Destiny
***
At the Yeonggwang Ilbo offices, President Jo Dong-uk and around forty reporters huddled around phones ringing off the hook. The fate of their newspaper was unfolding in real time. Some were too tense to even glance at the devices.
Jo reassured his staff, steadying their nerves. "It's fine. The auction should be starting right about now."
"President, what if Namdo takes it over? What happens to us?"
"That won't happen. Don't worry—just cheer for Athena in your hearts for now."
The silent office was shattered by a ringing phone. Jo picked it up with a grim expression.
"President, it's Hyun-cheol."
"Yeah, what's the situation?"
"Auction's underway, and Athena's holding strong. I'll keep you updated."
"Got it. Thanks for the hard work."
"Yes, sir."
No matter how explosive their scoop was, the opponent was the Namdo Group. Jo clutched his pounding chest, staring at the phone. Every minute, every second was agony.
How much time passed? Another call came in. Jo snatched the receiver.
"What happened?"
"Athena bid 2.5 billion."
"What? What the hell does that mean?"
"Wait, they said 3 billion? Hold on, I'll check. Something's off."
If bids kept climbing, Namdo's deep pockets gave them the edge. The reporters sighed and slumped, defeat looming.
"President, what do we do? This looks bad."
"It's not over yet. Wait."
Jo had once been a reporter at a major outlet. A few years in, irreconcilable differences arose with management. Every story he filed got killed by the desk. Protests fell on deaf ears—what could one reporter do? He even tied a bandana around his head and shouted, but it echoed into nothingness.
Feeling powerless, Jo chose the thorny path: uphold his journalistic integrity, even if it meant going hungry. He founded Yeonggwang Ilbo with like-minded juniors.
Idealism clashed with harsh reality. Every step was a bed of nails. Exhausted and battered, they never quit. But now, money woes forced them to the brink. He couldn't face the juniors who'd trusted him.
They clung to hope, but soaring bids spelled doom. Jo stood silently, head bowed. No words could comfort them. Sensing defeat, the reporters wiped away quiet tears.
It wasn't over yet. Jo clapped, rallying them. "Not done! Wait for the final result. If we go down, I'll blow the Namdo Chemical story wide open myself. No worries, got it?"
"Yes, sir..."
Silence returned. The phone rang again. Jo hesitated before answering. "I'm braced. Tell me the result."
"This is Lawyer Choi Jong-hoon."
"Ah, yes, Lawyer."
"Run the Namdo Chemical story now."
"What? Then who won the acquisition?"
"Proceeding as planned."
Jo scratched his head in confusion. "I heard it went over 3 billion. Doesn't that favor Namdo?"
"Namdo loses acquisition rights entirely."
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly that. This auction's a trap to mire Namdo."
"It's canceled? So Athena sole bidder?"
"Correct. Details later. Run the Namdo Chemical piece immediately. Time's short."
"Understood."
Jo pumped his fist skyward, roaring. "We won!! We won!!!"
-President, what do you mean?
-Suddenly we win?
"Let's do our job. Unleash the Namdo Chemical story. Let's hang it right on Han Du-hak's neck! Move!"
No love lost for Namdo here. The venomous reporters sprang into action.
***
At the Art Gallery auction house, Kang Min-ho's crisp voice filled the room.
"4 billion."
"4.5 billion."
"5 billion."
Humans adapt to constant shock. The auctioneer, now accustomed, skipped extra confirmations and raced ahead.
-Athena bids 5 billion. 5.05 billion to Namdo Chemical? Do you respond?
Han Du-hak, chairman of Namdo, was dazed, like a drunk stumbling into a pole—barely holding up his paddle.
-No paddle from Namdo means no bid. One minute to decide. Please consider carefully.
Han sweated bullets, hesitating. Forward was quicksand; retreat, ridicule.
Just then, Lawyer Choi returned from his call and nodded to Min-ho. Time to shove the cliff-hanger off the edge.
No response from Namdo, yet Min-ho bid again. "5.1 billion!"
-5.1 billion, now 5.15. Namdo, your decision?
If Han took this and Min-ho stopped, Namdo would be the fool buying a small paper for 5 billion. Defeat here meant eternal mockery for losing to a startup.
Han couldn't decide. Raise: trouble. Fold: disaster. Wiping sweat, he thought.
'That... kid. What's his game? Buy at 5 billion, and costs outweigh value. But pass, and the world laughs...'
Unlike flustered Han, Min-ho turned calmly. "Let me ease your dilemma."
