SEOUL – AUTUMN 2021
The invitation arrived not by post or email, but embedded in a corporate action.
An official notice from the Korea Family Business Research Institute—a prestigious, dry-as-dust think-tank funded by the major chaebols—landed on the virtual desk of "Pan-Asia Credit Partners." It was an invitation for a representative to attend a private, off-the-record symposium on "Succession and Stability in Modern Conglomerates." The venue: the secluded Haeundae Private Club in Busan. The guest list was a who's who of next-generation chaebol heirs, influential policymakers, and a handful of "notable external strategists."
Pan-Asia was listed among the latter.
[Analysis: This is not a random selection. The Institute's board includes an Oh Group director. Probability this is a direct probe from Subject Oh Soo-jae: 94.7%.]
[Objective: Forced exposure in a controlled environment. She wants to see the ghost in person.]
Je-Hoon stared at the ornate digital invitation on his screen. This was the next move. A step onto a lighted stage, however small. The risk of exposure was immense. But the cost of refusing—of appearing weak, or worse, of confirming he had something to hide—was greater.
"We accept."
---
THE PREPARATION: A SUIT OF ARMOR
Attending required a new level of camouflage. He couldn't go as Lee Je-Hoon, the nobody from a goshiwon. He had to be the plausible face of "Pan-Asia," a mysterious but credible entity.
Marco guided the fabrication of a legend. A name: Alexander Lee (a common diasporic name, distancing him from his Seoul identity). A background: educated at LSE, worked for a Swiss private bank, now running a family-backed strategic investment vehicle in Singapore. The documents—passport scans, alumni network profiles, even a few planted news articles about "A. Lee's" minor philanthropic work—were created with microscopic attention to detail.
The physical transformation was subtler. Marco optimized his posture, smoothing the last vestiges of defensive slouch into an effortless, neutral stance. His gaze, calibrated to hold just a fraction of a second longer than normal, projected quiet assessment rather than anxiety. He rented a discreetly luxurious serviced apartment in Gangnam for a week, using it as a staging ground.
The final piece was the suit. Not a weapon, but armor. Tailored in Itaewon by a craftsman who asked no questions, it fit him like a second skin—dark charcoal, impeccable lines, projecting understated authority.
Looking in the mirror the night before the trip, Je-Hoon saw a stranger. A composed, slightly enigmatic young financier. The ghost had been given a temporary body.
[Emotional dampening: 25%. Physiological readings: optimal. Host is prepared for high-stakes social performance.]
He packed a single bag. Among his clothes was a secure tablet, a modified earpiece that would allow Marco to whisper guidance based on passive scans of the room, and a dose of concentrated caffeine nano-stimulants Marco could administer in case of prolonged cognitive load.
He was going to war. A war of whispers, micro-expressions, and implied power.
---
THE ANCHOR: A FAREWELL
Before leaving for Busan, he stopped by the law firm where Kim Yuna was temping. He found her in a basement records room, surrounded by cardboard boxes.
"A business trip?" she asked, wiping dust from her hands. She looked at him, her head tilting slightly. "You look… different."
"Different how?"
"Older. Not in a bad way. Like a… polished stone." She smiled. "Very corporate warrior."
He handed her a small, wrapped gift—a high-quality fountain pen. "For your law school applications. A tool for signing important things."
She was touched, and a little confused by the formality of the gesture. "Thank you. Is everything okay? This feels a bit like a goodbye."
It was her intuition again, cutting through the layers of his calculation. He hadn't even fully acknowledged the danger of the trip to himself, but she sensed a shift.
"Just a trip," he reassured her. "But the boardrooms can be more dangerous than the streets sometimes. Your advice… about looking up from the board. I'll remember it."
He left her in the dusty basement, a point of uncomplicated reality in his rapidly complicating world.
---
HAEUNDAE PRIVATE CLUB, BUSAN
The club was a study in restrained opulence, all bleached wood, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a private stretch of coast, and the hushed silence that only extreme wealth can buy. The air smelled of salt, pine, and money.
Je-Hoon, as Alexander Lee, moved through the pre-symposium cocktail hour with calibrated ease. He took a glass of mineral water, never alcohol—a calculated choice to signal control and clarity. Marco's passive scan was a constant, low hum in his mind, painting the room with data.
[Subject: Male, late 20s, Heir to Woosung Motors. Emotional state: Bored arrogance (82%). Discussing electric vehicle subsidies. Optimal engagement: nod, ask a single technical question about battery anode sourcing. He will either be impressed or dismiss you. Either outcome provides data.]
Je-Hoon executed the move perfectly, eliciting a surprised, then vaguely respectful glance from the heir before he was pulled away.
He was taking the room's temperature, one scan at a time. He was not here to impress the crowd. He was here for one person.
