The Dignity of the Chaebol

@U

“Chairman!”

“Father!”

So, this is what it feels like.

Death.

I could sense that my time was coming to an end.

It’s more comfortable than I expected.

Is it because of the medication?

“Chairman… Chairman!”

My consciousness was still sharp, but I no longer had the strength to move my body.

“Sob… Chairman…”

“Don’t… make such a fuss. Calm down.”

The only parts of my body I could still control were my eyes, mouth, and the index finger of my left hand.

“Listen… Tae-san.”

“Yes, Chairman. Haah, I’m here. Jang Tae-san is right here…”

“Have everyone leave… except for you.”

I sent my wife and children out of the hospital room, leaving only my long-time friend, Jang Tae-san.

“Yes, Chairman. They’ve all left.”

Hearing the broken voice of this friend, mixed with tears, I felt a small measure of relief that I hadn’t lived my life in vain.

That relief was a precious gift to carry with me to the afterlife.

“Don’t call me ‘Chairman’ on my deathbed. Tae-san, you’ve… been through a lot staying by my side all this time.”

“No, not at all.”

“Tae-san.”

“Yes, Chairman.”

“Call me comfortably… like you used to in the old days.”

“…”

“Go on.”

Holding the only part of me that could still feel — my left index finger — my long-time friend finally spoke.

“Alright, my friend. Jung-gil.”

“I’ve lived a blessed life and… enjoyed it well.”

“Hnnngh… Sob… Sob…”

“But I’ve been unlucky, leaving this world without fully enjoying it, and burdening you and my inexperienced children with such heavy responsibilities as I go.”

Fifty-nine.

I had spent my whole life engrossed in building my own world, but in the end, I couldn’t even truly live within that world before having to leave.

Stage 4 pancreatic cancer.

I had the determination and willpower to seize everything else, but I couldn’t overcome the cancer spreading through my body.

Moments of my past flashed before my eyes like a lantern slide.

Separated from my family during the war, I was pushed south with only my uncle.

“We’ll be able to return tomorrow. We’ll see our parents next month. Things will get better next year…” With such hopes, forty years passed.

To get even a bowl of corn porridge, I worked in the logging fields of Jirisan. At twenty, I learned to handle fabrics at a textile shop in the Hapdangpo market, and within two years, I opened my own store.

When that store began to find its footing, my uncle arranged for me to marry the woman who would become my wife.

My wife’s family, a prominent household in the Hapdangpo area, had suffered the loss of all their young men during the war. As their first son-in-law, I benefited greatly from my wife’s support and her family’s unwavering assistance, which allowed me to quickly expand my business.

Then came the opportunity to venture into supplying food ingredients to U.S. military bases. This was the start of Jaekyung Sanghoe, which eventually became the foundation of Jaekyung Group.

With the profits from Jaekyung Sanghoe, I formed influential connections and acquired a bus company that operated three trips daily between Hapdangpo and Jinmun, crossing Jinmun Bridge.

Calling it a bus company was generous — it was just two decrepit buses on the verge of breaking down.

At that time, I was thirty years old.

At that time, the Jinmun Bridge was not strictly considered a grand bridge but merely a crossing. Following the advice of a prominent elder from my wife’s family, who suggested I acquire the bus company when I could afford it, the following year saw confirmation of a road construction project.

Simultaneously, major commercial hubs began developing on the Jinmun side. The bus, which initially ran three trips a day between Hapdangpo and Jinmun, soon increased to five, then seven, and eventually eleven trips daily. The rapidly growing flow of people laid the foundation for Jaekyung Tourism.

Jaekyung Tourism quickly expanded its operations from buses to taxis and then to shipping. By the time I turned forty, I had set my sights on elevating Jaekyung Tourism to the center of the aviation industry.

To achieve that ambition, securing the favor of the regime was essential.

The dictatorship of the time, which was pushing hard on economic development projects, naturally extended benefits to companies willing to invest in construction.

I instinctively understood that I had to transform those benefits into privileges.

