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CH159 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-02-23 04:00:30 +0000 UTCA few days later, at the chairman’s office of Daehung Group’s headquarters in Mapo.
Chairman Park Tae-hong, who was reviewing approval documents while seated at his antique mahogany desk, straightened his posture at the sound of a knock.
“Chairman, Secretary Gil Seong-ho is here.”
Standing by the door, Deputy Manager Jeong Yun-gyeong, dressed impeccably in a two-piece suit as always, spoke in a composed manner.
“Let him in.”
“Yes, understood.”
As Deputy Manager Jeong left the room, Chairman Park removed his reading glasses, which he used only for reviewing documents, and placed them atop the paperwork in front of him.
Just then, Secretary-General Gil Seong-ho, dressed in a gray suit, entered the room, bowed briefly, and straightened up.
“I have a report regarding the local elections.”
Chairman Park nodded slightly and gestured toward the sofa in front of his desk with his chin.
“Have a seat.”
“Yes.”
With a short reply, Secretary-General Gil took a seat on the sofa to the right.
Chairman Park then walked around the desk, sat in the central seat, and spoke.
“What would you like to drink?”
“I’ll have coffee.”
Still seated on the sofa, Chairman Park turned slightly to the side and pressed a button on the intercom placed on the side table.
“Bring us two cups of coffee.”
[Yes, Chairman. Understood.]
Leaning back into the plush sofa, Chairman Park clasped his hands together on his lap and said,
“Tell me what you have to report.”
At that, Secretary-General Gil placed a thin file folder in front of Chairman Park.
“These are the results of a discreetly conducted public opinion poll.”
“Hm.”
Chairman Park picked up the file and opened it with a serious expression.
The election, scheduled for June 27, was the first nationwide local election in South Korea’s history. However, it was also viewed as a midterm assessment of President Kim Seong-gyu, who was entering his third year in office. As a result, it had drawn intense attention from both political and business circles.
Although less severe than during the past military regime, companies in South Korea still had to be mindful of political influence.
For this reason, Chairman Park was keeping a close eye on the election landscape.
As he carefully examined the numbers and graphs summarizing the poll results, Deputy Manager Jeong knocked and entered the room.
“Excuse me.”
Deputy Manager Jeong Yun-gyeong quietly placed the steaming cups of coffee in front of them and then discreetly stepped away.
After a moment, having reviewed the entire document, Chairman Park Tae-hong closed the file with a slightly troubled expression.
"The race is neck and neck, from the metropolitan mayors down to the city council members."
"Yes. There are several contributing factors, but it seems that the series of major disasters since last year has significantly impacted the ruling party's approval ratings."
Chairman Park nodded in agreement.
"Indeed. It’s no surprise that the phrase ‘Republic of Disasters’ has become popular. And with another large-scale catastrophe recently occurring in Daegu, it would be more surprising if their approval ratings weren’t suffering."
"Exactly. As shown in the poll results, the ruling party is now struggling to secure a victory even in Daegu, traditionally considered one of their strongholds."
"Losing Daegu would be a massive blow for them."
"And the presidential office would also suffer significant damage."
"They've been pushing forward with their policies aggressively, relying on the justification of having ended military rule and their previously high approval ratings. That makes sense."
Though there were still two and a half years left in the president’s term, depending on the election results, the administration could face a worst-case scenario—entering a lame-duck period.
Secretary-General Gil Seong-ho leaned forward, speaking in a serious tone.
"If the election results hold as they are now, the political landscape will become even more regionally divided, with each party solidifying its dominance in Yeongnam, Honam, and Chungcheong."
"It’s reverting to the pre-merger political map from five years ago."
"That’s right."
"Political stability is crucial for business. Tsk."
Uncertainty was the greatest enemy of any business leader.
Even more so when it came to politics—choosing the wrong side could mean the survival or downfall of an entire company. That was why caution was essential.
Chairman Park Tae-hong furrowed his brows and stroked his chin with one hand, deep in thought.
Watching him, Secretary-General Gil Seong-ho remained silent, patiently waiting for his deliberation to end.
After a long moment of contemplation, Chairman Park finally seemed to have reached a decision. He lifted his head and, in a heavy voice, asked,
“The slush fund—it's 6 billion won, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
The original plan was to provide 4 billion won to the ruling Gongjeong Party as campaign funds and discreetly distribute the remaining amount between two opposition parties.
However, with the election now turning into a tight race, that plan was no longer feasible.
“Secure an additional 2 billion won.”
“It will be a bit tight to prepare that much cash on short notice.”
Secretary-General Gil hesitated as he received the directive, his expression showing concern.
As one of the top 30 conglomerates in the country, Daehung Group wouldn’t have much trouble raising 2 billion won in cash.
The problem was that the money was intended for clandestine political funding. To avoid any potential fallout, it had to be laundered cleanly.
That process would take time.
“I understand the time constraints, but the situation has changed unexpectedly. We must adjust accordingly.”
With Chairman Park’s firm gaze upon him, Secretary-General Gil had no choice but to comply.
“Understood. I’ll have the funds ready by the end of this week.”
Chairman Park nodded in satisfaction.
“Good. I trust you. We’re in the process of liquidating some underperforming subsidiaries, so if we leverage that, we can wrap this up more easily than expected.”
