Seeing nothing but a few desks scattered across the wide office, Chung-seop said to Seong-ho with a sheepish look, “Director. Isn’t this office too big…? I really think somewhere around 10 pyeong would have been plenty…”

Chung-seop had been hunting for an office of about 10 pyeong somewhere near Gangnam, and Seong-ho had headed him off.

“It’s fine. Since I bought the building anyway, I’m just handing you the leftover office space, so you needn’t fret over it.”

Seong-ho looked around the office, then out the window.

The 100 million won entrusted through Chung-seop had come back as a total of 55 billion. Setting aside just 5 billion of the 55, Seong-ho had added a loan and purchased a building near Teheran-ro in Gangnam. A seven-story building not long since built — Seong-ho had helped set up Chung-seop’s new office there.

Chung-seop looked around the office, which seemed well over 70 pyeong, with a sheepish expression. “Hearing myself called ‘CEO’ feels strange.”

Turning from the window, Seong-ho looked at him and smiled. “You’ll have to get used to being called CEO now. Just as I’m no longer a director, you’re no longer an assistant manager.”

At Seong-ho’s words that they had to begin anew in a new place, Chung-seop steadied his resolve. With someone here who trusted him this much, he felt he mustn’t betray that trust.

“Heh-heh. Sir. How is it? Isn’t it fine?” The real-estate broker hovered at Seong-ho’s side, rubbing his hands and letting out a laugh. Seeing Seong-ho become a building owner at such a young age, he was working to ingratiate himself by any means.

Seong-ho nodded. “I’ll count on you to manage the building well going forward.”

“Aigoo. Don’t you worry — just leave it all to me. I’ll handle it so cleanly that not one complaint comes out.”

At being entrusted with the whole of the building’s management, the broker crowed, his mouth stretched wide as a washbasin.

Seong-ho figured there’d be no trouble with Chung-seop in the building — if the management were shoddy, Chung-seop would contact him directly.

Smiling quietly at the ceaselessly hand-rubbing broker, Seong-ho added one more request. “And if another decent building comes up nearby, give me a call.”

“You mean… you’ll buy another building?”

“If a decent building comes out cheap, there’s no reason not to.”

“Is that… really so?”

The broker’s mouth fell open wider still. From the moment he first met Seong-ho he’d had the sense of a benefactor. But even he hadn’t reckoned the man was this big a spender. Not content with snapping up a building worth over 10 billion just like that, Seong-ho was saying he planned to buy still more — and the broker resolved he must never let this man slip away.

“Understood. If a decent building comes up nearby, I’ll contact you first, sir.”

“Then I’ll count on you.”

Making several more assurances that he’d handle everything, the broker left the office ahead of them.

As Seong-ho shut the door and returned to his seat, Chung-seop put the same question the broker had. “You’re going to buy another building?”

But the meaning packed into his words was different. Now that most of the funds, after buying the current building, were being positioned into a KOSPI futures short, it carried the sense of with what money do you mean to buy?

Seong-ho smiled lightly. “As it happens, that’s just what I meant to talk about. Have a seat.”

Bidding Chung-seop sit, Seong-ho brought over an empty chair, sat across from him, and opened his mouth. “How much have you built up so far?”

“On a KOSPI 200 basis, I’ve been steadily building above 100. So the amount positioned right now is…” Chung-seop held out a paper on the desk with the figure logged through yesterday. “About 27 billion.”

Seong-ho examined the paper and said, “Can’t you build it faster?”

“For that, the sum’s too large. There’s no one who slams 50 billion… all of it into futures.”

However much conviction one had, no one invested a sum like 50 billion into a derivative — of all things, futures. One ought to at least set a hedge to avoid the risk, yet Seong-ho had put the entire sum into a futures short with no such thing — a naked position.

Chung-seop supposed that maybe Seong-ho was taking this gamble because he’d bought the building. Even losing 50 billion, the building would remain, and considering the original stake, 5 billion was no small return either.

But contrary to Chung-seop’s thinking, Seong-ho wasn’t gambling.

Stroking his chin, Seong-ho said, “If you’re building above 100, how about lowering that line a little? To 95, or even 90.”

“Director!”

“I’m not a director anymore, so you can just call me Brother Kim.”

“Aigoo, how could I do that? To me, once a director, forever a director.”

Saying it made no difference whether Seong-ho was a director or not, Chung-seop laid out the danger of the proposal just made. “Director. If you do that and the index rises the other way, the account melts down in an instant.”

With a serious face, Chung-seop explained why he’d been building above 100. “We have to prepare for the worst case. We haven’t mixed in options as a hedge either, so if the index goes the other way, there’s nowhere for us to lean. That’s why I’ve been trying to build above 100 — to enter at the best possible position. Director.” He edged his chair a little toward Seong-ho. “If you want to buy more buildings, why not turn the money that’s left now and buy buildings with that instead? Stop the futures short at the 27 billion invested now.”

Chung-seop pressed his case — do that, and even if the worst came, they could keep 23 billion, couldn’t they?

That was how dangerous a choice Seong-ho’s current investment was.

But Seong-ho saw it differently. “No. What I want is to execute the rest of the money faster and finish taking the whole position. Even if we build at a slightly worse price, once time passes, even the bad price levels will come to look good.”

“Director. What’s the reason for rushing this much? I don’t understand it. I didn’t want to go this far, but…” Chung-seop debated whether to say it, then opened his mouth with difficulty. “Go in this naked, and there’s a strong chance you become the target of the other participants. No — you’ve surely already become their target. Every other investor might band together to push the index up, meaning to strip your stake clean.”

