CH5 : Romantic Era

"Sambok! I'm back."

"Did you really come back? Did you give up studying abroad?"

When I actually returned to Korea, he was dumbfounded. I sat next to him and ate kimchi and rice voraciously.

Having spent a few days in Singapore, kimchi tasted like honey.

"Yeah, I studied to become rich! I concluded that earning money directly is faster than studying."

"You sure live life easily."

"If you see the contract I brought, you won't say that."

"What kind of contract did you get?"

Sambok chuckled at my confident expression.

"These contracts are worth 400,000 dollars."

I placed the stack of contracts on the floor with a thud.

Really, it was a book's worth of A4 paper.

"400,000 dollars?"

"Yes, 400,000 dollars!"

"At about 270 won per dollar... wow! That's over 100 million won!"

Huh? Was the exchange rate only 270 won at that time?

I thought it was around 500 won.

"It has to be over a billion to be considered trade. It's a small amount, but it's suitable for us to start with."

I shrugged my shoulders playfully.

"A small amount? For a wage earner like me, that's money I would have to save for 250 years without spending a penny!"

"How much is your salary? It's quite a bit, isn't it?"

Sambok worked at Geumseong Textile, a pretty well-off textile company.

"With all allowances combined, it's 32,800 won."

"Really?"

A foreman's salary at a textile factory is around 30,000 won?

I thought it would be about 30 times the cost of living, but it seems it should be 100 times!

"It's really a tricot fabric contract. Wow! Over 500,000 yards? Man... you're crazy!"

Sambok, who was flipping through the contracts, suddenly started trembling.

From his expression, he seemed more scared than excited.

"Sambok, are you scared?"

"Man, have you ever done fabric business before?"

"I'm planning to start now."

"The export volume is 500,000 yards, and the dyeing is different for each?"

Sambok was incredulous at my words.

"It's not impossible."

How much is 500,000 yards anyway?

To convert it to meters, you multiply by 0.9, so it's 450,000 meters... roughly 450 kilometers.

... Damn, it's the distance from Seoul to Busan.

It's not something to be taken lightly.

"You crazy guy. Tricot fabric is a complicated fabric woven vertically. Even if you run a weaving machine at full capacity for a month, you can barely produce 5,000 yards. Considering machine breakdowns and changing threads, 4,000 yards is the limit. And you plan to produce 500,000 yards? Just the two of us?"

I heard in history that one company couldn't handle this volume. Was it really this large?

If the monthly production per machine is 4,000 yards, how many machines do we need to handle 500,000 yards?

If we divide it into three deliveries, producing about 170,000 yards per month, divided by 4,000...

What? We only need about 43 weaving machines. What's the big deal?

If we secure about 50 machines, we can cover it sufficiently.

"Let's not overthink it. If we secure about 50 weaving machines, we can handle it with a few months of hard work. There must be at least 50 Karl Mayer machines in the country."

"Securing 50 machines is like child's play... Okay, let's say we have the machines. What about the yarn?"

"Look at the samples. Numbers 24 and 87."

I handed him the sample book.

"... Damn, it's a blend of nylon and cotton... are you crazy?"

"A blend? Is it a mix of nylon and cotton? No wonder it felt soft for synthetic fiber."

Sambok, who was touching the samples, glared at me as if he wanted to eat me alive.

"How many more machines do you think are needed for a blend? Huh? What guts do you have to take on such a task!"

It seems the operation rate drops further for blends.

"Haha, we'll manage. We're young."

Though I flinched at his intense gaze, I felt good.

His fierce reaction meant he was considering working with me.

Besides, having worked at a textile company, he was more of an expert in textiles than I was.

"How can you eat when you've started such a task?"

"How can a man be scared before even starting? Don't worry, this will be a huge success. Just do as I say."

It was a huge success in history as well.

Considering Woo Chairman accomplished this as a rookie, he wasn't an ordinary person.

I'm not ordinary either, so I must succeed.

"Let's see how well you instruct."

"First, quit your job tomorrow, withdraw the deposit for your rented room, and get us an office."

"Sure, quitting is every wage earner's dream. Using the office like a rented room is fine too. What's next?"

"We'll establish Daese Industrial, and use these contracts as collateral to borrow some money from the bank. We should be able to borrow at least 50 million won, right?"

"... Yeah, that's easy. Right?"

"It's not easy, that's why I'm asking you. Who else would I trust?"

Sambok seemed to calm down a bit at my determined gaze. He probably decided to help with the work.

I could somewhat understand why Woo Chairman and Vice Chairman Lee Sambok worked together until the end.

"Alright... we have to try. So what will you do?"

"What else? I need to find a factory to produce."

Finding partner companies to handle the work is all that needs to be done.

"Ha, a guy who barely received a few paychecks is going to find a factory?"

"Did you ever imagine that a guy who barely received a few paychecks would secure such a huge contract?"

"..."

Sambok was speechless.

Of course, he had nothing to say.

"I can do it. So can you. Register the corporation, and get the money."

"So, you'll make me a manager?"

"I'm the president, you're the manager."

"Fine. President Woo. I'll crawl as you say, so make me successful."

"You've already succeeded. You have good fortune with people, and from now on, you'll have financial fortune too."

I spoke so confidently that he finally seemed to calm down and smiled, showing his gums.

