The Chairman's Gift

I was at the workshop that morning, getting the machines up and running, when footsteps suddenly echoed from somewhere outside.

"Mr. Kang. You in there?"

A moment later, the owner of those footsteps appeared in the doorway. It was none other than Chairman Jung Tae-geun.

"Ah. You're the gentleman who visited last time… Chairman Jung Tae-geun, yes?"

"That's right. So you remember."

Mr. Kang, though?

I was sure of it. Just now, when he'd called for me, he'd said Mr. Kang. Compared to last time's "this fellow" and "you there," it was a world of difference.

He cleared his throat, then offered me both his thanks and an apology.

"Ahem… Mr. Kang. I'm truly sorry about last time. It was acute glaucoma, they told me. Thanks to you, I nearly spent my twilight years in misery—but I made it."

"Is that true? Then you've already been treated?"

"I have. Fortunately it was caught early, so a simple laser procedure took care of it. The doctor said if I'd been even a little later, it could have been genuinely dangerous."

"I'm very glad to hear that."

Chairman Jung apologized once more.

"The things I said last time—I really am sorry. I'll admit, hearing something like that out of nowhere threw me. But it wasn't only that. Even before I got here, I had this feeling you were stealing the spotlight that ought to have been Jae-hak's, and I didn't like it. That's part of why I reacted the way I did."

Ah… so that's why there'd been a hint of hostility last time.

Put that way, I could understand it well enough.

"It's all right. I understand. As a father, of course you'd want your son to get a little more of the attention."

"I appreciate you taking it that way."

"I told Jae-hak the same thing, actually. Whether it's a golf club or a kitchen knife, if the person using it doesn't have the skill, then it doesn't matter how brilliantly I make the thing—it's useless."

I picked up the golf club I'd finished the day before and held it out so he could see it.

"Take this club, for example. If I were the one holding it, it wouldn't do a bit of good, because I can't play golf. Everything I make just helps the user get the most out of what they already have. Jae-hak won because his own ability was enough."

There wasn't a shred of falsehood in what I'd said. No matter how fine an object might be, if the person using it couldn't use it properly, the thing was worthless.

"Ahem… is that so. Hearing you put it that way, I'm genuinely grateful."

The look on Chairman Jung's face grew considerably warmer than it had been a moment ago.

"Anyway. That truck outside—is that yours?"

"Yes, that's my truck. Why do you ask?"

He didn't answer. He just asked another question.

"Then besides the truck, do you have a car you drive around in?"

"No. I commute in that truck."

"Good. That works out well. Choi, bring it here."

At the chairman's word, Director Choi stepped forward from behind him and held out a small box.

"What is this, Chairman?"

"Open it."

I eased the lid up with care. Inside the box was a car key.

"Th-this is…"

The key he'd handed me bore a winged emblem, with the word GENESIS stamped across the center.

"Not my taste, personally, but young people seem to like this car. Think of it as payment for keeping me from going blind, and take it."

This is way too expensive…

The price on this car, from what I knew, was somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars. Even if it was true that a few words from me had saved Chairman Jung Tae-geun's eyesight, a car like this was wildly excessive for a single remark.

"Chairman. This is far too much for a college student like me. All I did was tell you to go to the hospital…"

I tried to hand the key back, but he waved me off.

"That's enough. I bought the car to give to you, Mr. Kang. I don't care for that sort of vehicle myself. And this isn't coming from just anyone. This is Jung Tae-geun, paying you for letting this old man spend his remaining years in peace."

"……Chairman."

I don't think I have a choice.

I'd meant to turn it down, but if he was going to come at it like that, keeping up a stubborn refusal wasn't the right thing to do either.

And… honestly, I wanted it.

I slipped the key into my pocket and bowed my head in thanks.

"It would be rude to keep refusing. I'll accept it gratefully."

"Good. One of my people will come by later to handle the title transfer and the taxes, so you don't need to worry about any of that."

A Genesis. If this was the payoff for getting chewed out for speaking my mind that day, it had been well worth it.

"Ah—but what was that you said a moment ago?"

"Pardon?"

"Just now. You said you were a college student, didn't you? Is that true?"

The question was painfully familiar. It wasn't the first time, or even the second, so I pulled my student ID from my wallet and held it out.

"It is. I'm a fourth-year in the Department of Materials Science and Engineering at Hanbit University."

"What…?"

Chairman Jung's face changed as if he'd just seen a ghost.

That's a little hurtful, actually…

"Do I really look that old?"

"No… it isn't that. You look about the age you are. But after experiencing your insight firsthand, hearing that you're a college student is giving me a serious case of cognitive dissonance."

He glanced at my student ID again, then looked back at me.

"Fourth year, so you'd be preparing for job applications about now… or rather, I suppose you wouldn't. Your friends must be in the thick of the job hunt, no? Not a worry you have to carry, I imagine."

