"Relax. Your shoulders are going to seize up."

His friend rubbed Ha Gwan-u's tense shoulders.

"Whew. At my age, and I still can't keep my nerves in check."

He straightened his tie again and sighed.

"Our CEO Jang is a good man. Just tell him who you are, head up."

"Thanks, my friend..."

His friend's words gave Ha Gwan-u strength.

Jo Yun-tae, a director at Samu Law, and Ha Gwan-u had been high school classmates.

All three years of high school, the two had traded first and second place in the whole school.

Jo Yun-tae went to Hanguk University law, and Ha Gwan-u to its business school.

They'd drunk together a lot in college.

After graduation, Jo Yun-tae started out as a prosecutor, and Ha Gwan-u joined a company.

He had lived hard all those years.

He was a man of real talent. He'd risen to vice president of Daeung Corporation, the core subsidiary of the Daeung Group, which had once fought for the top spot in Korea.

He joined Daeung in the mid-1980s and racked up achievement after achievement.

A joint investment in a plant in Indonesia, railway cars delivered in Myanmar, branch offices opened in Beijing and Russia—he'd traveled the world and built one joint venture and export deal after another.

When he was young, the world had felt too small, and he'd run all over it.

But the world had changed.

The Daeung Group was blown to pieces in the aftermath of the IMF crisis.

In 2000, the company became Daeung International.

A workout program forced restructuring that cut to the bone.

He'd said goodbye to colleagues he'd grown closer to than blood.

He held on, weeping tears of blood.

The company he'd given his youth to was going under, along with the juniors still left in it, and he couldn't bear to watch.

He threw every connection and every ounce of strength he had into it, grimly determined.

But in the end, he was laid off too.

The workout ended in 2003, but the company changed owners.

In 2006, after the company struck gas in Myanmar,…