The Return of the Ruined Chaebol's Third-Generation Heir - Chapter 65

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Regression of a Fallen Chaebol Family’s Third Generation – Episode 65
“How should we handle the currency exchange?”
Late October 2008, Ribbon Capital Office.
Jung Tae-sung handed over the documents and asked. The settlement from the Lehman Crisis had concluded with 3.1 billion dollars—roughly 4.3 trillion won in Korean currency. The immediate question was how to deploy this capital.
“Convert just 30% to won. Keep the rest in dollars.”
“30%?”
Jung Tae-sung’s eyes widened slightly.
The exchange rate had crossed 1,400 won per dollar—the highest since the Asian Financial Crisis.
Ordinarily, this would be the moment to rush into currency exchange and pocket the exchange rate profit.
“Yes. No need to hurry. By year-end, we’ll see 1,500.”
Jung Tae-sung nodded without objection.
“And holding dollars can be a form of leverage at crucial moments.”
“Leverage?”
Jung Tae-sung repeated the phrase back to me.
“We may soon acquire overseas assets. Converting won to dollars for that costs significantly. If we hold dollars from the start, we can move immediately without those conversion costs.”
With global asset prices collapsing from the Financial Crisis, holding dollars meant being perpetually ready to swallow up cheap properties that surfaced. It was a position of strength.
If I converted everything to won now, I’d waste time and money later converting back to dollars whenever I needed them again.
Besides, since Ribbon was legally a foreign asset management company, moving in dollars also concealed my movements well.
“Understood. I’ll proceed with the 30% dispersed exchange.”
“Do it slowly. Don’t move the market.”
Jung Tae-sung took notes and nodded.
“I’ll brief you on the domestic side.”
“Go ahead.”
“Sinhwa Welltech recorded 35% sales growth in Q3 compared to the same period last year.”
That was a respectable figure.
Double-digit growth during a global financial freeze was solid performance.
“The synergy from the Shinei joint venture is showing, then?”
“It’s producing results there. As Japanese technical expertise aligns with our manufacturing cost advantage, orders for ultra-pure semiconductors cleansing chemicals are increasing.”
Shinei was a precision chemical company from Japan.
Before military service, I’d established a joint venture with Sinhwa Welltech, and synergy was emerging faster than expected.
It was the combination of Japanese craftsmanship-honed technology with Korean price competitiveness. For semiconductor manufacturers, it meant securing both quality and affordability.
Admittedly, pricing was still steep due to yield issues, but semiconductor companies were diversifying supply chains, so we could place smaller volumes.
“Director Park Jin-hyeok is exploring expansion into secondary batteries. High-purity electrolyte additives—he says applying existing chemical purification technology makes it feasible.”
“Tell him to proceed. The secondary battery market will keep expanding.”
When the electric vehicle era arrives, battery demand explodes.
And battery performance is determined by materials. Building the technology now means capturing the market a decade from now.
“Now, shall we discuss Synapse?”
“CEO Seo Min-seung has set a target for unveiling the Robot Arm prototype in early next year.”
I focused on Jung Tae-sung’s words.
“It operates through algorithm-controlled movement, and precision has improved considerably. However…….”
Jung Tae-sung trailed off.
“Is there a problem?”
“The learning artificial intelligence is still insufficient, apparently. With current technology, humans must input each movement manually, which limits its versatility.”
It was an expected issue.
At this point in time, artificial intelligence was still in its infancy. Robots had to be taught movements one at a time, and adapting independently to new situations was impossible.
But this was a problem time would solve.
Before I came back, learning artificial intelligence developed explosively.
With Deep Learning technology emerging, machines began analyzing data and finding patterns on their own. Numerous companies poured technology into competition, and some became Open Source.
Open Source. Making source code freely available for anyone to use.
Once that era arrives, we can give robots brains that learn independently.
What mattered was building the body before that time came. No matter how brilliant a brain is, without a body to move it, it’s useless.
“Tell CEO Seo Min-seung not to worry about artificial intelligence and focus on Robot Arm manufacturing technology. We can add the brain later.”
“Understood.”
Jung Tae-sung finished his notes and paused before speaking carefully.
“Should I also brief you on developments with Seonjin Group?”
“Yes.”
“The automotive sector is being heavily shaken by the Financial Crisis aftermath. There are rumors Chairman Kang Tae-yong is considering restructuring.”
“And Chairman Kang Byeong-chul?”
“Aluminum prices have collapsed, so Seonjin Aluminum has also gone into the red. The company’s finances were strained since the Management Rights Dispute, so this was a direct hit.”
The corner of my mouth rose slightly.
While they stumbled, I’d earned 4 trillion. It wasn’t yet time to directly clash, but I was steadily narrowing the weight class between us.
“Understood. Let’s end today’s briefing here.”
“Yes, and if there are any other instructions…….”
Then my mobile phone rang. Seeing the name on the screen, I narrowed my eyes.
[Bukchon]
“One moment.”
I answered the call.
“Yes, this is Kang Seon-woo.”
—Long time, Representative Kang.
It was Kim Jong-soo’s voice. Not his usual relaxed tone. His words carried weight.
—Do you have time? Let’s see each other in person.
It was contact after a year. And an unusual request—to come find him.
“What’s the matter?”
—This isn’t a phone conversation. Can you come?
“Understood. I’ll see you this evening.”
I hung up and looked at Jung Tae-sung.
“I need to visit Bukchon this evening.”
“Bukchon?”
