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CH388 | GSI
🕑 Added 2025-05-25 12:45:01 +0000 UTCIn the customer hall of Daheung Securities, located in Yeouido, nearly a hundred individual investors stood or sat in small groups, staring helplessly at the massive market ticker that stretched across one wall.
“Unbelievable…”
“Damn it. It’s dropping again today.”
“They said everything would be fine once we got the IMF bailout. So why is the stock market still like this?!”
“How many days in a row has it been falling now?”
“Sigh…”
The ticker was bathed entirely in blue, with hardly a single rising stock in sight. People let out heavy sighs or simply collapsed to the floor in a daze.
Some angrily muttered curses, gripping rolled-up newspapers in one hand, but most seemed too drained even to be angry anymore. All they could do was stare blankly at the plunging stock prices, their faces etched with resignation.
As this scene made painfully clear, the stock market had fallen into complete panic, with the index not just halved but smashed into the ground.
Reflecting the intense anxiety and fear gripping the market, even so-called blue-chip stocks had hit their lower limit, yet no one was willing to buy.
Naturally, this meant the trade execution rate had dropped below 30%, making it impossible to cut losses because the shares simply wouldn’t sell.
Many investors had already lost more than half of their portfolio value, rendering any further attempts to sell meaningless.
To make matters worse, the KOSPI index had now broken below 400—long considered the last line of defense—dragging investors into even deeper despair.
As a result, arguments between investors and brokerage staff continued non-stop at one corner of the hall.
Once again, large numbers of individual investors had crowded in front of the counters, grabbing staff by the arms and pouring out their frustrations, some shouting angrily.
“What are you going to do about my money?!”
“You said it would definitely go up if I bought!”
“Get the manager out here, now!”
The angry cries burst forth like a dam breaking. One middle-aged woman even dropped to the floor and began wailing.
“That was my husband’s retirement fund! It’s all gone, so how are we supposed to live now?! Oh, my poor fate…”
She sobbed loudly, her voice echoing through the room, until she eventually collapsed from exhaustion and had to be carried away.
The employees behind the counters were just as emotionally worn out, having faced waves of furious investors for days on end.
They understood all too well the depth of anger and loss felt by those who had lost their life savings or suffered enormous losses.
But despite their empathy, there was nothing they could actually do. So they endured the abuse in silence, offering what little comfort they could.
Watching this scene from one side of the room stood Seok-won, dressed in a black pinstripe suit, alongside Han Ji-sung. The two of them silently observed the chaos for quite some time.
Just then, Seok-won felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out and answered in a slightly subdued voice.
“Hello.”
[This is Choi Ho-geun. Sir, do you have a moment to talk?]
“Go ahead.”
Sensing the stiffness in the voice, Seok-won instinctively knew that something had happened.
[The won-dollar exchange rate just broke through 1,200.]
As feared, the impact came quickly. Just before dawn, Moody’s had downgraded South Korea’s sovereign credit rating again, and the shock was already rippling through the market.
Since he had been expecting this, Seok-won didn’t seem particularly surprised and responded calmly.
“How’s the market reacting?”
[The stock market’s the same. The belief that everything would be fine once we secured the IMF bailout is starting to fade, and anxiety is growing.]
Negotiations were still ongoing, but both the government and the market had been far too optimistic about the situation.
[Unlike before the IMF announcement, it’s not that the government and the Bank of Korea aren’t intervening at all—but the scale of their intervention has dropped noticeably. There’s a real concern that the exchange rate might spike even further.]
“It’s not that they’re unwilling to step in—it’s that our foreign currency reserves have fallen to such a dangerous level that they can’t afford to intervene aggressively.”
At that, Choi let out a low groan and responded with a troubled voice.
[Hmm… Then it’s even more serious than we thought. Word is that even when securities firms place buy orders to secure scarce dollars, the banks won’t sell a single one.]
“If you want to properly heal a festering wound, you have to cut away the infected tissue completely, no matter how painful it is—so it won’t flare up again later. That’s how I see it.”
