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CH297 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-04-10 02:32:31 +0000 UTCDonghae Group Headquarters, Yeongdeungpo.
As a knock sounded and the door opened, Chief Secretary Jeon Hae-cheol entered. Chairman Woo Yong-gap, who had been seated at his desk, straightened his posture.
“I was just about to call for you. Good timing. Have a seat.”
When he pointed with his chin toward the sofa in the middle of the office, Chief Secretary Jeon bowed his head and responded.
“Yes, sir.”
Chairman Woo, who had been reading a report, closed it and rose from his seat, walking around the desk to take the central seat on the sofa.
As he sat with one leg crossed, his face appeared noticeably more haggard than before.
After the ambitious hostile M&A of the Mido Department Store ended in failure, the company suffered a severe financial blow and was now facing a slew of legal risks, including an audit by the Financial Supervisory Service. It was no wonder he looked the way he did.
When Chairman Woo opened the wooden case on the table and picked out a cigarette from the neatly arranged row inside, Chief Secretary Jeon, seated on the right-hand sofa, quickly stood and lit it for him with a lighter.
Leaning back, Chairman Woo inhaled deeply from his white cigarette and slowly exhaled before speaking.
“How’s the funding coming along for acquiring the securities firm shares the Hong Kong guys are holding?”
Receiving his gaze, Chief Secretary Jeon answered in a calm voice.
“It looks like we can raise 60 million dollars through HSBC on a two-year maturity term.”
“How much is that in Korean won?”
“At the current exchange rate, roughly 49.5 billion won.”
Chairman Woo slightly furrowed his brows.
“That’s all it amounts to?”
“The exchange rate has climbed to 826 won per dollar over the past few months, so foreign exchange losses have grown significantly.”
“Tsk. Everything's unraveling. Even the smallest things are becoming a problem.”
He clicked his tongue in frustration, muttering irritably.
Knowing that the chairman had been in a foul mood since the M&A failed—and with the unfavorable exchange rates—Jeon wisely held his tongue.
Chairman Woo then lightly tapped the ash from his cigarette into the crystal ashtray on the table and asked,
“Would it be possible to pull in another 40 million dollars in foreign loans?”
“I’ll need to speak with HSBC, but it should be possible. However, the interest rate won’t be low, so the burden will be significant.”
“The rate was 9%, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
A 9% interest rate was significantly higher than the average rate Korean companies typically faced when securing funds overseas.
It was a reflection of Donghae Group’s weakened financial standing after the failed hostile M&A, which had led lenders to impose a steep risk premium.
Chairman Woo Yong-gap grimaced at the high rate and muttered,
“Still, it’s lower than the domestic double-digit interest rates, isn’t it?”
“That’s true.”
With the cigarette still wedged between his fingers, Chairman Woo paused in thought before looking up again.
“Since we’ve tied up most of our available funds dealing with the fallout from the M&A, I’d like to use this opportunity to secure more cash. What do you think?”
In truth, the group’s financial health had taken a nosedive after they were lured into overpaying for shares of Mido Department Store, only to sell them off at a loss—while buying back Donghae Oil shares from the other party at nearly twice the market price.
On top of that, due to crimes committed by Woo Ho-geun—including stock manipulation and illegal lending—the headquarters and several affiliates were now under investigation by the Financial Supervisory Service and the prosecution, making domestic fundraising increasingly difficult.
Given the circumstances, Chief Secretary Jeon agreed that increasing the foreign loan amount to secure operating capital made sense.
“The interest burden is high, but as you said, it’s still cheaper than domestic rates. It doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
“Then negotiate with HSBC to increase the loan to 100 million dollars.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
With that, they could fully liquidate their shares in the joint venture with Peregrine Securities in Hong Kong—something Chairman Woo was eager to put behind him—and secure 40 million dollars in liquidity. That would at least put out the most urgent fires.
If the sale of Donghae Medical, which was currently in progress, also went through, they would finally be able to catch their breath.
Feeling a bit more at ease than before, Chairman Woo stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette in the crystal ashtray and asked,
“By the way, isn’t the verdict for that Boseong Communication stock manipulation case due next week?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That damned fool…”
Even just thinking about it made his blood boil, but Woo Yong-gap still let out a sigh and pressed his temples with one hand—after all, it was his only son.
“What do you think the verdict will be?”
Chief Secretary Jeon hesitated, unable to answer immediately. He glanced up cautiously before speaking in a careful tone.
“Given the overwhelming evidence that Executive Director Woo led the stock manipulation, it’s going to be difficult to avoid a prison sentence.”
Chairman Woo scowled.
“We hired four former prosecutors and judges as defense attorneys, and it’s still looking that bad?”
In a tight voice that bordered on a scolding, Chairman Woo pressed him.
“We were hoping to at least get a suspended sentence, even if we couldn’t avoid a conviction. But things unraveled when the prosecution submitted IOUs that Woo had written to the very people he secretly funneled money to during the trial. That was the final blow.”
Prosecutors had pressured and coaxed Yoo Seok-chan and Jeon Geon-woo—friends of Woo Ho-geun—into turning on him in exchange for leniency, after threatening that they’d spend years behind bars as accomplices if they didn’t cooperate.
“And he called those guys his friends? Absolutely pathetic.”
Chairman Woo clicked his tongue in disgust, his face twisted in disappointment.
His tone implied that Woo Ho-geun had simply been dragged down by bad company. But in truth, Chief Secretary Jeon couldn’t help thinking they were all cut from the same cloth.
When the illegal loans were exposed, Woo Ho-geun had immediately tried to pin all the blame on Kwon Seung-seop, the CEO of the mutual credit union. That alone said everything.
They were birds of a feather—naturally close, and equally willing to commit stock manipulation and other illegal acts without hesitation.
