June 13, 1920, Sunday Afternoon
The train raced east without pause.
Lee Jun-hyuk and Robert moved to the dining car to fill their stomachs.
Perhaps because it was Sunday, the passenger cars were packed with families. The sound of children’s joyful laughter softened the stiff air inside the train.
“This Chicago business trip was truly a success, President.”
Robert said as he spooned up some warm soup.
Traces of tension still lingered on his face, but beneath it, there was a layer of respect and awe.
“Even if we start with 5,000 cans a month, that’s already more than half of La Choy’s entire current output.”
“We’ll need to expand our production facilities significantly soon.”
Lee Jun-hyuk replied as he looked out the window.
The train was passing through Indiana’s vast cornfields. Over the endless fields, the wind stirred up gentle golden waves.
“Will the Brooklyn factory alone be enough?”
“To handle the Chicago supply, we’ll need either to build another factory or run the existing one on two shifts, twenty-four hours a day.”
For now, he planned to operate with two shifts, but he was also considering building another factory.
The dining car waiter brought the main course, roast chicken. For something cooked on a train, it looked quite appetizing.
“By the way, President.”
Robert cautiously asked, picking up his knife.
“Isn’t it risky to get too involved with the mafia?”
“Of course it’s dangerous.”
Lee Jun-hyuk calmly replied as he sliced into the tender chicken.
“But in America today, especially during the Prohibition Era, there are certain risks an immigrant must take to run a big business. In a jungle full of wild beasts, you can’t survive with bare hands.”
“But still…”
“The important thing is to keep an appropriate distance—neither too close nor too far. We’ll be their best business partner, but we must never become their ‘family’.”
A small pang swept through his heart as he looked outside.
He caught sight of a church steeple painted white, and faintly, he thought he heard the sound of bells.
It seemed to be peaceful Sunday afternoon service time.
“When we arrive in New York, it’ll get busy in no time.”
Lee Jun-hyuk said, sipping his coffee.
“We have to prepare the first shipment for Chicago, and the radio station also needs to start building a real profit model…”
“And you need to start preparing for your December visit to Pyongyang, don’t you?”
“Yes. That’s the most important thing.”
Pyongyang.
Even just the word made his heart beat with a bittersweet longing.
Around 3 p.m., the train made a brief stop at a small station in Ohio.
It was time to replenish water and coal. Passengers got off onto the platform to stretch their legs for a bit.
Breathing in the fresh air made his chest swell with relief. Compared to Chicago’s sooty stench, the scent of fresh grass and earth was invigorating.
“The countryside really is nice.”
Robert said, stretching.
“The air is clear, it’s quiet… it puts my mind at ease.”
“Still, business has to be done in the city. The scent of money is strongest there.”
Lee Jun-hyuk replied with a laugh.
He saw an elderly couple sitting on a platform bench.
The two were holding hands tightly, probably waiting for their children or grandchildren.
The warm sight made him think of Catherine for a moment.
Fifteen minutes later, the train departed again.
He returned to the compartment and sat by the window.
The sun was tilting west, painting the sky in crimson hues.
“President.”
Robert hesitated before speaking.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you since Chicago.”
“What is it?”
“The Ponzi Scheme incident. Was it… truly something you planned from the start? Did you set the trap for William Bancroft on purpose?”
Lee Jun-hyuk looked at Robert.
In his eyes mixed pure curiosity and a trace of awe, as if gazing upon something extraordinary.
“Do you really think so?”
“Everything was too perfect. The timing when Bancroft took the bait, the way you provoked his arrogance to raise the stakes, and finally, using Al Capone to have him arrested…”
Lee Jun-hyuk was silent for a moment.
Then, gazing out the now fiery-red window, he spoke softly.
“Robert. Sometimes, it’s better not to know everything.”
“…I see.”
Robert nodded in response.
He asked no further.
As night deepened, Lee Jun-hyuk lay down in bed first.
It was still early, but he was tired.
Those two days in Chicago had completely drained him mentally. The cold tension of meeting Johnny Torrio still lingered along his spine.
In the rhythmic rocking of the train, he drifted into a dream.
It was his home in Pyongyang, which he’d left seven years ago.
In the wide yard stood the persimmon tree he’d planted as a child, and his mother was hanging white laundry.
His father sat on the back porch, reading the newspaper.
His younger siblings were laughing as they played rubber band games in the yard. But their faces were blurry.
“Oppa!”
Someone called him.
He turned. It was his second sister, Soo-yeon.
As he tried to approach, her face, too, faded like mist.
“Oppa, when are you coming back? We’ll forget what you look like soon.”
“Soon… I’ll be there soon. I promise.”
Just as he tried to answer, a rough jolt woke him.
Outside the window, darkness engulfed everything.
The train was still racing through the night continent.
He checked his watch. It was 2 a.m.
His throat was parched.
He drank cold water at the washstand and lay back down.
This time, he didn’t dream.
When he blinked awake, bright sunlight was pouring in through the window.
He checked his watch—7 a.m.
In three hours, they’d arrive in New York.
He washed his face and shaved neatly at the washstand.
Looking in the mirror, the fatigue was obvious, but his eyes had already regained the sharpness of a businessman.
He chose a navy necktie.
It was a gift from Catherine.
At breakfast in the dining car, Robert asked,
“When you arrive in New York, what’s the first thing you’ll do?”
