Chairman Tak-hyeon looked around at the children gathered in the living room and snorted.

“So this is why the company’s been creaking along. With you lot this idle, how was it ever going to run properly?”

At Tak-hyeon’s sneer, Mun-jong’s face reddened slightly. But unlike Mun-jong, Jeong-eun paid it no mind and spoke to Tak-hyeon. “Father. Do you even know what state the company’s in right now?”

“Your father may not know the state of the company well, but as chairman of Ilhyeon Group, I know it better than you do — so there’s no need to worry.”

Tak-hyeon glared at Jeong-eun and snapped it out. But she seemed unbothered even by that.

“Father. That man is ruining the whole group.” Jeong-eun pointed a finger at Seong-ho and shouted.

Tak-hyeon followed her pointing finger to look at Seong-ho, then let out a short laugh. “Now that’s a line I’ve heard plenty of times before. Isn’t that so, second son?”

Tak-hyeon threw the sneering remark at Sang-jong, sitting quietly to one side. Sang-jong said nothing to it and only bowed his head. Through his lowered head, he glanced sidelong at Seong-ho.

Ever since Seong-ho had instructed President Hak-ju Park of Ilhyeon Securities to close out Sang-jong’s accounts, the KOSPI index had kept its head down and continued falling. Part of it was the effect of Sang-jong’s massive investment being pulled out all at once, pressing down on the market — but in any case, that the market as a whole had turned to a downtrend was something any market participant could plainly see. Because of this, Sang-jong had been able to keep his loss to a minimum. Of course, the loss taken in liquidating the account all at once had come to nearly 10 billion — but had he kept holding, the loss could well have swelled to 20 billion, even 30 billion, so it was more accurate to say the loss had been prevented.

Seong-ho gave Sang-jong a thin smile at his glance. Sang-jong pursed his lips bitterly at the smile and turned his head away again.

He must be ashamed to have been wrong. But either way, I saved you, so you’ve got no choice but to back me now.

Seong-ho asked the question inwardly, knowing no answer would come — yet it felt as though Sang-jong’s answer reached him all the same.

Seong-ho drew his gaze from Sang-jong and looked at Jeong-eun, who was working herself up in earnest. She was going on and on to Tak-hyeon about Seong-ho’s viciousness.

“That man is shaking our whole group to pieces. Father. He’s trying to sell off Ilhyeon Foods — the company you founded. Do you know that?”

“I know.”

Tak-hyeon, irritated by Jeong-eun’s whining tone, dug a finger into his ear and said, “Stop the sniveling and speak calmly. You’ve been in company life more than a year or two — still carrying on like this, tsk.”

“How am I supposed to keep the sniveling out of my voice? They’re liquidating Ilhyeon Housing. Do you hear me? That madman is trying to erase Ilhyeon Housing — a company you founded!”

“I know that too. I know, so enough of it.”

Tak-hyeon raised a hand and pointed at Seong-ho. “Do you keep whining without even knowing where that Restructuring Headquarters he’s running belongs? It sits directly under my own secretariat. Whatever he reports comes to me through Chief Hwang. Meaning I already know before you do.”

Tak-hyeon glared hard at Jeong-eun. “If you didn’t know this, you’d have no reason to be sitting here facing me right now. And if you knew it and still kept talking to me anyway, that means you’ve got something you want to say. So say what you want to say. Don’t gather every one of your siblings here and waste everyone’s time for nothing.”

At being told to just say whatever she had to say, Jeong-eun clenched her back teeth. She’d known appealing to emotion wouldn’t work on Tak-hyeon, but his reaction, harsher than she’d expected, soured her mood further still.

“Fine. I’ll say it plainly.” Jeong-eun glared at Seong-ho and said, “The presidents of Ilhyeon Foods, Ilhyeon Housing, and the others came to me with their resignation letters in hand, saying that at this rate the whole group could be shaken apart.”

“They went to you?”

Mun-jong clicked his tongue and said to Tak-hyeon, “Chairman. They came to me too. But since all they had to say was how unfair it was that they’d been restructured, I sent them off.” He glanced sidelong at Jeong-eun. “Seems they went to the third child after.”

“They came to me because you wouldn’t listen.” Jeong-eun cut in over him. “With things gone this bad, isn’t it a problem that you wouldn’t hear them out?”

