Third-Generation Chaebol

My grandfather accepted my proposal without much difficulty.

It seemed my argument—that we should maximize revenue instead of selling off more subsidiaries—had convinced him.

A few days passed.

A new position was created within the Group's Strategy Office.

Above the secretary-general, who held a vice-president-level rank, a new position was established—a division head with the rank of president.

And that newly created position was meant for me.

After handing over all responsibilities at Taewoo Electronics to Vice President Woo Sung-il, I returned to the group's headquarters.

"Welcome, Director!"

At the main entrance of the headquarters, Ha Jae-won, the head of the Strategy Office, was waiting for me.

He bowed politely, but his influence was not to be underestimated.

The secretary-general was the group's de facto second-in-command, and Ha Jae-won was his right-hand man.

"You don't have to be so formal. I'm just relieved the Strategy Office is willing to take me in."

"Who would refuse you, Director? Not just the Strategy Office, but all subsidiaries have been hoping for your return."

"Who would want someone who only causes trouble? But I'll try not to stir up too much trouble while I'm here."

"Not at all. Feel free to shake things up as much as you like. Whatever you do, we will follow your lead."

He didn't see me as just a superior.

To him, I was the chairman's grandson—someone he was obligated to protect.

It was almost like a medieval noble treating a young lord with utmost loyalty.

"The employees are eager to meet you. Let's head upstairs."

"Allow me to show you the way."

The Strategy Office was known as the heart of the group.

It oversaw corporate planning, strategic planning, product planning—virtually all major operations.

Because of its importance, it was located just one floor below the chairman's office, and its staff numbers far exceeded those of any other department.

"Nice to meet you all. My name is Kim Min-jae, and I've been appointed as the Director of the Strategy Office. I look forward to working with you."

Upon arriving at the Strategy Office, I shook hands with the employees.

At the same time, I discreetly assessed their backgrounds—and I was genuinely impressed.

The rumor that this department was a fast track to an executive position was no exaggeration.

They had outstanding academic credentials, of course.

But more importantly, their skills were top-notch.

Being bilingual was a basic requirement, and each employee possessed at least one exceptional capability.

"All project reports are ready. If you have any particular subsidiary or project you're interested in, just let me know."

After the introductions, I stepped into the Director's Office, where Ha Jae-won handed me a file.

Inside, every ongoing project under the Strategy Office was meticulously documented.

"I'd like a report on Taewoo Motors. Can you provide details on domestic and international sales, market share, revenue, and net profit?"

"Would you like me to report on it now? I can have the full document prepared by the end of the day."

"Hearing it directly from you would be an honor."

It seemed that to become the head of the Strategy Office, one had to be this competent.

The Strategy Office Chief had every project memorized and began answering my questions effortlessly, as if he were reading from a report.

"Taewoo Motors ranks third, following Hyundai and Kia, but the gap isn't too large. Meanwhile, Samjin Motors and SS Motors, which began production last year, are closely following behind. Additionally, with our Uzbekistan plant starting operations this year, we expect higher sales in the European market."

For over ten minutes, he provided a comprehensive report on Taewoo Motors.

As I listened, I began to understand why my grandfather was so attached to the company.

And it reaffirmed why I had chosen not to interfere with it.

Taewoo Motors carried the largest debt among our subsidiaries, but it undoubtedly had strong competitiveness.

Even in my past life, Taewoo Motors had been a powerhouse.

In 1997, it overtook Hyundai and Kia to claim the No.1 spot in South Korea's market share.

In the U.S., it was even dubbed the "second Toyota," achieving impressive sales.

But what did that matter?

In the end, it couldn't survive the financial crisis and was sold off to GM.

This time, I was determined to prevent that from happening.

I had already devised multiple strategies to ensure its survival.

"The sales performance of our flagship model, the Cero, isn't looking good."

"Despite winning international automotive competitions, it hasn't been well received due to the abundance of similar sedan models in the market. However, the Nubila, set to launch this year, has a clear competitive edge in its segment, so its prospects are promising."

Taewoo Motors had a solid lineup of vehicle models.

Granted, none of them were developed with entirely in-house technology.

Most of their models were produced through agreements with American and Japanese automakers.

Still, the cars had plenty of strengths.

Now, it was just a matter of highlighting those strengths at the right moment.

"How's our progress in the Chinese market?"

"We've established a joint venture with Huachen Automotive and have begun production. Sales figures are decent, and they're expected to surpass domestic sales soon."

My grandfather had worked tirelessly to break into the Chinese market.

He firmly believed that China would become the world's largest automobile consumer market.

And he was convinced that Taewoo Motors would find success there.

Half of his strategy was correct.

The belief that Taewoo Motors could thrive in China was right.

But forming a joint venture with a Chinese company? That was the mistake.

After the financial crisis, Taewoo Motors was acquired by GM and entered the Chinese market, achieving explosive success.

The reason?

GM lacked a strong lineup of compact cars, and Taewoo Motors filled that gap perfectly.