“I’ll go to the bank. I need to make sure Capone’s money really came in as promised.”
“And after that?”
“I’ll head to the office and deal with the mountain of work waiting for me.”
The truth was, he wanted to see Catherine first.
But their promised meeting wasn’t until Friday at 5 p.m.
At 9:30.
The train began to slow down.
Outside the window, skyscrapers revealed their majestic forms.
It was the Manhattan skyline.
“We’re finally back.”
Robert let out a sigh of relief.
The train pulled into Grand Central Station.
Stepping off onto the platform with their luggage, Lee Jun-hyuk inhaled the air of New York deep into his lungs. It was a complex scent of money, ambition, and opportunity, very different from Chicago’s bloody stench.
They hailed a taxi.
“To the National City Bank Headquarters, please.”
They arrived at the bank.
Monday morning on Wall Street was as busy as ever.
“I’ll go to the office first.”
Robert said.
“Alright, see you this afternoon.”
Lee Jun-hyuk entered the bank.
He made his way to Branch Manager Thomas Wilson’s office.
As he walked down the hallway, several employees greeted him with respect.
Now, he was a VVIP client here.
“Mr. Lee! How was the business trip to Chicago?”
Wilson greeted him warmly.
“It was a success.
We closed an excellent deal.”
“Outstanding! So, what brings you in today…?”
“I want to check the exact balance of my account.”
Wilson opened the ledger.
“At present, you have exactly $7,365,000. And…”
Wilson checked another document.
“This morning, $102,000 was credited from Swiss Zurich, apparently with added interest. So, your total is now $7,467,000.”
The Ponzi money had returned, via Al Capone’s methods.
“Seven million, four hundred sixty-seven thousand dollars…”
Lee Jun-hyuk murmured quietly.
“I intend to invest six million dollars of that in stocks.”
Wilson’s expression shifted from worry to surprise.
“All six million in stocks? That’s a very aggressive investment.”
“I believe now is the right time. The American economy will continue to grow for at least nine more years.”
He handed over his prepared investment list.
“$1.2 million in RCA, $1 million in General Electric, $800,000 in US Steel, $800,000 in General Motors, $700,000 in AT&T, $600,000 in Standard Oil, $400,000 in Union Pacific, $300,000 in Coca-Cola, $200,000 in DuPont. That’s a total of six million dollars.”
Wilson looked over the list and marveled.
“These are the top blue-chip stocks. Especially RCA is the hottest stock right now, thanks to the explosive spread of radio.”
“Yes, so I’ve allocated the largest share there.”
The paperwork began.
As six million dollars moved, the only sound in the office was a pen scratching paper.
“I’ll purchase the shares sequentially before the market closes today.”
“And the remaining $1,467,000 will stay as cash?”
“Yes, that’s needed for La Choy’s operating capital and as emergency funds.”
By the time he left the bank, it was nearly noon.
June in New York was already sweltering.
When he arrived at the office, Yu Ilhan came running to greet him.
“President! You’ve returned safely! I was so worried.”
“Thanks to you. We’ve secured the Chicago deal. The Capone Organization will handle all distribution, guaranteeing at least 5,000 cans per month.”
“5,000 cans! That’s incredible!”
Yu Ilhan’s eyes sparkled.
“We’ll have to increase production immediately. I think we’ll need to start running two shifts at the factory from today.”
“Discuss it thoroughly with the workers. Overtime pay will be at the highest level in the industry.”
“Yes, sir!”
At 4 p.m., Thomas Green reported the financial results for the first half of June.
“La Choy’s sales have already exceeded $150,000, with a net profit of $40,000. The radio station is still operating at a loss, but advertising revenue is steadily increasing, so we expect to be in the black by year’s end.”
“With the Chicago orders added, sales in the second half should rise much more.”
“Yes, that’s right. But… we’ll need more operating funds. To hire for the two shifts and purchase additional raw materials…”
“Don’t worry. We have plenty of funds.”
As the sun set in the west, employees left work one by one.
Lee Jun-hyuk was the last to leave the office.
When he returned to the Plaza Hotel, it was past 7 p.m.
At the front desk, he received a message that Catherine had called.
He went up to his room and immediately returned the call.
“Catherine?”
“Jun-hyuk! You made it back safely!”
Her voice over the phone was filled with sincere relief.
“I was so worried. I thought something might have happened in Chicago…”
“Nothing happened. I only returned with stories of business success.”
There was a brief silence.
He sensed she wanted to say something but was hesitating.
“Friday… you haven’t forgotten our promise, right?”
“Of course not. 5 p.m., at the entrance to Central Park.”
“Yes… there’s something I have to tell you then.”
Her voice trembled faintly.
“I’ll be waiting too.”
After hanging up, he looked out the window.
Night was falling in New York.
One by one, jewel-like lights lit up in every building.
One million four hundred sixty-seven thousand dollars in cash and six million in stocks…
Now, it was truly time to begin accumulating real wealth.
Until the Grand Depression in 1929, these stocks would multiply many times over, and that fortune would become the strongest fortress to protect himself and his family.
But for now, the promise for Friday felt more important than any of that.
What on earth was Catherine going to say?
He lay down on the bed.
The exhaustion of the Chicago business trip swept over him all at once.
From tomorrow, he’d be busy again.
But today, he wanted to forget everything and rest soundly.