Chapter 25: Daeha Securities (2)

The June Democracy Movement was causing significant political upheaval, but I observed the historical maelstrom from a distance.

I couldn’t, and shouldn’t, interfere.

‘Ten more years…’

This world isn’t ready for me yet.

I could occasionally speak with Kim Haeik, Senior Secretary for Economic Affairs, but even that was limited.

‘I don’t have much to say.’

I can only comment on economic, not political, matters. If he remains in the next administration, he could be a valuable source of information…

But it’s unlikely.

He served under Jeon D00hwan, supporting democratization. While now Senior Secretary for Economic Affairs, direct presidential elections will favor Kim Dae-jung and Kim Young-sam.

Even with his political acumen, he wouldn’t predict the two Kims’ failure to unify and a military regime second-in-command becoming president.

Even if he did, he’d likely bet on the two Kims. That’s his belief.

‘Difficult. Focus on my strengths.’

On a chaotic day during the June Democracy Movement, I was heading to Daeha Securities.

After all… my greatest effort has been Daeha Securities.

Yu Jinseok and Yu Jinha could hinder other ventures, but not Daeha Securities.

Daeha Securities is where I can freely display my talents and future knowledge. While personally managing assets or directly interfering is still difficult—due to legal restrictions, not family interference—this is my chance.

Daeha Securities was given to me by Yu Seongpil. It hasn’t been formally approved, but barring any major issues, it will be transferred to me.

My own company… This resonates deeply.

‘Working for others doesn’t suit me.’

Therefore, the Yu family hasn’t significantly hindered my work within the group.

Or rather, they couldn’t. Yu Seongpil, despite his declining energy, is still a healthy man in his early sixties.

In the 21st century, early sixties isn’t considered old. People worry about his health, but I’m not concerned, knowing his year of death.

He’ll live to eighty.

I reflect on this entering Daeha Securities.

-Creak.

My secretary, Lee Sihyeon, opens the door, and people’s eyes widen at my appearance.

“Miss, you’ve arrived.”

“Ah! Miss Hayeon, it’s been a while.”

Sihyeon stands guard, resuming her protective role, while Daeha Securities employees part, bowing.

An older employee, somewhat familiar with me, leads me to the CEO’s office.

Ha Jusung awaits.

“Hahaha. Miss Hayeon. You’ve arrived. I’m Ha Jusung, CEO of Daeha Securities.”

A middle-aged man bows excessively, his joy unconcealed.

He recently became CEO.

The Plaza Accord dramatically devalued the dollar. Even after earning 10 billion won, I accurately predicted the dollar’s future value; Ha Jusung, showcasing loyalty, used high leverage in foreign exchange trading.

He made a fortune and was promoted from executive director to CEO.

It was an unusual promotion, but no one questioned it.

Ha Jusung is almost my sole confidant amongst Daeha Securities’ executives. Those with eyes and ears would know.

Ha Jusung has become my right hand.

“You must be pleased, sir? The other executives must be seething.”

“Haha, it’s all thanks to you, Miss.”

He smiles, nodding.

He pledged allegiance to Daeha Securities’ future owner, even when no one believed in my abilities…

This is an undeniable political achievement. Companies aren’t wrong to favor loyalists to the chairman; their value lies in their unwavering loyalty.

Ha Jusung is exceptionally competent, unlike many, yet the perception is the same.

Knowing this, he believes me, or at least feigns belief.

“Oh, as I mentioned before, Miss, I don’t blindly follow. I follow because I believe you’ll be a superb CEO of Daeha Securities.”

“Well, me becoming CEO is a foregone conclusion.”

Everyone knows I’ll lead Daeha Securities. I proved my abilities before turning ten; I’m no parachute appointee.

Therefore, openly supporting Ha Jusung faces no opposition. Challenging me or him now would be insane.

The current Daeha Securities chairman is merely a figurehead, a Yu Seongpil associate, loyal to him alone, not the family.

I don’t need to fight the current chairman. Yu Seongpil’s single command—“Return to headquarters”—would end it all.

Since Yu Seongpil appointed me, I wield absolute power in Daeha Securities, despite my age. Even more than the current chairman.

I laugh, brushing off his flattery. It feels good, but it’s dangerous.

