The 30 Billion Stock Market Gambit
Kang Chairman couldn't have imagined his grandson Kang Min-ho asking to borrow not 3 billion, but a whopping 30 billion won—and for just six months. The hand grilling the meat had no choice but to stop. He lifted his head and gazed steadily at Min-ho. He'd considered every possibility, probing his own instincts, but nothing clicked. After placing a piece of meat on Min-ho's plate, he asked bluntly,
"Even your grandpa can't come up with a solution while tossing and turning all night, and you're saying there's a way to preserve all 300 billion intact?"
"Yes. Instead, lend me 30 billion for six months. Of course, I'll calculate and return the interest precisely."
"No more, no less—just six months is enough?"
"Yes, exactly six months."
"That much... You're talking about investing it somewhere..."
Kang Chairman handed the tongs to the butler holding them in his mouth and lit a cigarette. After exhaling a long plume of smoke, he continued.
"Others might not know, but your grandpa knows full well how extraordinary our grandson is. However, investing is no different from plunging your hand into murky waters where you don't know what you'll grab."
"I have the eyes to see through that murky water."
"I've lived long enough in this world to know there aren't many things I can declare with certainty. Confidence is good, but that's an amount beyond what you can handle."
Kang Chairman offered utterly pragmatic advice. He already fully recognized his grandson's brilliance. But given the six-month timeline and the sum involved, it was only natural he couldn't easily accept it. This reaction was well within Min-ho's expectations. If he backed down here, though, the hypermarket construction costs would be lost for good. After listening attentively to his grandfather, Min-ho replied,
"If I had a perfect investment plan, what would you do, Grandpa?"
"You're saying it won't fail...?"
"If there was no chance of success, I wouldn't have even brought it up."
"Confidence... Fine, I'll acknowledge your guts."
Mentioning 30 billion without batting an eye was astonishing enough, but he brimmed with confidence too. It felt like looking at his own younger self, and Kang Chairman let out a hearty laugh.
"Back when your grandpa was just your age, I went to a big shot and said the same thing. 'Lend me 30 million won.'"
"Did that big shot lend you the money?"
Kang Chairman nodded as he answered.
"'A kid with eyes like yours will succeed at anything. You're the first gutsy one to show up empty-handed, no collateral, begging for 30 million...' That's what he told your grandpa back then."
"Decades later, the same situation has come up. What choice will you make, Grandpa?"
"No matter what, I'd have to ask the important question. 30 billion... Alright, say your grandpa lends it. Where do you plan to invest?"
"You'd refuse if I don't answer, right?"
"Remember, you're not the one holding the key—your grandpa is..."
To Kang Chairman, 30 billion wasn't a difficult sum. But by saying this, he was essentially demanding Min-ho convince him. Once again, Min-ho exceeded his grandfather's expectations with a shocking response.
"I'll invest the entire 30 billion in the Korean stock market."
Kang Chairman couldn't hide his shock at Min-ho's absurd answer. Moon Sang-oh, who had been quietly grilling the meat, doubted his own ears and fixed his gaze on Min-ho. Why were these two so surprised? Of course, there was good reason.
In April 1989, the composite stock index had surpassed the historic 1,000-point mark. Fireworks exploded, and everyone thought the Korean stock market was entering a bed of roses. But at that optimistic peak, bad news struck. An endless ordeal began. Due to the bubble, excess stock supply, and economic downturn, the KOSPI had plummeted a staggering 45%, barely holding above the mid-500s. For over two years, stocks had fallen relentlessly day and night. Yeouido wailed with lamentations, forcing the government to pull out emergency market stabilization measures. It was the expansion of margin trading ratios—a shortsighted fix to merely douse the flames. Securities firms, blind to the self-inflicted wound, competed to extend margin loans. Pissing on frozen feet might stave off frostbite for a moment, but without moving to warmth, they'd freeze faster. Stocks briefly rose, then plunged again. Forced liquidations from client accounts strangled the firms' necks. Some even faced mergers. With the market in such dire straits, Kang Chairman and Moon Sang-oh's reactions were hardly unusual—especially for 300 billion, not a token amount. No matter how cherished the grandson, sinking that into stocks was incomprehensible. Kang Chairman asked calmly,
"You're seriously saying you'll put 30 billion into stocks, not joking?"
"You've always said not to joke about money matters, Grandpa."
"Even real estate or land isn't certain in this climate, and stocks...? Even waiting for the downtrend to end wouldn't be too late. Think it over calmly."
Min-ho nodded with a smile and revealed the core of his plan.
"What if I could move the Securities Market Stabilization Fund?"