“A problem? What problem?”

Mun-jong looked at Jeong-eun, blaming him, with a look of disbelief.

Jeong-eun ignored his stare and said to Tak-hyeon, “Father. He’s selling off and liquidating the companies you built, erasing them one by one — are you really going to just sit and watch this happen?”

Tak-hyeon gazed blankly at Jeong-eun and said, “What do you mean to do about Ilhyeon Fashion?”

“Sorry? What do you mean by that?”

Jeong-eun asked back, unable to understand why Tak-hyeon had suddenly brought up Ilhyeon Fashion. But Tak-hyeon’s question hadn’t been aimed at her.

“Ilhyeon Fashion is also under consideration for sale.”

Seong-ho answered Tak-hyeon’s question.

Jeong-eun’s head snapped toward him.

Under her gaze, Seong-ho gave Tak-hyeon the details on Ilhyeon Fashion. “The fashion business is not a model suited to our Ilhyeon. Its profit margin against revenue is markedly low, breaking into overseas markets is far from easy, and even if a channel were opened, we expect the hoped-for rise in revenue would be minimal.”

“You! What are you saying?”

Jeong-eun shouted at Seong-ho, but his words didn’t stop. “The Restructuring Headquarters’ judgment is that rather than maintaining Ilhyeon Fashion, which depends on the domestic market, it’s better to convert the stores it holds into real-estate value and put them on the market.”

“If it’s sold, is there anywhere to acquire it?”

“We’re meeting with Dugyeong Group in three days.”

Jeong-eun’s eyes went wide. That an acquirer had already been found — and a negotiating table already set — was enough to leave her nearly stunned.

Tak-hyeon nodded and gave Seong-ho an instruction. “Sell off whatever’s to be sold, and sell it fast. This kind of thing is a race against time. Hold out trying to squeeze one more won and you can end up with nothing at all. You know what I mean?”

“Yes, I understand. With not one or two but many affiliates in the group needing to be cleared, we’re aware that shortening the timeline matters more than being greedy over small change. I’ll see to it that the sale goes through as quickly as possible.”

At the sight of Seong-ho and Tak-hyeon trading words back and forth, Jeong-eun couldn’t hold back and shouted, “What are you two doing right now? Selling off Ilhyeon Fashion — why!”

“Hadn’t you heard?”

“Hadn’t heard what? What haven’t I heard!”

Jeong-eun glared at Seong-ho as if she’d devour him. But without so much as flinching under her gaze, he said, “I suppose since you’re not the president, sister-in-law, word might take a little longer to reach you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seong-ho curled the corner of his mouth up slightly and answered. “I already notified the Ilhyeon Fashion president about the sale proceedings. I did tell him to keep it quiet for the time being, since the staff might get unsettled… seems the president didn’t tell you either, sister-in-law.”

“Tsk, tsk. She should mind her own company instead of sticking her nose into other people’s business.” Mun-jong said to Jeong-eun, as if she were pathetic.

Jeong-eun looked around, her gaze with nowhere to land. Then she turned to Sang-jong, who until recently had been criticizing Seong-ho right alongside her. “Brother. Say something too!”

At her demand, Sang-jong wore a bitter look at his lips.

Just then Tak-hyeon spoke first.

“Fool of a man.”

At Tak-hyeon’s words, Jeong-eun turned her head to look at him. Unable to understand why Tak-hyeon had suddenly called Sang-jong a fool, she was thrown into confusion.

But paying no mind to what Jeong-eun thought, Tak-hyeon said to Sang-jong, “Be grateful it ended with a loss that size only because Kim stepped in and stopped it. Cause trouble again and see what happens.”

“I won’t cause any more trouble. I’ll reflect on it at home.”

“Tsk. Should’ve done that from the start.”

Tak-hyeon looked at the bowed Sang-jong with contempt, then turned to Seong-ho. “How much do we owe Ilhyeon Securities?”

“The loss comes to about 9 billion. I told them I’d settle it by this week.”

“Never mind that, leave it.”

Tak-hyeon gestured to Do-beom, standing behind him. As Do-beom came forward, Tak-hyeon gave an order. “Take 10 billion out of the vault and settle it.”

“Yes, understood.”

