Chapter 38: Warning

Monday morning.

Lee Jun-hyuk went to the office as usual.

But something was definitely different.

Even the sound of his shoes on the floor felt light.

It was supposed to be a hellish Monday, yet he felt as if he could start humming.

The promise made on Friday had kept Lee Jun-hyuk’s heart warm all weekend, like a spring day.

“Good morning, sir!”

Robert greeted him energetically.

“Did you have a nice weekend?”

“Yes. I had a very good rest.”

“Your face looks amazing today.”

Robert grinned shrewdly.

“Something good must have happened to you.”

“It’s just… the weather is nice.”

Lee Jun-hyuk looked around awkwardly.

Before he knew it, the office was filled with energy.

The new typist, Mary, was tapping away at the typewriter with a cheerful rhythm.

Tap tap tap, tap tap. Almost like music.

Thomas was reviewing the books with the accounting assistant, Peter, teaching him something in a low voice.

“This calculation is off, Peter.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”

“It’s fine. Everyone makes mistakes at first. Get into the habit of double-checking.”

The sight of a seasoned mentor and an eager junior working together was pleasing.

“Sir!”

At that moment, Yu Ilhan burst in, out of breath.

Beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

It seemed he had been to the Brooklyn factory early in the morning.

“I finished the contract with the equipment company!”

“Already?”

“The estimate is finalized, and construction will start next Monday!”

Yu Ilhan opened his worn-out notebook.

Inside was a neatly organized construction plan.

“If we’re quick, the renovations will be done in two weeks. Then we can start test production in early April!”

“That’s really impressive, Director Yu.”

Lee Jun-hyuk was sincerely amazed.

“It’s moving along even faster than I imagined.”

“Of course! This is my first business ever—how could I sleep?”

Yu Ilhan’s eyes were shining with determination.

His passion was infectious.

Just watching him made Lee Jun-hyuk’s heart burn hotter.

“But there’s one problem…”

“What is it?”

“As expected, it’s sourcing the raw materials.”

Yu Ilhan’s expression grew serious.

“To secure the highest quality mung beans in large, stable quantities… I think we’ll have to import them directly from the source.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it.”

Lee Jun-hyuk spoke confidently.

“I have a strong Chinese network.”

“Really? That’s a relief!”

At lunchtime, Lee Jun-hyuk called Robert over.

“I need to go to Brooklyn. I’ll be working outside for the afternoon.”

“Yes, sir.”

He was on his way to see Kim Young-soo.

He intended to discuss sourcing raw materials and officially ask for help connecting with Chinese merchants.

If that didn’t work, he could try connecting through Cuba.

Oriental Trading Company.

As he opened the door, the mingled scents of ginseng, cinnamon, and star anise—the aroma of the East—welcomed him.

“Welcome! Mr. Lee Jun-hyuk, you come often these days.”

Kim Young-soo greeted him warmly.

“Yes, I have a favor to ask.”

“Just say the word. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll help.”

They talked over tea in the back office.

“I need to secure a large amount of mung beans.”

“Mung beans?”

“Yes. We’re going to make canned bean sprouts. With Dr. Yu Ilhan.”

“Oh! So you’re really starting that business! As expected, you act fast.”

Kim Young-soo sounded impressed.

“So I need the raw ingredient—mung beans…”

“Don’t worry.”

Kim Young-soo replied confidently.

“I know a merchant very well. He imports all sorts of dried seafood and foodstuffs directly from Shanghai. I’ll introduce you.”

“Really? That’s such a relief.”

“I’ll call him first thing tomorrow and set up a meeting.”

As Kim Young-soo poured more tea, he looked at Lee Jun-hyuk with a mischievous expression.

“By the way, Mr. Lee, you look very happy these days?”

“Huh?”

“It’s written all over your face. ‘I am happy.’”

Kim Young-soo laughed heartily.

“Perhaps, have you met someone special?”

Lee Jun-hyuk’s face reddened before he even realized.

Was it that obvious? Am I really that transparent?

“Not yet… just a good friend.”

“A friend? Hohoho.”

Kim Young-soo laughed meaningfully.

“That’s good. Friendship is always a good start.”

Lee Jun-hyuk hurriedly changed the subject.

When he returned to the office, it was already 4 p.m. Thomas was waiting for him.

“Sir, I looked into the radio station matter.”

“How was it?”

“There’s one for sale… but the price is a bit steep.”

“How much?”

“They’re asking for $250,000.”

It was expensive.

But not an impossible amount.

“Where is it located?”

“In the center of Manhattan. The broadcasting equipment is all state-of-the-art.”

“Alright. I’ll go see it myself tomorrow.”

“Shall I set up an appointment for tomorrow morning?”

“Yes. Please do that.”

Everything was going smoothly.

La Choy, the radio station—everything was proceeding according to plan.

It had to.

Only then could he meet her on Friday—proudly, and with confidence.

Tuesday morning.

Lee Jun-hyuk went with Thomas to see the radio station.

34th Street, Manhattan. In the middle of a bustling district full of shops and theaters stood a five-story building.

“That’s the place.”

The first floor was retail; the second through fifth floors were used by the radio station.

The sign for “Welcome Radio Station” was buried under dust.

As they stepped inside, a middle-aged man with a bald head greeted them with a nervous expression.

