Chung-seop was shown into the Restructuring Headquarters.

“Please wait here a moment.”

A headquarters staffer told Chung-seop to wait outside the door and went into the Head’s office. A moment later he came back out and told Chung-seop he could go in.

“Thank you.”

Chung-seop thanked the staffer who’d opened the door and went into the Head’s office.

“Come in.”

Seong-ho, seated at his desk, rose and welcomed Chung-seop warmly.

“Head. Have you been well?”

“I’ve been well.”

Seong-ho took Chung-seop’s hand warmly and led him to the sofa.

“And you’ve been well too, CEO?”

“Thanks to you, Head, I’ve been well.”

“Hahaha. What have I got to do with it? Here, sit.”

Seong-ho laughed easily and gestured for him to sit on the sofa.

Sitting down, Chung-seop looked around the office. “This is the old Chief’s office, isn’t it? I never thought I’d see the day I’d come to the Strategic Planning Office’s Chief’s office.”

“Yes. In the Strategic Planning days, this was used as the Chief’s office. Does it feel like a moment out of time?”

“Of course it does.”

At Seong-ho’s question, Chung-seop looked around the office once more and said, “For me — once a low-level clerk at Ilhyeon Securities — to end up here, in what was once the office of the Chief of Ilhyeon Group’s famous Strategic Planning Office, I feel like an enormous success.”

“Hahaha.”

Seong-ho burst into laughter and instructed his assistant to bring tea. Then he said to Chung-seop with a smiling face, “As it happens, I was meaning to ask to see you, CEO.”

“Me? For what…”

Seong-ho rose from his seat a moment and went to his desk. He opened a locked drawer and brought out a check. To Chung-seop, looking back and forth between the check and Seong-ho’s face, he held it out and said, “I know it’s money that barely matters even if I just leave it parked, since there’s nowhere much for it to go right now — but I’ve nothing particular to use it for either, so I thought I’d just have it parked alongside the rest, in my account.”

Chung-seop took the check Seong-ho handed him and checked it.

“1 billion… it is.”

“Yes. 1 billion.”

At Seong-ho’s flat tone, Chung-seop lifted his head to look at him. He wondered how many people in all of Korea would hand over 1 billion the way one might hand over a 1,000-won note. A billion won was a sum that could do practically anything in Korea — buy several houses in Gangnam, or, put toward land, buy so much of it there’d be no end in sight.

Looking back and forth between Seong-ho, handing over a billion as if it were nothing, and the check itself, Chung-seop sank into thought a moment.

Well, if it’s anyone, it would be Head Kim who could do that.

It struck him as surreal, but the thought came to Chung-seop that Seong-ho, of all people, could do exactly that.

Seong-ho, looking a little sheepish, said to him, “Adding another billion won’t make much difference, will it?”

At the question, Chung-seop came to himself and answered, “Honestly, adding a billion to your account right now, Head, is about the level of pouring a sack of sand onto a beach.”

“How much is my account valued at right now?”

“With the KOSPI turning back downward again, it’s crossed 100 billion once more.”

“I see.”

Answering, Seong-ho looked at Chung-seop, whose face had reddened, and asked, “What’s the matter?”

At the question, Chung-seop’s face reddened further and he bowed his head. “I’m ashamed of myself… that’s why. I’m sorry.”

“What have you got to be sorry to me about? It’s nothing.”

Even at Seong-ho’s reassurance, Chung-seop’s face grew redder still. “Didn’t I tell you, Head, that you should unwind the account? That the index was rebounding?”

“You did.”

“Even now, I wake up with a start in my sleep thinking about how foolish that analysis was. The thought that I nearly wrecked your account, Head… I’m truly sorry. It felt so shameless that I nearly turned back several times even on my way here.”

“Hahaha. In the end it didn’t happen, so you needn’t worry so much.”

“No. You trusted me and entrusted me with your money, Head… and I keep making judgments that fall short of your expectations. I have no face to show you.”

Seong-ho looked at the bowed Chung-seop and smiled silently.

