Chapter 32: Morning in New York

March 5th, 1920.

Morning in New York.

“New York in sight!”

At the sound of someone shouting from the deck, Lee Jun-hyuk snapped out of his thoughts and stepped outside.

A gust of wind swept by, biting cold.

A March wind that cut through bone, utterly unlike the blazing sun of Cuba.

He found himself unconsciously standing with his hands behind his back.

Far in the distance, through the morning mist, a faint shape came into view.

The Statue of Liberty.

The colossal copper sculpture gleamed with a bluish tint in the morning sunlight.

An arm extended skyward, holding a torch bright as the sun.

What was he feeling last year when he saw that figure?

Anxiety, and a vague hope.

It’s been a year.

The emotions welled up anew.

Back then, he was a student with fifty thousand dollars in hand, a future clouded in uncertainty.

Now, he held 26.8 million dollars—a Sugar King of Cuba.

Yet.

“Why am I trembling like this?”

His hand gripping the railing quivered ever so slightly.

It wasn’t from the cold.

Was it nerves? Or an uncontrollable sense of anticipation?

The ship slowly entered the Hudson River.

On both banks, the gray skyscrapers of Manhattan unfurled like a folding screen. In just a year, they seemed even taller.

Between the soaring buildings that looked as if they would pierce the sky, factory chimneys ceaselessly spewed black smoke.

The heart of the United States. The center of the World.

It felt as if the pulse of this city was traveling through the river and reaching him.

“Have you finished organizing your luggage, sir?”

“Yes. It’s all done.”

In truth, he had little luggage to speak of.

Only one suitcase with a few sets of clothes.

And a document bag, pressed close to his chest, stuffed with bank checks totaling 26.8 million dollars.

That was his entire fortune.

“Surely, I won’t get pickpocketed, right?”

That would be the absolute worst-case scenario.

No, let’s not imagine it.

Thud.

The ship bumped into the dock.

With a dull impact, the previously closed doors swung open, and people began to pour out.

Porters shouted as they hauled cargo.

Shouts calling for people mingled from all directions, creating waves of cacophonous noise.

“Taxi! Over here, taxi!”

“Porter service! Just 10 cents!”

“Astor Hotel carriage, this way!”

A scene of chaos, confusion, and vibrant life.

Lee Jun-hyuk stepped down the ramp onto solid ground.

The feel of New York’s sturdy earth reached his soles.

“This is New York.”

He was truly back.

“Taxi!”

He raised his hand.

Though he called for a taxi, what pulled up from a distance was a carriage.

The driver approached and asked, in English thick with an Irish accent,

“Where to, sir?”

“To The National City Bank of New York. Wall Street, main branch, please.”

“Understood!”

The carriage jolted and set off.

The morning sights of New York flashed past the window.

Newsboys dashed about, waving freshly printed papers.

“Times! Morning Times! Sugar price plummets! Wall Street panic!”

At that shout, Lee Jun-hyuk’s ears perked up.

“Wait a moment. Please stop the carriage.”

He stopped, tossed a coin to a boy, and bought a newspaper.

A giant headline dominated the front page.

Sugar Market ‘Black Tuesday’ Crash, Wall Street Panic

From 27 cents down to 15 cents, worst crash in history

Countless speculators bankrupted, even banks face chain bankruptcy risks

As he read the article, a sigh of relief escaped his lips.

“Truly… it was a stroke of genius.”

He was witnessing, in this moment, just how accurate his decision to sell everything at 24 cents had been. If he’d been greedy for even a day more, no, even a few hours more—the very thought made his spine tingle.

He arrived at the bank.

A building that looked as though a Greek temple had been transplanted whole. The massive stone pillars seemed to prop up the very sky, overwhelming in their grandeur.

The heavy bronze doors slowly groaned open.

He stepped inside.

A high ceiling, gleaming marble floors. His footsteps echoed like in a cathedral. Even the air was cold and heavy.

