Free Web NovelIn Chairman Song’s hand was an old, faded photograph.
“Here, this is Chairman Cheon in his younger days.”
Chairman Song set the picture down on the table and slid it toward me. There was a trace of longing in his voice.
I picked up the photograph and studied it. It was a black-and-white shot of two men, arms slung around each other’s shoulders.
“Is this really my grandfather and you, Chairman?”
“Haha, don’t they look young? The one on the left is that Cheon fellow, the one on the right is me.”
In the faded black-and-white picture, the young men were covered in dust, grinning broadly toward the camera.
The light may have faded, but their faces shone with brightness.
It was the first time I had ever seen my grandfather smile so innocently.
Almost without realizing it, I traced his face in the photo with my finger. Chairman Song chuckled warmly and spoke.
“Handsome, isn’t he? That was back when...”
* * *
Seoul, 1950s. The aftermath of the Korean War still lingered.
“Phew...”
A young man stepped out of a U.S. military base, sighing.
“Hey, President Song! Why the long face? Something go wrong?”
“Ah, President Bae.”
Turning at the voice, Song Youngjoo saw Bae Gichan patting his shoulder.
“You didn’t win the contract? With your pull, it should have been guaranteed. You’ve got good relations with the Americans too.”
Song Youngjoo shook his head, his face clouded with worry.
“No, I got the contract.”
“Then why are you sighing like the world’s about to collapse?”
“Haha...”
His awkward laugh trailed off as his shoulders drooped again.
“Come on, tell me. If I can help, I will.”
“I have to run multiple projects at once. The problem is money, what else could it be?”
“Hmm...”
Bae Gichan let out a low murmur at the weary words.
“I did say I’d help, but forgive me—I’m not exactly swimming in cash either. The whole world’s like this, isn’t it? The war’s torn everything down.”
“I know. That’s why it’s so frustrating.”
The war had ruined much.
For businessmen especially, the collapse of the banking system was devastating.
Even the government lacked funds for reconstruction, slowing progress to a crawl. All anyone could do was complain.
“When will the U.S. Army pay you? They usually give half up front before the work even begins, don’t they?”
“That’s already tied up in another project. A government contract. They keep delaying the payments, damn it.”
It was common knowledge by then: the government handed out projects without paying contractors on time.
Understanding his plight, Bae Gichan patted Song’s shoulder consolingly.
“In the end, it’ll all turn out to be useful. Nothing you can do about it, right? That’s why you’re sighing.”
“You’re right, there’s no choice. I’ll just have to go around borrowing money.”
As Song spoke gloomily, Bae suddenly clapped his hands as if struck by an idea.
“Do you know someone called Cheon Taesan in Myeongdong?”
“Cheon Taesan?”
The name was new to him.
“Is he younger than you? No, that doesn’t matter. He’s someone moving money in Myeongdong. Why not try visiting him?”
“Moving money? A loan shark?”
“Yes. I doubt anyone else in Seoul right now has that much cash on hand.”
In a city still half in ruins, Song couldn’t imagine how anyone could be moving money around.
Suspicion flickered in his eyes.
“What kind of man is he, really?”
“I don’t know. I only went once to borrow money myself. You should try it too.”
Bae scribbled down the location of Cheon Taesan’s office.
After parting ways, Song Youngjoo went straight to Myeongdong.
He had no choice—the project had to go forward. Lose this chance, and the Americans’ trust would never return.
“Excuse me?”
He knocked on the office door without hesitation. A young man opened it.
“Who are you?”
“Is President Cheon Taesan here?”
“That would be me. And you are?”
“Ah...”
The man looked younger than expected. Startled, Song stood frozen. Cheon Taesan opened the door wide.
“Come in.”
Song followed him into the office, and they sat facing each other.
“May I ask who introduced you?”
“President Bae Gichan. He runs a textile factory in Mapo.”
“Ah! President Bae.”
At the name, Cheon nodded knowingly, then asked again.
“And your name?”
“Song Youngjoo.”
“So you’re President Song of Daehyeon Construction.”
“You know me?”
His innocent reaction was almost comical. Cheon laughed aloud.
“Of course I know. They say you win most of the U.S. Army contracts.” fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
It was true—thanks to connections built in Busan, Song had secured the bulk of those projects.
“For someone like you to come here is an honor. What brings you?”
Song hesitated, then answered.
“I heard you could lend money.”
“Money? Daehyeon Construction is short on funds? Don’t you usually get paid in dollars from the Americans?”
“...The government isn’t paying. I have to put the U.S. Army payments into those contracts first.”
Cheon sighed softly, nodding.
He knew the government’s corruption well.
He had made his fortune buying up seized properties and American aid supplies, and through that had mingled with high-ranking officials. He knew exactly how much they were pocketing.
“I can lend to you, President Song. But without collateral, I don’t lend.”
Collateral was non-negotiable. That was Cheon’s rule.
“Hmm... would government payments for the contract do as collateral?”
“Something with no guarantee can’t serve as collateral. Put up your company.”
“...That’s...”
The words made Song hesitate. Putting up his hard-built company was no small matter.
“Why not? If you repay, there’s no problem. Don’t tell me you plan to run off with it?”
“No, never. My credit is my life. I’d never do such a thing.”