The conversation had suddenly taken on the flavor of a holiday lecture from a well-meaning relative.

"Yes. Just the other day a friend of mine applied to Daesan Chemical, failed the resume screening, and took it pretty hard. Watching that, I was grateful I'd settled on a path of my own so early."

It was an offhand remark, just something to keep the conversation going. But when Chairman Jung heard it, he started.

"What? Failed the resume screening? A Hanbit University student? Was his GPA that bad?"

"No… my GPA's a complete disaster, but his is actually pretty solid."

"Is that so… Hmm."

Chairman Jung called Director Choi over and whispered something to him.

"Yes, sir. I'll look into it right away."

Director Choi stepped out of the workshop to make a call.

What's this about? Don't tell me…

I couldn't be sure, but I had a feeling this was the kind of thing that would have Se-hyun treating me to a very expensive dinner.

"I still can't believe it. You look this young on the outside, Mr. Kang, but on the inside you feel like a grizzled veteran of a hundred battles."

"You're too kind."

Chairman Jung sat down, as if his legs were bothering him, and asked me a question.

"Well. Enough of that. Today's a commission day, isn't it?"

"Ah, yes. Did you have something you'd like to request?"

I pulled out my notebook and pen at once.

"As I mentioned last time, I'd like a pair of glasses frames made. Of course, after the surgery, they don't slip down the way they used to. Even so, I keep finding myself wanting to try on a pair of frames you've made. Would that be possible?"

"Of course. Did you have a particular direction in mind?"

He thought for a moment, then laid out what he wanted.

"Well… for one thing, I'd like them light. Light enough that I forget I'm wearing them. Of course, light alone won't do—they have to be sturdy. Ah, and above all, they mustn't slip down when I'm reading or looking at my phone."

Light, sturdy, and they don't slide off the face…

It sounded demanding, but in truth those were the three things nearly every frames manufacturer in the business was chasing. How completely you could realize those three qualities was what determined the value of a pair of frames.

Light and sturdy…

That was the most important condition of this commission. On a normal day, I could have finished the work in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠single afternoon. But to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠make a frame that was truly, perfectly light and strong, I needed a material I didn't currently have in the workshop.

"Understood. The work will probably take about a week."

"A week? That's rather a while. Are you backed up?"

"Ah, it isn't that. One of the materials I need for the frames alloy is just a little hard to come by. It's not impossible to get—it would just take some time to track down."

"Is that so? What is it that's so difficult to find?"

"Yttrium. To keep the frames light, the main component has to be magnesium, but magnesium corrodes easily from sweat. Yttrium prevents that."

"Yttrium… yttrium…"

He repeated the word a few times, then pulled out his phone and made a call.

What just happened…

The whole thing had unfolded so suddenly I could barely make sense of it. Chairman Jung, however, hung up as if it were nothing at all and turned back to me.

"That material you mentioned should be here within the hour."

"……"

So this is the power of a conglomerate chairman.

Watching him procure a fairly hard-to-find material in under an hour, I was reminded that a chaebol was a chaebol, no matter where they sat in the business rankings.

Must be nice being rich.

"In that case, would two days be enough?"

I shook my head.

"No. One day will do. You can come pick them up this evening. Or I could have them sent to your residence, if you'd prefer."

"No need. I'll come by this evening myself."

With the conversation apparently finished, he rose from his chair.

"Then I'll see you later. I'll be looking forward to it."

I answered with a face full of confidence.

True to the chairman's word, the yttrium arrived from the Daesan Chemical Research Institute in well under an hour.

The moment I had it in hand, I started getting ready to work. I had nothing else on the docket, so time ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wasn't an issue. Still—the man had given me a car that expensive. The least I could do was put a little extra care into this.

Alloy composition first.

The alloy I'd used for the golf club last time wouldn't suit a pair of glasses frames. I needed to build a new ratio from scratch.

I started by designing the composition for the frames themselves, leaving the nose pads aside.

"Magnesium as the base… then zirconium, scandium, palladium, and finally yttrium to stop the corrosion."

I wrote the ratios up on the whiteboard and pulled every material I needed. Then I fired up the small electric furnace and poured every ounce of sensation I had into my fingertips. In alloy work, a difference of 0.01 percent was all it took to separate a masterpiece from a failure.

The roaring flames were mesmerizing, as if they might swallow anything they touched. I couldn't afford to let them. If I lost myself in that fire, I wouldn't get the blend right.

Focus.

One by one I melted the materials down and folded them together, building the alloy that would become the finest pair of frames I could make. Beads of sweat gathered along my forehead.

"Hah…"

Magnesium, zirconium, scandium, and palladium went in first. Last of all, I folded in the 2.47 percent of yttrium that would keep the corrosion at bay.

"Done."

It was perfect. Not a 0.01 percent of error—a flawless composition. What sat cooling before me was, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠without question, the finest glasses-frame alloy the world had ever seen.