CH457 | Heir

I drank with Bin Salman for over ten hours.

At Captain Kang’s villa, after he had finished all his official schedules in Korea, we enjoyed every kind of liquor imaginable.

It wasn’t until daylight that we came to our senses.

Only after seeing him off to the airport could I finally head into headquarters.

“Chairman, are you all right?”

“It’s been a while since I drank that much. It’s hard to pull myself together.”

“I’ll bring you some honey water.”

Vice Chairman Han prepared a glass of honey water, which I gulped down.

Only then did the nausea subside, and my head began to clear.

“Now I feel a little more alive.”

“If Crown Prince Bin Salman visits Korea a few more times, Chairman, you won’t be able to endure it.”

“You’re telling me. He left safely, right?”

“He shook the whole country and left in style. Practically every newspaper front page is plastered with stories about Crown Prince Bin Salman.”

Bin Salman, Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia.

His name alone was enough to dominate the front pages.

But because he had thrown around staggering amounts of money, the media was even more excited to churn out articles about him.

“He signed a huge number of MOUs before he left.”

“Yes. Construction, energy, automobiles—he signed across a wide range of industries. That’s why the media is making such a fuss, and related stocks even skyrocketed.”

“Honestly, I don’t see why stocks would surge over an MOU. It’s nothing more than saying we might work together.”

“That’s true. Even after signing an MOU, it rarely develops into a formal contract.”

MOUs carried no binding force.

They merely meant that “Saudi Arabia and a company might pursue a project together.”

“If even ten percent of the signed MOUs turn into formal contracts, that would be considered fortunate.”

“But the MOU signed with Taewoo Securities looks highly likely to materialize. For several days now, the Saudi sovereign wealth fund has been asking daily when they can officially move in.”

Other MOUs might be questionable, but the financial sector was no bluff.

It was a commitment Bin Salman had made personally, and it was something that would benefit the Saudi sovereign wealth fund.

“Vice Chairman Han, you’ll have a headache dealing with this.”

“You can’t just assign any random space to an institution of that scale. But we can’t exactly tell existing financial firms to relocate either.”

“If worst comes to worst, I’ll ask Representative George for a favor. If we give them the space Quantum Fund currently occupies, wouldn’t the Saudi sovereign wealth fund be satisfied?”

Quantum Fund had been the very first financial institution to move into the Financial Tower.

Because of that, they had secured the best location and were using the largest office space.

“If Quantum Fund were to give up its space, that would solve the problem, but wouldn’t they feel slighted?”

“Does the office really matter? In the end, what’s most important for a financial firm is returns. And if we provide them with an office right next to Taewoo Securities, they might actually like it better.”

Taewoo Securities was located on the lowest floors of the Financial Tower.

As the host, they had chosen not to occupy the prime upper floors. That left quite a bit of space available.

“Very well, I’ll proceed accordingly. But will Taewoo Securities really be entrusted with managing part of the Saudi sovereign wealth fund’s assets?”

“So it’s already been reported in the media, I see.”

“Yes. An article said Taewoo Securities would be managing around ten billion dollars. The planning office told me it was information leaked from the Saudi government.”

Leaked from the Saudi government?

It might have been a calculated move, but it also showed how eager Bin Salman was to cooperate with the Financial Tower. So I decided to let it slide.

“That report clearly didn’t fact-check properly.”

“Is that so? I did think ten billion seemed a bit small.”

“On the contrary. They reported the amount far too conservatively. It won’t be ten billion—it will be one hundred billion dollars that Taewoo Securities manages.”

“One hundred billion dollars? That’s… far too much money!”

All investment responsibilities at Taewoo Securities rested with Vice Chairman Han.

I provided general direction on where to invest, but it was his job to analyze and find the actual investment targets.

But with an additional one hundred billion dollars?

That meant his worries would only deepen, and he would need to put in at least twice as much effort to find suitable opportunities.

“There’s no need to worry too much. They’re only asking for about double returns within three years. That should be achievable, shouldn’t it?”

“It isn’t impossible, but for fairness’ sake, it would be difficult for Taewoo Securities alone to monopolize all the high-yield investments.”

“Don’t worry. A market where monopolizing will be impossible is just around the corner. And if we leverage the prestige of the Saudi sovereign wealth fund’s name, we can secure an even bigger share of the pie.”

The Saudi sovereign wealth fund wasn’t just any financial institution.

It was capital managed directly by the Saudi government, which meant it couldn’t be treated like a typical firm.

Because relations with the Saudi state itself were tied to it, it gave us tremendous power to wield.

“If the Saudi fund comes in, I plan to invest first in areas with stable returns. I’d love to dabble in crude oil futures, but since Saudi Arabia is an oil producer, they’d likely be too sensitive about prices. So I’ve ruled that out.”

“There’s still plenty of other opportunities beyond oil. And since they seem focused on long-term gains, we could even prepare investments ahead of the U.S.-China trade war.”

While I was discussing the Saudi sovereign wealth fund with Vice Chairman Han, the planning director knocked urgently and entered.

“Chairman, a call just came from the Blue House. You’ve been informally invited to have dinner with the President.”

“Already? It hasn’t been long since we last met. Something must have happened.”