Because in any gambling den, when a sucker walks in, the players try to eat him alive — and right now the market’s sucker was Seong-ho.

“Don’t worry. It won’t come to that.”

“Director. This isn’t something to be so optimistic—”

“No. It absolutely won’t come to that.”

At Seong-ho’s firm words, Chung-seop sighed. “Haah…” He let out a deep breath and slowly spoke. “Director. I understand your pride is stung. But this…”

“It’s not about pride. Setting aside whether they strip me clean — the market is bound to collapse.”

“Sorry? The market’s going to collapse?”

Chung-seop gazed at the conviction-filled Seong-ho a while without a word. At the sight of Seong-ho, without a shred of doubt, it was hard even to ask what he meant.

Seong-ho spoke first. “So build it as fast as you can. There isn’t much time left.” He looked at the calendar on the wall, left behind by the office’s former owner, and said, “There’s less than a fortnight.”

At that, Chung-seop only nodded instead of answering. With a date named so precisely, the word can’t wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

Seeing his expression, Seong-ho smiled lightly and rose. Walking back toward the window, he said, “You can buy the buildings a little slowly. The price is cheap enough even now, but it’ll get cheaper still, so I plan to buy then, with the money made from this.”

Chung-seop turned and looked at Seong-ho’s back with a dumbfounded gaze. From not entertaining the slightest thought of losing on the futures short, to buying buildings with the money made from it — there wasn’t a single thing Chung-seop could make sense of.

But Seong-ho, having lived through that former life, knew well that the prices of Gangnam’s buildings would fall below where they stood now, and knew too that the event that would cause it was about to unfold.

Thinking of what lay ahead, Seong-ho looked out with a pleased expression at the buildings of Teheran-ro through the window.

“Hello.”

Seong-ho took the phone Gyeong-eun handed him. Chung-seop’s voice came over the receiver.

—Director. It’s Chung-seop.

“How did it go?”

Seong-ho put the question and looked at Gyeong-eun standing across from him, smiling. Soon Chung-seop said the thing Seong-ho had been waiting for.

—I’ve taken the whole futures short position. Twenty-one thousand two hundred contracts in total.

“Well done.”

—Director. But…

Just as Seong-ho, having heard the answer he wanted, made to hang up with a word of thanks, Chung-seop went on. He passed along a rumor going around the market.

—There’s a rumor circulating about Dubo Steel.

“A rumor’s going around?”

He asked as if he didn’t know, but a deep smile was set at the corner of his mouth. Unaware of that, Chung-seop continued in a grave voice.

—There’s a rumor that the Dubo Group is suffering a serious cash crunch. And that Dubo Steel sits at the center of it. Word has it that before long, Dubo Steel… might go bankrupt — even that’s leaking out.

“I see.”

—Didn’t you say… Ilhyeon Group invested in Dubo Steel?

“That’s right.”

—I heard they invested 300 billion… If this goes wrong somehow…

Thinking he might be running his mouth, Chung-seop hurriedly stopped.

But Seong-ho only smiled lightly. “Understood. If you hear any other news, let me know.”

Realizing Seong-ho’s voice hadn’t been the least bit flustered, Chung-seop said no more about Dubo Steel. Saying he’d get in touch if other news came, as Seong-ho had asked, he hung up.

Seong-ho confirmed the call had ended and set the receiver down on the phone.

Gyeong-eun, who’d waited before him until the call finished, asked curiously, “What was the call?”

“CEO Jo called.”

“I’m the one who took it and passed it to you — do you think I’d ask if I didn’t know it was CEO Jo of Future Advisory?”

On the day the name Future Advisory was decided, Seong-ho had gone to the building with Gyeong-eun and exchanged greetings with Chung-seop there. So Gyeong-eun knew who Chung-seop was.

With a look that said is that what I’m curious about, she stepped closer and linked her arm through his. “Listening from the side, it sounded like good news, so tell me too. What was it that spread such a smile across your face?”

From the smile on Seong-ho’s face, Gyeong-eun had seen at a glance that the reason for the call was good news.

“Hahaha. It’s nothing. He was just saying he’d finished the investment with the money in my account.”

“Come on. That’s not all it was. When you were about to hang up, CEO Jo clearly said something more, and hearing it, you grinned just like this.” Gyeong-eun mimicked the upturned corner of Seong-ho’s mouth and looked up at him — confident that with her charm, he’d tell her even a secret that could bring the world down.

But it was somewhere other than Seong-ho’s mouth that she learned the reason.

“Oh? Chief. Hadn’t you left for the day?”

Seeing Do-beom, who’d gone home, come back into the house, Gyeong-eun asked with a puzzled look.

“Something urgent came up, so I’ve come back. The chairman will call for you shortly, so it’d be best not to go up — wait a moment in the living room.”

“Dad’s calling for me? Why?”

At the question, Do-beom, heading in, halted a moment and stood in place. He parted his lips as if to explain, then turned his head instead. “Hear that from the chairman later. He’ll call soon, so don’t go up to the second floor.”

With that, Do-beom made quickly for the study where Tak-hyeon was.

Gyeong-eun cocked her head and looked back at Seong-ho — because somehow she felt he would know.

Just as she thought, Seong-ho knew the reason Do-beom had come back after leaving for the day.

So the rumor CEO Jo heard has become fact.

As Seong-ho only looked at the study without a word, Gyeong-eun opened her mouth to ask — but couldn’t.

Because Tak-hyeon’s roar bursting out of the study rattled the roof of the Pyeongchang-dong house.

(End of Chapter 64)