CH397 | GSI

Daehung Venture Capital

As Choi Ho-geun entered the office, he noticed a group of employees gathered around, looking at something.

“What’s everyone doing?”

The employees turned to him and greeted him one by one.

“You’re here.”

“Welcome, sir.”

“Good morning!”

“Yeah, yeah. Good morning to you all.”

Returning the greetings with a casual wave, Choi Ho-geun took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack behind his desk. He turned around and asked,

“So? Something interesting going on?”

“Did you see the article about Ilhan and Hansung Bank merging?”

Jung Hwan-yeop, sporting the Gucci tie he received as a holiday gift, held up a newspaper in one hand as he spoke.

Choi Ho-geun wasn’t surprised. He had heard nothing but merger news on the radio during his entire drive in.

“How could I not? The radio and the newspapers have been going on about it all morning.”

At that, Hong Jae-hee, visibly excited, chimed in.

“The Eldorado Fund mentioned in the article—it's the one we know, right?”

“If there's anywhere in Korea right now that could attract an investment of that scale, there’s only one possible place.”

With a nod of confirmation, Yoo Seok-hyun opened his mouth in amazement.

“Dumping 1.8 billion dollars all at once through equity acquisition and capital injection… the boss really is on another level.”

“Seriously. Going all in like that—now that’s what I call a real man. A true show of guts!”

Beside him, Jung Hwan-yeop raised both thumbs in the air with great enthusiasm.

“Right? That makes him the controlling shareholder of the largest bank in the country now.”

“He's in a different league. Following the boss into securities was the best decision of my life!”

Watching Jung Hwan-yeop enter full-on praise mode, Choi Ho-geun scoffed.

“Weren’t you the one whining about how you'd end up out in the cold like a stranded duck on the Nakdong River after changing jobs?”

“When did I ever say that?”

“Oh, please. You spilled your guts over soju at that back-alley bar in Yeouido. Should I remind you of every word you said that night?”

Choi Ho-geun, if he wanted to, could list off every side dish they had with their drinks that night.

“Man, your memory’s good in all the most useless ways.”

“What was that, punk?!”

When Choi Ho-geun gave him a sharp glare, Jung Hwan-yeop chuckled sheepishly and stepped over to give his shoulder a massage.

“Aw, come on, don’t get worked up again. You keep flaring up like that, it’s not good for your blood pressure.”

“If you’d stop being such a little smartass, I’d live to a hundred. Now get lost.”

As Choi Ho-geun brushed him off, Jung Hwan-yeop clung to him persistently, the two bantering noisily.

Once again, the usual Tom-and-Jerry antics were in full swing. The rest of the staff, well used to this daily routine, stifled their laughter as they watched.

Just then, the phone rang with a triiing, and the youngest staff member, Noh Hee-won, quickly picked up the receiver.

“Yes, this is the Fund Management Division at Daehung Venture Capital. Ah, yes. I’ll pass that along right away.”

After the brief call, Noh Hee-won turned to Choi Ho-geun, who was still bickering with Jung Hwan-yeop.

“Sir?”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“The president wants to see you. He asked that you come up immediately.”

“Did he now?”

Choi Ho-geun pushed Jung Hwan-yeop’s face aside and quickly grabbed his jacket, which he had taken off earlier.

“I’ll be back. Don’t go slacking off just because I’m not here! Make sure you go over the market data from the U.S. session—New York sent it by fax this morning.”

“Now that’s just hurtful. You make it sound like I never do any work around here.”

“Because that’s how it looks.”

“Sir!”

With a smirk, Choi Ho-geun grabbed his company planner and stepped out of the office.

A few moments later, he arrived at the executive suite. Na Seong-mi, who had been seated at her desk, stood up with a pleasant smile.

“You can go right in.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, Choi Ho-geun paused in front of the closed door and adjusted his jacket, tidying himself up. Then he gave a light knock and turned the handle to enter the president’s office.

“Ah, you’re here.”

Seok-won, who had been looking at something on his monitor, glanced up briefly.

“Have a seat on the sofa.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a small bow, Choi Ho-geun straightened up and sat on the sofa positioned to the side of the room, just as instructed.

Seok-won stood, picked up a slim file folder, and came around his desk to sit at the central seat of the lounge area.

Crossing one leg over the other, Seok-won was the first to speak.

“The market’s about to open, so I’ll keep this brief.”

“Understood.”

Choi Ho-geun straightened his posture and met the president’s gaze.

“You’ve had plenty of time to rest. Now it’s time to get back to work.”

The moment the words left Seok-won’s mouth, Choi Ho-geun’s eyes lit up.

“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

His face brightened, and he leaned forward in anticipation. Sensing the excitement radiating from him, Seok-won smiled faintly.

“Starting today, begin selling off some of our dollar holdings, gradually.”

“You believe the exchange rate has peaked?”

Seok-won shrugged.

“I wish that were the case, but unfortunately, it’s not.”

“…?”

“Even if negotiations conclude and IMF assistance is approved, the dollars that come in will flow right back out immediately.”

Realizing what he meant, Choi Ho-geun’s expression darkened slightly as he responded.

“You mean the hundreds of billions in short-term foreign debt will act like a massive sinkhole, swallowing all the incoming dollars.”

“Exactly.”

Seok-won calmly continued, clasping his hands together on the table.

“No one knows the exact figure, but the amount of short-term debt held by domestic financial institutions—especially the troubled merchant banks—is estimated at around 28 billion dollars.”

