The Korean Branch (2)
Of course, I had my reasons for taking care of him.
It hadn’t happened in this life, but in my first run, Senior Dongho had saved my life.
If I’d died in that fire back then, I wouldn’t have been able to regress, would I?
He was the kind of man who could be trusted. Even when his own life was at risk, he still looked after his junior. If I wanted to do something big, I needed to do it with people I could rely on.
“I think it’d be fun to work with you, Senior.”
“Hmm. Well, I do have a bit of a sense of humor.”
“……”
As long as he didn’t start spouting dad jokes, I’d count that as a win.
“So, are you in?”
“Just a second. I need to think this through carefully—”
“If it’s too much trouble, should I find someone else?”
“Hey! What kind of talk is that? If a junior asks for help, of course the senior has to help.”
“Come to think of it, didn’t you say you’d be buried at DA Securities?”
“When did I ever say that? I’m going to be buried at Continue Capital. From now on, call me Branch Manager.”
“You change your tune fast.”
“Better to say I adapt quickly to market changes. That’s my greatest strength. But can the two of us really run this thing?”
“Do you have anyone else worth bringing in?”
At my question, Senior Dongho folded his arms and thought for a moment.
“I have one friend who graduated from Shilla University with a business degree and even got his MBA.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“He’s unemployed.”
“Then introduce me. Let’s meet and talk.”
“He’s probably just loafing around at home anyway. Want me to call him now?”
“Sure.”
Senior Dongho called his friend.
If he really had been sitting around at home, then he sure didn’t waste any time showing up. He arrived right away in jeans and a padded jacket, dressed casually enough to look like he’d just stepped out the door.
He was of average build, with curly hair and glasses. His beard looked like it hadn’t been shaved in days, growing out in all directions.
He looked like the sort of unemployed middle-aged man you’d see anywhere in the neighborhood. But his face felt strangely familiar.
“Ah! Kim Beom-seok!”
When I said his name, Senior Dongho looked between us in surprise.
“Oh! You two know each other?”
Kim Beom-seok looked startled too.
“Do you know me?”
I nodded.
“Aren’t you the singer who sang Magic Castle?”
He looked even more flustered at that.
“Huh? You know that?”
“I listen to your songs all the time. Besides that, I also like Confession and Breakup Letter... Ah! The Girl from That Day is my favorite.”
“Huh? The Girl from That Day? I don’t have a song like that.”
“……”
Had that not been released yet?
I’d heard a few times later, after he’d become famous, that Senior Dongho liked to brag that the singer was his friend. So he really had been his friend after all.
In truth, he didn’t appear on variety shows or music programs all that often, so he wasn’t someone many people would recognize just from his face.
Still, even if people didn’t know his face, there was no one who hadn’t heard his songs.
He’d released a string of gems: Magic Castle, Confession, Breakup Letter, The Girl from That Day, and many others. The surprising thing was that his main job wasn’t singing at all.
His real profession was fund manager.
While working as a team leader at Southern Securities, he launched his own fund, The Musician Fund. Even more impressive, he was genuinely excellent at it.
Like the Moneyball theory, he ignored everything except the financial statements and analyzed companies only through the numbers, then picked undervalued companies in the same sector to include in the fund.
He regularly reviewed the portfolio, sold companies that had become overvalued compared to the average, and bought more of the ones still undervalued.
He had an exceptional eye for stocks.
“Anyway, I’m a fan.”
At that, he gave an awkward smile.
“Haha, thank you. That’s kind of embarrassing.”
Senior Dongho looked at me, clearly stunned.
“You’re really a fan of his?”
“Of course.”
“He’s not that famous, you know.”
“Well...”
He wasn’t famous yet, but he would be by next year.
And the reason was kind of hilarious: someone on Atube used one of his songs over a funny scene, the clip became a meme, and before long it was being shared all over the place.
Internet memes usually faded quickly.
But in his case, the song was just too good. It started climbing back up the streaming charts in reverse order, and before long it hit number one.
That drew attention to the songs he’d released before that as well, and in an instant he became one of the hottest prospects in the music industry.
At first, I’d only met him without thinking much of it, but because he was a singer I liked, I decided I definitely wanted to bring him in.
He was talented, too.
I said to him, “We’re looking for people right now. Would you be interested in joining us?”
“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about whether I should even join a company.”
“Aren’t you preparing for a securities firm job? Didn’t you say you were going to Southern Securities?”
At Senior Dongho’s words, he scratched his head.
“That’s true, but for some reason it doesn’t feel like my path.”
“You should stop singing and start seriously looking for a job. You’re not going to make it as a singer, trust me.”
Make it as a singer.
It was astonishing how completely wrong an analyst could be.
“Oh, by the way, is it true you made Magic Castle while playing a game?”
He nodded.
“Yes. I was playing Legend of Elda and kept dying, and then the inspiration just hit me.”
“Canon can be rough.”
At my words, he brightened.
“You’ve played Legend of Elda?”
“Of course. Is there anyone in the world who hasn’t played that game?”
Senior Dongho cut in. “I haven’t.”
Kim Beom-seok then explained his situation.
Since he was a child, he’d dreamed of becoming a singer. He loved playing instruments and singing.