“How may I assist you?”

A neatly dressed clerk approached.

“I’m here to discuss some matters regarding my account.”

“Certainly, this way please.”

He was guided to the VIP lounge.

As he sank into the plush leather sofa, a faint cigar scent pricked his nose. Paintings by famous artists hung on the walls.

“What business can I assist you with, sir?”

“I’m Lee Jun-hyuk, CEO of American Sugar Trading Company.”

At the mention of his name, the clerk’s eyes instantly widened.

“Ah! The famous… from Cuba…”

“Yes. I’m here to make a deposit.”

Lee Jun-hyuk opened his document bag.

He pulled out a stack of bank checks and placed them on the table.

“Totaling 26.8 million dollars.”

“Tw… twenty-six…”

The clerk stammered.

His face turned pale.

“Two… million… dollars?”

“Yes.”

Lee Jun-hyuk answered calmly, but inside, it still didn’t feel real.

Twenty-six point eight million dollars.

Perhaps more than the entire market cap of the brokerage he once worked at in his previous life.

“Pl… please wait just a moment! I’ll bring the Branch Manager! The Branch Manager!”

The clerk nearly fled as he dashed out.

Moments later, an elderly gentleman with graying beard entered. His eyes, sharp and cold, seemed to gauge the flow of money itself.

“I’m Thomas Wilson. The Branch Manager here.”

“Lee Jun-hyuk.”

They shook hands.

The manager’s hand was cold and firm.

“It’s an honor to finally meet the man who has been the talk of Wall Street.”

“Am I famous?”

“Who doesn’t know the Sugar King of Cuba? The story of you selling all your stock at 24 cents and gracefully exiting the market has already become legend.”

Wilson meticulously inspected each check.

“Exactly 26.8 million dollars. Confirmed.”

“Please deposit it into my personal account.”

“Of course. However…”

Wilson asked cautiously.

“With such a large sum, do you have any investment plans in mind? We can recommend prime bonds or stocks from our bank’s portfolio…”

“No.”

Lee Jun-hyuk firmly cut him off.

“For the time being, I intend to hold it all in cash.”

“But the opportunity cost…”

“Branch Manager.”

Lee Jun-hyuk pointed to the newspaper.

“Right now, cash is king.”

Branch Manager Thomas Wilson did not press further.

He could see from Lee Jun-hyuk’s gaze that this was no ordinary gambler.

“Wise indeed. Especially in times like these… prudence is essential.”

“How long will account setup take?”

“For an amount of this magnitude, special management is required. By my authority, I will see to it that all procedures are completed within today.”

“Thank you.”

The complicated paperwork began.

Name, company, Cuba address… only the sound of pen scratching filled the room.

Tap.

At the section for a New York address, Lee Jun-hyuk’s pen paused.

He had no place to stay in New York yet.

Should he just book a hotel for now?

“May I notify you of the address later?”

“Of course. For now, you can put the company’s address.”

Did it take over an hour?

All procedures were complete.

He received a heavy passbook and a checkbook bound in leather.

“Please take good care of me, Mr. Lee.”

Wilson handed over his personal business card.

“If you need anything at all, please contact this number. We are at your service 24 hours a day.”

This was the power of 26.8 million dollars.

The power to have a bank branch manager act as your personal secretary.

He stepped out of the bank.

The midday sunlight was dazzling.

Wall Street still throbbed with desire for money.

“So, where to now?”

He found himself murmuring.

First, he needed a place to stay.

And an office to start his business. He also had to recruit employees.

There was a mountain of things to do.

“Let’s solve them one by one, step by step.”

He hailed a taxi.

“To the Plaza Hotel.”

“Yes, sir!”

The taxi moved off.

Plaza Hotel.

New York’s finest, overlooking Central Park.

The kind of place where European royalty and American tycoons stayed.

In his previous life, or even just a year ago, he wouldn’t have dreamed of even stepping into its lobby.

