Chapter 1: Fortune Comes in Waves
The urgency of the situation was clear: Chairman Jin himself had rushed to the headquarters to convene an emergency meeting.
Executives from Sunyang Electronics and Sunyang Trading, including Lee Hak-jae, and even the branch manager from Osaka, had all caught the first flight to be present in the conference room.
As the doors to the large meeting room swung open and Chairman Jin appeared, everyone stood up abruptly, but he waved them off.
“Sit down. Do we really have time for formalities?”
Chairman Jin dropped into the head seat, and the Osaka branch manager began to speak.
“There was a major fire. The Ehime plant’s resin facility exploded… production is impossible.”
“The investigation team is leaving on the first flight today. The Ministry of Trade and Industry will depart tomorrow,” added the president of Sunyang Electronics.
“We currently have a four-month stockpile. If production doesn’t resume by then, our production lines will also…”
“The Ehime plant won’t be fully operational until next year,” the Osaka branch manager said, watching Chairman Jin’s expression.
“Sumitomo announced they’re urgently switching production at two of their other plants. It seems the supply issue might be resolved.”
“Might? Seems?” Chairman Jin’s forehead veins bulged.
“You’re right next to Sumitomo and you’re just guessing? What are you doing there?”
The Osaka branch manager quickly bowed his head.
Right now, all they had were guesses. He couldn’t risk making confident statements and then being held accountable if things went wrong.
This year’s sales target was 10 trillion won, with an operating profit of 1.5 trillion, aiming for world leadership in memory semiconductors.
Only Chairman Jin could shoulder these daunting numbers.
“The plant must not stop! Hey, Son Hoon-jae!”
“Yes, Chairman.”
“Secure the U.S. supply.”
Son Hoon-jae, the president of Sunyang Trading, wiped his brow nervously before speaking.
“Dow Chemical in the U.S. has already signed an exclusive contract with Intel. Securing supply is impossible.”
“I heard domestic companies also produce epoxy packaging. If we secure all their supply, can’t we prevent the production line from halting?” Lee Hak-jae asked the Sunyang Electronics president, but received a negative response.
“Domestic products can only be used for 1-megabyte or less. They can’t meet the quality needed for our main 4-megabyte products.”
Despite the repeated “no” and “it’s difficult,” Chairman Jin didn’t explode in anger. He knew that Sumitomo had a monopoly on epoxy resin, and no amount of pressure would yield a solution.
Sumitomo was one of the three major conglomerates that survived Japan’s post-war dissolution, alongside Mitsubishi and Mitsui. Though less known internationally, it had many unexpected enterprises.
Primarily a chemical company, it also had interests in electronics, trading, insurance, and even owned a significant stake in the Asahi Group, famous for newspapers and beer.
Japan’s economy was starting to waver with the burst of the bubble economy, but in the 1990s, it was still incomparable to Korea’s.
Korea’s entire aviation, shipbuilding, electronics, and automotive sales were only equivalent to Mitsubishi’s sales in Japan.
Epoxy resin was used to mold chips during semiconductor assembly, accounting for less than 1% of the total raw material cost. Yet, it was indispensable.
Sumitomo held just over 1% of the global epoxy market, but it controlled 60% of the high-grade epoxy resin used in semiconductors.
Moreover, domestic semiconductor plants were 95% dependent on Sumitomo Chemical.
The multi-trillion-won Korean semiconductor industry was effectively at the mercy of Sumitomo, which only accounted for about 20 billion won of their total supply.
“In the end, we survive only if Sumitomo quickly changes its production line. All we can do is pray…”
Despite the commotion, Chairman Jin and Sunyang’s key figures could do nothing but wait for Sumitomo’s countermeasures.
As soon as I saw the newspaper article, memories I had long forgotten came flooding back.
It was during my training after joining Sunyang Group, learning about the history of Sunyang Electronics.
The phone I was holding now, model SY-700.
Sunyang Electronics’ second mobile phone, and the first to be light enough to carry at just over 100 grams. In 1993, when this phone was released, there was a brief mention of the Sumitomo Chemical explosion.
It might seem trivial, but it kept nagging at me.
All because of the word “monopoly.”
Even the government was concerned, stating, “The excessive reliance on foreign semiconductor equipment and key materials exposes the vulnerability of our semiconductor industry.”
For businesspeople, “monopoly” is the most tempting word.
Moreover, it’s a monopoly with the power to sway the semiconductor industry, the “rice” of the electronics sector. If I could harness this monopoly power, it would greatly influence Sunyang Electronics’ future…
But the target is too big.
Isn’t Sumitomo a giant compared to Sunyang?
I have some money, but it’s not enough to make a difference. Yet, for some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling.
For nearly a month, I kept up with newspaper articles and broadcasts, monitoring the situation, when an event far more significant than the epoxy plant explosion occurred.
This time, it wasn’t in a distant foreign land but right here in our country, at the Blue House.
On the evening of August 12th, at 7 PM.
All TV broadcasts were interrupted for a live emergency address by the President.
“At this moment, with a solemn heart, I announce, in accordance with Article 76, Clause 1 of the Constitution, the ‘Presidential Emergency Financial and Economic Order on Real-Name Financial Transactions and Confidentiality.’”
The President’s unique Gyeongsang-do dialect carried an unusual strength, and his expression was resolute.
Upon taking office, he had purged the military faction known as “Hanahoe,” and in June, he had dropped a bombshell by requiring public officials to disclose their assets, leading many high-ranking officials to resign due to illicit wealth accumulation.
Now, he was declaring an end to hidden slush funds under false names.
