Early morning.
Like any other day, Oh Changwon, a manager at a large corporation, left his house and headed toward the subway station. The stairs and the inside of the station bustled with commuters on their way to work and students going to school.
As he looked at the long lines of people, the thought of being tornted by the packed morning subway once again made Oh Changwon sigh unconsciously.
"Ugh."
Then he rembered that he was nearly out of cigarettes and headed to the convenience kiosk on one side of the platform. Pulling out a 5,000 won bill from his wallet, Oh Changwon raised his voice to the kiosk owner, who was sitting watching television.
"Two packs of This, please."
The elderly kiosk owner took the bill with practiced hands and handed him two packs of cigarettes.
"Here you go."
Putting the cigarettes into his suit pocket, Oh Changwon noticed the nearby newspaper stand, picked up a paper, and said,
"I'll pay for this as well."
"Alright then."
After collecting his change from the kiosk owner, Oh Changwon moved into the shortest queue he could find amid the lines of waiting people. Rolling up his sleeves, he checked his watch—it looked like he had enough ti and wouldn't be late for work.
With a slightly bored expression, he casually lifted his newspaper to glance over the front page. Suddenly, the headline caught his eye and made them widen in surprise.
[The Governnt and Hansan Group Played by the Rothschild Fund]
Next to the bold headline was a large black-and-white photo of Brian Peterson, the chairman of the Rothschild Fund, smiling radiantly.
"What on earth is this?"
Oh Changwon stared at the shocking headline, his expression filled with disbelief as he read the article more closely.
The governnt's forceful crackdown on a strike at Manyoung Machinery, a Hansan Group affiliate, had beco a major political issue, which only heightened his interest.
He muttered incredulously,
"The Rothschild Fund, in charge of Hansan Group's financial restructuring, promised a $1 billion bridge loan but has only brought in $300 million so far? And on top of that, they've been entrusted with managing the Seoul Debt Adjustnt Fund—built with taxpayers' money—using it like their own piggy bank, and even funneled nearly 198.6 billion won into Hansan subsidiaries where they themselves invested… This is like putting a cat in charge of a fish market!"
Though he'd read only part of the article, Oh Changwon's face showed his utter amazent and outrage at the Rothschild Fund's actions.
When he saw that Hansan Group, after benefiting from public funds, was planning to sell four of its key affiliates overseas at knockdown prices—after receiving a massive 3.95 trillion won in debt write-offs from banks bailed out with public money—his anger boiled over.
Not only Oh Changwon, but everyone who ca across this exclusive scoop in Geumseong Ilbo was furious at the Rothschild Fund's brazen double-dealing.
For people already wearied by the aftermath of the IMF crisis, wave after wave of bankruptcies, and large-scale layoffs, the revelation of foreign speculative capital's unethical behavior pushed long-simring public frustration over the edge and ignited a fierce backlash.
***
"Here's your coffee."
With the rich aroma of freshly roasted beans filling the air, Na Seong-mi placed a teacup on the desk.
"Thank you."
When Na Seong-mi smiled and quietly closed the door behind her, Seok-won leaned back against his chair and lowered his gaze to resu reading the newspaper in his hand.
"Judging by the way they filled two full pages with this, the paper must have known it was the kind of scoop that would instantly grab the public's attention."
Since the IMF crisis, the Korean public had endured the derision of foreign dia accusing them of "popping champagne too early," while watching helplessly as foreign speculative capital swept in, tearing apart pri local companies and snatching them up at bargain prices.
Amid such circumstances, Geumseong Ilbo's exclusive couldn't help but command public attention.
Sensing a jackpot, the editor-in-chief had doubled the usual print run. But even so, the papers sold out in a flash thanks to word of mouth—a clear sign of just how electric the atmosphere was.
As Seok-won set the newspaper down, a cold smile curved his lips.
"They've been siphoning funds left and right and trying to sell off the company for peanuts, only to hit a sudden roadblock. By now, the Rothschild Fund must be in complete uproar."
At that mont, his phone's vibration alert went off.
Picking it up from the corner of his desk, Seok-won saw the caller's na: Choi Bok-rak, the man who had earned a ruling party nomination and a seat in the National Assembly in the recent by-election with Seok-won's backing.
[It's .]
"I was just about to call you. This works out well."
[As we discussed, I'll be raising an urgent interpellation about the Rothschild Fund during the upcoming National Assembly plenary session in a little while.]
Seok-won's eyes glead with interest.
"Wouldn't that make it look like a ruling-party lawmaker is attacking the governnt? You sure you're okay with that?"
Choi Bok-rak's reply ca without a hint of hesitation.
[Even if I'm with the ruling party, I believe that pointing out what's wrong—when it is wrong—is not only in the public's interest, but also in the best interest of the Blue House and the governnt.]
While this was indeed in line with Choi's usual convictions, he also understood that stepping to the forefront and sharply criticizing the governnt at the precise mont when public interest and outrage were reaching a boil would be a perfect way to skyrocket his lacking na recognition.
If it weren't for that calculation, even if Seok-won had asked him personally, he would have acted reluctantly—certainly not with such eager initiative.
"That's absolutely right."
