Chapter 67: Casting the Bait

1920, April 23rd, Saturday.

Brooklyn La Choy Factory.

Lee Jun-hyuk unfolded the newspaper in his office.

The Boston Herald was laid on the desk, and next to it, the New York Times and Wall Street Journal were stacked in neat piles.

All three newspapers, as if by prior agreement, were featuring the same name in bold headlines on their front pages.

Charles Ponzi.

That name was clearly stamped in bold, curved type.

“Two million dollars in daily investments surpassed!”

“The hope of the common people, Charles Ponzi’s miraculous investment legend.”

“The man Wall Street is watching, the 45-day magic continues.”

Lee Jun-hyuk put down the newspaper with a wry smile and leaned deeply into his chair.

The wooden chair creaked, and that sound echoed strangely loudly in the quiet weekend office.

On the desk lay a document he had prepared throughout last night. Titled ‘La Choy Boston Second Factory Investment Plan,’ the paper was densely filled with detailed investment figures and ridiculously inflated, even fictitious, expected returns.

It was all fabricated.

But at this very moment, this fake document would serve a role more crucial and powerful than any real one in the world.

It was a sweet bait, designed to completely fool the eyes and ears of William Bancroft and numb his reason.

Knock, knock.

“Come in.”

The door opened and Robert entered.

He held a telegram in his hand, and his expression betrayed an irrepressible excitement.

“Sir, we’ve received some very interesting news regarding the Boston harbor site.”

“What news is it?”

Lee Jun-hyuk set down his pen and asked.

“Yesterday afternoon, a certain gentleman came to see the property. As promised, the real estate agent sent us a telegram directly…”

Robert unfolded the telegram and began to read the contents.

“He was a tall man with red hair, wearing an extremely expensive suit. He came alone, but wandered around the site for quite some time, muttering to himself the entire time.”

“What kind of things did he mutter?”

“Apparently, he was grinding his teeth and said, ‘Build a factory in this trash heap? How dare those impudent monkeys…’ He kept repeating things like that.”

The corners of Lee Jun-hyuk’s mouth slowly, satisfactorily curled upward.

William Bancroft. After pouring ten million dollars into Ponzi, unable to quell his anxiety, he had personally come to inspect the factory site.

“And he asked a very strange question.”

Robert checked the telegram again and continued.

“He persistently asked, ‘Does that Lee Jun-hyuk fellow really intend to build a factory here?’ He was especially eager to know how much deposit we had paid.”

Leaning back in his chair, Lee Jun-hyuk fell into deep thought. Looking at the fake plan on the desk, he calculated his next move.

Everything was going according to plan.

“So, what did the real estate agent say?”

“We answered that we had put down a five hundred dollar deposit.”

Robert couldn’t hold back his laughter as he spoke.

His face had a peculiar look of amusement.

“Right then and there, that man took out a thousand dollars in cash—ten $100 bills—and handed it over to the agent, saying, ‘Do not, under any circumstances, sell this property to those Orientals.’ In essence, he was telling the agent to break our contract and even pay the penalty.”

“He just handed over a thousand dollars?”

Lee Jun-hyuk asked in mock surprise, though inwardly, this was exactly what he had expected.

It was Bancroft’s classic behavior.

His arrogant habit of believing he could resolve and control everything with money was showing itself once again.

“Yes, he took out ten $100 bills on the spot. The agent said he’d never met anyone like that before and just shook his head in disbelief.”

Lee Jun-hyuk opened a drawer.

Inside was an envelope carefully labeled ‘Securities Trading Company.’

Inside, the $100,000 investment receipt was due to return as $150,000 on June 3rd.

While Bancroft was losing his mind, Lee Jun-hyuk’s own money was quietly growing.

“Sir, are you really going to be alright?”

Robert asked, his face full of concern.

“Bancroft will likely do everything in his power to block our entry into Boston. He could pressure our existing partners or even use the media to spread malicious rumors…”

“Let him do as he pleases.”

Lee Jun-hyuk calmly put the envelope back into the drawer.

“While he wastes time, money, and energy trying to sabotage a factory that doesn’t even exist, we’ll be able to focus on our real business in New York.”

“But could this harm our company’s reputation?”

“On the contrary, Robert.”

Lee Jun-hyuk stood up and walked toward the window.

The factory on Saturday afternoon was quiet, the chimney that usually belched smoke now taking a brief rest.

Looking at his reflection in the glass, Lee Jun-hyuk continued.

“The more Bancroft attacks and creates a fuss, the more people will pay attention to the name ‘La Choy.’ ‘What kind of company is this, for railroad tycoon Bancroft to be so obsessed with them?’ they’ll ask. Even bad publicity is still publicity in the end.”

Robert nodded, impressed.

“I see. So his sabotage is actually turning into the best free marketing we could ask for.”

“Exactly. And…”

Lee Jun-hyuk turned back to Robert.

“Are all preparations done for Monday evening’s radio broadcast?”

“Yes, it will air at 7 PM sharp. The ads are already out, and since the last broadcast, many listeners have been eagerly awaiting the next installment.”

“Good.”

Lee Jun-hyuk returned to his desk and picked up his pen.

He had to revise the radio script for Monday. To make it even more provocative, even bolder, and to shred Bancroft’s nerves.

“La Choy, aiming beyond Boston to Philadelphia.”

His pen glided smoothly over the paper.

Scratch, scratch, the sound of the pen tip resonated in the quiet office. The faint scent of ink mingled with the languor of the afternoon.

Suddenly, Pyongyang came to mind.

What were his family doing at this hour? It was frustrating to only exchange news through letters, but in December, finally—

Knock, knock.

“Come in.”

Yu Ilhan entered.

His face was a mix of excitement and perplexity, and he held several telegrams in his hand.

