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CH258 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-03-28 02:54:08 +0000 UTCThe reception room in the annex, much like Chairman Cheon Seong-deok himself, was not excessively lavish but carried an air of refined elegance.
At the center stood a walnutwood seating set, while a simple landscape painting adorned one wall. Opposite it, a large white porcelain vase sat atop a wooden shelf.
Sitting alone on the sofa, Seok-won idly gazed at the painting, which looked noticeably old. His eyes caught the inscription "Nangok (蘭谷)" in the corner, accompanied by a red seal reading "Wonbaek (元伯)."
"No wonder this painting seemed extraordinary—it’s a landscape by Gyeomjae Jeong Seon."
Jeong Seon, the founder and master of true-view landscape painting, was one of the most celebrated painters of late Joseon. His works were highly regarded not only in Korea but also in Qing China, where high-ranking officials coveted even a single piece.
The porcelain on the shelf was equally remarkable—a baekja moon jar, its smooth, rounded form and pure white glaze exuding understated beauty.
Just from its flawless condition and graceful shape, it was clear this was no ordinary artifact—it had to be a national treasure worth at least tens of billions of won.
"To display artwork of such immense value so casually… Truly befitting the financial titan of Myeong-dong's loan market."
Seok-won murmured to himself in mild admiration.
At that moment, the sound of approaching footsteps came from outside. The door opened, and a white-haired elderly man in hanbok entered, accompanied by the butler, Oh Tae-min.
The instant Seok-won saw the old man, he knew—this was Cheon Seong-deok.
Rising from the sofa, he straightened his posture.
Cheon Seong-deok stepped forward and scrutinized him from head to toe, his expression unreadable.
His gaze was like that of a seasoned appraiser assessing the worth of an object.
For some, such an evaluation might have been unsettling, even insulting. But Seok-won remained composed, offering a slight bow without a flicker of discomfort.
"A pleasure to meet you. My name is Park Seok-won."
The fact that he introduced himself without mentioning his father, Chairman Park Tae-hong, momentarily sparked interest in Cheon Seong-deok’s eyes—before it vanished just as quickly.
"He’s got some nerve. But whether it’s recklessness or real confidence… I suppose I’ll find out soon enough."
With that thought, Cheon Seong-deok extended a hand in a dry, measured tone.
"Cheon Seong-deok."
Most people who met him for the first time found him intimidating.
After all, those who came to him were often in need of loans, naturally assuming a deferential posture. Moreover, his far-reaching influence in both business and politics made people cautious, careful not to displease him.
But Seok-won showed neither fear nor arrogance. With a steady, respectful demeanor, he grasped Cheon Seong-deok’s hand.
"I appreciate you making time for me on such short notice."
Perhaps finding no fault with his attitude, Cheon Seong-deok gave a small nod and gestured toward a seat.
"Let’s sit and talk."
Taking his place at the central seat of honor, he leaned back naturally as Seok-won resumed his seat as well.
As Oh Tae-min quietly closed the door behind him, Cheon Seong-deok reached for the tea kettle on the table. Pouring ssanghwa-cha into a fresh cup, he let the rich aroma of cinnamon fill the room.
Fixing his gaze on Seok-won, he spoke abruptly.
"Judging by your features, you must take after your mother’s side. Your eyebrows and nose are exactly like Minister Jo’s."
He stirred his tea lightly with a teaspoon.
"I heard he turned down several offers to run for office after leaving public service, choosing instead to live a quiet life. I wonder how he’s doing these days."
"Thanks to your concern, he’s enjoying a peaceful retirement."
"Hmph. He’s still in his prime, yet he’s wasting his talent in seclusion. Passing all three of the country’s most difficult national exams, only to withdraw like an old man in the back room… what a waste of a brilliant mind."
Cheon Seong-deok clicked his tongue lightly.
Seok-won’s grandfather, Jo Seung-jae, a former Minister of the Interior, was a rare genius who had passed the judicial exam, the foreign service exam, and the administrative exam—a feat few could achieve.