“Exactly. Then what’s the issue?”
Cheon’s voice was firm, his focus solely on money.
“I don’t care about running your company. I only look at the money.”
Song wavered, but the truth was there was no other option.
If he couldn’t complete the U.S. Army contract, his future ended there.
“Very well. I’ll put up the company.”
“How much do you need?”
“Fifty million hwan, immediately.”
“Fifty million?”
It was more than expected. Cheon repeated it in surprise.
“Yes. I’ve taken on too many projects. The government owes me more than that alone.”
Cheon was silent for a moment, then nodded.
“A big sum... All right. Bring the necessary documents tomorrow, I’ll have mine ready.”
“What?”
Song’s eyes went wide. To lend such an enormous amount so easily—
“Of course, the interest is steep. Five percent monthly. Is that acceptable?”
Shock spread across Song’s face. That meant 2.5 million hwan in interest each month.
“I’ll need to review the statements, but for Daehyeon Construction, I’ll keep it at 5% flat.”
And in truth, no one else in Seoul could lend fifty million hwan at once.
“...All right.”
There was no choice. Without this money, the project would collapse.
“Then let me tell you what documents to prepare.”
Cheon explained what to bring.
His thoroughness exceeded that of a bank. Song felt a flush of shame for dismissing the young man at first glance.
“Come again tomorrow. Everything will be ready.”
“Understood.”
The next day, Song returned with the documents.
“You’re here. Please, sit.”
Cheon reviewed the papers carefully and set them down.
“Unlike other firms, your books are clean. It tells me what kind of man you are.”
“You can tell from that alone?”
Guessing a company’s health from its statements was not something just anyone could do.
Cheon smiled knowingly.
“I’ve studied the flow of money so long, I read it better than experts.”
“Amazing. At your age...”
“Haha. Now, stamp here and here. I’ll fetch the cash.”
While Song stamped the papers, Cheon disappeared inside, returning with a bag.
Checking the seals, he nodded.
“Interest is due on the first of every month. I’ll come myself.”
He set the bag on the table.
“Fifty million hwan. Check it.”
Song opened it and counted. The sum was real.
“...It’s correct. Thank you.”
“For a company like Daehyeon, I can lend up to two hundred million without extra collateral. Come whenever.”
Smiling, Cheon rose and extended his hand. Song stood too, shaking it.
That was their first meeting.
* * *
“That was how I first borrowed from that Cheon fellow. From then on, whenever I expanded, he was there to back me.”
Chairman Song’s eyes softened with nostalgia.
“That photo? It was taken when he came to collect interest. A pile of sand suddenly collapsed on him, covered him head to toe. Always so immaculate, but that was the first time I saw him a mess.”
A smile lit his face as he recalled the scene.
“Without his help, Daehyeon would never have become Korea’s top conglomerate. I owe him more than I can say.”
He leaned back in his chair, voice low.
“Thanks to Chairman Cheon, I stayed clear of corrupt ties, and even survived the blades of the military regime.”
My grandfather’s face in the photo radiated joy. Slowly, I traced his smiling expression with my finger.
“I never once broke a promise to him. Never delayed the interest. That’s why we could call each other partners, even friends.”
Indeed, Chairman Song was the only corporate head my grandfather ever treated as a friend.
“History will only remember me, Song Youngjoo. Only my name will be written down.”
No one knew of the Loan Shark King of Myeongdong. That was natural.
He had lived forever in the shadows, never revealing himself.
“But in truth, your grandfather’s role was immense—not just in Daehyeon’s growth, but in Korea’s economy itself.”
I looked up from the photo. Chairman Song’s lips carried a faint smile.
“Your grandfather holds a place in Korea’s history. Just because it’s not written doesn’t mean it never existed. So take pride in him.”
From the mouth of a living legend of Korea’s business world, the words pierced deep into my chest.
“Keep that photo. There’s no one left to share those memories with anymore.”
“Thank you.”
“And... after I’m gone, if Daehyeon ever asks for help, for the sake of my bond with Chairman Cheon, grant them aid at least once.”
Since my grandfather’s passing, he seemed more and more burdened by worries.
I nodded.
“Yes, I will.”
“Good. That’s enough.”
Chairman Song laughed aloud. I returned a small smile.
“Another generation is fading away.”
He muttered toward the window, his words tinged with bitterness. I could not answer.
We spoke a little longer before I left his home.
“Manager Ma.”
Sitting in the passenger seat, Manager Ma turned.
“Yes, Boss.”
“What did you think when you first met my grandfather?”
“The Chairman?”
He thought a moment, then answered.
“I was afraid of him.”
“Afraid?”
I too had feared him at first. That he felt the same was strangely striking.
“Yes. He was always expressionless. I never once saw him smile.”
“I see.”
“Why do you ask?”
I pulled the photo from my pocket and showed it to him.
“His younger days. Younger even than when I first saw him... He looks good, smiling like that.”
“Doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Manager Ma stared at the photo, unable to look away. I smiled faintly at the sight.
“How long to the restaurant?”
“About thirty minutes.”
“I miss Grandma.”
I gazed out the window. The sun was setting.
And like that sinking ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) sun, Cheon Taesan’s era had drawn to a close.
