You Might End Up Taking a Swing (2)
As expected, Ju Hyeon-jin signed the proxy that ousted his brother, and that document was what let me overturn the board at the very last second.
After hearing my explanation, Representative Kim Sung-gwun couldn’t quite hide his surprise.
“Why didn’t you tell me in advance?”
“It’s more dramatic if I save it for the final moment.”
At that, he let out a baffled laugh.
“Dramatic it was. I thought my heart was going to stop.”
He wasn’t joking; between then and now, he looked as if he’d aged several years.
People said a single hostile takeover shaved a decade off your life. Apparently, that wasn’t just a figure of speech.
“Was that really the reason?”
There was another reason, too.
“I wanted Ju Cheol-jin to think he’d won right up until the vote.”
If he’d thought he was losing—or even that the vote was close—he would have started shoring up his numbers. He might even have called Ju Hyeon-jin right before the resolution came to a vote.
And then what?
Ju Hyeon-jin was a weak man.
If his brother had coaxed him gently or barked at him harshly, there was always a chance he would have changed his mind at the last second.
But Ju Cheol-jin thought he’d already won, so he let his guard down. Even on the day of the shareholders’ meeting, he never once contacted his younger brother.
He probably figured there was no need to call someone he intended to cut loose anyway.
And this was the result.
After hearing me out, Representative Kim clicked his tongue.
“Unbelievable. You’d thought that far ahead? What would you have done if Director Ju Hyeon-jin hadn’t written the proxy?”
I shrugged.
“Well, then I guess there would’ve been nothing to do.”
In truth, I had another card in reserve.
He was addicted to cocaine. That, too, would later come out through the press.
In a situation where he was already backed into a corner, if it became known that he’d been using drugs habitually, it would have been over for him.
If I’d used that weakness to blackmail him, wouldn’t he have had no choice but to do as I said?
Representative Kim shook his head.
“To be honest, when I first got your proposal, I didn’t have much hope we’d actually win. But to think you’d really pull it off. If I’d turned you down that day, I would’ve regretted it badly.”
“I was just lucky in a few different ways.”
He burst out laughing.
“That’s not luck. That’s skill. I learned a thing or two today.”
“Not much to it.”
It had all worked because I’d known the future.
And I’d used that knowledge to build a different one.
“Still, the other chaebols are probably furious.”
I nodded.
“They would be.”
In a stock company, ownership and management were usually separate.
But in Korea, strangely enough, many people still thought of companies as the property of chaebols, and treated the corporation and the chairman as one and the same.
That public perception had been a huge help to the chaebols in running their groups.
Because of it, even if they ran a company like garbage—even if they embezzled or committed breach of trust and inflicted serious damage—they could still keep their seats, and inheriting management rights by bloodline rather than competence was accepted as perfectly natural.
Of course, many subsidiaries of the big conglomerates were run by professional managers. But the ones who appointed them were still the chaebol chairmen.
If the professional manager they appointed screwed up, it was the chairman’s fault. If he did well, then it was because the chairman had chosen wisely.
I said to Representative Kim, “This must have made it clear that if you mismanage a company, you can get thrown out. The chaebols who’ve been running their groups recklessly will probably wake up a little.”
After all, if you manage well and keep the stock price high, it becomes much more expensive for an attacker to buy up enough shares, which makes a takeover harder.
Even if someone does attack, institutions and minority shareholders will side with the existing management if it’s been doing its job properly.
“The Korean business world really has been stagnant.”
I wasn’t the only one who’d missed my chance in my first life.
With Dongwoo Precision falling into Chinese hands, Yuseong Electronics and LK Nix were pushed out of the semiconductor industry, and Hwaan Group collapsed after giving up on hydrogen energy because of the Thomas Motors disaster.
The situation at other conglomerates was much the same.
In technology, they were being outpaced by developed countries like the United States, Japan, and Germany. In labor costs, they were being undercut by emerging markets like India and Vietnam.
But above all, the biggest threat was China’s rise.
China was already ahead of Korea in several cutting-edge industries, and it was using its enormous capital to gobble up Korean companies.
If Korea didn’t respond properly, it would be swallowed whole.
Not just the top ten conglomerates, but every other company would have to start thinking seriously about what it needed to do to survive from here on out.