He recalled how, when he graduated from Harvard with top honors, his mother, Madam Jo Deok-rye, had proudly declared that his intelligence came from her family. It had irked his father, Chairman Park Tae-hong, so much that he sulked for days.
Suppressing a chuckle at the memory, Seok-won responded calmly.
"Given how politics is nothing but a cutthroat battlefield, perhaps he prefers keeping his distance, fishing his days away instead."
Cheon Seong-deok leaned back in his seat, lacing his fingers together as he observed Seok-won intently.
"You must be incredibly busy with the whole Mido Department Store situation. So tell me—what brings you here to see this old man?"
Seok-won spoke in a calm, steady voice.
"As you may have already guessed when I reached out, I'm here to discuss your stake in Mido Department Store."
Cheon Seong-deok let out a slight chuckle.
"Just a few days ago, Chairman Woo of Donghae Group also came by, asking me to sell my shares. Let's hear what you have to say."
His words subtly revealed that Donghae Group had already made an offer.
It was also a slight test—he wanted to see if this young man, who was unusually composed for his age, would show even a flicker of anxiety or impatience.
Yet, to his mild disappointment, Seok-won remained perfectly unshaken.
He had already anticipated that Donghae Group would approach Cheon Seong-deok. Acquiring a major shareholder’s stake in one move was far more efficient than painstakingly buying up hundreds or thousands of shares on the open market.
"What kind of offer did Donghae Group propose?"
Cheon Seong-deok raised an eyebrow.
"I don’t see why I’m obligated to tell you that."
He took a leisurely sip of his ssanghwa-cha, watching for a reaction.
"I may have been too forward. If I offended you, I apologize."
Seok-won's immediate retreat—graceful, without overstepping—made Cheon Seong-deok narrow his eyes in mild surprise.
Then, as if on a whim, he suddenly revealed the information anyway.
"They offered 80,000 won per share for my entire stake."
It was 10,000 won higher than the price Donghae Group had announced in their public tender offer. But once again, Seok-won remained unfazed.
It was expected. A major shareholder's stake always carried a premium, offering better terms than what was available to retail investors.
Instead, Seok-won let out a slight smile and remarked with measured amusement,
"I thought Donghae Group would be a more formidable opponent. But if that’s the best they could offer you, I must say—I’m a little disappointed."
Cheon Seong-deok’s sharp eyes flickered with intrigue as he studied the young man.
Unfazed by the scrutiny, Seok-won met his gaze head-on and continued.
"We would also like to acquire your shares, or at the very least, secure your voting rights in the upcoming—potential—extraordinary general meeting."
Cheon Seong-deok leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued.
"And how much are you offering?"
A quiet confidence remained in Seok-won's voice.
"50,000 won per share."
For a split second, Cheon Seong-deok thought he had misheard.
Compared to Donghae Group’s 80,000 won, the figure was shockingly low.
His back straightened as his expression hardened.
"What did you just say?"
"I said, 50,000 won per share."
As soon as Seok-won finished speaking, Cheon Seong-deok's gaze turned ice-cold. His voice dropped to a low, heavy register.
"Are you mocking me?"
"Of course not."
"Then explain to me what you were thinking when you said something so absurd. But be warned—if you fail to convince me, you’d better be prepared for the consequences."
Despite his age, Cheon Seong-deok’s sheer presence was overwhelming, exuding an almost suffocating pressure.
Most people would have been paralyzed by the atmosphere, struggling to even open their mouths.
But Seok-won, completely unfazed, simply replied,
"If you sell your shares at Donghae Group’s price, your total profit won’t exceed 20 billion won."
Cheon Seong-deok remained silent, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"However, if you side with us, I’ll make sure you earn 100 billion won."
A scoff escaped Cheon Seong-deok’s lips.
"Ridiculous."
His voice was laced with derision, as if he had just heard the most preposterous statement of the year.
"You’re not even offering me a higher price, yet you claim I’ll make 100 billion won? That’s a bit too much hot air, don’t you think?"
Seok-won’s response came smoothly, as if he had anticipated this reaction.