The words almost slipped out of Jeon’s mouth, but he held them back.
“If he gets a prison sentence, what kind of time are we looking at?”
Chairman Woo’s frown deepened, the crease between his brows becoming more pronounced.
“The prosecution has asked for four years in prison and a fine of 2 billion won. There’s a high chance the court will accept that as is.”
“Four years… he has to spend four years in prison?”
Chairman Woo Yong-gap raised his voice, as if the sentence was utterly absurd.
Seeing the already grim look on his face grow even darker, Chief Secretary Jeon hesitated for a moment before adding,
“Considering the ongoing trials involving the illegal mutual credit union loans and the FSS bribery scandal… there’s a high chance he’ll be convicted in those as well. If that happens… he could end up serving quite a long sentence.”
“Ughhhh…”
Chairman Woo let out a deep groan as he pressed his forehead with his palm, sighing in frustration.
“He’s not a son… he’s a damn curse.”
Chief Secretary Jeon couldn’t help but sigh inwardly too, thinking about the group’s shattered finances and the reputation that had been dragged through the mud because of Woo Ho-geun’s actions.
‘He caused this massive mess and proved himself totally unfit to lead, but in the end, I bet the Chairman will still hand the group over to him.’
Even now, despite the possibility of an actual prison sentence, Chairman Woo was reacting with anger and defending him. That said enough.
No one was expecting Woo Ho-geun to grow the company once he inherited it. At this point, Chief Secretary Jeon just hoped he wouldn't run it into the ground. A bitter expression crossed his face.
* * *
“I’ve brought the first edition of tomorrow morning’s paper.”
After a knock on the door, Na Seong-mi entered and placed a neatly stacked set of newspapers on the desk.
“Thanks.”
“Shall I make you a cup of coffee?”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Of course. I’ll bring it right away.”
With a gentle smile, Na Seong-mi stepped back out.
Pushing the documents he’d been reviewing to one side of his desk, Seok-won reached out and picked up the top newspaper from the pile she had brought.
The strong smell of ink lingered, a clear sign the paper had come straight off the press.
As always, Seok-won began carefully scanning the articles, reading thoroughly from the front page onward.
After making his way through the political and social sections, he was just about to move on to the economic pages when Na Seong-mi returned with an iced Americano.
“Thanks—I’ll enjoy it.”
She gave a quick nod and left with the empty tray. Seok-won lifted the glass and took a long sip.
The coffee, tailored to his preference with an extra shot, had a strong and rich aroma.
The caffeine quickly kicked in, lifting the drowsiness of the late afternoon and shaking off the post-lunch slump. He felt a quiet jolt of energy return to his body.
“No wonder I can’t quit coffee.”
Taking another sip of the Americano, Seok-won flipped to the next page.
One article, accompanied by a photo, immediately caught his eye.
[Former Donghae Group Executive Woo Ho-geun Appeals Stock Manipulation Conviction]
Woo Ho-geun, former executive director of Donghae Group, who was sentenced to four years in prison and fined 1.75 billion won in the first trial for manipulating the stock of Boseong Communication—causing significant losses to individual investors—has announced plans to appeal the verdict.
He admitted to attempting stock manipulation but argued that the share price crashed before he could sell, meaning he not only failed to profit but also suffered major losses. He claimed the prosecution’s sentencing request and the court’s ruling were excessively harsh.
The prosecution, however, argued that even if he didn’t gain financially, the intent and act of disrupting the market...
Looking at the black-and-white photo of Woo Ho-geun leaving the courthouse with a stiff, grim expression after his first trial verdict, Seok-won lifted one corner of his mouth in a half-smile.
“Even if he files an appeal, it’ll be hard to avoid prison. Still, with all those other trials lined up, I guess he’s desperate to get the sentence reduced somehow.”
The evidence in the other ongoing cases was just as damning, and the severity of Woo Ho-geun’s crimes made it unlikely that he could avoid a heavy sentence.
Seok-won set the newspaper down and muttered to himself,
“Not that he’s actually going to serve the full time anyway.”
Even if he were convicted in every case and ended up with nearly ten years behind bars, it was painfully obvious how this would play out—once public attention faded, he’d quietly walk free with a presidential pardon on Christmas or Liberation Day.
“The law always bends in the face of money and power.”
It was an uncomfortable truth. Unlike ordinary people, the wealthy and powerful could embezzle hundreds of billions, exploit the system, get caught, and still walk out of prison in no time—only to return to life like nothing ever happened.
“This won’t make Woo Ho-geun change his ways, but at least I won’t have to run into that unpleasant face anytime soon.”
Just then, the phone on his desk started ringing. Glancing at the caller ID, Seok-won answered.
“Hyung? What’s up?”
[Are you busy?]
“Not really. It’s fine.”
[It’s about what you said last time at the family gathering.]
“Oh.”
Seok-won remembered warning his father and older brother about the possibility of a looming foreign exchange crisis.
[We decided to postpone the expansion of the Shenyang Plant No. 2 and shift to austerity management.]
“Yeah? Good call.”
Seok-won replied with a pleased expression.
[After hearing what you said and looking into things, it really didn’t look good.]
“Even if it doesn’t turn into a full-blown crisis, there’s no doubt the economy will take a hit. Better to prepare in advance—it won’t hurt.”
[Exactly. Anyway, I thought you should know. I’ll let you go now—let’s catch up over a meal sometime soon.]
“Anytime. Just give me a call.”
Ending the call, Seok-won looked visibly relieved that—for once—his father and brother hadn’t brushed off his warning and had started preparing accordingly.
“At least now I don’t have to worry about Daeheung Group if the IMF crisis hits. One less burden to carry.”
