Kingmaker (8)
Because the margin was so narrow, they even went through a recount, but the result did not change.
Representative Kim Jaehee, beaten by an obscure independent political newcomer no one had ever heard of, was left in shock.
If I’d only known it would come to this, I should have accepted it when they said they’d step down if I backed the dormitory construction.
If he had taken that offer, he would have coasted to a fourth term.
But he had kicked the opportunity away, and the election was over.
Representative Kim Jaehee went into a furious protest, foam practically flying from his mouth.
“No, those were all the votes of students who filed fake residence registrations! The National Election Commission should conduct a full investigation and punish them severely!”
There were indeed plenty of students who had changed their addresses just to vote without actually living there, so it was the sort of thing that could easily be turned into a legal attack if someone wanted to push it.
But if they had gone that route, the already boiling sentiment among voters in their twenties might have turned against the party, so the New Korea Party gave up on filing charges.
After winning a National Assembly seat, Representative Namgoong Seok immediately visited the district office to protest and request the permits needed for the dormitory construction he had promised.
The last time he had come, they hadn’t even bothered to see the staff member in charge, but this time the district mayor came out personally.
They had already confirmed the local mood through the election.
The district mayor, realizing that one wrong move could cost him his seat in the next local election, wiped sweat from his face again and again and promised full cooperation.
And just like that, the dormitory construction moved forward without a hitch.
Although he had no political experience whatsoever and had somehow ended up in the National Assembly by accident, Representative Namgoong Seok threw himself into legislative work with real energy.
As a former physics professor, he criticized the government’s flawed policies one by one, grounding every argument in science and statistics.
Still, there were clear limits to what a first-term independent lawmaker could do.
His bills were blocked at every turn at the gates of the National Assembly.
Seeing how popular he had become, the Woori Kookmin Party offered him a place in their ranks.
On the condition that the party would support legislative efforts for dormitory construction, stronger oversight of private schools, and lower university tuition, Representative Namgoong Seok joined the Woori Kookmin Party.
There’s a saying that the moment a politician is elected, he starts preparing for the next election.
But unlike the other lawmakers who spent all their time managing their districts for the sake of reelection, Namgoong Seok quietly did what needed to be done without pandering to public taste.
He had become a lawmaker by a strange turn of events, but he had no real intention of running again next time.
Something similar happened many times after that.
Once, a school for disabled students was set to open in his district.
The residents of the nearby apartment complexes hung banners, shouted slogans demanding absolute opposition, and held a protest. When Namgoong Seok appeared at the scene, they welcomed him with applause.
“Representative! What on earth is a school for disabled students doing in our nice neighborhood?”
“It absolutely can’t go in our area.”
“What are we supposed to do if property values fall?”
“Please send hateful facilities like a school for disabled students far away from here.”
Standing before residents holding banners that called for the school to be blocked, he took the microphone and said, “I understand your feelings, and we’ve received a great many complaints about this as well. But things that must be done must be done. A school for disabled students is an essential facility for this area, and it will not have any effect on property values. I ask you to please stop the protest.”
The residents who had been welcoming a moment ago turned furious at his words.
“You think we’re going to vote for you next time if you act like this?”
“We elected you to work for the residents, so what do you think you’re doing?”
“Would you still support it if a school for disabled students were built in front of your house?”
“Are you going to take responsibility if property values drop?”
Even as the residents protested with looks like they were about to grab his collar, Namgoong Seok remained perfectly calm.
“Yes. I live in this neighborhood too, and I would support a school for disabled students being built in front of my house. If property values fall, I’ll take responsibility and not run in the next election.”
“……”
As one would expect, even though the school for disabled students went in, property values did not fall.
On the contrary, Namgoong Seok’s attitude was compared with other politicians who had tried to win votes by exploiting local selfishness, and he was reelected in the next general election by another razor-thin margin.
After hearing the story, Dongho senior clicked his tongue in admiration.
“Wow. What an amazing man.”
Kim Beom-seok nodded.
“He really is. If it weren’t for Representative Namgoong Seok, neither the dormitories nor the school for disabled students would have had a single shovel in the ground.”
Dongho senior turned to me and asked, “But why did you suddenly ask about Representative Namgoong Seok?”
Instead of answering, I brought up something else.
“This is a presidential election year.”
“Right.”
“Who do you think will be the next president?”
At my question, Dongho senior answered as if it were obvious.
“Probably Representative Im Chang-sik?”
Kim Beom-seok nodded as well.
“I think so too.”
Most people thought the same thing, and in the original timeline, that was exactly what happened.
So if I wanted to make sure that didn’t happen…
“I’m thinking of backing Representative Namgoong Seok.”
“……Huh?”
Dongho senior looked flustered.
“Hold on. You want to back Namgoong Seok for president?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I think he’d do a good job.”
I thought back to the first timeline.
He had done everything he could to revive a South Korea that was collapsing around him. But it was already too late, and besides, it was never something one lawmaker alone could fix.
Kim Beom-seok nodded and said, “I think so too. If a man like Representative Namgoong Seok became president instead of someone like Representative Im Chang-sik, who only sounds convincing, that would be much better.”
“Exactly, right?”
Dongho senior asked, “So what if he can’t win? There’s no chance of that happening.”
“That’s not something we can know.”
If you put it that way, who would have imagined that a professor who entered the race to solve dormitory problems for students would go on to defeat an incumbent lawmaker who had held the district for three straight terms and get elected?
“How are you planning to do it? Are you going to donate political funds or something?”