"Ah, I misspoke. Not earn 100 billion—but prevent you from losing it."
Cheon Seong-deok’s eyes narrowed in irritation, his brows furrowing. Then, he let out a long sigh.
"I called you here because I heard the second son of Daeheung Group was both sharp and capable. But it seems I’ve wasted my time. There’s nothing more to discuss—so you should leave now."
He moved as if to stand, signaling the end of the conversation.
That’s when Seok-won spoke again, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.
"You hold 100 billion won worth of commercial papers issued by Hanse Group, don’t you?"
Cheon Seong-deok’s movements halted.
His head turned sharply, his gaze locking onto Seok-won’s with a dangerous intensity.
A heavy silence filled the room as their eyes met midair, an unspoken battle unfolding between them.
Then, at last, Cheon Seong-deok broke the silence, his voice slow and deliberate.
"Where did you hear that?"
Commercial paper (CP) was a type of short-term promissory note that corporations issued based on their creditworthiness to raise capital.
Seok-won took a sip of his tea, then gestured toward the seat.
"If we’re going to continue this conversation, why don’t you sit back down?"
The audacity of his words left Cheon Seong-deok momentarily speechless.
If it were anyone else, he would have immediately lashed out or had his men throw them out.
But the moment Hanse Group was mentioned, that option was off the table.
After a long moment of studying Seok-won’s face, Cheon Seong-deok finally lowered himself back into his seat, his voice measured.
"Alright. Now tell me—what does this 100 billion won have to do with Hanse Group?"
Seok-won’s lips curled into a faint smile.
"Before that, will you accept our proposal?"
Cheon Seong-deok’s eyes twitched slightly.
The sheer brazenness of the young man—it was almost amusing.
There wasn’t a single person his age who could match this level of composure and nerve.
No wonder his name had been making waves, even in circles that rarely took note of younger players.
After a brief pause, Cheon Seong-deok let out a low chuckle.
"Fine. If what you say makes sense, I’ll sell you all my Mido Department Store shares at 50,000 won per share."
"Thank you."
Seok-won’s face immediately brightened, as if he had been waiting for those exact words.
It was just a verbal promise—without any legal weight.
But in the money markets of Myeong-dong, Cheon Seong-deok was known as a man whose word was as good as a contract.
Even though Seok-won had never seen it firsthand, he had heard enough stories to know that those promises had become legends.
Seok-won leaned forward slightly, his tone calm and precise.
"For corporations, CPs are a convenient way to raise funds quickly without having to provide collateral or guarantees, unlike bank loans."
Cheon Seong-deok leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes signaling for him to continue.
"On the other hand, investors who purchase CPs benefit from high short-term interest rates—15% annually in this case. It’s a financial instrument that offers advantages to both sides."
But Cheon Seong-deok’s patience had limits. His brow furrowed as he cut in.
"Did you come here to give me an economics lecture?"
"Of course not."
Seok-won’s expression turned serious as he continued.
"It may seem like an excellent financial instrument, but that’s only when it’s properly managed. Under certain circumstances, it can turn into a poisoned apple."
At those words, Cheon Seong-deok’s thick, white eyebrows twitched slightly.
"The higher the interest rate, the greater the risk that comes with it."
A heavy silence fell between them.
"Since CPs are easy to issue and require little oversight, it’s difficult to assess the issuing company’s financial health or potential internal risks."
Seok-won noticed that Cheon Seong-deok, who had been leaning back in his chair, now sat up straight, his expression growing more severe.
Internally, Seok-won smirked. He’s hooked.
"On top of that, if the issuing company defaults, secured debts—such as bank loans—are paid off first. Only after that can CP investors hope to recover any remaining funds, which means there’s a high chance of losing the entire investment."
For a moment, Cheon Seong-deok said nothing. Then, his voice came out low and grave.
"Are you saying that Hanse Group is about to go bankrupt?"
Seok-won met his gaze head-on, his voice firm and unwavering.
"Yes. At best, they won’t last more than a year."