Representative Kim looked at me with fresh surprise in his eyes.
“So this is a kind of Catfish Effect.”
If you put a catfish in a tank full of sardines, the sardines had no choice but to move more actively if they wanted to survive.
The same was true for companies. When an external shock hit, they were forced to fight harder for their own survival.
“Well, there’ll still be the ones who never learn.”
“Then it’ll do them good to get eaten quickly. Someone else will fill the opening anyway.”
He was right.
If you fell behind in the race, being weeded out was only natural.
“So what happens now?”
At my question, he put on a tone of exaggerated suffering.
“The real work starts now. There’s a mountain of things to do.”
With Ju Cheol-jin stripped of the CEO title, they had to appoint a new chief executive and seize control of Hanjeong Group’s management rights.
After that, they’d need to clean up the hidden bad assets, sort through the tangled equity stakes in the affiliates, and decide what to sell and what to keep.
Even before the shareholders’ meeting, Representative Kim had made it clear that he intended to wipe out Hanjeong Mulsan’s distressed assets in one shot.
In other words, he meant to hold the owner family accountable for their management failure. By highlighting the failings of the existing leadership, he would justify taking control.
It was the so-called Big Bath.
That was his specialty, so I figured he’d handle it well enough.
In any case, since I’d already decided to sell off my entire stake, all I had to do was collect the money.
＊ ＊ ＊
The Korean business world was thrown into shock when word spread that Hanjeong Group’s controlling family had lost their grip on management rights.
It was nothing less than a tectonic shift.
Until then, the status of the top ten conglomerates had seemed as unshakable as a fortress.
They’d received all manner of political support and special treatment, and had built their own private castles by expanding their affiliates like octopus arms in every direction.
And yet that fortress had crumbled under attack from a coalition of private equity funds.
Shareholders teaming up to drive out a chaebol that had mismanaged the company!
It was a completely sensible thing in theory, and yet no one had ever really expected it to happen in real life.
Starting anything is hard.
Now that everyone knew it could be done, there was no reason it couldn’t happen again.
Some chaebols had long been running their groups recklessly, using company money as if it were their own and committing embezzlement and breach of trust. They’d cared only about making the group bigger, and couldn’t have cared less about shareholders.
But now things were different.
With this incident becoming a major issue, even minority shareholders who had never paid much attention to management or shareholder meetings began to find their voices.
If companies didn’t manage properly and look after their shareholders, there was no guarantee the same thing wouldn’t happen to them.
So the conglomerates moved quickly, checking their management situations while at the same time scrambling to keep shareholders happy.
As the fallout from the shareholders’ meeting continued, some sympathy for the controlling family did arise.
But even that last shred of sympathy disappeared when Ju Hyeon-jin was arrested on drug charges.
＊ ＊ ＊
Several days had passed since Hanjeong Group’s shareholders’ meeting, but the media was still treating the issue as a top story.
All along, the press had been making noise about how, if the three-party alliance won the management struggle, the company would collapse and every employee would end up unemployed.
But after the meeting, none of that had happened.
Ju Cheol-jin had simply resigned from every position he held in the group and walked out.
Once the private equity fund took control of Hanjeong Mulsan, the subsidiaries would be next.
His older sister, Ju Hye-jin, would have a hard time keeping her seat, too. The whole family would be driven out of the company in a neat row.
Watching television, Ju Hyeon-jin muttered to himself, “If I can’t have it, then nobody should.”
Right after the shareholders’ meeting ended, the phone had kept ringing, but he hadn’t answered a single call. He’d even pulled the phone line and turned off his cell.
It was all over now.
The company was gone, and his family had become his enemies. There was nowhere left for him to return to.
“Heh. Shit, this is perfect.”
It didn’t matter.
As long as he took his share and got out, that was enough. With that money, he could do anything. Maybe he could even start a new company.
Manager Park will follow me, won’t he? I’ll need at least one bastard under me if I’m going to keep working.
He was drinking alone and planning his next move when the doorbell rang.
Ring. Ring.
He didn’t open the door. A moment later, someone started pounding on it instead.
Bang, bang, bang!
“Are you in there? Please open the door.”
But he had no intention of letting them in.
“Fuck off!”