He rummaged through the cupboard and brought out some leftover soju.

"If we've started a business, we should toast. Right?"

"To Daese Industrial!"

"To Daese Industrial!"

Sambok and I toasted with half a bottle of soju and kimchi to celebrate the start of our business.

Our romantic era had begun.

***

"Fighting!"

"Fighting!"

As we left the rented room, we clenched our fists and showed them to each other.

He would be busy visiting banks, registration offices, and notary offices for the next few days.

'I guess I should head to Seongsu-dong?'

In the 21st century, Seongsu-dong is known for handmade shoe workshops, but now it's 1965.

The only place near Seoul that could be called an industrial complex is Seongsu-dong.

There are about a thousand small factories densely packed, and since they are self-organized, it could be called the first private industrial complex in history.

I planned to tour the factories with Karl Mayer weaving machines and calculate their production to distribute the workload.

I took the bus to Seongsu-dong.

Was this place called Ttukseom Industrial Complex back then?

As I got off the bus, a scene reminiscent of Busan's Jeonpo-dong streets in my past life unfolded.

Chimneys spewing black smoke from early morning, people loading carts with goods, welding sparks flying already, and women delivering trays of gukbap (rice soup) to workers who acted as if such hustle and bustle were everyday occurrences, eating their breakfast with kimchi.

If I had a smartphone, I would have taken pictures, but this was no time for that.

I wandered around diligently, hoping to find signs like XX Textile or XX Weaving.

「Suil Synthetic」

How long did I wander? Deep inside an alley, I found a sign for a weaving factory.

Synthetic means synthetic fiber, so it seemed like the factory I was looking for.

But what was this?

People were gathered in large numbers, but it wasn't a lively morning assembly.

"Don't come in! Get lost!"

"Who are you telling to move? This factory is already bankrupt. Everything here belongs to the bank! Got it?"

"I don't care! If you lay a finger on anything here, it's over for you and me!"

Several young men chained themselves to the factory entrance and swung clubs.

In front of them, others held seizure notices and official documents, confronting them.

They were clearly bank collection officers and auctioneers.

The police were present too but seemed helpless, just frowning at the situation.

It was a scene I had seen countless times in the streets of ironworks in my childhood.

A bankrupt factory had gone to auction.

The employees were being thrown out without pay.

'Typical of the 60s. I don't understand why adults called this the romantic era.'

At this time, bank loan interest rates were over 25%, and private loan interest rates were over 40%.

If a factory owner made a single financial misstep, they were doomed.

This was why factory owners resorted to fraud, smuggling, deliberate bankruptcy, gambling, and all sorts of shady deals.

If it made money, bribery or illegality didn't matter, and they were considered qualified as a boss.

"If you don't want to get hurt then move! Do you think the owner who ran away after bankruptcy will come back? We need to auction this off to pay your overdue wages."

"Don't talk nonsense. How many times has that happened? Once the auction is settled, the bank takes everything, and we get just 1 or 2 thousand won! Give us our wages! It's been three months! Give us our money! It's not the bank's money!"

The young men resisted, swinging iron pipes.

They chained themselves to the factory doors, and the bank officials and auctioneers couldn't do anything.

The young men, who had been confronting each other for days, looked like skeletons.

If this continued, they would die of starvation before receiving their overdue wages.

"Last warning! Put down the pipes and move!"

"Give us our money first! Then arrest us or whatever!"

"Everyone, let's eat before we fight."

I raised my hand and intervened.

"... Who are you?"

"Mind your own business and get lost!"

Everyone turned their angry eyes on me as I intervened.

"Madam, eight bowls of gukbap, please!"

"Sure, sir."

Ignoring the hostile atmosphere, I ordered gukbap from a passing delivery woman.

The woman, just as tough, didn't care about the atmosphere.

She quickly went to the alley and brought back a tray piled with gukbap.

"What are you doing! Take your gukbap!"

"Oh, yes. Yes."

She even yelled at the bank officials to help with the tray.

"Guys, what are you doing? Aren't you going to eat breakfast?"

"No, no. We'll eat."

"Do you want radish kimchi too?"

"A lot... please."

You have to be quick-witted in the food business.

The woman, sensing I was paying, did exactly what I wanted.

In the bewildered atmosphere, people received bowls of gukbap, and the commotion naturally subsided.

"How much is it, madam?"

"100 won per bowl. That'll be 800 won."

"Thank you for your hard work. Keep the change."

"Wow, the young boss is generous. You'll do great. Put the bowls in one place when you're done."

The once curt woman gave me compliments and quickly disappeared.

"Everyone, eat up. We fight to live, but we must eat first."

"Thank you."

The young men, who had been starving, buried their faces in the hot gukbap and started eating voraciously.

The chains wrapped around their bodies looked pitiful.

"Sir. You may have provided food, but this isn't your concern."

"No, it could be."

"What do you mean?"

The bank official retorted, but I continued speaking to the young men without looking away.

"I'm an exporter. I recently returned from Southeast Asia for synthetic fabric, but I didn't know this factory went bankrupt. This factory uses Karl Mayer equipment for weaving, right?"

"Yes, yes! That's right. We have 10 Karl Mayer machines."

Oh, they have 10 machines?

This factory alone has 20% of the machines I need. It was a bigger factory than I expected.

I'm intrigued.