[From the docunts you sent , it's clear: when the Rothschild Fund took over managent rights of Manyoung Machinery from Hansan Group, they promised to invest 600 billion won, but in reality, they only invested 189 billion. And then—get this—they covered the remaining 316 billion of the acquisition funds by securing financing from dostic banks, including the Korea Developnt Bank. Truly shaless.]
Given his background in the Financial Supervisory Service, it wasn't hard for him to spot the Rothschild Fund's tricks.
That's exactly why I chose Representative Choi Bok-rak as the voice to bring this matter to the forefront in the National Assembly.
Wasn't this precisely the sort of mont he'd given Choi that coveted gold badge for? With his solid grounding in the subject, Choi could explain—more clearly and logically than any other lawmaker—how the Rothschild Fund was making a mockery of the Korean governnt and pillaging taxpayer money.
"If your efforts prevent the Rothschild Fund from selling off Hansan Group affiliates at fire-sale prices, you'll be stopping a massive outflow of national wealth," he said, letting the complint land.
Buoyed by the praise, Choi's tone grew more spirited.
[If that's how it turns out, I would consider it a deeply fulfilling achievent.]
Just then, the low murmur of voices rose in the background on Choi's end, and he spoke again hastily.
[Ah—seems the plenary session is about to begin. I'll have to end the call here.]
"Of course."
[Then I'll be in touch again soon.]
When the call ended, Seok-won set the phone back down on his desk. He picked up his teacup and took a sip of the coffee, now lukewarm, murmuring to himself under his breath,
"With things turning out like this, the governnt won't be able to just sit back and watch the Rothschild Fund's behavior. They must be getting rather irritated now that their plan to gobble things up easily has gone off track."
***
New York, Long Island, South Hampton.
The luxuriously furnished bedroom was steeped in silence.
From behind the drawn curtains, the faint sound of waves could be heard.
Chairman Peterson lay deeply asleep on the large bed, dressed in European silk pajamas.
Right beside him, his wife wore an eye mask and breathed softly in light slumber.
Suddenly, the sharp ringing of a phone shattered the silence.
Ring ring! Ring ring!
Annoyed by the noisy bell, Peterson frowned deeply and sat up. His wife, half-awake, shifted her body and turned over, showing her back to him.
"Hmm... Why don't you just answer quickly?" she mumbled.
"Alright, keep sleeping."
Patting his wife's shoulder, Peterson checked the wristwatch he had laid on the nightstand.
11:30 PM.
Hardly anyone called this late unless it was truly urgent.
A troubling premonition flashed through Peterson's mind, and he furrowed his brow slightly.
Still, he picked up the ringing cordless phone.
"Hello?"
His voice was hoarse and tired when the branch manager in Korea urgently shouted from the other end.
[Chairman, there's a big problem!]
Peterson knitted his brows, annoyed by the clipped urgency.
"Explain clearly what's going on."
[There's an exposé article from a Korean news outlet claiming that we haven't fully invested the promised bridge loan. They say we are planning to sell Manyoung Machinery and other Hansan Group affiliates at fire-sale prices.]
"Is that true?"
Peterson's face hardened as the branch manager answered imdiately,
[Yes, and besides, there are accusations in the National Assembly about us misusing the debt adjustnt fund we manage and breaking our full foreign investnt promise during the Manyoung Machinery acquisition.]
"Damn it!"
Up until now, everything had been proceeding smoothly—until this sudden stroke of bad news, which made Chairman Peterson reflexively curse.
[If things go wrong, the sale plan could run into serious trouble.]
"I've already set the eting date with the buyer—what kind of nonsense is this!?"
His voice thundered with anger, making Branch Manager Howell flinch on the other end.
[But in this situation, the creditors might rescind their agreent to write off the debt. Wouldn't it be difficult to keep pushing forward with the sale?]
Howell had a point—if the amount of debt forgiveness ended up being reduced from the original agreent or canceled entirely, there would be no point in proceeding with the sale negotiations at all.
Peterson, face tightening, pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
"Is the situation really that bad?"
[Things have only just begun to unfold, so we'll need to watch the atmosphere a bit longer. But I don't think it's shaping up in our favor.]
The heaviness in Howell's voice made it clear that conditions in Korea were worse than Peterson had expected.
It was like spilling ashes into a pot of perfectly cooked rice—everything was ready to conclude, and now at the last mont, it was all falling apart. Peterson let out a groaning sigh.
"Grrr…"
[For now, we're denying the contents of the exposé and labeling it a misreport, but it's only a matter of ti before it cos out that we invested less than initially promised.]
With the phone pressed to one ear, Peterson ran his other hand roughly through his hair and replied irritably,
"I'm heading to the office right now. Make sure you get a precise read on the situation."
[Understood.]
When the call ended, Peterson slamd the phone down hard enough to make it seem like he might break it. By then, his wife had risen from bed and was looking at him with a concerned expression.
"Has sothing bad happened with the company?"
"It's nothing."
But his flushed face betrayed the lie, making it plain that sothing had indeed gone wrong.
She opened her mouth as if to say more, but hesitated. In that pause, Peterson was already rising from the bed.
"I think I'd better head to the office. You should go back to sleep."
"At this hour? You're leaving now?"
Peterson didn't answer. He picked up the wristwatch from the nightstand, fastened it onto his wrist, and turned straight toward the dressing room to change.
Sitting up in bed, his wife watched his retreating back with deep worry in her eyes.
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