She arrived twenty minutes late, a deliberate power play. Oh Soo-jae entered not with a grand entrance, but with a gravitational pull. Conversations dipped, heads turned, then quickly pretended not to stare. She wore a tailored ivory pantsuit, her hair down in a sleek fall that softened nothing. Her eyes swept the room, not searching for friends, but auditing assets and liabilities.
Marco's scan focused.
[Subject Oh Soo-jae: Emotional state – High alert (65%), Controlled irritation (25%), Latent curiosity (10%). Physiological markers: Slightly elevated cortisol (stress), perfect posture (control), gaze pattern indicates she is scanning for specific targets.]
Her gaze passed over him once, then flicked back. It lingered for exactly 1.2 seconds. A professional assessment. No recognition, only categorization: New variable. Assess.
The symposium began. Dull speeches about corporate governance. Je-Hoon listened, his expression one of polite attention, while Marco recorded every word, cross-referencing statements with public financial data, flagging inconsistencies and hidden agendas.
During the first break, the trap was sprung.
A senior director from the Institute, an old man with the eyes of a friendly shark, approached him. "Mr. Lee? Alexander Lee? I'm glad Pan-Asia could join us. Director Oh was just expressing an interest in the cross-border perspectives of firms like yours. Would you care to join us for a coffee?"
It wasn't a question.
He was led to a secluded terrace overlooking the sea. Oh Soo-jae stood at the railing, alone. She turned as he approached. Up close, her presence was even more intense. The intelligence in her eyes was not just sharp; it was weathered, having already fought and won battles in boardrooms he could only simulate.
"Mr. Lee," she said, her voice cool. "Your firm has been making interesting moves. Quiet, but effective. SMN. The Thai chemical play. You navigate borders well."
"The borders are often the most interesting places, Director Oh," Je-Hoon replied, keeping his tone respectful but neutral. "They're where value is missed by those who only look at the center of the map."
A faint, almost imperceptible spark in her eyes. A hit.
"Value. And risk. Your intervention in the Hwanho situation was… timely. It saved some of my junior analysts a great deal of work." She took a slow sip of her coffee. "Or created more for them. It depends on the perspective."
She was testing to see if he'd claim credit for Mi-sook's work.
"Reporter Jang's work was impressive," Je-Hoon deflected. "It's rare to see such rigorous forensic work in media today. She didn't need saving, just a clear path to the data."
Soo-jae's lips tightened slightly. He had neither confirmed nor denied, while praising the tool she was now evaluating—him.
"And what does Pan-Asia want?" she asked, cutting to the chase. "You're not a fund. Your size is too small for pure capital play. You're not an activist. Your moves are too surgical. What is your endgame?"
It was the core question. The one he had to answer perfectly.
"Stability," he said, meeting her gaze directly. Marco fed him the next line, the ultimate truth wrapped in a strategic half-truth. "Chaos is bad for business. But the stability imposed by old, rotting structures is just slow-motion chaos. We look for the points of stress in those structures. Sometimes, that means providing liquidity. Sometimes, it means providing information. We help the transition to a more… sustainable order."
He was describing himself as a corporate systems engineer. A mechanic for the engine of capital. It was a narrative she, as someone trying to modernize a legacy conglomerate amidst internal rot, could understand. Perhaps even desire.
She studied him for a long, silent moment. Marco reported: [Her hostility level has dropped 15%. Curiosity has risen to 35%. She is re-calculating your utility.]
"A sustainable order," she repeated softly, looking out at the sea. "A noble goal. And a profitable one, if you pick the right transitions to engineer." She turned back to him. "My father's group… is a classic structure. Some parts are strong. Others are… stressed."
The offer, veiled but clear, hung in the salt air. She was acknowledging her own need. She was inviting a bid.
"Stress can be managed," Je-Hoon said. "With the right tools and the right… discretion."
She gave a single, slight nod. The negotiation had begun, without a single term being stated.
"I have to return to Seoul tonight," she said, handing him a plain, unmarked white business card. It held only a number. "Use this line next week. We'll discuss a specific stress point. See if your tools are as precise as they seem."
She walked away, leaving him on the terrace with the roar of the waves and the pounding of his own heart.
He had passed the first interview. He had been invited to the audition.
[Primary Objective Achieved: Direct contact established with Subject Oh Soo-jae. Assessment: Positive.]
[Warning: Engagement elevates threat profile exponentially. Park Min-jun's network will detect this proximity. Preparation for counterstrike advised.]
Je-Hoon looked at the white card, then out at the darkening sea. The most dangerous piece on the board had just moved alongside him. The game was no longer about observation or echoes.
It was about alliance.
And he knew, with cold certainty, that the coming storm would not try to push him off the board. It would try to smash the board entirely.
---
[End of Episode 7]
[Status: Direct Link Established with Oh Soo-jae. Legend 'Alexander Lee' Active.]
[Wealth: Unchanged, but strategic position vastly improved.]
[Key Development: Received direct summons from Oh Soo-jae for a 'specific stress point.']
[Next Episode: ????????]