“But now, I have money.”

He arrived in front of the hotel.

A graceful building of red brick.

Pushing open the golden revolving door, a uniformed doorman greeted him with a respectful bow.

The lobby was as opulent as a palace.

Marble pillars supporting a high ceiling. Blinding crystal chandeliers. Persian Carpet so plush your feet sank in. Everything reeked of money.

He approached the front desk.

“Do you have a reservation?”

The clerk asked.

Noticing Lee Jun-hyuk’s Asian appearance, the clerk was visibly flustered for a brief moment.

“No. Do you have a suite available?”

“Pardon? A suite… did you say?”

The clerk’s eyes grew wider.

“Yes. The very best room in the hotel, please.”

“Uh… just so you know, a night’s stay costs fifty dollars, is that all right?”

Fifty dollars a night.

More than a month’s salary for an ordinary worker.

“I’ll stay for a month.”

Lee Jun-hyuk pulled out his checkbook and took up a pen.

“Fifteen hundred dollars up front, correct?”

In that instant, the clerk’s attitude changed a full 180 degrees.

“Ah, yes! Of course, sir! Right away, we’ll prepare the finest Penthouse Suite in our hotel for you!”

The power of money was always instant and absolute.

“Bellboy! Carry the guest’s luggage to his room!”

“Ah, this is all I have.”

Lee Jun-hyuk pointed to his lone document bag.

He took the elevator.

The steel-grilled door shut, the mechanism clanking as it ascended.

It stopped at the fifth floor.

“The Penthouse Suite, sir.”

The door opened, and an area larger than his home spread out before him.

A living room, bedroom, study, even a marble bath—and through the giant windows, the panorama of Central Park looked like a painting.

“Do you like it, sir?”

“Yes. It’s very nice.”

After tipping the attendant, Lee Jun-hyuk threw himself onto the sofa.

It was soft.

He felt as if his whole body was being absorbed by the sofa.

“Now, let’s think about what needs to be done next.”

He began to organize his priorities in his head.

First, find an office near Fifth Avenue.

Second, hire competent staff to help him.

Third, select the main business project to pursue.

And…

“I should finish my studies too.”

The school he’d taken a year’s leave from.

He needed to submit a Resume of Return.

He checked the clock.

2 p.m.

“Today, let’s visit the school first.”

***

The Columbia University campus, a place he returned to after a year.

Even in the chill New York air, he could feel the breath of spring.

On the bare branches, tender green buds were sprouting.

Students gathered in small groups on the lawn, chatting. Others hurried by with thick textbooks tucked under their arms.

Everything overflowed with the energy of youth.

“I was one of them too, not long ago.”

He remembered himself from a year ago.

A foreign student, clutching fifty thousand dollars, anxious about the future.

But now…

He went to the administrative office and submitted his Resume of Return.

The staff seemed surprised when he explained his leave was due to personal business, but processed his paperwork without any particular questions.

He could resume his studies from the next semester, in September.

Six months of free time.

“Well, I’ll use that time to lay the foundations for my business.”

Leaving the office, his feet led him almost by habit.

The Library.

A place where, a year ago, he’d desperately memorized information about the future.

The library in the late afternoon was tranquil.

Sunbeams, mixed with dust, stretched long between the towering bookshelves.

The economics section.

That spot by the window.

There.

“Huh?”

Someone was sitting there.

A female student with long brown hair, immersed in a book.

The sunlight bathed her hair in a golden hue.

Only the sound of pages turning echoed in the still air.

“Catherine?”

His heart thumped.

But no, it wasn’t her.

The student who looked up had a completely different face, freckles everywhere and thick glasses. When her eyes met Lee Jun-hyuk’s, she hurriedly averted her gaze in embarrassment.

“Sorry.”

Lee Jun-hyuk apologized softly and turned away.

Leaving the Library, he let out a rueful laugh.

Why had he expected that?