Back in school, he’d even played in bands with friends he got along with, and though he was still rough around the edges, he’d tried writing lyrics and composing songs himself.
He’d wanted to go to university and study music properly, but his parents had firmly opposed the idea.
In the end, he’d gone to Shilla University and majored in business administration as his parents wanted. Even then, he’d kept up indie band activities with his friends during school.
And in the middle of all that, he’d even managed to earn an MBA. Genius really was the only word for it.
“Still, you can’t just sing forever. You’ve got to get a job sometime, right?”
“That’s true, but...”
Senior Dongho kept trying to persuade him, but Kim Beom-seok didn’t come over easily.
I said to him, “You can do both.”
He turned to me, looking surprised.
“Both?”
“Yes.”
The finance world was usually brutal when it came to workload.
It wasn’t easy to keep up music activities while working full-time. Since he still hadn’t decided on his path, that was probably what he was worried about.
“If you come to our company, we’ll support you so you can pursue music as much as you want. And unlike a securities firm, we don’t really have much work to begin with.”
“Really?”
“I promise. If it ever feels like it’s interfering with your music, you can quit anytime.”
He seemed to mull it over for a moment, then asked me, “By the way, what kind of company is this?”
Ah. Right. I hadn’t explained that yet.
“It’s called Continue Capital...”
He froze in shock.
“H-Huh? Continue Capital?”
“Yes. You know it?”
“Of course! David Lockhart is the co-CEO, right? I saw articles about him and thought I’d love to meet him someday.”
“If you join, you can meet him whenever you want.”
Kim Beom-seok nodded.
“I’ll join.”
Senior Dongho looked at me and said, “Then why didn’t you just tell him the company name from the start?”
“……”
Come to think of it, he was right.
David Lockhart kept placing buy orders through American brokerage firms, while Prince Rashid’s side also bought up $150 million worth of shares through an investment company.
Saudi Arabia was a country overflowing with money, and since it was an absolute monarchy, the king could invest freely wherever he wanted without needing parliamentary approval.
After becoming crown prince, Rashid had poured hundreds of billions of dollars into new industries in order to transform an economy that had long depended on oil.
If I wanted to carry out the plans ahead of me, having Prince Rashid on my side would be a huge advantage. And the same was true for him.
He had the money, and I had the ability to make that money grow.
Before anything else, though, I needed to show him that I had that ability.
While the stock purchases were proceeding smoothly, I got a call from Asher and headed to the Five Seasons Hotel.
I was going to meet the person Rashid had mentioned.
I ordered coffee at the cafe on the hotel’s second floor.
It felt different drinking coffee somewhere like this instead of a franchise cafe. It almost made me feel like I was doing business for real.
I opened the email Asher had sent me and read through it again.
The profile said she’d majored in economics at Harvard, then completed an MBA at Columbia University. She had also passed the CFA exam and was now working in the field.
I clicked my tongue.
“With this kind of resume, she could wipe the floor with most Korean universities.”
CFA stood for Chartered Financial Analyst.
It was essential in finance, since the job involved analyzing corporate financial statements. Just from the resume alone, companies would be lining up to hire her.
As I was thinking that, someone approached me and spoke in English.
“Are you Han Miru?”
The woman who appeared had a distinctly foreign beauty.
Her features were sharp and striking, and her large eyes were full of life. Her brown hair was tied back and fell to her shoulders, while her long legs and slender frame were wrapped in a silk blouse and tailored suit.
She looked white at first glance, but her skin tone was on the darker side.
She held out her hand to me.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sarah Avery.”
“Ah, yes. Nice to meet you. I’m Han Miru.”
I shook her hand without really thinking.
“What is it?”
“Oh, nothing.”
I’d naturally assumed a middle-aged man would show up, but I hadn’t expected someone my age to be a woman. Come to think of it, the profile I’d been given hadn’t listed her age or gender.
Had they left it out on purpose?
Sarah sat down and ordered coffee.
She was so beautiful she could have passed for a model, and the men seated nearby kept sneaking glances at her.
I asked in English, “Did you come from Saudi Arabia?”
She shook her head.
“No. I’m working in Korea right now.”
“Do you speak Korean?”
At my question, she answered in Korean.
“To some extent. I’ve been in Korea for two years. I’m still working and studying all the time.”
Just from her pronunciation, it was clear she’d learned properly.
“May I ask what kind of work you do?”
“I work as CFO at A-Oil.”
“......?”
A-Oil was, as everyone knew, one of the four major refineries in Korea.
At the same time, it was the only foreign-owned one. Its major shareholder was Saudi Aramco, the Saudi state oil company, the largest refinery company in the world, and the company with the highest market capitalization on the planet.
The current CEO was a Saudi named Muhammad, formerly of Aramco. Despite the recent collapse in oil prices, the company still ranked eighteenth in the business world.
To think she was the CFO of a giant like that.
Was Prince Rashid planting one of his own people inside A-Oil?
I asked her, “What exactly is your relationship with Prince Rashid?”
“We’re cousins.”
“Cousins?”
Rashid was a prince. If his cousin was a prince too, then she’d be royalty as well.
“So, a princess?”
Seeing my expression, Sarah smiled faintly.
“Don’t worry, I’m not a princess. I’m not even Muslim.”