As Do-beom answered and stepped back, Tak-hyeon spoke to Seong-ho again. “You needn’t spend your own money. I’ll cover the loss myself and get back the Ilhyeon Construction shares that were put up as collateral. That’s the end of it.”

“Chairman, even so, about 9 billion is enough.”

“Think of the rest as your fee for the trouble.”

Tak-hyeon said he’d give 1 billion as a fee for the trouble and rose from his seat. Looking down at Jeong-eun, still failing to grasp the situation, he snorted. “Get some head for business to match that temper of yours. Who’s letting whom off easy here?”

“Father, I…”

“And Chief Hwang.”

“Yes.”

At Tak-hyeon’s call, Do-beom answered in a loud voice, and Tak-hyeon gave one more instruction. “Seems the presidents of Ilhyeon Foods and the others entrusted their resignations to Jeong-eun — take them and process every one of them. Where do these people get off using resignation letters to threaten us? Is the company theirs? Hired hands drawing a salary, and their gall’s grown bigger than their bellies. Cut every one of them. And you.”

Tak-hyeon pointed a finger at Jeong-eun.

“You come out of the company too, and reflect like your brother. I coddled you because you’re my daughter, and look how you’ve turned out — no manners at all.”

Tak-hyeon glared at Jeong-eun once more and turned. She reached a hand toward him and called his name in a trembling voice.

“Father. I was only doing it for the sake of the company…”

But her voice didn’t reach him.

Tak-hyeon left the living room just as he was and headed for the study, and only his children and son-in-law remained behind in the room.

Ilhyeon Group’s restructuring pressed on at a furious pace.

Among the businesses that still held corporate value but couldn’t continue on with Ilhyeon Group, those deemed unfit were put up for sale on the market. Companies like Ilhyeon Foods and Ilhyeon Fashion came onto the market and found new owners. For companies that didn’t look easy to sell, the decision was made to split them apart. Real estate and highly liquid assets that could be turned into money were stripped from the company and sold off, while the rest was incinerated as the company entered liquidation proceedings.

The affiliates severed from Ilhyeon Group this way numbered as many as twenty.

The companies that survived within Ilhyeon Group fared little better. They went through a bone-shaving process to cut their debt ratios, and some affiliates, on grounds of running duplicate businesses, had to be merged with one another or withdraw from their businesses entirely.

Through this process, a great many Ilhyeon Group employees were let go. Roughly 20,000 Ilhyeon Group employees left the company, and the 5,000-odd new hires who’d been scheduled to join were switched to a waiting status, left simply to wait for the door to open.

The market watched Ilhyeon’s high-intensity restructuring with wondering eyes. Never before, since the founding of the Republic of Korea, had a restructuring been carried out on this scale. Some people even wondered whether Ilhyeon Group was folding up its business altogether — cutting people and withdrawing from businesses to this degree was simply hard to understand.

But among economists, there were those who applauded Ilhyeon Group’s decision.

“What has the problem been with our conglomerates all this time?”

On television, a well-known economics professor appeared, discussing Ilhyeon Group’s restructuring.

“Octopus-arm-style expansion — that has been the chronic problem of Korea’s conglomerates.”

The professor spoke to the announcer with mounting passion.

“Only by breaking this pattern can Korea take the leap to becoming an advanced nation.”

“So you mean Ilhyeon Group is moving away from octopus-arm expansion to concentrate on profitable, competitive businesses?”

“Exactly. Further still, it means doing only the businesses that succeed on the world stage. How beautiful a sight is that?”

The professor spread his hands out to either side as if he’d heard a beautiful melody, wearing a rapturous expression. Then he continued his praise of Ilhyeon Group to the announcer.

“What kind of place is Ilhyeon? It is Korea’s proud company. A company like this shouldn’t be fighting Korean companies. Its rivals are companies in America, companies in Japan. And yet should Ilhyeon be selling snacks and bread?”

The professor threw the question at the announcer, but it didn’t seem to be a question meant to be answered. Before the announcer could reply, the professor answered it himself.

“No. It should not. So domestic-facing businesses should be boldly cleared away, and focus placed on export businesses that earn dollars. I believe this restructuring by Ilhyeon Group is an utterly correct choice, for the sake of Korea.”

Seong-ho listened to the economics professor on the television, smiled silently, and popped an almond into his mouth.

(End of Chapter 80)