The Taxi Driver's Big Catch and Canned Sikhye's Turning Point
A short while earlier, Kang Beom-seong had hopped into a taxi himself to scout the movements around JK Credit Info, taking pains to hide his identity. But by sheer bad luck, the driver happened to be Choi Im-woo, one of Gu Eun-chae's top informants. Even a fat, clumsy dog can catch a mouse if it backs up far enough. Through this stroke of pure coincidence, the information reached President Gu Eun-chae's ears. It was an unexpected whopper of a catch.
When the taxi hit a red light, she swiftly slid into the front passenger seat and unleashed a barrage of questions. "Tell me everything that happened that day. Don't leave out a single detail."
"Our president sure has a lot of interest in the JK Group, huh?"
"You've taken all the money you're gonna get—now you're getting cocky?"
"As if I'd do that."
"Whatever. Just spill it quick!"
The taxi driver, who had been dragging his feet, finally hit the accelerator and began his tale. "To sum it up, he rode for about ten minutes? Slapped a hundred thousand won in my hand and kept circling just around JK Credit Info."
"Nothing else?"
"Nope. He poked his head out the back window a bit, like he was snooping around."
"Didn't you ask why?"
"Hey, with a hundred grand in my pocket, that's days off work—who cares? I just did whatever he wanted."
"You sure about his looks?"
The driver nodded as he recalled the details. "Positive. Face was all tanned like he'd been to the Middle East, hair a little curly too."
With her head full of info on celebrities from all walks of life, even royalty, Gu Eun-chae could confirm it was Beom-seong without a doubt. The real question came next, though. Her mind filled with question marks. There was no reason for Beom-seong to spy on his own sister's company like that. Gu Eun-chae tilted her head in confusion.
Why would President Beom-seong hide his identity to snoop around when he hasn't done anything wrong?
No matter how she turned it over, it didn't make sense. She fired off more detailed questions. "Did the guy mutter to himself or did his pager go off or anything like that?"
"He was mumbling something under his breath."
"What'd he say?"
"Mumbled so low I couldn't catch it all, but I heard 'secretarial office' or something, and 'security surveillance' this and that."
Well-versed in the inner workings of the royal family, Gu Eun-chae pieced together the situation from just those keywords. Something's up with President Kang Myeong-seon, and the chairman's sent someone to watch? But then what about Min-ho?
The info was spotty, like Swiss cheese with gaps everywhere. It wasn't enough for the full picture. Still, one thing was crystal clear: silent gunfire echoing inside the JK Group.
If this ties into Min-ho hiding his own moves, it could be some pretty valuable intel.
She kept her cool and pressed on. "After a few loops, he just got out?"
"Dropped him at the curb, and he hopped right into a black sedan. That's all I remember."
"Yeah. Circling the same spot is weird enough, but having a car waiting nearby? That's no normal setup. Which door did he use? Driver's side?"
"Of course the driver's. But that guy—was he some big shot?"
"Nah, just curious."
She flashed a sly, lingering smile. "When the president asks this intently, there's gotta be something to it, right? You gonna tell me or what?"
"You know the rules when you work for me?"
"Yep. Don't dig for specifics, and sure as hell don't blab anywhere else. Got it."
Eun-chae pulled a check from her wallet and tucked it into his shirt cuff. "Bonus."
"You're feeling generous today."
"What you told me? Never breathe a word of it to anyone. I'm not kidding—you could end up dead. Got it?"
"Whoa, why so scary all of a sudden?"
She glanced in the side mirror at the road behind them. "Zip it and take a few days off. Stay the hell away from JK Credit Info."
"Am I in some kinda trouble?"
"Keep your mouth shut and... you should be fine. Probably."
With a satisfied smile, Eun-chae stepped out at Soseonjae and headed straight to her office. "A big fish swam right into the net... Now, where's Min-ho's pager number?"
She flipped through her notebook, found Kang Min-ho's pager number, and left a voice message. "Young Master Min-ho, it's me, Gu Eun-chae. Feels like we need to talk. Call me even if you're busy."
***
In Gwangju, Gyeonggi Province—Opo. Min-ho wrapped up his meeting and headed straight there. Yang Sang-pil, with no clue what the plan was, asked cautiously, "President, sorry, but why the sudden trip to Gwangju?"
"Did the canned sikhye and sujeonggwa thing sound like a joke?"
"It was just so out of the blue."
"There's exactly one factory in Korea making that stuff. That's where we're going."
"How do you even know about it?"
"Pure chance. Right up ahead—that building."
The factory was buzzing. Forklifts shuttled goods nonstop, and workers in coveralls focused intently on their tasks. Canned sikhye had been part of Min-ho's mart strategy from the start. Of course, it also made for a perfect cover story on the surface. His real motive was different: reuniting with a friend from his past life he'd never even said goodbye to.