They weren’t going to break the door down and come in anyway, so if he just ignored them they’d leave on their own.
Except that wasn’t what happened.
Crash!
They actually broke the door down and came in!
Several men stood in front of the entrance. The middle-aged man at the very front looked at Ju Hyeon-jin and asked, “You’re Ju Hyeon-jin, right?”
The enraged Ju Hyeon-jin hurled the glass he’d been drinking from. He’d misjudged the force, and the glass struck the wall beside the front door and shattered.
“What the hell are you bastards doing here? I’m calling the police right now!”
The middle-aged man in front held up a police ID in his face.
“We are the police.”
“What?”
“Jeju Police Agency narcotics squad.”
“Narcotics squad?”
For a moment, he couldn’t make sense of it.
Why the hell would the narcotics squad come here?
The man said in an even voice, “We received a tip that you’ve been using drugs at this location. Please cooperate with the investigation.”
“Wh-what?”
Who tipped them off?
While he stood there dumbfounded, the police began rummaging through the house without his permission.
Ju Hyeon-jin shouted in shock, “Who gave you permission to search someone else’s house?”
The man handed him a document.
“This is a search-and-seizure warrant.”
Ju Hyeon-jin snatched it and checked it over. It really was a valid warrant. Unable to suppress his rage, he tore the paper in half.
“I don’t care. Get the hell out right now. Do you even know who I am?”
Tearing up a search warrant didn’t make it any less valid.
The police ignored him and kept searching the house.
“Fuck! Get out right now!”
When Ju Hyeon-jin lunged at them, the officers restrained him from both sides.
Finding the drugs wasn’t difficult. He’d never imagined something like this would happen, so he’d just tossed them into a drawer without a second thought.
After confirming the contents, the man placed them into an evidence bag.
“Ju Hyeon-jin, you are hereby arrested for violating the Narcotics Control Act as of this moment. You have the right to retain counsel, and if you do not retain counsel, a public defender will be appointed. You may refuse to make statements that are unfavorable to you, and you may have your lawyer respond on your behalf, but your own statements may be used against you in court. You also have the right to petition the court for a hearing on the legality of your arrest and detention.”
He had caused one disaster after another up until now, so this situation wasn’t all that unfamiliar to him.
Ju Hyeon-jin sneered. “Do you even know who I am?”
“Yes. We do.”
“If I make one phone call home, then—”
He started shouting, then broke off.
Until now, whenever he caused trouble, the group’s strategic planning office would step in and quietly make the problem disappear. They’d settle with the victim, pay for their silence, and bring in top-tier lawyers from across the country.
In some cases, they even found someone to take the blame for him and do the time in detention. Once, after he’d driven drunk and caused an accident, they’d shoved the blame onto someone else and gotten him out clean.
But what about now?
He’d been kicked out of the company, and the same was true of his family. Even if they were still around, they wouldn’t move for his sake.
Before, Hanjeong Group would have served as his shield. Now it couldn’t.
Who was going to help him now?
Then what happens to me?
All at once, it felt as if the alcohol had vanished from his body.
“W-wait a second...”
Se-ah, being dragged along with him, screamed, “Oppa! Do something! I don’t know anything. I only did what you told me to do! It was all that man’s orders! I didn’t know anything, I swear! Please, just let me off once, okay?”
Her words sent Ju Hyeon-jin’s anger surging to the top of his skull.
“Fuck! You liked it too! You kept asking for more!”
As he tried to lunge at her, the police slammed him face-down to the floor.
“Let go of me! Do you know who I am? You bastards, I’ll never let this go!”
He thrashed around, but the officers kept him pinned on both sides, not budging an inch. After struggling for a long time, Ju Hyeon-jin finally exhausted himself and went still.
Then a thought struck him.
No one in his family knew he was using cocaine. Especially not his brother—he’d hidden it from him carefully, terrified of getting hit.
Then who, exactly, had reported him?
At that moment, one person came to mind.
No way...
It was only a suspicion. He had no proof of anything.
And yet Ju Hyeon-jin knew with certainty.
It had to be that bastard!
Dragged along by the police, Ju Hyeon-jin screamed at the top of his lungs, frothing with rage. “Aaaaargh! Han Miru, you son of a bitch!!!”