“Should I try contacting her?”

But he hesitated.

After a year’s silence.

How would he even begin?

He’d returned as a successful businessman, but there was no knowing how she had changed.

He didn’t want to burden her.

He left the campus and headed toward Fifth Avenue.

First, find an office.

He entered a real estate office with a golden sign reading ‘Williams Real Estate.’

“I’m looking for an office. Near Fifth Avenue, please.”

“What kind of budget do you have in mind?”

“If the location is good, the price doesn’t matter much.”

The agent’s eyes sparkled.

He quickly pulled out a folder, saying he had a great property.

Fifth Avenue, 42nd Street, the entire third floor of a five-story stone building.

He opened the door; sunlight poured through large windows into the spacious room.

Outside, he could see the bustling street of Fifth Avenue at a glance.

“I like it. Let’s sign the contract.”

The contract was finalized in no time.

He was handed a heavy brass key.

Now, he had a space of his own in New York.

By the time he returned to the hotel, it was 6 p.m.

Sitting on the sofa in the suite’s living room, he gazed at Central Park sinking into dusk.

“Now I need to find staff.”

There were limits to what he could do alone.

He needed a secretary, an accountant.

He ordered dinner through room service.

Steak and wine were brought up, but he left the wine untouched. He still didn’t drink.

As he ate, he reviewed his future plans.

“Radio Station. And Canning Factory.”

Especially, the canning business—he could clearly picture it.

“La Choy.”

A brand that, in his previous life, was the first Asian food brand to make it big in the United States.

Especially the canned mung bean sprouts.

In history, it was originally a company founded by Dr. Yu Ilhan and another businessman.

“Well, working together with Dr. Yu Ilhan might be good. For that… I’ll need mung beans as raw material.”

To secure the supply, he would someday have to visit his homeland, the Korean Empire.

At that moment, the telephone rang.

“Hello?”

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

It was George’s energetic voice.

“Heard you arrived in New York! Thanks to you, I dodged the sugar crash. Wall Street is abuzz with your story right now—about the mysterious Asian investor who exited precisely at 24 cents.”

“I was just lucky.”

“It wasn’t luck, it was skill! So, what’s your plan in New York?”

“I’m considering a few businesses. Radio Station and food processing are on my mind.”

“Radio, huh… isn’t it too early for that?”

“It’ll go mainstream soon. I want to be prepared.”

“That’s just like you. Always thinking one step ahead of everyone else.”

Conversations with George were always pleasant.

He would have to maintain the connection with Rockefeller.

The next morning.

Lee Jun-hyuk headed for his empty office on Fifth Avenue.

Now, it was time to fill this place up.

Just as he opened the door and entered—

“Excuse me.”

Someone called out cautiously from outside the door.

A young white man, neatly dressed but visibly anxious, stood there.

“What can I do for you?”

“Uh… I heard you might be hiring staff.”

“I haven’t even posted a job ad yet—how did you know?”

“The owner of the tailor shop on the first floor told me a new company moved in yesterday. So, I thought I’d try my luck…”

His proactive attitude impressed Lee Jun-hyuk.

“Your name?”

“Robert O’Brien. Graduated from Columbia, business administration, just last year.”

“Any experience?”

“I worked at a small trading company for six months. But… my company closed down in the sugar crash.”

Another victim of the sugar collapse.

“Why do you want to work at my company?”

“To be honest, sir, I’ve heard of Mr. Lee. I thought I could learn a lot working for someone who made such a huge success in Cuba.”

Lee Jun-hyuk thought for a moment.

The first employee. He had to be careful.

But in the young man’s desperation, he saw a strong will to seize opportunity.

“Alright. Robert O’Brien, you start work tomorrow.”

Lee Jun-hyuk extended his hand.

“There will be a lot to do.”

“Really… really? Thank you! I’ll give it my all!”

Michael’s face lit up brightly.

Now, business in New York was truly about to begin.