The Youngest Son of the Hanjeong Group (4)
I left Ju Hyeon-jin behind and stepped out of the room.
Park Myung-hoon followed me out and said, “It would’ve been easier for both of us if you’d just apologized on the spot and left it there.”
“Why would I apologize when I didn’t do anything wrong?”
“Apologies aren’t something the guilty offer to the innocent.”
“Then who are they for?”
Park Myung-hoon gave a faint, self-mocking smile. “For the powerless, when they’re standing in front of the powerful.”
I let out a short laugh. “That’s funny.”
“I’m saying this for your own sake. You should apologize as soon as possible. You need to think about your family, too.”
So my family was being used as leverage?
That was an awfully convenient method.
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and held out an envelope. “Use this for your cab fare. And it’d be better if you didn’t do anything pointless, like dragging the press into it. Not that you’d find a reporter willing to write about it anyway.”
He looked like he was used to handling things this way.
In other words, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
“Have there been other people who didn’t apologize like me?”
“Rarely, but yes.”
“What happened to them?”
“They wound up in even more miserable shape and apologized in the end. They regretted ever holding out over some foolish pride.”
What could possibly be worse than being forced to drink liquor filled with cigarette butts and spit, then kneel naked in front of everyone and beg?
“Because of you, this has turned into a real nuisance. What are you waiting for? Stop being so proud and take it already.”
I looked at Park Myung-hoon and said, “You’re exactly the same, asshole. Where do you get off pretending you care about other people?”
“What...?”
“Guys like you are the ones who keep running around cleaning up after him, which is why that brat keeps doing shit like this.”
“......”
I left Park Myung-hoon standing there speechless and went outside.
On the way home, I called Heo Min-woong.
“What the hell was going on earlier?”
“Something came up. What’d you call for?”
“What, do I need a reason to call you now? Is that how it is between us?”
“......”
What exactly were we to each other, anyway?
“I’m just calling to wish you a merry Christmas and good fortune.”
“That’s for New Year’s, isn’t it?”
“You can get blessings on Christmas too. Did you get your present? Anything you want?”
“So you’re saying you’ll buy me whatever I want?”
“I do owe you from last time, and since it’s Christmas, your big brother can at least get his little brother a gift. So what do you want?”
I asked him, “Have you ever forced someone you didn’t like to kneel or humiliated them?”
“No way—who told you that? I’m a little short on manners and common sense, sure, but I’m not trash.”
......
So he did know he was short on manners and common sense after all.
“I don’t know where you heard that, but I’m seriously not that kind of person. Don’t misunderstand me.”
Come to think of it, there hadn’t been anything like that in the news I’d seen either.
“Forget the present. Buy me a drink next time.”
At that, Heo Min-woong sounded delighted.
“Seriously? You promised.”
Why was he so happy?
He kept acting all buddy-buddy, and for some reason, it wasn’t entirely annoying.
Prince Rashid sent the painting he had received from Han Miru straight to New York.
There, he gathered experts from the art world and related scholars to verify the piece. At last, the results came in.
Asher reported to Prince Rashid, “Nine out of twelve concluded that it was genuine. The remaining three were neutral. And two of them had been looking for this painting for years.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. But apparently, just before they could buy it, a Korean man purchased it from a gallery.”
There was no need to say who that was.
I had half-expected it, and yet it was still astonishing.
“How in the world did he know that painting was genuine?”
Asher answered the question as if he were talking to himself. “I can hardly believe it either. He didn’t even major in art, and yet he recognized a Banksy painting and a Leonardo da Vinci painting at a glance.”
Prince Rashid thought about it for a moment.
Did he possess intuition and insight that went beyond ordinary people?
What was interesting was that he had also advised Rashid that he should become king and had offered all kinds of counsel.
Even while preparing for a coup, Rashid had never been fully certain. But the moment he confirmed that the painting was genuine, his mind settled completely.
“We’ve completed a preliminary appraisal of the painting.”
My heart started to race for some reason.
What kind of result had they reached?
“Once the paint was stripped away, we found Leonardo da Vinci’s signature on the canvas, along with various traces.”
“I see.”
As expected.
But that alone wasn’t enough to prove it was authentic.
Hidden signatures in paintings were a common trick among artists. Forgeries often copied that too.
“We’ll need a more thorough analysis, but it does appear to be a da Vinci painting.”
“Really?”
“Yes. To be honest, I had the feeling from the moment I first saw it that it was no ordinary painting.”
That meant the experts had given him a firm confirmation that it was authentic.
Rashid said coolly, “As promised, I’ll buy the painting for $150 million. And I’ll also invest another $150 million in Continue Capital.”
Three hundred million dollars had come in at once.
I barely managed to keep myself from cheering out loud.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you for the excellent deal.”
Since the work was worth more than $400 million, he had still come out with over $100 million in profit, even after accounting for the investment.
“I’m sorry to ask one more favor, but there’s something else I’d like to request.”
“Go ahead.”
“Could I receive the $150 million investment in stock instead of cash?”
“What stock are you referring to?”
