Chapter 34: I Should Splash Some Filthy Water

A few days later, I headed with Zhang Wei to the secret location Jeong Tae-soo had told us about.

When the vehicle turned into the narrow alley between Bukchon and Samcheong-dong, the entrance was already heavily guarded—barricades set up, soldiers armed to the teeth conducting strict inspections.

From the looks of it, I could tell this wasn’t just any place.

“From here, you’ll have to proceed on foot.”

A soldier halted the car as he spoke.

Zhang Wei and I stepped out and walked down the narrow, winding alley under the soldiers’ watchful eyes.

After some time, we finally arrived at a grand hanok that looked to be at least a few hundred years old. At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary noble’s house, but the air around it felt far from ordinary.

Zhang Wei knocked on the heavy wooden gate, and after a short while, there was movement inside. The door opened cautiously.

Once we stepped inside, a completely different atmosphere greeted us—quiet, neat, and serene, unlike the tense scene outside.

Following the guide, we reached a spacious room in the inner annex.

When the door opened, I saw that eight men were already seated, waiting for Jeong Tae-soo.

Their faces showed a mix of tension and unease. Most of the people gathered here were heads of small or mid-sized securities firms.

And one thing was clear—

‘He gathered only those who have no ties with, or outright bad relations with, Park Jeong-ho. Just when did he start preparing all this?’

It had only been a few days since Yang Sobo and Jeong Tae-soo had formally joined hands to discuss their operation.

It was physically impossible to understand the internal affairs and relationships of every securities company, select people, and summon them secretly in such a short time.

In other words, this meant he had been gathering information for quite a while.

While I was lost in thought, observing the faces of the men gathered there, the door suddenly creaked open.

Everyone’s gaze turned toward it at once.

Then, a man appeared—his cold, commanding presence freezing the air in an instant.

‘Jeong Tae-soo.’

He said nothing, his sharp, snake-like eyes slowly scanning the men in the room.

Each time his gaze fell on someone, a few startled men instinctively flinched and bowed their heads.

Finally, his eyes met mine. When he saw my face, the corners of his mouth faintly lifted.

But only for a moment. Jeong Tae-soo slowly stepped into the room and naturally took the seat at the head of the table.

“Everyone, please sit.”

At his low but firm voice, the men who had risen hurriedly sat back down.

“I apologize for calling you all so suddenly. But this is an urgent matter, so it couldn’t be helped.”

“No need to apologize, Deputy Director. People like us should take the initiative to serve the government.”

One of the securities firm presidents quickly flattered him.

He was one of the presidents we had planned to contact for the Daegung stock selloff.

Seemingly not displeased by the flattery, Jeong Tae-soo smiled faintly.

“I appreciate you saying that.”

He picked up a bottle of liquor from the table.

“Fill your cups, gentlemen. It’s best to start after a drink, wouldn’t you say?”

At his order, the presidents hurriedly poured drinks into their glasses.

Zhang Wei and I stayed still, not touching ours.

“Hm… And why are you just sitting there?”

His cold gaze landed on me. The warmth he’d shown to the others a moment ago vanished completely.

“I don’t drink while working.”

I answered calmly, without the slightest hesitation.

The air in the room froze instantly.

A few of the presidents gasped softly, one hiccuped in tension, and another fumbled his glass, spilling some liquor.

Refusing the Deputy Director of the KCIA’s offer—especially in a setting like this—was something they couldn’t even imagine.

All eyes focused on me and Jeong Tae-soo.

His gaze pierced into me like a blade. His eyebrow twitched faintly.

But I didn’t avert my eyes and met his gaze squarely. The tension in the room grew taut, almost tangible.

“How insolent.”

After a brief silence, Jeong Tae-soo muttered those words, short and sharp. Unexpectedly, he didn’t pursue the matter further and turned his attention back to the presidents.

But the cold smirk at his lips looked like a silent warning—I’ll remember this.

“Now, now. Let’s drink together, gentlemen.”

As soon as he emptied his glass, the presidents hurriedly followed suit.