[You’re absolutely right.]
“Keep your eyes on the market. If anything changes, let me know immediately.”
[Understood.]
After ending the call, Seok-won slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked once more at the investors in the trading floor.
“Let’s go.”
With that, he turned and started walking.
The two of them exited the first-floor customer hall and took the elevator straight up to the top floor, heading for the president’s office.
As they stepped inside—past the door held open by a receptionist—they were greeted by Ko Young-il, the president of Daheung Securities, who rose from his chair in just his dress shirt.
“Welcome.”
Thanks to Seok-won’s foresight and preparations, Daheung Securities had managed to weather the storm of the foreign exchange crisis far better than other firms.
Even so, the stress from the plunging stock market was clearly taking its toll—his face had aged noticeably since they’d last met.
Ko Young-il, the president of Daheung Securities, who had a lean build, gestured toward the leather sofa.
“Please, have a seat.”
When Seok-won nodded slightly and sat on the seat to the right, Ko also sat—not at the center spot reserved for the host, but on the sofa directly across from him.
Just then, a female staff member entered with a quiet knock, placed two cups of coffee on the table, gave a polite bow, and left.
Lifting his cup, Seok-won was the first to speak.
“I stopped by the trading floor on my way up. The market looks bad again today.”
At that, Ko let out a quiet sigh and replied.
“Since you’ve already seen the trading floor, you probably know—but it’s unbearable.”
His dark, sunken eyes made it clear that the pressure was immense.
“The index has been sliding since the start of the year. Our trading fee revenues have plummeted, and even our returns from proprietary trading have fallen far below the levels we achieved when you were still here. We’re barely avoiding losses at this point. We were hoping the market would rebound once the IMF bailout stabilized the currency crisis, but now there’s talk that the bailout will bring aggressive restructuring of insolvent companies. Instead of a rebound, the index just keeps falling. It’s incredibly frustrating.”
Ko let out another heavy sigh, muttering gloomily.
“Feels like we’re trapped in a long, dark tunnel with no end in sight.”
After taking a sip of his coffee and setting the cup down, Seok-won crossed one leg over the other and spoke in a calm tone.
“We’ve been hit by a serious illness—this foreign exchange crisis. Naturally, it’ll take time to return to normal. But dark tunnels always lead to light eventually. We just have to endure a bit longer.”
“Yes… you’re right.”
Ko finally seemed to regain a bit of composure and responded with a faintly encouraged expression.
“On the way here, I noticed Daheung’s stock price is down again today—hovering around three thousand won.”
“...Yes, that’s right.”
At Seok-won’s words, Ko Young-il’s face again took on a troubled look.
When Chairman Park Tae-hong had acquired Daheung Securities, he had paid ₩20,200 per share.
Now, with the stock price sitting at just ₩3,000, that represented a plunge of over 85%.
Granted, the purchase had included a control premium, but even factoring that in, the drop was enormous.
Even compared to the price at which Seok-won had recently taken over the shares, the stock had fallen another 22.8%.
No matter how dire the national crisis might be—affecting not just the stock market but the entire country—the situation was undeniably difficult for Ko, who was now responsible for running the company.
What made things even more awkward was that he was sitting across from the very man who had once driven massive growth in company revenue through shocking rates of return during his time at Daheung Securities.
Sensing this, Seok-won shrugged lightly and spoke, as if to put Ko at ease.
“The blue-chip stocks are down. The index has lost more than half its value. It hurts, sure, but a falling stock price is unavoidable right now.”
“Still… I can’t help but feel ashamed,”
Ko admitted, somewhat relieved but still cautiously gauging Seok-won’s reaction.
Then, Seok-won’s expression turned serious as he continued.
“Even if this situation is unavoidable, if things keep going the way they are, the price could slip below ₩1,000—we’re looking at penny stock territory. That’s something we must prevent.”
At the blunt warning, Ko’s face went stiff.
Stocks that traded for less than the value of a banknote were often referred to as “penny stocks.”