Choi Ho-geun let out a silent sigh. The government had apparently allowed this level of short-term borrowing to balloon without any effective oversight.

“On top of that, there are about 10.6 billion dollars of foreign investment currently in the domestic stock market.”

“……”

“In other words, nearly 40 billion dollars are poised to exit the country at any moment.”

Faced with such a bleak outlook, Choi Ho-geun tried to argue—perhaps more out of desperation than confidence.

“Haven’t a lot of those funds already left in the past few months?”

But Seok-won shook his head without hesitation.

“Even accounting for that, there’s still significant pent-up demand for currency exchange. If that weren’t the case, Korea would have already run out of foreign reserves and declared a moratorium.”

Choi Ho-geun nodded gravely. The amount of short-term debt and foreign capital in the stock market far exceeded Korea’s available foreign currency reserves. It was a sobering realization.

“In contrast, the amount of foreign currency the IMF can provide will likely be no more than 20 billion dollars. And it won’t come all at once—it’ll be disbursed in phases.”

“Then unless the overall sentiment changes dramatically, those IMF dollars will be siphoned off the moment they arrive—used by foreign investors as an escape route out of Korea.”

“Exactly right.”

Seok-won offered a bitter smile and went on.

“I’d love to be wrong about this, but based on how things have gone so far, it’s more accurate to say the exchange rate still has plenty of room to rise.”

Choi Ho-geun let out a low sigh, nodding in agreement.

But there was still one thing that didn’t quite sit right with him.

“Then wouldn’t it be better to wait a bit longer before we sell the dollars? We’d profit more that way, wouldn’t we?”

“Of course. But even if we’re lucky and manage to sell at the absolute peak, the best return we could expect would be around 30 percent.”

A 30% return implied that the exchange rate would hit 2,000 won per dollar. Choi Ho-geun involuntarily swallowed dryly.

If it’s already this bad now, and we hit 2,000 won to the dollar...

The thought alone was terrifying.

And yet, another notion crept into his mind.

Even on Wall Street—the supposed playground of geniuses—they get praised for pulling in 20–30% annual returns. And here he is, saying 30% isn’t enough.

Choi Ho-geun silently shook his head.

If anyone else had said this, he would’ve scoffed or cursed them out on the spot. But because it was coming from Seok-won, he found himself accepting it.

This was a man who regularly posted returns of 100%—even 200%—without breaking a sweat. For someone like that, 30% was nothing worth celebrating.

At that moment, Seok-won smirked, the corner of his mouth curling upward.

“But unlike the exchange rate, the stock market has already hit rock bottom. If we start scooping up stocks that are bound to rebound sharply, we can easily expect returns of at least double.”

Seeing the two fingers Seok-won held up, Choi Ho-geun’s eyes sparkled.

“The market’s fallen too far due to panic, that’s true. So even if it just returns to previous levels, a 100% gain is more than possible.”

As Choi Ho-geun leaned forward, energized and visibly eager, Seok-won looked quietly pleased.

If he had been obsessed with the safer gains of foreign exchange arbitrage and showed reluctance toward riskier but far more lucrative stock trades, Seok-won would’ve been deeply disappointed.

“As expected, it’s always easy to talk shop with you, Chief Choi.”

With a smile, Seok-won slid a thin file folder across the table toward him.

“Take a look.”

Choi Ho-geun opened the file and quickly scanned its contents.

[ST Telecom – $200 million
Millennium Computers – $100 million
Dao Technologies – $100 million
Dusoel CSN – $50 million
ST Securities – $100 million
Geumo Chemicals – $100 million]

After reading through the list, Choi Ho-geun looked up, a new light in his eyes.

“Is this the buy list?”

“Knew you’d get it right away. That’s correct. Accumulate the stocks listed there in the amounts indicated.”

Reading over the list again more carefully, Choi Ho-geun frowned slightly when he saw several securities firms included.

He looked up and cautiously asked,

“I get the rationale for the others, but the securities firms took a big hit in the recent crash—and there’s restructuring risk, too. Are we really okay buying into them?”

Despite Choi’s hesitant tone, Seok-won remained completely unbothered.

In fact, he preferred this—someone who voiced reasonable concerns instead of just blindly following orders.

With a calm demeanor, he explained why securities firms had been included.

“It’s true that their situation isn’t great, just like the rest of the financial sector. But if you think about it the other way around—the drop has been so steep that when they rebound, they’ll jump the highest.”

“That may be, but if they go bankrupt or get caught in restructuring before that happens, we’ll be in serious trouble.”

While Choi Ho-geun expressed concern, Seok-won remained relaxed.

“That’s why I narrowed it down to three firms that I believe can survive the fallout from the foreign exchange crisis.”

Then he smiled,

“Once the fear settles and investment money flows back in—when the market comes alive again—the securities sector will be the first to benefit. And the one to benefit the most.”

Realizing what he had overlooked, Choi Ho-geun opened his mouth slightly in admiration.

“When trading volume increases, commission fees go up too… so their earnings will see an immediate, dramatic improvement.”

“Exactly. Think about how many transactions will take place during the rebound. All of that gets recorded as revenue for securities firms. Right now they’re posting net losses, but when things flip, those losses will turn into explosive profits. That much is easy to anticipate, right?”

Seok-won spoke with a lifted smirk.

“There’s a saying: in a casino, it’s not the gamblers who make money—it’s the house.”

“True enough.”

Choi Ho-geun smiled back, but inside, he couldn’t help but marvel again at Seok-won’s insight.

He really does see two or three moves ahead. No matter how much I admire it, it’s never enough.