Jaekyung Sanghoe, which had been renamed Jaekyung Foods, and Jaekyung Tourism generated cash flow, which was immediately funneled into the newly established Jaekyung Construction. Over eight years, Jaekyung Construction built over 20,000 units of municipal apartments at the government’s request.

Opportunities in construction naturally led to the Middle East construction boom of the era, which enabled Jaekyung to evolve into a corporate group.

“Mr. Sohn,”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Do you know why I asked to meet you privately, outside the official residence?”

“I’m not sure, Your Excellency.”

“I believe I’ll need your help, which is why I arranged this meeting.”

It was 1981, exactly ten years ago.

In a nation where, during the war, even corn porridge or dregs porridge were hard to come by, the administration was now reaching out to business leaders one by one, seeking support for hosting something as monumental as the Olympics.

“Chairman Jung has pledged to take the lead in planning and executing everything. It would be greatly appreciated if you, Chairman Sohn, could also lend a hand to contribute to the nation. What do you think?”

“Mere sincerity will not suffice.”

“…?”

“I am truly grateful for the opportunity to contribute to such a patriotic endeavor, Your Excellency. Jaekyung will not merely offer sincerity; we will show our utmost dedication.”

Chairman Jung, who was over ten years my senior and also from the northern provinces, acted as a bridge to connect me with the administration.

I had a responsibility to cross that bridge without making a misstep.

“Jaekyung will invest in the aviation sector.”

“Aviation?”

“Yes, Your Excellency. With our current infrastructure, it will be difficult to prepare for an international event as large as the Olympics. However, these difficulties should remain our own, and they must not become an obstacle to the host city selection.”

“Hmm…”

“There’s not much time left. Regardless of whether we succeed in hosting the Olympics, Jaekyung will focus all its efforts on securing flights into and out of Korea starting now. May we proceed in this manner?”

“It seems Chairman Jung has a good eye for people. It’s no wonder he referred to you as a young businessman who keeps him on his toes.”

“What do you mean…?”

“He told me this: If Chairman Lee is like a competitive partner who motivates him to strive harder, Jaekyung’s Chairman Sohn is someone who makes him feel genuinely tense. He even mentioned that if you were closer in age to him, he’d likely be competing with you instead of Chairman Lee.”

“…”

“Let’s do it. As you said, expanding and securing flight routes is essential, regardless of whether the Olympics bid is successful. It’s a necessary step for the future, so I’ll entrust this task to you.”

Thanks to government support, Jaekyung Group was able to plan the country’s first private airline. Rather than channeling this privilege into tourism, Jaekyung first utilized it in construction, obtaining a license to build a new airport. By consolidating all its liquid assets into construction, the group also succeeded in securing a loan worth 200 billion won from Japanese financial institutions — the same Japan competing against Korea to host the Olympics.

This was the moment Jaekyung Group leaped to 11th place in the domestic corporate rankings.

Afterward, leveraging my experience from running a textile shop in Hapdangpo, I acquired Sehan Textiles, which was struggling with management issues. Renaming it Jaekyung Textiles, I expanded the business into fashion apparel, accessories, and fabric imports.

Ten more years passed, and this series of ventures led to Jaekyung Group’s current status as the 6th largest conglomerate in Korea.

All of this success was made possible because of my lifelong friend, Jang Tae-san, who steadfastly stood by me whenever I faced crossroads demanding bold, risky decisions.

“Tae-san.”

Clinging to the remnants of my fading consciousness, I called out to my friend.

“Yes, I’m here. Speak softly—it must be hard for you. You don’t have to say much. I’ll understand, like I always do.”

Jang Tae-san truly was my companion through life.

No matter how poorly I expressed myself, he always understood perfectly.

“My children… they’re still too inexperienced… to lead Jaekyung.”

“I understand. I know what you mean.”

“Take care of them… as if they were your own.”

“I will. I promise I will.”

“I’m entrusting this to you… like a brother.”

I began to detect a sharp scent in my nose.

It was sharp, but strangely comforting.

I realized instinctively that this scent was meant to ease the pain of death.

Before closing my eyes, the face I wanted to see most was, of course, my wife’s.

