Chapter 16
First Assignment (1)
“What is this?”
“Isn’t it a resident registration card?”
“No, who wouldn’t know that? I’m asking why you’re showing it to me.”
President Kim Sang-do looked utterly baffled.
Chairman Kang smiled.
“Showing you my resident registration card means I’m not hiding my identity. It also means I’m investing as an individual, not on behalf of a company or organization. So wouldn’t this be the clearest way to prove that?”
“Investing...?”
“Yes. You’re planning to expand your production line using the new technology, aren’t you? Don’t take out a bank loan for it. I’ll invest whatever amount you need. Oh, by the way, would you mind if I sat down?”
“Ah... please.”
Only after Chairman Kang pointed at the sofa did Kim Sang-do regain his composure.
The ID card had been shocking.
But the word investment was just that attractive.
After sitting down, Chairman Kang spoke.
“To be honest, I know a business card would inspire more confidence. But compared to a fancy piece of paper pretending to be impressive, I thought a resident registration card felt more sincere.”
“It’s certainly unusual, but I suppose that makes sense. If I may ask, what exactly do you do?”
“I was fortunate enough to be born to wealthy parents, so I don’t really have a profession. If I had to describe myself, I’d say I’m an investor. I pass the time investing here and there.”
“An investor... Stocks and things like that?”
“Stocks, funds, project financing. If something looks promising, I’ll even invest in a bar. A large wine bar, for example.”
“Ah...!”
A man who invested his own money wherever he pleased.
Technically, Chairman Kang wasn’t lying.
The wine bar he referred to happened to be one located in a building he owned.
“But how did you hear about our company? Unless you’re in the industry, it’s difficult to know about us. Even people in the field don’t all know we developed this technology.”
Suspicion still lingered on Kim Sang-do’s face.
“Investing everywhere means information naturally comes my way. Fortunately, for someone born with a silver spoon, I’m fairly diligent. Unlike those rich kids who burn through their parents’ money without ever earning ten thousand won on their own, I decided your company is an excellent investment opportunity.”
No matter how suspicious an investor might be, money itself was honest.
As long as the investment contract was proper, lacked unusual clauses, and wasn’t large enough to threaten management control, it was far preferable to a bank loan.
Kim Sang-do wasn’t running a corner shop.
He understood that much.
“Money may not come with a name tag attached, but it’s difficult to accept investment from someone who suddenly appears and presents nothing but a resident registration card.”
Not I won’t accept it.
Just it’s difficult.
For a small-company CEO, he certainly knew how to negotiate.
If he wanted more favorable terms, rejecting the first offer was standard practice.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. If your conditions don’t align with mine, I won’t dwell on it. There are plenty of places looking for investment.”
If Kim wanted to play hard to get, Chairman Kang could play along.
But as always, the man holding the money held the power.
“And what exactly are your conditions?”
“That you continue running the company.”
Kim Sang-do stared at him as though he’d gone mad.
“What do you mean? I’m the CEO. Of course I’ll be running the company.”
“Well... that’s what everyone says at first. Then business starts going well. Investors come knocking. The bank accounts fill up. Before long, people decide spending money is more enjoyable than working hard. That’s just human nature. I’ve been stabbed in the back enough times to know.”
“Stabbed in the back?”
“You may not know because you’re busy manufacturing products, but people in finance will do anything for a one-percent profit margin. If they can make more than one percent by reselling your company, they’ll approach you with an acquisition offer.”
“They will?”
“They’ll hide behind an impressive name.”
“Private equity funds?”
“Exactly.”
“And the impressive name?”
“Usually a subsidiary of a major conglomerate. Makes it much harder to refuse.”
“Because rejecting them invites retaliation?”
“You know your stuff. Have you experienced it?”
“Not personally. But I knew a company that fought a conglomerate over patent rights...”
That was enough.
If he’d seen it happen once, he understood.
“That’s why I want you to stay in charge. Once private equity gets involved, genuine growth becomes difficult. I prefer long-term investments.”
“So you’re telling me not to sell the company?”
“Yes. And if you ever decide you want to retire and shut everything down, let me handle it. I can sell it for far more than any private equity fund.”
“Then what do you want in return?”
“I’m an investor. Naturally, I want money. Your company goes public. It grows larger. I hold the shares for ten years. Then I make several times my investment.”
Watching Kim Sang-do’s reaction, Chairman Kang continued.
“You own eighty-five percent of this company’s shares. The remaining fifteen percent belongs to your executives.”
Kim visibly flinched.
“How do you know that? We’re not even a public company.”
“I came here to invest. Did you think I wouldn’t know? I also know you’re seeking a forty-billion-won loan for your production line expansion.”
This much was enough for a first meeting.
The second meeting would be much closer.
“When you’ve made up your mind, give me a call.”
Chairman Kang wrote his phone number on a sticky note sitting on Kim’s desk.
“Not having business cards is inconvenient. But what can I do? ‘Investor Hwang Jun-hyun’ printed on a card would make me look like a complete con artist.”
He pulled out his phone.
“You can come now.”
