CHAPTER 06
: Hong Kong visit
October 1935
The ship from Kobe to Hong Kong took three days. Min-jae spent most of it on deck, watching the sea, thinking about what came next.
He was accompanied by his eldest cousin, Kwon Jae-ho—a taciturn man in his forties who had been assigned by Min-jae's father to serve as chaperone and, more importantly, as witness. If anything went wrong in Hong Kong, if Min-jae disappeared or got into trouble, Jae-ho would report back. It was a vote of confidence, of a sort—his father trusted him enough to let him go, but not enough to let him go alone.
Hong Kong harbor, when they arrived, was overwhelming. Ships of every size and flag crowded the anchorage. Junks and sampans wove between the larger vessels. The waterfront was a chaos of warehouses, godowns, and commercial buildings, with the green peak of Victoria rising behind it all.
They docked at a commercial pier in Kowloon. A man was waiting for them—Japanese, in his thirties, wearing a Western suit that fit poorly.
"Kwon-san?" He bowed. "Yamamoto Hiroshi. My cousin wrote to me about your visit. Welcome to Hong Kong."
He spoke English with a heavy Japanese accent, but his English was better than Min-jae's Japanese. They switched to English, which Min-jae had been speaking fluently for years in his previous life and had carefully maintained in this one.
The next three days were a whirlwind of introductions. Yamamoto Hiroshi had done exactly what his cousin asked: arranged meetings with everyone who mattered.
HSBC: A meeting with James Carver, a Scottish banker who had been in Hong Kong for twelve years. Carver was in his forties, bluff and competent, with the calm authority of someone who has seen dozens of financial crises and expects to see dozens more.
"Your English is remarkable," Carver said, after the first few minutes of conversation. "Where did you learn?"
"Tokyo," Min-jae said. It was the simplest explanation. "I studied there. And I read a great deal."
"What brings you to Hong Kong?"
"I need a banking relationship outside Japan. Somewhere I can hold assets that aren't subject to Japanese control. Somewhere with a legal system I can trust."
Carver studied him. "You're very direct for a Korean."
"I've found that directness saves time. And time is the only resource we can't create more of."
A long pause. Then Carver laughed—a genuine laugh, surprised out of him. "You know, that's exactly what my old mentor used to say. He was Scottish, not Korean, but the sentiment was the same." He leaned forward. "What kind of assets are we talking about?"
"Dollar-denominated securities, primarily. Some gold. Possibly real estate, eventually. I want a structure that's clean—a Hong Kong registered company, owned by a Cayman Islands entity, with the bank accounts here. I want to be able to move money between New York, London, and Tokyo without going through Japanese exchange control."
Carver's eyebrows rose. "That's... ambitious for a young man."
"I've been told that."
"And expensive. Setting up the structure you're describing requires lawyers, accountants, registration fees. Are you prepared for that?"
"Yes."
Carver considered. Then he nodded. "All right. I'll have our legal department prepare the documents. It will take a few days. In the meantime—" He stood, offered his hand. "Welcome to HSBC, Mr. Kwon. I have a feeling this is the beginning of a long relationship."
---
The next day, Min-jae bought a building.
It was a commercial property in Central district—four stories, prime location, owned by a British merchant family that was consolidating its holdings. The price was HK$85,000, which Min-jae paid in cash from the funds he had transferred through Yamamoto's network.
His cousin Jae-ho watched the transaction with an expression of disbelief.
"You're buying a building."
"Yes."
"In Hong Kong."
"Yes."
"You're twenty-one years old."
"Twenty-one in a few months. Yes."
Jae-ho shook his head. "Your father is going to have a heart attack when I tell him."
"Tell him I bought it for the family. Tell him it's an investment. Both are true."
Jae-ho looked at him for a long moment. "You know, cousin, sometimes I think you're not quite human. You look at things—money, people, buildings—like they're numbers in a calculation. It's unsettling."
Min-jae considered the observation. It was accurate. In his previous life, people had said the same thing—his ex-wife most of all. He had never quite understood why it bothered them. Numbers were clean. Numbers were honest. Numbers didn't lie or betray or disappoint.
But Jae-ho was right. It was unsettling. And maybe that was a problem he needed to address.
"I'll try to be more human," he said.
Jae-ho snorted. "Don't bother. Just be right about the building."
He was right about the building. Within ten years, it would be worth five times what he paid. Within fifty, a hundred times. He would never sell it.
---
Part : The Network
Gyeongseong, 1936
The transportation business began with four trucks.
Min-jae had been thinking about logistics since his first year in this world. The Korean economy of the 1930s was structured to move goods out—to Japan—not to circulate them within the peninsula. There was no organized trucking between provincial cities. Rail was controlled by the Japanese, prioritized for military and export cargo. The gaps in the system were enormous.
He bought the trucks from a Japanese construction company that was upgrading its fleet. They were old, worn, in need of constant maintenance—but they worked, and they were available, and they cost a fraction of what new vehicles would have.
He hired Park Du-sik to run them.
Park was twenty-eight, a former dock worker from Busan with no formal education and an extraordinary gift for machinery. He could diagnose an engine by listening to it. He could keep a vehicle running with parts scavenged from scrap. He could manage other men with a natural authority that made them work harder without resentment.
Min-jae had found him through Jeong-suk, whose black-market network extended into the docks and warehouses of every Korean port.
"He's rough," Jeong-suk said, when she introduced them. "Uneducated. But he's honest, and he's loyal, and he knows more about trucks than anyone in Busan."
Min-jae offered Park triple the market rate and a place to live. Park accepted without hesitation.
"Boss," he said, the first time they met alone, "I don't know why you're paying me so much. But I'll earn it."
"I know you will."
The first route was Daegu to Gyeongseong—flour from the Minsung mills to the capital's markets, then goods from the capital back to Daegu. Round trips, no empty legs. Within six months, the four trucks were running at capacity, and Min-jae ordered four more.
By the end of 1936, Minsung Transport had twelve trucks, contracts with seventeen companies beyond the Minsung group, and annual profits of 40,000 won.
The empire was growing