***
The Securities Market Stabilization Fund—commonly called the Stabilization Fund. As the name implied, when the stock market crashed, financial authorities intervened like firefighters to put out the blaze. If the fund moved, market sentiment would rally on expectations alone, and the actual capital injection would stabilize prices. In late 1991, after its deployment, the KOSPI soared past 700 within six months, welcoming spring once more. With Athena Distribution's hypermarket construction demanding astronomical funds, this was an opportunity Min-ho couldn't miss. Moving the fund in reality would be complex, but to Kang Chairman right now, that was irrelevant. At his grandson's unimaginable declaration, Kang Chairman unwittingly dropped the cigarette from his hand. Moon Sang-oh stared blankly at Min-ho, oblivious to the burning meat. Silence blanketed the dining room until Kang Chairman's hearty laugh overflowed. He couldn't help but marvel at the grandson's colossal vision, unmatched by anyone. Beom-seong and Myeong-seon had racked their brains for a mere 20-30% recovery. Min-ho's approach was entirely different. As Kang Chairman had noted, he overlooked the entire board. Kang Chairman picked up the charred meat with his fingers and tossed it to the floor.
"Once meat's burned, it can never go back to how it was. But put fresh cuts on the grill, and the story changes entirely."
He wiped the juices from his hands with a napkin and continued.
"So, if the Stabilization Fund moves and stocks rise, you'll seize that chance?"
"Yes, Grandpa. An opportunity that won't come twice."
"And JK Securities pulls back margin loans in the gap, recovering most of the 30 billion—that's your calculation!"
"Not the full 30 billion, of course, but at least over 90%."
"Sweeping the yard and picking up money too?"
"And I won't just eat that money—I'll grow it further."
Now grasping Min-ho's plan, Kang Chairman nodded. One issue remained: to move the Stabilization Fund, they needed leverage over the Finance Minister. Even with leverage, no guarantee he'd dance to their tune perfectly.
"Setting up a meeting with that old drinking buddy from my big-shot days? Piece of cake. But to sway that stubborn mule, you'd need something huge."
"I wouldn't push without such a card."
"A card to shake Minister Choi Un-seung... Even your grandpa can't think of one offhand. Care to give a hint?"
"Sorry, but I can't say yet."
"You get your grandpa all fidgety like this and now play coy...? Can't just sit idle, then."
Kang Chairman pondered deeply while downing a shot. He stuffed a hunk of meat in his mouth, chewed crunchily, and spoke.
"If you won't open up, Min-ho, I can't make that meeting happen. This time, your grandpa needs to know what it is."
It was too early to tell Kang Chairman. Thinking he'd cornered Min-ho against a cliff, but the boy slipped away cleverly—threatening his grandfather in return.
"If I walk away now, who loses more?"
In truth, Min-ho needed this more, but showing weakness at the negotiation table meant surrendering everything. Kang Chairman couldn't help running the numbers on Min-ho's question. Sticking to the status quo meant recovering just the 30% Myeong-seon mentioned. Granting the request recovered most of the vanishing 30 billion. The answer was obvious. More than that, he was curious about Min-ho's card. Rather than breaking the boy's spirit, he chose to yield a step for his grandson.
"We'll do as our grandson wants. Just set up the meeting?"
"Yes, Grandpa. That's enough."
"But one promise in return. If it fails, you grant your grandpa's request. Fair trade, right?"
"Then I'll add one condition: Lend the funds the moment the Stabilization Fund is confirmed."
"No worries there. Gotta buy before the news hits... We've talked long enough. Eat up."
***
Back in the car heading to the chairman's office after the meal, Kang Chairman sat in the rear seat with a satisfied smile. Moon Sang-oh glanced at him via the rearview mirror and ventured a question.
"You seem in high spirits, Chairman."
"Very good, very good. Not your average bet."
"I never imagined he'd play the Stabilization Fund card."
"Isn't that thinking itself impressive? While Beom-seong and Myeong-seon haggle over bond recovery, he's aiming to reclaim it all..."
"Do you think Minister Choi will move as he wants?"
"Depends on what card Min-ho holds. But even if it fails, I won't hold him accountable."
Min-ho brought his grandfather joy—and always a pinch of worry. Unlike the kids playing house, he had every quality a successor needed. Anyone would back him. But grabbing his hand outright invited problems. Kang Chairman lowered the window and lit a cigarette. After a moment of silence, he spoke.
"In your view, where do you think Min-ho will use that investment money?"
Kang Chairman was already convinced of the investment. Like grandson, like grandfather—he was already plotting the next step. Moon Sang-oh pondered but couldn't read Min-ho's mind.
"Sorry, sir, nothing comes to mind. Impossible to predict his move."
"Same here. He's my flesh and blood, but feels like a nest of vipers lurks inside... When we arrive, call Minister Choi. Set up that meeting."
"Understood, Chairman."