“Yes, sir.”
Secretary-General Gil looked at Chairman Park cautiously before asking the most crucial question.
“How much should we distribute to each party?”
“For the ruling party, stick to the original plan—4 billion won. Give the remaining 2 billion each to the other two parties.”
Chairman Park Tae-hong clicked his tongue in frustration, as if regretting the additional expense.
“Thanks to the government and the ruling party messing things up, we’re now spending money we hadn’t planned on.”
Given that the group’s financial situation wasn’t great to begin with, the added expenditure was understandably irritating.
“It’s a waste of money, but isn’t it better than being blacklisted by either the ruling or opposition parties and suffering the consequences? Just think of it as paying an insurance premium.”
Secretary-General Gil Seong-ho tried to console Chairman Park, but his sour expression remained unchanged.
“There’s a general election next year, and then a presidential election after that. That means we’ll have to keep emptying our pockets every time. This damn ‘insurance’ is getting ridiculously expensive.”
Since the presidential and general elections were far more critical than the local elections, they would undoubtedly have to contribute even more money next time—something that didn’t even need to be said.
Still, refusing to participate while other conglomerates were all making campaign contributions could lead to serious repercussions from the political world. Even if they hated it, they had no choice but to pay up.
“I wonder if there will ever be a day when I can just focus on running the company without worrying about this nonsense.”
Chairman Park sighed, his expression bitter with frustration.
A wave of irritation surged within him, making him feel increasingly uneasy.
Sensing the tense atmosphere, Secretary-General Gil naturally shifted the topic.
“There’s one more matter I need to report.”
“Go on.”
Chairman Park, feeling drained from all the stress, rubbed his temple with one hand.
“Before I came here, Director Park called me and asked for a favor regarding the Ubo Foundation.”
“What?”
Chairman Park Tae-hong looked at Secretary-General Gil Seong-ho with a puzzled expression.
“You mean Director Park? The second son?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Intrigued, Chairman Park straightened his posture.
“What kind of request did he make?”
“We briefly discussed this earlier, but last month, there was a gas explosion in Daegu that resulted in many casualties.”
“Yes, I heard over 300 people were killed or injured.”
Recalling the news, Chairman Park frowned.
“It's as if we're cursed. I don’t know why major disasters keep happening so frequently these past two years.”
There were even murmurs suggesting that the government should hold an exorcism ritual at this point.
“But why bring up the Daegu disaster all of a sudden?”
Secretary-General Gil promptly replied.
“It seems Director Park personally wants to help the victims after learning about the hardships they’re facing.”
“Losing a loved one or suffering a severe injury overnight must be unimaginable. You can’t truly understand that pain unless you’ve been through it yourself.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
Secretary-General Gil nodded and continued
“Instead of simply donating money to the disaster relief task force, he wanted to provide direct assistance to the victims. However, he was told that they couldn’t disclose the victims' personal information, such as their names and contact details.”
“They probably don’t want that information falling into the wrong hands.”
Considering how public sentiment in Daegu was already volatile due to the disaster, even though Seok-won had good intentions, government officials were likely being cautious.
“So, he asked if it would be possible to make donations through the Ubo Foundation.”
Since Secretary-General Gil handled all foundation-related matters on behalf of Chairman Park, it made sense for Seok-won to reach out to him first.
“There’s no reason to refuse. It’s not like he’s doing anything shady—he just wants to help those in need.”
When Chairman Park Tae-hong spoke nonchalantly, Secretary-General Gil Seong-ho’s expression became slightly enigmatic.
“But the donation amount is a bit… no, it’s actually quite significant.”
“How much are we talking about?”
Chairman Park asked casually as he picked up his teacup.
“30 billion won.”
“…What?”
Startled by the unexpected figure, Chairman Park’s eyes widened, and he choked on his coffee mid-sip, coughing violently.
“Cough! Cough!”
“Are you all right, sir?”
Waving one hand dismissively, Chairman Park barely managed to set his cup down on the table.
“It just went down the wrong way. No need to panic. Ahem, ahem.”
After clearing his throat a few times, he finally regained his composure and let out a deep sigh.
“Did you just say 30 billion?”
“Yes, sir. I was just as shocked when I first heard the amount.”
“Where on earth did that kid get that kind of money…?”
Chairman Park recalled how Seok-won had made a fortune in stock investments and had even extracted 28.6 billion won from him under the guise of a "bonus."
He also remembered how, during his studies in the U.S., Seok-won had won a massive lottery prize and had significantly multiplied it by investing in British pounds.
“Hmm… so he does have the money.”
It was more than enough—almost excessive.
As someone in his inner circle, Secretary-General Gil Seong-ho also knew just how much money Seok-won had, so he nodded in agreement.
'Taking a 30% cut… he’s practically a loan shark.'
Recalling the money his second son had taken from him made something boil inside.
A son should have some sense of filial duty. How could he empty his own father’s pockets like that?
Grumbling inwardly, Chairman Park Tae-hong spoke in an indifferent tone.
“You already know he has plenty of money, so just let him do as he wants.”
“Understood, sir.”
Then, suddenly, a small smirk crossed Chairman Park’s face as he murmured to himself.
“That kid… Seeing him give back to those in need, he’s not just good at making money—he’s got a decent character too.”
A hint of pride flickered across his face.