Pagers on reporters' belts buzzed wildly—a sign of breaking news. Someone burst in.
-Namdo Chemical phenol leak just broke.
-What? Details!
-Tap water stench reports everywhere. Yeonggwang Ilbo dropped it. Evidence shows intentional discharge.
One disaster piled on another. Barely over one hill, a mountain loomed. It echoed Ryu Jae-seok's debut skit parodying the phenol milk incident.
The 1991 Nakdong River phenol spill was thus exposed by Min-ho.
Han frantically beckoned Executive Director Yang. "What the hell?"
"Sorry... Namdo Chemical story broke."
"You bastard, you're executive director—what good are you? Block it now! This auction first!"
"Too late, sir."
Han's nightmare was just beginning. The doors flew open; ten suited men stormed in with thudding footsteps.
"Seoul Central District Prosecutors' Office, Inspector Yi Hak-cheol. Come with us on the Namdo Chemical matter."
Han clutched his head, shaking in denial. If a dream, a nightmare. Reality was worse.
Min-ho, legs crossed leisurely, spoke. "May I explain? Commercial Act Article 634(2): Crime of granting unlawful benefits. Media execs punished with imprisonment or more forfeit shares—or equivalent value seized."
Staring Han down clearly, Min-ho continued. "In short, even victory means spitting it back up."
Kang Jin-gwang's words flashed: unbeatable foe. Han slammed his paddle down, crushing it, but powerless.
As Jin-gwang said, greed outpaced ability. Trembling with rage, Han bolted up. "You... all your doing, huh?"
"You hate long explanations, so short version: game's over."
"Think I'll sit? Wait and see."
"Rushing blindly causes this mess."
Min-ho tapped his temple, offering sincere advice. "Next time, size up your opponent."
Thrashing futilely against ten burly men, Han was led off like a hog to slaughter.
Two scoops here: Namdo Chemical scandal, Athena toppling a dinosaur. Reporters split—half chased Han, half swarmed Min-ho.
Sunglasses or not, exposure meant identity reveal. Hence, Art Gallery choice.
Gu Ung-jae, the rep, judged wisely and bellowed. "Block them! Block!"
Doors opened; staff rushed out, shielding Min-ho blindly, forming a scrum.
Reporters jostled for gaps—none found. Gu mediated. "Reporters, this hurts everyone. As I said, wait out back. Please."
-Any photo, Director Gu?
-How can you block such a moment?
"Sorry. Appreciate your understanding."
Han gone, auction halted. Simple resolution: sole bidder Min-ho's call seals it.
Choi handed documents to the auctioneer, explaining. Understanding, he grabbed the mic.
-Namdo disqualified. Only Athena remains.
-Starting bid 500 million. State 500 million or more to close.
Athena's grueling first acquisition neared end.
Min-ho raised his paddle. "1.1 billion."
Auctioneer nodded, calling thrice. -1.1 billion! 1.1 billion... 1.1 billion!! Yeonggwang Ilbo to Athena. Congratulations.
Min-ho, victory heaven-sent, stayed composed. Reporters, stunned like hammered, then charged anew.
-Your thoughts?
-Knew about Namdo Chemical?
-Feelings on acquiring Yeonggwang Ilbo?
Silent, Min-ho slipped out the back with Choi and Gu, staff blocking desperately.
The unprecedented auction drama curtain fell.
In the corridor to Gu's office, Min-ho handed over an envelope. "What's... this envelope?"
"Thanks for today. Take the staff out for a nice meal."
"No need. Art Gallery profited big—no charge."
"Please accept. Grateful for your care."
"Aigoo, an honor. We'll serve our best. To my office first."
As Min-ho stepped forward, someone dashed down the hall. Choi and Gu urgently shielded him.
The panting man: Yeonggwang Ilbo's Jo Dong-uk. Face streaked with tears and snot.
Bowing 90 degrees before Min-ho. "Truly... thank you. This grace—I'll never forget."
"You're busy—why come all this way?"
"No, I raced here by taxi on hearing the result. Words fail for this gratitude."
Min-ho wiped Jo's cheeks with a handkerchief, explaining calmly. "Yeonggwang Ilbo vanishes into history now."
"Pardon? What..."
"It'll become The Times. Move offices to Yeouido. Start now."
"R-Really?"
"Of course. Looking forward to working together."
"Thank you. Truly."
Now Min-ho's, Yeonggwang Ilbo rebrands as The Times for a fresh start. With this media cornerstone secured, Min-ho eyed his next leap.