“There’s a stock I want to invest in, and I’d like you to buy it on my behalf and transfer it over.”
After I briefly explained the situation, he agreed without asking any further questions.
“That’s no difficulty at all. However, I have a request of my own.”
“What is it?”
“I’d like to make sure the investment is being handled properly, so I’ll be sending one of our representatives.”
Was he planning to keep an eye on the $150 million, even if the painting itself accounted for the other $150 million?
As I hesitated in my reply, he added, “We won’t interfere with the investment. If you meet him and don’t like him, you’re free to refuse.”
He had gone that far, so it was hard to turn him down.
“All right.”
“After hearing what you said that day, I made up my mind.”
“What decision?”
He declared it like a king making an announcement.
“I’m going to become the king of Saudi Arabia. I’ll drive out the corrupt, incompetent people who’ve occupied the throne and reform the system until it becomes an entirely new nation.”
“......What?”
I was genuinely stunned.
No, what the hell was he talking about?
Weren’t you already planning a coup? Why were you making it sound like it was my idea?
If anyone heard that, they’d think I’d pushed him into it.
After Han Miru returned to Korea, David Lockhart took charge of and ran Continue Capital HQ.
Former colleagues he had worked with before joined him, and the staff had now grown to fifteen.
They were still at the very beginning, but thanks to the collapse of Thomas Motors and the acquisition of Snow Crash, Continue Capital had risen as a Wall Street blue chip.
Investment inquiries came pouring in from all directions.
David thought of Han Miru.
Although they had only worked together briefly, he had learned a great deal in that time.
He turned things I’d thought impossible into reality...
What Miru had shown during the Snow Crash acquisition in particular was enough to make anyone marvel.
The problem was that the acquisition still wasn’t finished. They needed to raise $16 billion in total, and $8 billion of that had to be secured within six months.
Was that even possible?
David, too, acknowledged that Han Miru possessed astonishing investment skill. But no matter how brilliant an investor might be, there was nothing he could do without capital.
You needed a snowball to make a snowman, and you needed small money before you could make big money.
David thought they needed outside investment, but Han Miru had told him to wait.
What exactly is he planning?
He was worried, but not especially anxious. For some reason, he felt like Han Miru would find a way no matter what.
For now, all he could do was trust him and wait.
Then, one day, $150 million was suddenly deposited into the company account!
David was stunned.
Fat-finger?
Had someone accidentally wired the money to the wrong place? There was no other way such a massive sum could have arrived.
Just then, Han Miru called.
“You saw the $150 million come through, right?”
“How did this happen?”
Han Miru gave him a brief explanation.
Just before leaving the United States, he had heard a rumor and “happened” to buy a painting, and “surprisingly,” it turned out to be a Leonardo da Vinci.
“By coincidence,” a Saudi prince famous for loving art had visited Korea, and “somehow” Miru had met him. The prince had “happily” bought the painting.
“That’s what happened.”
“So that’s why you stopped in Chicago?”
“Yes. I had a hunch, and it turned out to be a genuine Leonardo da Vinci after all.”
“......”
Did it even make sense that a painting bought on the back of a rumor turned out to be a da Vinci? Even an April Fool’s joke would have been more believable than that.
“You sold the painting to Prince Rashid?”
“Yes. You know who he is?”
“He’s King Abu Bark’s son. He chairs the Royal Economic Development Committee.”
“Oh! You know him?”
“He’s the one in charge of overseas investment of the royal family’s assets. Oil money is always a matter of interest for Wall Street.”
“I suppose it would be.”
The Saudi king was nearly ninety, and the crown prince was in his sixties. Because of that, the prince was said to handle most of the practical business.
He didn’t carry quite the same authority as the king or crown prince, but he was still not someone you could easily get an audience with.
Han Miru went on, “I received $150 million as payment for the painting, and I also secured another $150 million in investment.”
“An investment? What were the terms?”
“Thirty percent of the profits.”
“A 30 percent fee? That’s not bad.”
“No. They give us 30 percent of the profits, and we take 70 percent.”
“......”
Even among top-tier private equity firms, it was safe to say nobody ever got terms like that.
He’d actually pulled off a deal that ridiculous?
“When are they transferring the other $150 million?”
“We decided to receive that later in stock.”
“In stock?”
“Yes. We’ve got to buy it too. Start purchasing it now.”
When David heard the name of the stock, he still didn’t understand and asked again, “Why are we buying that stock?”
“If you look into it, you’ll get the general idea. I’ll sort out the details and send you an email later.”
After that, Han Miru ended the call.
“Ha...”
David was beyond dumbfounded.
Only moments ago he’d been worrying about investment capital, and suddenly $150 million had fallen into his lap. On top of that, they were now set to receive another $150 million in investment.
The fact that Rashid had not only bought the painting but also invested in the firm made it clear he thought highly of Han Miru.
So how in the world did he do it?
Winning over a man in power was not as easy as it sounded.
And yet, what kind of move had he used?
I figured something would work out, but...
David muttered in disbelief, “I really didn’t think it would work out like this.”