“Welcome. I’m Station Manager Stephen Miller.”

“I’m Lee Jun-hyuk. This is Mr. Thomas Green, my company’s chief accountant.”

They shook hands.

Miller’s palm was damp with sweat.

“Please, this way… I’ll show you the station facilities.”

They followed his lead and looked around inside.

A recording studio with thick soundproof walls, a transmission room where huge vacuum tubes hummed with heat, an office piled with documents…

Overall, the condition was better than expected.

“So, you said the sale price was $250,000?”

After viewing everything, Lee Jun-hyuk asked.

“Yes, that’s the lowest we can accept. Considering the location and facilities…”

“$200,000.”

Lee Jun-hyuk cut him off firmly.

“No more than that.”

“What? T-Two hundred thousand dollars? That’s impossible! Just the equipment alone—”

“Mr. Miller.”

Lee Jun-hyuk spoke calmly.

“These facilities will be scrap in five years. Technology keeps advancing. And to be honest, isn’t this station running a deficit every day?”

Miller’s face turned pale.

After intense negotiation, they finally agreed on $210,000, with the condition of full cash payment.

“In exchange, payment will be made in one month.”

Lee Jun-hyuk added.

“There are contracts and transfer procedures to handle.”

“That’s fine. One month is enough.”

Miller nodded in relief.

Wednesday.

Renovations began in earnest at the La Choy factory in Brooklyn.

Yu Ilhan, dressed in work clothes, was sweating alongside the workers, taking command at the site.

His eyes shone brighter than ever.

Thursday morning.

Good news arrived from Kim Young-soo—he had found a raw material supplier.

Everything was flowing perfectly.

Until that phone call on Thursday night.

Lee Jun-hyuk was reviewing the radio station acquisition contract at his hotel.

At that moment, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Lee Jun-hyuk! It’s me, George Howard!”

George’s voice sounded different from usual.

There wasn’t a trace of his usual joking tone. Instead, it was cold and stiff.

“George, is something wrong?”

“Emergency board meeting, tomorrow at 2 p.m.”

“A board meeting? This suddenly?”

“Yes. Rockefeller Building, 30th floor. Don’t be a single minute late.”

Lee Jun-hyuk’s heart dropped like a stone.

“Did something happen?”

“Oh, well, it’s nothing major. Just…”

George paused for a moment.

That short silence made Lee Jun-hyuk hold his breath.

“This afternoon, I got a call from Wilson, branch manager at The National City Bank of New York.”

“He said you deposited the entire $26.8 million you brought from Cuba into your personal account.”

For a moment, Lee Jun-hyuk almost dropped the receiver.

“Ah.”

He had forgotten—completely, perfectly.

That 70% of the $26.8 million was capital belonging to American Sugar Trading Company.

“Well, I just wanted to keep the funds safe for now…”

“I know, I know. I’m not suspecting you.”

George’s voice softened a little.

“I can see how you might have overlooked it while rushing around in Cuba.”

“Really… I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Just…”

His tone grew serious again.

“Tomorrow morning, go to the bank early and transfer the funds into the company’s official account. Wilson will have all the paperwork ready.”

“Of course, I’ll take care of it.”

“Business and personal matters must be kept strictly separate, Lee Jun-hyuk.”

It was a warm but sharp warning, like a blade.

“You’ve accomplished something historic, that’s true, but you mustn’t forget that we’re investors who own shares as well.”

“I completely understand. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good. At tomorrow’s board meeting, we’ll formally divide the profits and give you a very generous bonus—so just come without worrying too much.”

After the call ended,

Lee Jun-hyuk slumped heavily into his chair.

All strength drained from his body.

“You idiot, Lee Jun-hyuk.”

His hands trembled like aspen leaves.

Cold sweat trickled down his back.

“What was I thinking?”

$26.8 million.

Seventy percent of it was definitely not his.

Rockefeller, Vanderbilt, Gould. The great capitalists who moved the American economy—their money.

And yet, he had thoughtlessly considered it his own.

A chill ran down his spine.

What if George hadn’t called today?

What if he had shown up at the regular board meeting at the end of the month, having forgotten this fact?

“Oriental con man.”

“Just as I thought, they can’t be trusted.”

Even imagining it was horrifying.

“Drunk on success, drunk on money…”

He had almost overlooked the most basic and important thing.

Trust.

That was the beginning and end of business.

Lee Jun-hyuk immediately packed his briefcase.

“I need to go as soon as the bank opens tomorrow.”

10 p.m.

Tomorrow was going to be a very long, very tough day.

Friday, 7 a.m.

Lee Jun-hyuk woke early, having barely slept.

He sorted out the day’s tasks in his mind while showering.

“Handle the bank transaction, then the board meeting.”

He picked out his most formal suit.

Today, he couldn’t afford even a single mistake.

8 a.m.

He arrived at The National City Bank of New York.

The bank opened at 9.

He still had an hour to wait.

Standing in the chilly March morning air, he anxiously waited for the bank doors to open.

8:45 a.m.

The employees started arriving.

Among them was Branch Manager Wilson.

“Mr. Lee?”

Wilson approached with a surprised look.

“Here so early in the morning? What brings you?”

“I have something to discuss. Could we possibly start a little earlier today?”

“Of course. Please, come in.”