“Strange... It’s strange... A truly strange affair.”
Watching Nam Sang-gi mutter to himself for the second day in a row, Director Kim cautiously spoke up.
“Vice Chairman. Is it because of that bastard Lee Se-jun again?”
“Yeah.”
“What is there to worry about? He asked you to introduce him to prominent politicians, didn’t he?”
“Does that sound like a request to you? To me, it sounds like an order.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not difficult for us. The outside directors handling government relations, the retired generals we hired as a courtesy... There are more than enough to trip over. Just introduce him to a suitable one and be done with it.”
Nam Sang-gi, who had been fretting alone, felt irritation flare up.
“Director Kim, if this was something I could roughly muddle through, do you think I’d be sitting here like this?”
“...Pardon?”
“That bastard wants them brought to him all greased up and ready to use! He may not use them now, but someday he will.”
“I-I apologize... But Vice Chairman, would that change anything? In the end, he just wants you to connect him with powerful politicians, doesn’t he?”
“So why, damn it, why?!”
Nam Sang-gi found Director Kim pathetic—neither knowing the reason nor even trying to understand.
In fact, when Se-jun had brought up the ‘white knight’ talk, Nam Sang-gi had understood the proposal not as a request, but as a threat.
Saying he would become a white knight meant he could become a black knight just as easily.
If the pension fund’s shares were converted to his younger brothers’ friendly stake, several precarious affiliates would fall into their hands.
What meaning was there in holding the chairmanship of KD TechWin alone, with all his limbs cut off? Even that chairman’s seat could be taken from him at any time if the pension fund fiddled with a few lines on the financial statements.
Though he had been raised as the crown prince from birth, unlike his younger brothers, he had lived with a grasp on reality.
He was not a founder on the level of a Musk or a Jobs—irreplaceable despite personal flaws. This seat could be filled by anyone else at any moment... With that thought, he had spent the last several decades watching his step, being careful, and living like a stone Buddha who caused no trouble.
“Hah...”
But he simply couldn’t read this bastard’s thoughts. And because he couldn’t read them, he didn’t know what to offer up.
“Director Kim. In my twenty years as vice chairman, I’ve met all sorts of people. Now I can take one look at their eyes and estimate how many hundred million it takes. But no matter how I look at that bastard’s eyes, I don’t see money.”
“...Then it must be power. Isn’t that why he’s asking you to introduce him to influential figures?”
“If that were it, I wouldn’t be racking my brains like this!”
“...Sir?”
“I heard from the research team that he spent three hours talking about space with Chief Park. But his meeting with me lasted barely thirty minutes? If money or power were his goal, he wouldn’t bother with such theatrics in the first place. But that bastard... he really...”
When he first met Se-jun, Nam Sang-gi had been certain.
He was sure that this bastard had pocketed half of the ten million dollars given to Zhang Yipeng as a commission.
But unexpectedly, the drone technology received from the Chinese businessman was intelligence-grade, and he had suspected that even if not half, at least a portion had gone into the bastard’s pocket.
However, when the war in Ukraine broke out and drones were revealed to be strategic assets that could not be ignored... he began to think that perhaps this bastard hadn’t taken a commission at all, but had emptied his own pockets to bring in the technology.
That was why the bastard’s proposal continued to feel so unnerving.
Why on earth?
“Director Kim. Set up a meeting with Assemblymen Seo Do-cheol and Kim Du-hyeong.”
“A-ah, you can’t, Vice Chairman! They are the most capable in our government relations line. People we can ask a favor of exactly once, only when truly necessary.”
“That’s exactly why I said set it up! This bastard isn’t asking me to bring him old men with no pull. He wants real heavy hitters who can get things done... and ones well-greased at that... Yes, that’s what he wants.”
Director Kim felt dizzy.
Seo Do-cheol and Kim Du-hyeong were senior members within the party, heavyweights capable of comfortably placing one or two of their own people during candidate nominations. Their influence ran deep, and the group had invested no small effort into cultivating them.
But to hand over such precious connections entirely to another person... Was this how Lee Jeong-jae felt when Lee Ki-boong snatched away his district?
“We have no time. Arrange it quickly.”
As Director Kim left shedding tears of blood, Nam Sang-gi fell into thought for a moment.
Was this truly an excessive worry? If the man had only wanted moderate connections, was he giving too extravagant a gift?
—Shall the pension fund become your white knight?
No. He was capable of it.
When he thought that the same offer had been extended to his two younger brothers as well, a chill ran down Nam Sang-gi’s spine.
*
While Nam Sang-gi was agonizing over the coming War of the Princes, there were others who were truly worrying about the group’s survival.
“Chairman. The executives have all gathered.”
“Yes, go on ahead. I’ll be right there.”
Choe Seong-jin, Chairman of Asan Motors, chain-smoked cigarettes, burning his insides black with worry.
The only third-generation chaebol scion acknowledged for managerial competence, he had grown Asan Motors into a towering global automotive group.
Just twenty years ago, Asan Motors had been a domestic company unable to compete with global firms in performance, safety, or design. In fact, Korean customers didn’t think much of it either... As a car you bought because the after-sales service was good, parts were cheap, and it held its value well—domestic perception was extremely cold.
But since he took full control, Asan Motors had succeeded with a premium sedan brand that everyone had predicted would fail.
Having gradually shattered the German Big Three’s domestic market share, he had eventually grown Asan Motors into one of the world’s top three automotive groups.