I shook my head.
“Come on, would that really be enough? If we’re going to support him, we need to do it properly.”
How do you meet a member of the National Assembly?
You can just call the office and make an appointment. But I decided to go in person instead.
It wasn’t hard to figure out his routine.
I walked into a sundae-guk restaurant, the hearty blood-sausage stew place.
Since lunchtime had already passed, the place was quiet.
In a corner seat, I saw a man in a suit who had taken off his jacket and was eating sundae-guk.
Judging by his appearance alone, he looked ordinary enough. A decent height, an average build, a somewhat dark complexion, and a little hair loss at the crown.
Politicians needed their looks as much as their words and competence.
Just from appearance alone, Representative Im Chang-sik certainly seemed more suited to the presidency. He was tall and handsome, with an imposing presence.
Though he looked a little plain, his suit was neat without a wrinkle, and his shoes shone so brightly they looked brand new.
Come to think of it, there were politicians who had worn the same pair of torn, battered shoes for ten years.
If he truly couldn’t afford anything else, I could understand it. But I knew exactly how much he earned, so I had no idea what he was thinking when he kept wearing shoes that were completely worn out.
I walked up to him and greeted him.
“Hello, are you Representative Namgoong Seok?”
He looked up at me.
It didn’t seem like it was rare for strangers to recognize him and come up to speak, because he didn’t look especially surprised.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I’m sorry to bother you while you’re eating. I’m this kind of person.”
I handed him my business card.
His face changed the moment he saw it, surprise flooding into his expression.
“Han Miru from Continue Capital?”
“Do you know me?”
Namgoong Seok let out a short laugh.
“Any Korean would know you. I know at least that you played an important role in bringing down the Hanjeong Group.”
I shrugged.
“I was just doing what my company told me to do.”
“You don’t seem like just any employee.”
“What position I hold at the company hardly matters.”
“Then what does matter?”
“What I’m about to tell you now.”
Namgoong Seok nodded.
“And that is?”
“Just so there’s no misunderstanding, what I’m about to say has nothing to do with a favor or lobbying. It’s simply a tip.”
He looked curious about what on earth a private equity employee had come to tell him.
“I’m eating, so would you mind if I listened while I eat?”
“Of course.”
“Then please sit down.”
I took the seat across from him.
Watching him eat made me hungry for no reason.
Should I order one too?
The menu listed regular and special sizes. If I was going to do it, I might as well get the special.
Today, after all, I was special.
“So what tip are you here to give me?”
I told him why I had come.
“Continue Capital is currently preparing a massive short position. The target is GL Chemical. If we carry it out, the entire Korean stock market will take a serious hit.”
“……”
He stopped moving his spoon.
Namgoong Seok led me to his office.
It was a sparse room, with not a single potted plant in sight. Either he didn’t care much for tidiness or he simply didn’t have time to keep things organized, because the inside felt a little chaotic.
He even made the coffee himself.
Not Americano—instant mix coffee.
The rich, familiar aroma of Mocha Gold drifted through the room.
“It’s an honor to meet a respected public servant like you, Representative Namgoong.”
I didn’t care much for politicians in general, but he was the exception.
Given what he had already done and what he would go on to do, he deserved respect.
“You can drop the pleasantries. More importantly, what was that you said earlier?”
“Exactly what I said. Continue Capital is going to short GL Chemical.”
“You mean Continue Capital is going to crash GL Chemical’s stock?”
I shook my head.
“No. Even if we leave it alone, GL Chemical will crash. Continue Capital is only going to make money from the process.”
“Why do you say GL Chemical is going to crash?”
“Because there’s a huge negative factor coming.”
“A negative factor?”
I asked him, “By any chance, do you know what GL Chemical’s main business is?”
There was no way a former physics professor wouldn’t know.
“Secondary batteries.”
“Exactly.”
GL Chemical had begun, as its name suggested, as a petrochemical company.
Petrochemicals were an industry that used materials produced when refining crude oil to create a wide range of synthetic raw materials such as ethylene, butadiene, and benzene.
The reason a petrochemical company had ended up investing in batteries was Chairman Ko Bonseung.
He had recognized the growth potential of batteries early on, and under GL Chemical’s leadership, the company began investing in the battery industry in the late 1990s.
At first, the company struggled through massive losses, and there was no shortage of opposition.
But because they kept investing with unwavering determination, the company gradually began to make a name for itself in global markets, then exploded in growth with the rise of digital technology and the electric vehicle era.
At present, GL Chemical ranked second in the battery market, behind China’s DATL, and its technology was regarded as the best in the world.
Thanks to that, the stock price had soared as well, hitting one million won per share not long ago.
GL Chemical’s market capitalization was now roughly 70 trillion won.
That put it at third place on the KOSPI by market cap, making it the flagship affiliate of the GL Group. Its president was Ko Bonseung’s eldest son, Go Jae-ik, Hyeon-ji’s father.
The outlook was bright, too.
As the age of the internal combustion engine faded and the era of electric vehicles opened, battery demand was exploding.
Accordingly, GL Chemical announced that it would double battery production within three years.
On the surface, it looked as though the stock had nothing but room to rise from here, but…
“Last year, GL Chemical spun off its battery division into GL Entech, officially called GL Energy Technology, through a physical split-off. And GL Entech is now in the process of going public.”
“That’s the bad news?”
“Yes. Once the subsidiary listing becomes a reality, GL Chemical will plunge by at least fifty percent from where it is now.”