Gong Cheong-ho from Korea University Law. He'd been Min-ho's classmate from elementary through college—practically a lifelong friend. Gong Cheong-ho had been hailed as a prodigy since childhood. Everyone swore he'd become a judge or prosecutor. Sadly, his life took a tragic turn.
No matter how brilliant, there was one wall even a genius couldn't scale easily: the judicial exam. Everyone expected him to pass early, but nine attempts all ended in failure. Then the IMF hit, and his father's factory shut down. Cut off from support, he scraped by on goshiwon rice and kimchi for his final shot. The tenth try went down in flames too. No money or will left to go on. Gong Cheong-ho made the worst choice possible in that coffin of a goshiwon.
The farewell to a friend without a single goodbye defied description. Min-ho had lived with a massive nail driven into his heart. He couldn't repeat the same mistake. There was still time to untie the knot.
"What brings you here?"
A forklift operator killed the engine and asked.
"From Athena Distribution. Could we see your president for a moment?"
"Huh? That A-Mart Athena Distribution?"
"Yes, that's us."
No one in distribution didn't know Athena's grip on the industry. The startled worker leaped from the forklift and bowed politely. "Oh man, sorry for the late greeting. I'm Section Chief Choi Tae-wook of production. President's inside. This way."
Guided inside, Min-ho's group reached the president's office. Choi knocked lightly and opened the door. There sat Gong Tae-han, his friend's father, poring over documents while on the phone.
He'd always been like a blood relative, a rock-solid pillar. Warm advice, a pat on the back in tough times, slipping an envelope into Min-ho's hand—that kind heart. Memories flooded back. Caught in a swirl of emotions, Min-ho stood frozen, uncharacteristically skipping even a greeting.
Noticing the odd vibe, President Yang quietly said, "President, what're you thinking so hard about?"
"Nothing. Just a bit tired."
Gong hung up, rose with a bright smile. "Sorry the call ran long with guests here. Forgive me."
"No, no—we showed up unannounced. Thanks for the welcome."
"I'm President Gong Tae-han. Mind if I ask where you're from?"
"Kang Min-ho from Athena Distribution. This is Yang Sang-pil and Choi Jong-hoon."
Athena Distribution was a heavyweight in the biz, no denying it. Gong hurriedly offered handshakes, bowing low. "Big players like you, and I didn't recognize you."
"It's fine, really."
"Have a seat here. Choi, coffee please."
Gong moistened his throat with steaming coffee and opened the conversation. "I thought it over—can't imagine why you'd seek out Baekje Beverages... Mind sharing the reason?"
Min-ho cut straight to it. "Here about a product not on the market yet."
"If it's pineapple juice, sorry, but give us two more weeks. Final stages, but needs a bit more time for sales."
Knowing even the exact timeline, Min-ho shook his head. "Not pineapple juice."
"That's all we're working on right now..."
"Canned sikhye and canned sujeonggwa. That's what I want."
Products developed in strict secrecy—known only to Gong and a handful in production. Hearing "canned sikhye" from Min-ho's lips left him stunned. "How... how do you know about that?"
The canned sikhye and sujeonggwa that rocked the summer of '93 were first created at Gong Tae-han's Baekje Beverages. They shattered the notion these were just special-occasion drinks—a true revolution in beverages. It looked headed for a happy ending, but things flipped fast.
Taesung Distribution sniffed it out quick, dangled a sweet deal, and Gong signed on the dotted line. No one saw the disaster coming. Instead of distributing Baekje's product, Taesung launched copycats. Consumers went wild—bigger hit than the original summer. Too late for lawsuits; beating a chaebol after they'd locked everything down was like an egg smashing a rock.
Baekje, unwilling to let a once-in-a-lifetime chance slip, fought endless court battles but lost. All they got back was crushing legal fees and the IMF tsunami. Baekje vanished into history's shadows. Gong Tae-han withered away from illness, and his exam-prepping son met a tragic end.
He was one of the few who'd warmly embraced Min-ho, bouncing between relatives on handouts. Min-ho had to stop them from that path to ruin. It was the only way to save his friend.
"Only five of us know about the canned sikhye development, me included. How'd you find out?"
"Shouldn't you be wondering why I'm here instead?"
Gong stared silently at Min-ho, then spoke. "Those deep eyes tell me you've got something up your sleeve. Name your wish."
Min-ho extended his hand, and Choi the lawyer handed over the prepared documents with a bow. He passed the pen and papers, saying, "I'd like exclusive contracts for canned sikhye and sujeonggwa with Athena Distribution."
To rewrite their fate, Min-ho played every card he had. All that remained was Gong Tae-han's choice.