."
"Yes, sir. We'll take you to the hotel."
***
At the hotel, Chairman Kang's spending was beyond what ordinary people could imagine. He didn't just book rooms—he rented the entire place for a week, complete with chefs flown in from Korea.
Word of his arrival had the hotel staff and the JK Group secretaries who had arrived locally lined up in welcome. As he stepped out of the car, they all bowed deeply.
Protocol meant little to him. From the moment he exited the vehicle, his gaze was fixed on the hotel entrance.
What had captured Chairman Kang's attention so completely? At the end of his stare stood an elderly man with snow-white hair, slowly making his way out with staff assistance.
This man had once commanded the world, making his name known everywhere. Yet he felt no pride or joy—only deep shame at the flag on his chest. He pulled the laurel wreath down over his face and hoisted the sapling award to hide the flag, bowing his head in humiliation. That was all a young man could do.
Son Ki-jeong, gold medalist at the 1936 Berlin Olympics. He was emerging slowly.
Spotting Chairman Kang, he broke into a radiant smile. Even Kang Jin-gwang, who bowed to no one, couldn't help but show respect. He bowed deeply and greeted him politely.
"It's an honor to meet you. I'm Kang Jin-gwang."
"For someone of your stature to bow to a humble man like me—no need for that."
Chairman Kang straightened and grasped Son Ki-jeong's hand firmly.
"I've made arrangements to ensure your comfort. How have things been?"
"More than I could ask for. Korean food in this far-off place, a good bed to sleep in—it's like a dream."
"I've had so many questions for you, sir. Shall we share a meal and talk?"
"Yes, let's."
The group moved to the table, where Korean dishes awaited. Before digging in, Chairman Kang introduced Min-ho.
"Sir, this is my grandson, Min-ho."
Min-ho had never met Son Ki-jeong in person—only seen him in textbooks, history books, and museums. Meeting a man whose life was history filled his chest with emotion. He stood and bowed respectfully.
"I'm Kang Min-ho. It's an honor."
"I... went to the Olympics at your age... Feels like yesterday, but time flies... Glad to meet you. Sit, make yourself comfortable."
"Yes, sir."
As Son Ki-jeong picked up his spoon, the group began eating. Chairman Kang, concerned the food might not suit him, asked carefully.
"Sir, how is the food?"
"To complain would be rude—it's perfect."
"I'm relieved. I brought our best chefs, but I worried it might not be to your taste."
"Now it's my turn to thank you."
"What for?"
Son Ki-jeong set down his spoon and began.
"I've heard so much about you from Young-ho. Without your support, he might not have made it here."
"Nonsense. People think companies just chase money, but they're wrong. JK Group wouldn't be here without the people."
"Well said. Indeed."
"Helping the weak is one thing, but supporting talented young people is a company's duty."
Son Ki-jeong couldn't help worrying about his juniors. Now seeming at ease, he shared more.
"When Namdo Group pulled funding amid their troubles, I lost sleep over it."
"No need to worry. I'll back you solidly from here on."
"As his senior, I thank you sincerely."
Chairman Kang beamed with the same satisfaction. His favoritism knew no bounds, even here.
"Everything you just heard? My grandson Min-ho advised it all."
"Not you, Chairman, but Min-ho?"
"I just followed his advice. The specifics, even hosting you, sir—all from his brilliant mind."
Stunned by the revelation, Son Ki-jeong stood and offered Min-ho a handshake.
"No wonder your eyes gleam with such sharpness... I should have greeted you first, not the chairman."
"No, sir."
"So humble too... Chairman, you must feel full without eating."
Chairman Kang threw his head back in laughter.
"You bet. Just watching him fills me to bursting."
The hero of the Barcelona Olympics marathon gold was Hwang Young-ho. Only Min-ho knew it yet. He ventured carefully.
"Do you think Hwang Young-ho can take gold tomorrow?"
Son Ki-jeong hesitated, then nodded.
"Living this long, sometimes you believe in fate... Tomorrow marks exactly fifty-six years since I won mine."
"A sad history, but true."
"Humiliating... The world watching, so shameful... But tomorrow, Young-ho running proudly in the Taegeukgi and JK Group gear? No coincidence."
"If it's fate, he must win."
"That's why I'm here. Thanks to you, Chairman, and our young genius Min-ho."
As Son Ki-jeong said, it was a fateful day. Different place, same date—Hwang Young-ho would claim his gold proudly.
After a sip of water, Son Ki-jeong spoke.
"Sorry if I've dampened the mood. Want a fun story?"
"Yes, sir. About that person?"
"Right. Probably the only Joseon man to meet him. Can't speak freely, though—he's history's villain."
"What was he like in person?"
The only Korean to meet Hitler, Son Ki-jeong dredged up the memory.
"Taller than me by a head, hands rough like a laborer."
"Any racism? Did he treat you well?"
"I worried, but it wasn't bad. Felt bold, even. Still a monster, of course."
Chairman Kang nodded, and the waiter brought wine, filling glasses before retreating.
"Sir, we've done all we can. Now we just watch from the stadium tomorrow."
"My heart's already racing."
"A toast to you and Hwang Young-ho, then."
Chairman Kang nodded, and Butler Moon signaled. All the restaurant staff emerged, glasses raised high.
"Sir, a word?"
Son Ki-jeong bellowed.
"For Hwang Young-ho!"
"Cheers!"
All was set. Fate's day dawned. Min-ho headed to Montjuïc Stadium, hands clasped tightly with Son Ki-jeong and Chairman Kang.