The great Chung-seop Jo of Future Securities, bowing his head like this… it’s amusing.

Seeing Chung-seop — the prodigy who’d built the finest securities firm in Korea from the very bottom — confess his fault and apologize this way struck Seong-ho as amusing.

He took Chung-seop by the shoulder, raised him back up, and changed the subject. “Anyway, what brings you here today, CEO?”

Chung-seop caught his breath and let the redness in his face settle before answering. “First, I meant to tell you that your account has crossed 100 billion again, Head.”

“That could’ve been said over the phone, so that’s not why you came all the way here… there’s another reason, isn’t there?”

At Seong-ho’s question of whether there was another reason, Chung-seop nodded and answered. “Yes. I came to speak to you directly because I’d like to make a proposal.”

“A proposal?”

At Seong-ho’s puzzled question, Chung-seop, CEO of Future Advisory, looked down at the billion-won check in his hand. Then he nodded slowly and looked back up at Seong-ho.

“Head. As I said a moment ago, pouring this billion into your account doesn’t mean much. What difference does it make to the account if 100 billion becomes 101 billion? It’s barely a 1% rise in volume.”

“That’s true.”

Seong-ho agreed and looked quietly at Chung-seop. He’d come saying he wanted to make a proposal, yet he was talking about the billion won again — Seong-ho couldn’t quite tell what he was getting at. So he waited for Chung-seop’s next words to hear him out.

“Head. This billion won — instead of putting it in your account… how about using it somewhere else?”

“Somewhere else?”

“Yes. Invest it in our Future Advisory.”

“Invest?”

Seong-ho cocked his head, uncomprehending.

As if he’d expected this reaction, Chung-seop pressed his request on Seong-ho in a firmer tone. “For 1 billion, I’ll give you a 20% stake in Future Advisory. Please become a co-investor in our Future Advisory, Head.”

“A co-investor…”

As Seong-ho hesitated, Chung-seop leaned in closer to him and said, “This whole affair has made me feel, once again, just how small I am compared to you, Head. Without your insight, I’m nothing — Future Advisory is nothing but an empty shell. So please join Future Advisory and show both it and me the path we should take.”

“CEO Jo. I believe I already turned that down once?”

Seong-ho shook his head. “My only interest is in running the funds I already have — I have no interest in taking on other clients’ money to run. And if I’d been interested in co-investing, I’d have proposed it to you long ago.”

“I know that. I know you have no interest in securities, Head. But the reason I’m making this proposal anyway is that I genuinely need you. I’ve founded the company and I’m leading Future Advisory, but I feel I lack the capacity for it.”

Having honestly admitted his shortcoming, Chung-seop’s eyes shone as he looked at Seong-ho and went on. “I need someone I can trust and lean on. I’ve come to feel that, more than anything, I need someone to turn to for advice and support when I run into trouble. And I want that to be you, Head.”

Pausing a moment, Chung-seop bowed his head to Seong-ho once more.

“Head. Please help me, just this once. Be the load-bearing beam that holds Future Advisory up.”

Chung-seop kept his head bowed with the firm resolve of a man who wouldn’t lift it again unless Seong-ho accepted.

Seong-ho gazed at him blankly.

He’s been shaken quite badly by all this.

Seong-ho could see, to some degree, why Chung-seop was acting this way. As the Dubo and Bumi affairs settled, the KOSPI, which had been gradually rising, had turned and dropped again. Having fallen back to its previous low, the index now stood at a level where people worried it might break below that low entirely. Chung-seop — who’d urged Seong-ho to unwind his account as the market rose — must have felt crushing despair watching the market not just return to where it started but threaten to sink into a basement beneath the floor. The thought that his own judgment had nearly cost Seong-ho tens of billions weighed on his heart, and it seemed he’d come to feel utterly insignificant next to Seong-ho’s judgment.