Damn, was the announcement of the real-name financial system this year?
I knew it was an achievement of the Kim Young-sam administration, but I hadn’t remembered it was this year.
If I had remembered, I could have subtly informed Chairman Jin and gained even more favor… What a missed opportunity.
I started to worry if my grandfather had collapsed from the shock.
Listening to the President’s address in the car, Lee Hak-jae shouted to the driver.
“Turn the car around, quickly, to the Chairman’s house!”
As the driver executed an illegal U-turn without hesitation, Lee Hak-jae pulled out a notebook from his pocket.
Names and amounts were densely written. All were under false names.
This notebook might end up being useless.
The President had included the real-name financial system in his campaign promises, but no one expected him to implement it just six months into his term.
At a dinner, Chairman Jin had directly asked the Deputy Prime Minister of Economy.
“The President’s determination is clear. The real-name financial system will be implemented. But not this year. If the banks and stock markets fluctuate, the administration won’t be able to handle it. This year will be spent on thorough preparation.”
It was a reasonable answer, so they hadn’t rushed. They were just gradually moving funds overseas as a precaution.
Thinking of Chairman Jin’s wrath, Lee Hak-jae couldn’t help but sigh.
As he opened the study door, Chairman Jin’s voice was already booming.
“Prime Minister Hwang. Stabbing me in the back like this? Who do you think put you in that position?”
Spotting Lee Hak-jae, Chairman Jin gestured to a chair and slammed the receiver down.
“All those bastards claim they didn’t know. Useless fools.”
“Have you spoken with the Chief Economic Secretary?”
“Just now. He resigned and left the Blue House.”
“What?”
“He said he found out from the broadcast too. Unbelievable.”
The President had pushed through an economic policy without even informing his Chief Economic Secretary.
If that’s the case, it’s not a lie that the Prime Minister didn’t know.
Chairman Jin put on his glasses and looked at Lee Hak-jae.
“How much is it? In total?”
“Excluding small change, 600 billion won.”
“That’s all?”
“No, there’s already a significant amount moved overseas.”
Seeing the relief on Chairman Jin’s face, Lee Hak-jae continued his report.
“3 billion is with trustworthy people, so there’s no need to worry…”
“Withdraw it all tomorrow. If time passes, they’ll change their minds. It’s enough money for three generations to live comfortably. No one can be trusted with money.”
“Yes. I’ll withdraw it all in cash and store it in the warehouse. Then, I’ll launder it and send it abroad as quickly as possible.”
At least half was salvageable.
“2 billion is in anonymous accounts, but anonymous accounts don’t even have real account holders…”
“What about the accounts under false names?”
“Some are under deceased or missing persons. And quite a few are under the names of Sunyang employees.”
“Can’t we retrieve the ones under employees’ names?”
“It’s possible.”
Sunyang employees wouldn’t be a problem. Collect their IDs and hand them to the bank, and they’d prepare the cash.
If any employee got suspicious, a single threat would suffice. The authority of the Chairman’s secretary would silence them.
“And fortunately, 1 billion is with Oh Se-hyun.”
“Oh Se-hyun? The guy managing Do-jun’s money?”
“Yes. I’ll meet him tomorrow and secure it in dollars.”
Knowing that a good portion was recoverable, Chairman Jin felt somewhat relieved.
“Then how much is hard to retrieve?”
“As I mentioned, the accounts don’t have real account holders. At least 500 to 600 billion will be lost.”
In the worst case, it would be money that would sleep forever in the bank vault.
“I’ll meet with the bank presidents and devise a plan.”
Lee Hak-jae spoke cautiously, but Chairman Jin shook his head.
“No, there’s no need to spread rumors. The other group chairmen will definitely make the first move. Let’s just wait and see.”
Chairman Jin sensed something was amiss. He might have to give up on that money.
The next day, the stock market plummeted, and the banks were in chaos as people rushed to withdraw their savings. Cash was in short supply, and gold prices soared.
Lee Hak-jae mobilized his staff to secure cash from local banks before business hours, only then allowing himself a moment to breathe.
He then hurried to Yeouido to meet Oh Se-hyun, who was equally frazzled by the market crash.
“Looks like everyone’s at war.”
“We’re doing relatively well. We’re just checking for any decent spoils.”
Oh Se-hyun greeted him with a smile, already aware of why Lee Hak-jae had come.
“We’ve suffered significant losses. Let’s skip the pleasantries and get to the point. I want to retrieve the money stashed in the U.S.”
“Of course. Given your investment performance, you should be able to recoup some of your losses.”
Oh Se-hyun tapped away at his computer, printing out a summary of the investment status for easy viewing.
“I’ll handle it by today. I’ll transfer it to the linked accounts. There are over 40, right?”
“Oh, those accounts won’t work. Send it here instead.”
Oh Se-hyun frowned at the dozen or so accounts Lee Hak-jae handed him.
“Mr. Lee.”
“Yes?”
“Are you aware of the real-name financial system?”
“Isn’t that why we’re doing this? You know what kind of money we’re dealing with here, right?”
“I do, but there are 40 investors. We can’t bypass the real-name system. This money has to go back to them. We can’t just hand it over to the wrong people.”
“That’s why I brought the U.S. accounts. Let’s handle it over there.”
Oh Se-hyun’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat.
“I’ll end up in jail. If I get caught under federal law, I won’t see the outside for a hundred years.”
Lee Hak-jae felt a chill run down his spine.
The 40 accounts were anonymous. There were no account holders.
Oh Se-hyun’s mind raced.
It seemed that the ownerless billion won might remain forever dormant at Miracle.