With the current price at ₩3,000, it might have seemed like an exaggeration.
But considering the stock had traded above ₩20,000 just last year before collapsing more than 80%, and with no sign of hope in the current market atmosphere, it was a risk that couldn't be dismissed outright.
“I’m planning to launch a tender offer to support the share price and enhance shareholder value.”
“!”
Ko’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected statement.
“You mean… you’re going to buy back the company’s shares?”
Seok-won leaned back against the sofa and shook his head slightly.
“It’s similar, but not quite. I’m not using company funds. I’ll be using my own personal capital to buy the shares.”
Ko’s expression grew even more astonished.
“P–personal capital? You mean your own money?”
“That’s right,”
Seok-won replied calmly—but no matter how far a stock had fallen, announcing plans to buy it with one’s personal funds was not something just anyone could say lightly.
As Ko stared at him in disbelief, Seok-won asked,
“If I remember correctly, there are just over 12 million shares of Daheung Securities currently circulating on the market, right?”
“Y-yes, that’s correct,”
Ko stammered, finally managing to calm his startled mind enough to nod.
“If I make a tender offer for 30% of those shares at ₩4,000 per share, I think it would help stabilize the downtrend. What do you think?”
“T-thirty percent?!”
While Ko gaped at him, Seok-won spoke as casually as if he were picking a lunch menu.
“It would take at least that much to calm the market’s anxiety, wouldn’t you agree?”
Clearly, this wasn’t some off-the-cuff decision. Seok-won’s eyes gleamed as he continued.
“And combined with the shares I already hold, that would give me over 60% ownership. So this could be the perfect chance to cement my control of the company.”
Ko, who had been absentmindedly nodding, suddenly came to his senses and leaned forward.
“Thirty percent would mean over 5.4 million shares. At ₩4,000 each, that’s more than ₩21.6 billion you’d need.”
His eyes seemed to be asking, Do you really have that kind of money?
Seok-won gave a calm answer.
“I’ll transfer ₩22 billion to the corporate account by tomorrow. Use that to execute the buyback.”
The statement was so matter-of-fact that Ko was momentarily struck speechless.
“Even though the stock’s taken a hit due to current conditions, I believe Daheung Securities’ fair value is at least ₩10,000 per share.”
When Seok-won said that, Ko—still stunned—quickly nodded in agreement.
“So even with a premium, buying at ₩4,000 is still a bargain, wouldn’t you say?”
“...You could see it that way.”
Ko replied, his face looking like he’d seen a ghost.
Seeing that, a small smile tugged at Seok-won’s lips.
“If I go through with the tender offer, investors will feel confident that the stock won’t fall further, and I’ll get to increase my stake at a low price. It’s a win-win, isn’t it? There’s no reason not to do it.”
He wasn’t wrong. Still, taking such bold action during a time when fear gripped the market—only someone like Seok-won could do that.
Despite his confusion, Ko found himself deeply impressed by Seok-won’s decisiveness.
“Even so, the situation could worsen… perhaps you should wait and observe the mood a bit longer before making your move.”
He offered the suggestion carefully, but Seok-won shook his head.
“Of course, the cheaper I buy, the better the return—but the longer we wait, the more shareholders will suffer, won’t they?”
“!”
Seok-won continued speaking as he looked at Ko Young-il, who was now staring at him in admiration.
“Sure, part of the reason I want to increase my stake while the stock is low is to solidify my control over the company. But more importantly, I want to show that as the major shareholder and owner, I’m taking responsibility—so the shareholders can continue to trust this company. Let’s just move forward as planned.”
In many companies, when times get tough, shareholders and employees are often left behind. That was why Ko Young-il found himself deeply moved by Seok-won’s commitment to act as a responsible owner.
“I didn’t fully grasp your intentions… I was short-sighted.”
Ko bowed his head, speaking with genuine respect.
Seok-won saw the gesture and smiled faintly.
“Once the funds are transferred, issue an official disclosure right away to reassure the shareholders.”
“Understood.”