He’d probably do fine even if I left him be, but…

Seong-ho knew what kind of man Chung-seop was and what path lay ahead of him better than Chung-seop knew himself. But even so, Chung-seop’s current state didn’t look good. Left alone like this, he could grow despondent and collapse. Seong-ho didn’t want Chung-seop to fall apart. Because there was much Seong-ho still needed to do through him.

Looking at the still-bowed Chung-seop, Seong-ho spoke. “1 billion for 20%. Won’t you regret it?”

At his words, Chung-seop lifted his head to look at him. Meeting Seong-ho’s gaze, he nodded quickly.

“I won’t regret it.”

“If I come in as an investor in the company, I could end up influencing it.”

“That’s fine, even if you do. If I’m running the company badly, please give me a sharp word of advice.”

“No. That’s not what I mean.”

Seong-ho shook his head and spoke to him again. “What I mean is, if Future Advisory heads down the wrong path, I could end up standing opposed to you, CEO Jo. In the worst case, we could become enemies.”

“That won’t happen.”

At Seong-ho’s words, Chung-seop spoke firmly.

“It could happen. 20% is by no means a small stake.”

“No. I don’t think you’ve understood what I mean, Head.”

Chung-seop gazed steadily at Seong-ho. “What I mean is that if you show me and Future Advisory the path we should take, I will follow you unconditionally.”

As Seong-ho seemed to be moving toward agreeing to the 20% stake investment, Chung-seop showed the look of a man who’d steeled his resolve. He raised a hand to his chest and spoke to Seong-ho as if making a vow.

“I will always stand behind you, Head, so there will never be a time we stand facing each other — I’ll always be looking in the same direction as you.”

At his words, Seong-ho let out a short laugh. He nodded and accepted Chung-seop’s proposal.

At Seong-ho’s decision, Chung-seop, at last relieved, broke into a full bloom of a smile.

And that day, the KOSPI finally broke through the 700 line — called a strong support level — and set a new low.

Seong-ho sat alone in a tatami room, looking at a newspaper.

The press, which had been criticizing Ilhyeon Group’s restructuring and insisting Korea’s economy was sound, had at some point begun saying a red light had come on for the Korean economy. And the event that had lit the fire under this shift in mood sat splashed across the paper.

[Seongro Group Files for Composition]

Composition — a legal procedure in which, when a company faces the risk of insolvency or bankruptcy, the court mediates to establish a debt-repayment agreement with creditors, aimed at avoiding the company’s outright bankruptcy.

Slide.

The sliding door opened, and Sang-jong came into the tatami room where Seong-ho had been waiting.

“Did you wait long?”

“No. I just got here myself.”

Seong-ho folded the paper he’d been reading and set it aside. Sang-jong glanced down at the folded paper and sat across from Seong-ho.

“They say Seongro Group’s gone under.”

“Yes. I just saw it myself.”

“You didn’t know beforehand?”

“I’d heard rumors.”

At Seong-ho’s answer, Sang-jong let out a short laugh and ordered from the server who’d come in through the door. Once the server left, he brought up Seongro Group again.

“That man, really… he grew his business too big. Should’ve just stuck to the soju business. What did he need to reach into construction and resorts for? Well, even that alone would’ve been fine. Isn’t this what happens when you spend a fortune bringing in a foreign brand to start a beer business?”

“He probably didn’t expect the exchange rate to climb this much.”

“Right… the exchange rate’s climbed too far. Feels like just yesterday people were arguing over whether 500 won to the dollar was right or not, and now it’s knocking on 1,000. The royalties he has to pay abroad have doubled — how’s he supposed to bear that?”

Sang-jong shook his head.

“If he hadn’t spread himself so thin, he might’ve been able to hold out somehow on cash in hand, but he doesn’t have that either…”

Sang-jong looked at the Seongro Group article in the paper with a look of contempt. He clicked his tongue and picked up the teacup before him to drink.

Wetting his lips, Sang-jong set the cup down and looked at Seong-ho.

“Anyway… why did you ask to see me?”

Sang-jong asked the question and gazed steadily at Seong-ho, who smiled at his look and opened his mouth.

(End of Chapter 86)