“Sir, we have some very special news!”

“What is it?”

Lee Jun-hyuk asked, putting down his pen.

“Boston’s Jordan Marsh Department Store has contacted us. They want to place a large order for La Choy products.”

Jordan Marsh.

The memories from his previous life flashed instantly.

One of America’s top department stores in the 1920s.

Getting their products on those shelves meant La Choy was being recognized as a premium food brand, not just cheap canned goods.

“How much are they ordering?”

“They want to start with an initial shipment of ten thousand cans, and if it goes well, they’ll expand to all their branches. Ten thousand cans would mean $1,500 right away!”

Yu Ilhan’s voice was trembling with excitement.

This was proof that La Choy was finally breaking into the major markets.

“But… there’s one condition.”

“A condition?”

“They want to do official business only after the Boston factory is actually completed. It seems the shipping costs from New York are too much for them.”

Lee Jun-hyuk paused to think. From the department store’s perspective, it was a reasonable and natural request.

“Decline politely.”

“…What?”

Yu Ilhan’s eyes grew wide in disbelief.

“Sir, it’s ten thousand cans! That’s a $1,500 contract!”

“Now is not the time.”

Lee Jun-hyuk spoke firmly.

There was not a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“The Boston factory won’t be built for a while, maybe not even within this year.”

“But this is such an incredible opportunity…”

“Mr. Yu.”

Lee Jun-hyuk looked him straight in the eyes.

“Money isn’t everything.”

Sometimes, giving up immediate profit and waiting is a strategy. Even refusing can be an investment for the future. If we announce right now that we’re building the Boston factory…”

He paused.

A seagull’s cry echoed from outside the window.

“That would be walking right into Bancroft’s trap. He wants us to pour enormous capital into Boston. That way, our funds get tied up, and he’s free to attack La Choy in New York as he wishes.”

Yu Ilhan finally seemed to understand everything, nodding slowly.

“Ah, I see. He wants to tie us down with the illusion of Boston and then take the New York market, the heart of our business.”

“Exactly.”

Lee Jun-hyuk returned to his desk.

“I understand. I’ll decline politely, though it’s a shame.”

Yu Ilhan turned to leave but paused at the door.

“Oh, and Mr. Thomas has finished the April accounting. Sales have far exceeded expectations, breaking through $80,000.”

Eighty thousand dollars.

Nearly double what it was in March.

The effect of the radio advertisement was explosive.

After Yu Ilhan left, Lee Jun-hyuk focused once again on the radio script.

“La Choy Food’s Eastern Conquest Strategy, The First Great Step.”

He added a few more lines beneath the headline.

Starting from Boston, then Philadelphia, Baltimore, and on to Washington… Of course, it was all fiction, but in Bancroft’s ears, it would sound like a terrifying reality.

April 26th, Monday.

After the weekend, another week began.

On Lee Jun-hyuk’s desk, telegrams that had arrived over the weekend were piled up like a mountain.

All from Boston.

“Bancroft places an ad in Boston newspapers: Warning, don’t be fooled by the empty promises of an Oriental businessman.”

As expected.

“Bancroft proposes a boycott of La Choy products to Boston Chamber of Commerce members.”

Also within expectations.

“Bancroft contacts the Boston Harbor Workers’ Union, requests refusal to unload La Choy goods.”

Lee Jun-hyuk set down the telegrams and let out a small laugh.

“He’s really working hard, isn’t he.”

To go to such lengths to block a factory that doesn’t even exist.

His anxiety after investing ten million dollars had driven him to this state.

2 PM.

Lee Jun-hyuk was getting ready to leave for the Radio Station.

“Sir.”

Mary knocked and entered.

“There’s a call from Mr. Petrucci.”

“Put him through.”

“Mr. Lee? I have some very interesting news for you.”

Joe Petrucci’s voice was full of laughter.

“Bancroft went to Boston again this morning, this time with five of his top men.”

“His men?”

“That’s right. Looks like they’re planning to stage a protest in front of your ‘phantom factory’… What’s even funnier is that the landowner has already agreed to sell the property to someone else.”

Lee Jun-hyuk stifled a laugh.

“So Bancroft’s made a blunder again.”

“That’s not all. Rumor has it, he’s preparing to make an additional investment in Ponzi…”

“Additional investment?”

Lee Jun-hyuk’s face grew serious.

“How much?”

“I’m not sure, but word is it’ll be at least five million dollars more.”

Five million dollars. On top of the ten million already invested?

“He’s completely hooked.”

Like a gambler who’s bet everything, Bancroft was now in too deep to stop himself.

“Thank you, Mr. Petrucci.”

“Well, I’ll be listening to the radio broadcast tonight. Go finish off that bastard for good.”

He hung up.

Lee Jun-hyuk added a few final lines to his script. Lines that would strongly hint at absolute faith in Ponzi.

5 PM.

A taxi stopped in front of the Radio Station on 34th Street.

Entering the building, the PD greeted them.

“President Lee! We’ve been waiting for you. The audience is extremely excited tonight.”

He entered the studio.

A huge microphone was placed in the center. The engineer raised his hand, signaling the countdown.

“Five minutes to air!”

Lee Jun-hyuk sat down in front of the mic.

“Ten seconds.”

The red ‘ON AIR’ sign lit up.

“Five, four, three, two…”

“Good evening, listeners. This is Lee Jun-hyuk of La Choy Foods.”

His voice rode the radio waves, spreading throughout New York.

“Tonight, I’d like to tell you about La Choy’s future and our expansion plans.”

Lee Jun-hyuk set the script down.

To sound more sincere.

“Many of you have asked. Why Boston?”

Lee Jun-hyuk paused.

On radio, silence sometimes has more power than any words.

“Boston is the heart of American history. And now, it will become the new heart of La Choy Foods.”