“I’m here to discuss business, sir.”

Ha Jusung’s eyes change.

“Business…?”

When I speak this way, it’s about something big. Ha Jusung strokes his chin, staring at me.

I’m tall enough now for our eyes to meet. I smile faintly.

“Daeha Securities… honestly, it’s too small, don’t you think?”

He senses something, frowning.

“You mean…?”

“It’s time for expansion.”

Daeha Securities currently handles limited tasks. Strict regulations and limited assets restrict its activities.

It only has one CEO and low importance within the group.

That’s why it was given to me. It’s not a profitable affiliate yet.

That will change.

***

Investment banks (IBs) differ from commercial banks.

To understand IBs, we must understand banks.

What is a bank?

According to South Korea’s Banking Act:

1. “Banking” involves accepting deposits or issuing securities or other debt instruments to raise funds from the public for lending.

2. A “bank” is any corporation other than the Bank of Korea that systematically and organizationally operates a banking business.

…Hmm. I don’t fully understand.

Let’s simplify.

A corporation that lends and borrows money is a bank.

That’s clearer. The bank that comes to mind is a commercial bank.

They raise funds by accepting deposits from those with excess capital and lend it at a higher interest rate to those in need.

This is how ordinary people perceive banks’ profit generation.

But let’s think deeper. Why do we deposit money in banks instead of investing directly? Lending directly would yield higher interest.

Some do that.

We call them loan sharks.

The negative connotations reveal the answer. Lending directly to individuals is inconvenient, unreliable, and unethical.

Banks, with high credit ratings, pay interest regularly. Why would individuals bear risk lending to others?

This is why banks exist. Those with surplus capital don’t know who needs it or can be trusted, so they entrust their funds to banks for management.

Banks aren’t charitable organizations. Fundamentally, they’re businesses that manage investments on behalf of clients.

Their high credit ratings make them seem like interest-dispensing ATMs.

Therefore, the essence of banking is this:

The flow of money.

This is why banks are called the heart of capitalism, why central banks, despite being distinct, are still considered banks.

Banks make money flow.

So what do investment banks do?

Commercial banks raise funds from individuals and lend to other individuals.

Why not corporations? Corporations are the ones most in need of capital.

Commercial banks also lend to corporations; it’s their fundamental business.

But investment banks go further.

They facilitate mergers and acquisitions, raise capital for corporations, and invest their own capital in stocks, bonds, and derivatives to profit from price fluctuations.

The names of leading investment banks will ring a bell.

JP Morgan Chase, Morgan Stanley, Lehman Brothers, Goldman Sachs…

Sound familiar?

These are leading US investment banks.

My spiritual home…

And where I can do what I love best.

“Investment banking? But… isn’t that difficult in Korea?”

Ha Jusung questions, tilting his head.

He’s right. Even in the US, investment banking hasn’t reached its peak yet.

“Right. The regulations are stringent… and Korea’s economy is too small.”

Ha Jusung listens intently, knowing I don’t speak idly.

“But the rewards are sweet, aren’t they? Korea’s first investment bank… and hedge fund.”

He immediately objects. Knowing Korea’s underdeveloped financial market, he finds my idea unbelievable.

“Impossible! How is that possible?”

He’s right to object if my idea sounds unreasonable.

I smile, a charming smile more befitting a young woman than a child.

“It’s possible. For me.”

…The regulations alone are daunting; how…?

“Build the framework under Daeha Securities for now. We can fill in the details later. How long will the regulations last? The regime is changing; you feel that too, right?”

The June Democracy Movement will change the presidency, and therefore policies.

What was once impossible becomes possible; what seemed ludicrous becomes plausible.

“…The details are the problem. Even with deregulation, Korea’s economy makes it impossible.”

That’s true. In Korea, it’s impossible.

In Korea.

I take a pen, draw two circles on paper, neatly writing “USA” and “Korea.”

The USA circle is large; Korea is small.

-Tap.

Pressing hard, I puncture the paper. I star the USA circle and draw an arrow from the USA to Korea.

“Establish a local subsidiary in the USA first. Then… enter from outside. When this country opens its tightly closed doors.”