But no matter how capable one was, it seemed a man could not overcome luck.
As the Earth warmed, global society was shifting paradigms from internal combustion engines to the era of electric vehicles.
Because of this, Chairman Choe was constantly ailing in spirit. Though Asan Motors was currently ranked third globally, in the EV market it was no more than eighth.
America with its technology, China with its labor costs... America with its subsidies, China with its 1.4-billion domestic market.
Currently, the EV market was so non-competitive outside of the US and China that rankings elsewhere were meaningless, and thus Chairman Choe was tormented every night by nightmares of being electrocuted.
He knew all too well because he had stolen the title himself.
If he failed to complete an innovation in EV technology, just as Asan Motors had shattered the German Big Three’s share, he too would have his rice bowl snatched away.
“If everyone is here, let’s start the meeting immediately. Director Jeong?”
“Yes.”
At Chairman Choe’s order, Director Jeong rose from his seat.
“First of all, what’s certain is that Europe’s carbon reduction targets have failed. Contrary to expectations, Europe is taking a hardline stance on blocking natural gas imports, and at this rate, they can never stop internal combustion vehicle production.”
Europe had passed an extremely strong environmental policy targeting 2035 to ban internal combustion vehicle production.
“How long is it postponed?”
“Honestly, the targets were already unrealistic to begin with, but after the war in Ukraine, they’ve been pushed even further away. If Europe maintains its hardline attitude toward natural gas as it is now, they won’t be able to ban internal combustion vehicles until at least 2045.”
For Asan Motors, the war in Ukraine was a conflict that had cost them much, yet given them much in return.
Most experts already viewed the carbon reduction policy as a failure. There was no way energy-starved Europe would really ban internal combustion vehicle production by 2035.
But if asked what could be done with this bought time, the answer was still murky. That was why, even though experts were saying the life support for internal combustion engines had been extended by ten years, Asan Motors’ stock price didn’t budge.
“Then isn’t it all the more serious? Even in a situation that should be a bullish sign, we can’t win the market’s confidence.”
Looking at automotive sales alone, Teslan currently didn’t even reach eighty percent of Asan Motors’ revenue.
Yet Teslan’s market cap was thirty times higher. Even if you said twenty times of that was due to business stakes in Starlink, SpaceX, humanoid robotics, and the like, Teslan’s market cap still far surpassed Asan Motors’.
This was an indicator that invisible technologies like AI, batteries, and autonomous driving had all been priced in. In other words, investors worldwide were predicting that Asan Motors’ market share would soon collapse.
“Winter is coming... All right, speak frankly.”
“...”
“In my view, the era of EV subsidies will soon end and the era of internal combustion penalties will arrive. The Ukraine war is just life support for about ten years. If we don’t achieve innovation within that time, we’ll end up like Intel—hitting record revenues yet watching our stock price crash.”
“Speak freely. What on earth should we be doing?”
The conference room fell silent in an instant.
It wasn’t that they had nothing to say. There was a mountain of things that needed doing, but all of them involved losing hundreds of billions of won each.
To raise their technological level, they needed to attract the right talent, but America was inflating their price several times over.
If that wasn’t possible, they would eventually have to squeeze the workers, slashing labor costs... but Korea’s human rights were far too good for that compared to China.
“Chairman. In truth, technology isn’t the problem right now. We have to lower unit costs first.”
While everyone kept silent, Director Jeong raised his hand.
“Teslan, which was firmly in first place, has recently lost almost all of its market share to BYD. The speed of their pursuit is very steep. The majority of experts predict that BYD will overtake Teslan’s market share within two to three years.”
Chairman Choe nodded.
BYD had originally been a domestic car company that only sold well within China, but after achieving successive technological innovations, it had chased Teslan closely. Thus, many experts expected BYD to overtake Teslan soon.
“The secret to their growth was threefold: labor costs practically equivalent to dirt, a robust domestic market, and massive subsidies... The fact that they protected their domestic market was also thanks to a 25 percent tariff, so it all came down to money.”
“So?”
“To survive, we too cannot avoid a bleeding competition. We must think of all the money we earn from internal combustion vehicles going forward as seed capital and pour it into EV development.”
“That’s why we’ve gone no-dividend for two consecutive years. And because of that, someone from the pension fund is coming today.”
“We have to persuade that person. In our current circumstances, shareholder return policies are a luxury. Even if we bleed money on every sale, we have to sell more EVs. Only by defending the market ecosystem that way can we bring in technicians or do anything else.”
The executives all silently looked at Chairman Choe alone. It meant they were thinking the same thing as Director Jeong.
Chairman Choe pressed his fingers between his brows.
A meeting with a pension fund official had suddenly been scheduled two days ago, and in truth, he had half-expected what the man would say.
The hottest topic in political circles lately was the Korea Discount. Politicians and the majority of citizens had pointed out that stingy dividends were ultimately the problem, demanding that the company open its coffers.
Nevertheless, Asan Motors had enforced no dividends for two consecutive years, so now it was only a matter of time before the largest shareholder, the pension fund, started nagging.
“...”
A sigh escaped him.
If the official demanded shareholder returns, how much more company money would he have to release? Would they believe him if he said he was saving it to prepare for the electric vehicle era?
—Chairman. I’m sorry, but the pension fund official has arrived.
Just then, his secretary announced the arrival of the unwelcome guest.
Chairman Choe set down his pen and spoke.
“I understand the sentiment well enough. Let’s wrap it up here for today.”