President Choi Jaeseok was not the kind of man who treated conglomerate chairmen as subordinates.

He wouldn’t summon me without reason, and the fact that he was calling me in such a hurry meant something serious must have occurred.

“Tell them I’ll be there. Looks like I’ll have to sober up at the Blue House.”

“I’ll make the arrangements for your visit.”

The liquor from drinking with Bin Salman still hadn’t worn off.

I decided I’d settle my stomach with a steaming bowl of soup prepared by the Blue House’s head chef.

***

A modest annex within the Blue House.

Waiting for me was not a meal prepared by the head chef, but a homey spread of kimchi stew and pan-fried tofu, cooked by the First Lady herself.

“My apologies. I know I shouldn’t summon you so carelessly, but I was so frustrated I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

“It’s quite all right. Whether I eat at home or here, a man still needs a meal to live. Besides, when would I ever again get the chance to taste kimchi stew made by the First Lady herself?”

President Choi Jaeseok’s expression was grim.

During the election he had brimmed with vitality, but since taking office he seemed to age at a startling pace.

“From afar, the presidency seemed a truly enviable position. But now that I’m in it, I realize there’s no burden heavier.”

“Are your worries mostly because of China?”

“The THAAD backlash is only worsening. Korean companies are being driven out of China, and Chinese citizens are even burning Korean products in the streets.”

The damage from the ban had reached its peak.

Just a few years ago, companies had seen the Chinese market as a land of opportunity. Now, it had become a land of torment.

“Cosmetics, electronics, entertainment—I hear they’re all suffering.”

“China seems intent on erasing Korea entirely from its market. Korean entertainers can’t even rent venues there anymore. And the tourism industry has been hit especially hard—Beijing is blocking Chinese group tours to Korea at the government level.”

Only China could enforce such a sweeping policy.

To ban travel to another country outright—unthinkable elsewhere. Of course, we too placed travel restrictions on nations facing terror threats, but never as a tool of political pressure between states.

“In time, companies will find their own way forward. They’ll push into the U.S. and European markets or carve out new opportunities in Southeast Asia.”

“I also believe the THAAD dispute will eventually resolve itself. But isn’t there a bigger issue looming?”

“What issue do you mean, Mr. President?”

“Korea’s population has begun to shrink. The birth rate has fallen to one, and projections say it will drop to 0.9 next year.”

The current fertility rate stood at one.

To President Choi, it looked alarmingly low.

But knowing the future, I considered it remarkably high.

In just a few years, it would fall below 0.8.

“To address this, Taewoo Group has been making significant efforts.”

“Yes, I know you’ve been leading the way—maternity leave, remote work policies, all of it. But not every company can be like Taewoo Group. In the end, Korea’s working-age population will only continue to shrink.”

Why was President Choi Jaeseok acting this way?

He occasionally came to me for advice, but this was the first time he had sounded so openly distressed.

“Is there something specific you’d like to say?”

“When the working-age population declines, the pension problem will inevitably worsen. The previous administration succeeded in reforming the civil servant pension, but it failed to achieve reform of the national pension. And even the civil servant pension still has many areas that need fixing.”

“I once received a report from the Taewoo Economic Research Institute warning that the national pension fund could be depleted before 2055.”

“In the end, won’t the shortfall have to be covered by taxes? That would impose an unbearable burden on future generations.”

Pension reform was a hot potato.

It was absolutely necessary, but any reform meant losing votes—so politicians avoided the topic altogether.

“Still, isn’t the national pension fund being managed reasonably well?”

“Last year, the return rate was only 4.75%.”

“That’s because the fund is so massive. In absolute terms, the returns amounted to 25 trillion won.”

“Doesn’t the Financial Tower also manage assets of that scale? Yet, as I understand, its returns are at least fifty percent.”

Why was the conversation about pensions suddenly leading to the Financial Tower?

What was President Choi’s true intention in bringing this up?

“The national pension prioritizes stability above all else. The Financial Tower, on the other hand, takes aggressive investment approaches, which is why its returns are high. But if a crisis hits, the losses could be catastrophic.”

“Losses? Have you ever taken a loss? As far as I recall, not even once. That’s why the Saudi sovereign wealth fund joined the Financial Tower and signed an MOU with Taewoo Securities, isn’t it?”

Now I finally understood the real reason he had called me here.

The MOU between the Saudi sovereign wealth fund and Taewoo Securities had made President Choi desperate.

“An MOU may have been signed, but that doesn’t mean Taewoo Securities or the Financial Tower guarantees their returns.”

“True, you don’t guarantee returns. But I hear you do give priority access to the best investments. Why should the Saudi sovereign wealth fund be prioritized over the national pension?”

“Because they’re moving into the Financial Tower and entrusting us with part of their capital.”

“And that’s why I plan to entrust a portion of the national pension to the Financial Tower as well.”

So this was how it had turned out.

First the Saudi sovereign wealth fund, and now the national pension.

Two of the world’s top five funds and reserves were both coming to us, asking to hand over their money.

It was an absurd situation, but it also meant the Financial Tower’s position had grown rock-solid.

At the same time, however, it was a burden of staggering scale for both Taewoo Securities and the Financial Tower.