The faces I wanted to ensure were by my side were, undoubtedly, my children’s.

And the one I longed to hold one last time was my grandson, Jung-yeop.

But the person I entrusted with my final words was Jang Tae-san. It was my last duty as chairman, the task I had to complete before closing my eyes.

“Jung-gil. Jung-gil! Chairman! Ch… Chairmaaaaan!”

***

So, such a world really does exist…

I arrived in a bizarre place, one that transcended the very concept of space.

A place where I couldn’t discern any direction, nor could I even be sure if it truly existed—a profoundly strange place.

In that space, there was nothing but light.

The light was pure, unadulterated, and all-encompassing, yet I couldn’t find myself within it.

I was undoubtedly observing this space.

But in that infinite brightness, where direction was indeterminable, I couldn’t find any trace of my physical body.

Was I seeing this through the eyes of my physical body, or was I merely communicating with this strange realm through my soul? I couldn’t tell.

I couldn’t walk.

Because my physical body was gone.

Yet, I could feel.

I could sense that this space, which transcended all concepts, was slowly pushing forward, with me at its center.

“Shin Hong-ki takes possession again. Over to Ko Jung-un.”

What? What is this sound?

I couldn’t pinpoint the direction of the voice at all.

“Instead, they’re playing it wide… Oh! Hong Myung-bo! To the right—Seo Jung-won! Seo Jung-won! SHOOTS! Yes, it’s a goal! A goal! It’s Seo Jung-won! The 45th minute of the second half! An incredibly dramatic goal! 2–2! South Korea, ranked 41st by FIFA, has scored an equalizer in the 45th minute of the second half against Spain, ranked 5th in the world!”

Soccer?

But where is this sound coming from?!

“Yes, following the catastrophic collapse of the Seongsu Bridge, rescue teams are frantically working to save even one more person. However, citizens are criticizing authorities for their delayed response. Kim Dong-won reports live from the scene via helicopter.”

The Seongsu Bridge collapsed?

How could such a thing happen…?

No, beyond that—why am I hearing this?

What is this? Why is this happening?

“Seven minutes after the collapse of the Sampoong Department Store, 8mm videotape footage of the disaster site was released today.”

The Sampoong Department Store this time?

In this infinite, bright world where I couldn’t see anything, and nothing felt real, it seemed as though this space was holding me captive in one spot while forcefully pushing forward at its own whim.

It felt as if I were being swept along by a wave.

“Hanbo Steel, which had been struggling with severe financial difficulties, finally declared bankruptcy today. The company, which was on the brink of completing the world’s fifth-largest steel mill, has collapsed, dealing a heavy blow to our economy already suffering from a recession.”

Even in death, I dream.

Hanbo Steel went bankrupt?

What a dull dream this is.

“Sammi Group, ranked 26th in the business sector, has finally succumbed to financial difficulties and collapsed.”

“Samlip Foods, a company synonymous with Korea’s baking history, has ultimately declared bankruptcy due to financial troubles.”

“Kia Group, ranked 8th in the business world, has been designated as a target for debt-restructuring agreements.”

“Ssangbangwool Development and Ssangbangwool Co. have been declared in default.”

“Finally, even the composite stock index has fallen below the 500 mark.”

“Haitai Group has finally filed for bankruptcy.”

“For the first time in history, the Korean won has surpassed 1,000 won per U.S. dollar.”

W-what is this?

Why is this happening?

Why are these nonsensical things being spoken to me?

“The government has ultimately decided to request a bailout from the International Monetary Fund (IMF). Korea, once considered an economic success story, has finally acknowledged its de facto national bankruptcy.”

The International Monetary Fund? IMF?

“For the first time, a financial institution—Koryo Securities—has declared bankruptcy today. The myth of ‘too big to fail’ for financial institutions has been shattered.”

“Following Koryo Securities yesterday, today the 12th-ranked business group, Halla Group, has also declared bankruptcy. This is expected to initiate a restructuring of the domestic automotive industry with Daewoo Group’s acquisition of SsangYong Motor.”

“Dongseo Securities has been officially declared bankrupt today.”