After a few rounds of drinking, Jeong Tae-soo lightened the atmosphere, pretending to listen sympathetically to their troubles.

Then, after draining his last glass, he set it down. His eyes once again glinted coldly.

“The reason I’ve called you all here today is that there’s something important I want you to do—for the sake of the national economy.”

The mention of the “national economy” instantly froze the once-warm atmosphere.

“What you hear here today—you must take it to your graves. Can you do that?”

The presidents swallowed nervously under his snake-like gaze.

Seeing that, he smiled faintly. But his eyes still gleamed with danger.

“What happened to the men who were drinking earlier? You should answer when asked a question.”

“Y-yes! Of course, Deputy Director!”

“Absolutely, sir!”

Under his subtle pressure, they all scrambled to respond, like ants swarming over crumbs—pathetic and desperate.

“Good. Now, as for the details…”

His gaze shifted toward me.

I stood up and bowed politely.

“Hello. My name is Baek Min-woo.”

After a brief introduction, I began to explain the operation in earnest.

“What I need each of your firms to do is place unlimited sell orders for Daegung stock through normal trading channels.”

“W-what?”

“Sell Daegung stock? In this insane bull market? No, even aside from that…”

Confusion filled their eyes. Park Se-hoon, the president of Taeseong Securities, glanced anxiously at Jeong Tae-soo before speaking carefully.

“There’s a rumor going around that the KCIA is running an operation using Daegung stock. Are you saying we should deliberately interfere with that?”

“It’s not a rumor—it’s true. But if we let this continue, the damage will become uncontrollable. We need to burst the bubble before it grows worse.”

The presidents began murmuring anxiously. That was when Jeong Tae-soo spoke up.

“I’ve already received approval from the higher-ups, so there’s no need for unnecessary worries.”

His reassurance made them murmur again.

They were beginning to grasp what this operation really was—an invisible power struggle within the ruling circle, centered around Daegung stock.

“The Korea Securities Exchange’s funds are already running dry. Even though the Bank of Korea injected emergency funds, it’s like pouring water into a bottomless jar. I’m sure you’re all aware of that, aren’t you?”

At my words, the presidents nodded heavily.

They, too, as heads of their own firms, must have sensed the market’s uneasy movement.

At that moment, President Hong Yeon-ho of Jinhung Securities carefully posed a question.

“So that’s why they’re doing a capital increase, isn’t it? If the Korea Securities Exchange successfully completes the paid-in capital increase, they should be able to put out the immediate fire.”

“The capital increase will fail.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

At my firm reply, suspicion tinged President Hong Yeon-ho’s voice.

Since I already knew the future, answering his question wasn’t difficult.

“On the surface, Park Jeong-ho and his faction are pushing for the paid-in capital increase, but in truth, they won’t be able to participate due to a lack of funds. They’ve already exhausted most of their capital buying up Daegung stock.”

Then President Yoon Gi-chang of Daedong Securities, who had been listening beside him, joined the conversation.

“Is that reliable information? That President Park Jeong-ho won’t take part in the capital increase? From what I’ve heard, he’s the one who pushed hardest for it—and now you’re saying he won’t participate?”

“Park Jeong-ho no longer has the funds. And he can’t sell the physical Daegung stock certificates he currently holds either. He has to somehow maintain the current price level until the capital increase succeeds and the stock hits its peak.”

At the start, Park Jeong-ho had poured nearly all his available funds into buying up physical Daegung stock certificates.

Then he artificially drove up the stock price, made a profit, and used those profits to pay the political funds demanded by the KCIA.

In the end, all he had left were Daegung stock certificates—his cash reserves had completely run dry, leaving him unable to participate in the capital increase.

I drove the final nail into the hesitant presidents’ minds.

“The securities firms won’t have to shoulder any financial burden. Just place the orders as instructed. As for all the expenses incurred…”

I looked toward Zhang Wei, who had been standing silently beside me all this time.

He stepped forward and declared in a calm yet powerful voice,

“We will take full responsibility.”