Jung Tae-sung’s eyes changed. He also understood what Bukchon meant.
“Yes. If he’s looking for me directly, it seems there’s something important.”

* * *
The road toward Bukchon.
I recalled the first time I’d climbed this path four years ago.
Then I’d come to borrow 20 billion won. Now things were different.
If nothing else, the fact that Kim Jong-soo had reached out to me first meant he had something to ask. I could hazard a guess at that much.
Standing before the gate, a familiar face welcomed me.
“Welcome. He’s waiting for you.”
It was Kim Jong-soo’s executive secretary. I followed him inside.
While passing through the courtyard toward the main residence, the quiet beauty of the traditional Korean house came into view.
As I stood before the room’s door, the secretary announced me inside.
“Chairman, Representative Kang Seon-woo has arrived.”
“Show him in.”
The door opened to find Kim Jong-soo seated. He was different from usual.
Instead of his familiar gentle smile, his expression was stern.
The Kim Jong-soo I knew was always an unhurried man.
Someone who spoke slowly without urgency, moved slowly. That man seemed edgy today.
“It’s been a while.”
I greeted him and took my seat.
“You went off to military service without a word, and that broke our connection a bit.”
Kim Jong-soo spoke as if blaming me somewhat, but I simply smiled in response.
“Let’s have some tea.”
At a gesture from Kim Jong-soo, someone waiting outside brought in tea.
A brief silence fell as the tea was poured.
“Since you’re a busy man, I’ll get to the point.”
Kim Jong-soo spoke after taking a sip of tea.
“Do you remember Shinsung Savings Bank?”
“I do. I mentioned it to you four years ago.”
It was information I’d offered when borrowing 20 billion won.
‘I’ll use it well and pay it back. And turn your radar toward Shinsung Mutual Savings Bank.’
When I borrowed that money, I didn’t just incur a debt. I traded future information as the price.
“I made contact as you said. Late 2004.”
“What happened?”
“The Major Shareholder was initially receptive. We even got to price negotiations.”
Kim Jong-soo paused.
“Then in early 2005, he suddenly changed his mind. Said he wouldn’t sell.”
“……What was the reason?”
“Real estate went mad.”
2005.
The year real estate prices began skyrocketing. The government poured out regulations, but it backfired.
Property values shot skyward without limit, and that money had to come from somewhere.
“Savings banks started flooding the market with PF Loans. Shinsung was no exception. When money’s flowing in like that, why would anyone sell?”
Project Financing meant lending construction companies money before they built apartments, to be repaid from profits once the apartments were completed and sold. During rising real estate markets, it was a win-win situation.
“I kept trying for three years. Every time, the same answer. Not interested in selling right now.”
Exhaustion seeped into Kim Jong-soo’s voice. Three years was no small span of time.
“And the reason you called me now is because circumstances have changed.”
Kim Jong-soo nodded at my words.
“That’s right. The Financial Crisis hit.”
The fallout from the subprime crisis reached Korea. The real estate market froze, and construction companies began collapsing.
Savings banks that had poured out PF Loans now held mountains of Non-performing Assets.
“Financial authorities are applying pressure. Clean up the Non-performing Savings Banks, they say. Shinsung’s on that list.”
“Forced sale?”
“They’ll call it voluntary sale, but it amounts to the same thing.”
Kim Jong-soo looked directly at me.
“It’s finally come to market for real.”
It was an opportunity four years in the making. Greed flickered across Kim Jong-soo’s eyes.
But behind it, other emotions were visible too.
Anxiety and unease showed through.
“Is there a problem?”
“I’m not the only one targeting it.”
It was the answer I’d expected.
“Who else?”
“A major conglomerate has jumped in. Jungsung Group.”
Jungsung Group ranked in the top twenty of Korea’s business establishments. First-tier banks couldn’t be owned by chaebols due to the Financial-Industrial Separation Law, but savings banks, legally classified not as banks but as popular finance institutions, fell into a different category. Chaebols could own them the same way they held insurance companies, card companies, and securities firms.
And with the coming savings bank crisis requiring rescue measures, the government needed the capital that chaebols possessed.
“It seems they need it because of Jungsung Construction.”
Their flagship business was construction. Jungsung Construction ranked in the top three by contract value.
They’d likely entered to secure a PF Loan window for a construction company. They’d have more capital and lobbying power than Kim Jong-soo.
In my previous life, Shinsung Savings Bank indeed fell under Jungsung Group’s ownership.
“I could get pushed back on my own.”
Kim Jong-soo spoke slowly.
“Help me, Representative Kang.”
The positions had reversed from four years ago.
Then I’d been the one bowing my head asking favors. Asking to borrow 20 billion, asking him to invest based on trust in one person alone.
Now Kim Jong-soo was extending his hand to me.
I studied him for a moment.
Four years ago, the man who’d readily handed 20 billion to someone with nothing. I hadn’t forgotten that debt.
But business was business.
“Looking back, everything between you and me has always been a transaction. If you need me this time, I trust you’re prepared to offer something in return?”
At my words, Kim Jong-soo nodded as if he’d already expected this.
Indeed, as a man whose primary trade was financial dealings, he understood that if something comes in, something must go out.
“For your information, I don’t need information.”
“Of course not. You probably have information dozens of times superior to mine.”
Kim Jong-soo studied me quietly, then spoke slowly.
“I’ll buy into Seonjin Trading Company and become your steadfast ally. Long-term, that is.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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