Even though it had been acquired, the Taewoo-branded cars sold in China were entirely built with Taewoo's own technology.

"I heard that even though we have a joint venture, the Chinese company only assembles our parts?"

"Yes, they handle assembly and also import semi-knocked-down (SKD) vehicles for local production."

"That approach doesn't constitute a true market entry."

"China's strict regulations make it nearly impossible to properly enter the market without establishing a full-fledged manufacturing plant."

Current Chinese regulations were incredibly restrictive.

To stimulate the domestic market, China had blocked foreign capital from entering. Because of this, unless a joint venture was formed to establish a complete vehicle manufacturing plant within China, exporting finished cars there was difficult.

"I heard that Taewoo Motors also has a plant in Romania."

"Yes, in 1994, we established a joint venture with the Romanian automaker Lode, and production began this March with the goal of expanding into the European market."

My grandfather was truly committed to globalization.

He had established joint ventures in countries like Romania and Uzbekistan—places where Korean companies had not yet ventured—to pave the way for international expansion.

"What if we use the Lode plant to enter the Chinese market?"

"Are you suggesting we manufacture finished vehicles in Romania and export them to China?"

"As far as I know, former communist countries face fewer regulatory restrictions. Since Romania was a communist nation, wouldn't it be possible to bypass Chinese regulations?"

"But the transportation distance is too great. Romania is in Eastern Europe, so exporting to China would require covering a distance of over 6,000 kilometers. The logistics costs would be significant, potentially outweighing the benefits."

I didn't suggest this idea without reason.

After the financial crisis, Taewoo Group had been struggling with financial pressure.

In an attempt to secure funds, the company had once used the Romanian plant to manufacture finished vehicles for the Chinese market—and it had achieved considerable success.

"If we successfully enter the Chinese market, we can still generate substantial revenue, even after accounting for transportation costs."

"But to break into China, guanxi is essential. Even if Romania is a former communist country, we'll still need strong connections to persuade the Chinese government."

China always presented the challenge of guanxi.

In Korean terms, guanxi meant "connections" or "relationships."

It referred to a close network of mutual obligations—almost like a partnership with shared destiny and investments.

Building guanxi required significant financial resources and effort.

"I know someone who already has guanxi with the Chinese government."

"If we can leverage those connections, then exporting finished vehicles to China via Romania is definitely possible."

"Then let's give it a try."

"I'll initiate the project at the Strategy Office level. If you can take care of the guanxi aspect, this could be a highly successful venture."

"Once the guanxi issue is resolved, I'll report it to the chairman."

"Understood."

The Strategy Office Chief looked at me with satisfaction.

It was the same look my grandfather gave me.

A bit overwhelming, to be honest—so I quickly sent him out of my office and called David.

"David, do you know any high-ranking Chinese officials with guanxi?"

[There are a few Chinese contacts I'm close with, but none of them are high-ranking officials.]

I had taken a chance, but as expected, David didn't have strong ties to China.

"Then I'll ask George. In the meantime, see if you can establish any guanxi with high-ranking Chinese officials."

[I've heard that Quantum Fund has good connections in China.]

Quantum Fund had indeed built strong ties with China over the years.

In particular, George had made significant investments in China and had established guanxi with high-ranking officials.

"Try to connect with the highest level possible."

[That's my specialty. But am I free to use lobbying funds as needed?]

"When have I ever told you to be frugal with lobbying funds? Use as much as you need."

[Okay! Then I'll start weaving my web in China as well!]

With David's ability to build relationships, establishing guanxi would be no problem.

And with George's existing connections, the process would be even faster.

If that still wasn't enough? Then I'd have no choice but to step in myself.

***

One Month Later

In the end, I had to fly to China.

David, with George's help, had successfully built relationships with Chinese high-ranking officials—but he hadn't been able to seal the deal.

"They're nibbling at the bait but won't take the hook. They've eaten plenty of chum, but they just won't bite completely."

"If we succeed in entering China, we'll have to meet them often anyway. It's not a bad idea to make an early impression."

"I really didn't want to have to call in the big boss, but you're impossible to read."

Together with David, I headed to a famous restaurant in Shanghai.

The power of the guest we were meeting today was evident—the entire restaurant, which could easily accommodate over a hundred people, had been cleared out just for us.

"Boss, he's coming."

David signaled me with his eyes.

I stood up and turned toward the man of the hour.

The 22nd most powerful person in China. A candidate for the Politburo and the right-hand man of the current President.

"It is an honor to meet you, Elder Zheng Hongqin."

"Oh! I was told a guest from Korea was coming, but your Chinese is excellent."

Thanks to my past-life memories, I was fluent in Chinese.

Because of my grandfather's emphasis on globalization, I had studied English, Chinese, and Japanese—and I hadn't forgotten them.

"I studied hard for today."

"You're quite an impressive young man."

As we exchanged greetings, I discreetly accessed Zheng Hongqin's detailed background information.

And I discovered a very useful piece of information.

[Special Note: Has a hidden son.]