No one in this room failed to recognize whose right-hand man Zhang Wei was.

Therefore, his declaration carried far more weight than a mere promise.

It was, in effect, a public statement that Yang Sobo and Jeong Tae-soo—two formidable powers—were backing this operation together.

The presidents exchanged uneasy glances, unable to hide their complex emotions. Their minds must have been furiously calculating.

A dangerous yet irresistible offer—and the sweet temptation of bearing no responsibility even in the event of failure.

By now, they should have understood everything. I quietly took my seat again.

As I did, Jeong Tae-soo smiled with satisfaction and spoke once more.

“Well then, I trust everyone now knows exactly what must be done.”

A brief silence followed, until President Hong Yeon-ho gathered the courage to speak carefully.

“Deputy Director, sir. I fully understand what you’ve said. However…”

“Go on.”

“May I ask what benefit we’ll gain from cooperating in this matter?”

As soon as Hong Yeon-ho broke the silence, the other securities firm presidents stirred, murmuring in agreement—as if they’d been waiting for someone else to bring it up.

It was only natural to expect appropriate compensation when taking such a risk.

After listening to the murmurs for a while, Jeong Tae-soo slowly raised his hand, quieting them once again. The heavy silence returned.

“Compensation, you say…”

A cold smile crept across his lips as he slowly scanned the faces of the men.

“I’ll make sure your firms keep their licenses.”

Several of the presidents’ faces instantly brightened.

Since the implementation of the Securities Exchange Act, the former registration system for establishing securities companies had been replaced with a strict government approval process.

As a result, countless small and mid-sized securities firms now lived under the constant threat of losing their licenses.

The firms gathered here were no exception—they, too, stood on shaky ground.

Jeong Tae-soo had just played his strongest card.

“As long as you don’t commit any grave mistakes, your firms will remain safe. That should be adequate compensation, don’t you think?”

President Hong Yeon-ho chuckled and replied,

“More than adequate, Deputy Director! As long as our firm’s license is safe, I’ll devote every resource I have to supporting this operation!”

I narrowed my eyes and watched him closely.

No matter how I looked at it, President Hong Yeon-ho seemed like a plant Jeong Tae-soo had placed beforehand to stir the others.

Using the promise of license protection—without spending a single won—to manipulate these firms like his own limbs.

‘If things keep going this way, everything will unfold exactly as Jeong Tae-soo intends. Time to splash some filthy water.’

If I left things alone, his plan would proceed perfectly.

I couldn’t allow him to seize full control.

I smiled pleasantly and spoke up.

“Even so, there should be proper compensation, shouldn’t there?”

All eyes in the room turned to me at my sudden remark. Even Zhang Wei glanced at me curiously, wondering what I was about to say.

“Master Yang has said he will not take a single penny of profit from this operation. He only intends to recover the principal amount of the funds invested.”

At my words, President Yoon Gi-chang asked, puzzled,

“Is that true? That Master Yang intends to take no profit from this at all?”

“Yes. It’s already been discussed and agreed upon with Deputy Director Jeong Tae-soo.”

All eyes turned back to Jeong Tae-soo.

He looked far from pleased but gave a short nod of confirmation.

Once he acknowledged it, the presidents’ gazes returned to me—their eyes now glimmering with anticipation.

“Each securities firm will receive 10% of its net profit from this operation as compensation. The plan will take at least two months. Since you’ll need to focus entirely on this and set aside your other work, I believe proper compensation is necessary.”

At my bold proposal, Jeong Tae-soo’s brow creased.

Considering the scale of the operation, 10% was by no means a small amount.

But it wasn’t as though what I said was unreasonable—if anything, it made things more complicated for him.

“Wouldn’t it be better to promise clear rewards from the start and move as one unified group, rather than risk having the presidents here secretly working against the plan and causing chaos later? What do you think, Deputy Director?”

Once again, I passed the ball to Jeong Tae-soo. Now, every pair of eyes in the room was fixed solely on his lips.

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