Build scale, then enter Korea… This is insane. It’s practically impossible to succeed in the US…

“How…?”

The words linger, unspoken.

-Bang!

I slam my fist on the desk, with unwavering determination.

Impossible? Yes, for an ordinary person.

But.

I, for me.

I alone can do it.

“Have you tried?”

Suddenly, an image overlaps in Ha Jusung’s mind.

Yu Seongpil, founder of Daeha Group.

-“Have you tried? Speak only after you’ve tried!”

His catchphrase, spoken by Yu Seongpil’s granddaughter.

“Ha Jusung, can you honestly say it’s impossible? That the probability is 0%?”

“That… isn’t true. Legally, it’s possible.”

Ha Jusung sweats.

What if… just what if…

A minor, an Asian girl, succeeds in the heart of global finance?

It sounds unbelievable, but it’s possible.

With incredible skill and luck…

It’s legally possible. Minority status is circumvented with a proxy.

“Then, let’s do it.”

“Haa. In the USA, foreigners can establish corporations… but large-scale foreign remittance is impossible.”

To operate in US finance requires proving the money’s legitimate origin.

Sending large sums from Korea to the US is impossible without illegal means. Korea strictly restricts foreign exchange outflow.

There’s only one solution.

Send small amounts and manage them locally.

“Large-scale remittance? Unnecessary. We’ll earn dollars in America. We won’t create an IB immediately; we’ll start with a hedge fund.”

…!!

The Foreign Exchange Management Act restricts outflow, not earnings abroad.

It was enacted to prevent outflow; the government even provides support for potential foreign exchange earners.

I add to the circles. Korea gets an IB, the USA a hedge fund.

The arrow from the USA to Korea is labeled “Dollars.”

The US hedge fund will later support Korea’s fledgling IB.

“Why did I choose you? In Daeha Group, you’re the only one with Wall Street connections.”

Korea’s knowledge of finance is abysmal.

Goldman Sachs’ chairman visited Korea’s Economic Planning Board, and not even a bureau chief showed up.

Even a future US Treasury Secretary wouldn’t recognize them. 1980s Korea was a frog in a well.

So I will do it.

“Find Korean-Americans working in finance who still have ties to Korea. And… recruit them. Even a pure-blooded white person with Orientalist leanings would be fine. Start with a hedge fund.”

I need someone who trusts my abilities.

Whether it’s superstition or blind faith in Daeha Group, someone who will unquestioningly follow my instructions.

“…”

Before the silent Daeha Securities CEO, I feel a surge of energy, speaking.

“Slowly is fine. It’s a huge plan. Large-scale remittance is impossible, but sending small amounts over several years is fine. Especially using Japanese real estate for money laundering.”

I didn’t accumulate black money for nothing. I have plans for it.

Japanese real estate is already skyrocketing.

…I can embezzle billions unnoticed.

“Focus on building the framework in Korea. That’s the priority. Even if it’s impossible now, recruit people and establish departments. Like US IBs.”

Ha Jusung, seemingly snapping out of it, or perhaps mesmerized, speaks clearly.

“…Right. Establish a front office first. Structuring the back office takes time. We’ll need many computers…”

I’m not knowledgeable in this field; leaving it to him is best.

“Yes, that’s the plan.”

-Scritch scratch.

An audacious plan takes shape at the hands of two madmen.

“Creating a hedge fund in the US is easier than establishing an IB. We just need to recruit existing fund managers.”

“And Korean personnel? It’s difficult to find such talent in Korea.”

“I’ll look in high schools when I’m older. There’ll be some college students too.”

“…It seems a little crazy, but I’ll trust you.”

-Tap.

Ha Jusung pauses.

“When will you start?”

“…Almost ten years. To surpass America’s century-old IBs. I need to become an adult.”

Ten years. That’s all it takes.

Everything will change.

As I said… I’ve invested heavily in Daeha Securities.

“Understood. You’ll be an adult in 1998.”

Right.

When Asia’s four dragons crumble.

When the exchange rate hits 2,000 won per dollar from under 1,000 won.

When countless companies go bankrupt, and a top-four chaebol collapses like a sandcastle.

On that day of national default, I’ll conquer Wall Street and make a triumphant return to Korea.