After slipping the phone back into his pocket, he bowed slightly.
“I apologize for showing up unannounced. Thank you for your time. I look forward to seeing you again.”
***
After leaving the office and getting back into the Mercedes, Chairman Kang briefly wondered whether the car wasn’t quite impressive enough.
Maybe a Bentley would make him look more like a wealthy investor.
Then he remembered his grandson.
On second thought, perhaps not.
Weren’t Bentleys the preferred vehicles of rich troublemakers these days?
“Hey! Where the hell were you all day yesterday?”
The moment Chairman Kang arrived at work, Manager Oh’s nagging assaulted his ears.
“I was investigating. By the time I finished, it was already after working hours, so I left directly from the site. Isn’t that normal?”
Manager Oh’s eyebrows shot upward.
“Really? Then let’s hear what exactly you investigated.”
“Nothing particularly useful came up. So I was thinking of doing some more investigating today—”
“Nothing? And you want to keep investigating? You little—”
The same trick wasn’t going to work twice.
“Enough nonsense. Stay at your desk. And finish reviewing those files by today.”
In other words:
Don’t leave until you finish.
Chairman Kang didn’t bother asking whether he could go home afterward.
Obviously not.
The truth was, when it came to reviewing documents, Chairman Kang was probably better than anyone else in the building.
The very first thing his father had drilled into him during management training was review.
And the thing he had done more than anything else was review.
After examining countless reports over the years, he had developed a special ability.
The ability to see the mind of the person who wrote them.
Some reports radiated confidence and conviction.
Others dripped with uncertainty and hesitation.
You could tell at a glance.
If the author lacked confidence, there was little reason to read further.
And even if the report overflowed with confidence, if that confidence rested on nothing but hope, it belonged in the trash.
Chairman Kang had spent decades training himself to recognize the difference between uncertainty and baseless optimism.
“Let’s see... How capable are young people these days?”
He carefully examined each file, searching for the mindset hidden between the lines.
An hour per file.
Five hours disappeared before he realized it.
Finally, he gathered the documents and dropped them onto Manager Oh’s desk.
Without taking his eyes off the monitor, Manager Oh asked:
“You finished?”
“At least he can focus,” someone nearby remarked. “Five straight hours staring at paperwork without moving. I thought he was scatterbrained, but that was unexpected.”
“What’s with the sudden praise...? You’re making me blush.”
Only then did Manager Oh look away from his monitor.
“Why can’t you ever listen quietly to what people say? Learn to just listen.”
My friend, listening is what I spent my entire life doing.
The habit is permanently ingrained.
“Anyway, you finished?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s the report?”
“If there had been anything worth reporting, I would’ve written one. But I didn’t see a single project worth pursuing.”
He shrugged.
“So I figured they all belong in the trash.”
“There you go again with your smart mouth.”
“What smart mouth? I did the work honestly.”
“Really? Then can you explain why they belong in the trash?”
Manager Oh waved a file.
Chairman Kang immediately snatched it from his hand.
“This textile project.”
He flipped it open.
“Too many comparison cases. The author lacks confidence, so he listed a bunch of successful examples from similar industries. Basically he’s saying, ‘Those succeeded, so this one will too.’ That’s not a business plan—it’s wishful thinking.”
He grabbed another file.
“This steel project.”
“What about it?”
“Far too optimistic. The buyers are optimistic. The suppliers are optimistic. Everyone’s optimistic.”
“There aren’t any contracts because it’s still a proposal. Not an implementation report.”
“Of course there aren’t any contracts yet. There will be eventually. But projects like this usually leave us getting dragged around. We end up signing agreements with margins approaching zero. One accident later, the project becomes a money-losing disaster.”
He tossed it aside.
“Waste of manpower. Waste of time.”
Then he picked up the third file.
“And this chemical project.”
“The most ridiculous one.”
“Ridiculous?”
While the project had indeed been dropped, it hadn’t been bad enough to be called ridiculous.
If it had been that terrible, it would have been rejected long before reaching legal, finance, risk management, and feasibility review.
“It’s a proposal to manufacture domestic substitutes for Japanese products. So why is Choi Sung Trading evaluating it?”
Manager Oh blinked.
“That’s because—”
“Because Choi Sung Chemical should have been evaluating it.”
Chairman Kang tapped the document.
“You requested every piece of data from Choi Sung Chemical. Then you never sent your conclusions back to them.”
“So?”
“So if the project succeeded, Trading wanted all the credit.”
Manager Oh crossed his arms.
“Cooperation between affiliates is important. But nobody wants to lose performance credit. And you still haven’t answered my question. Why was this project dropped?”
“This report is about two years old.”
Chairman Kang leaned back.
“If someone had simply handed this idea to Choi Sung Chemical two years ago, they could have turned it into a viable business.”
He shook the file.
“Instead, Trading tried to play with it themselves and killed it.”
His expression hardened.
“That’s why I called it ridiculous.”
For once, Manager Oh’s expression perfectly matched Chairman Kang’s assessment.
He looked utterly dumbfounded.