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CH401 | Heir
🕑 Added 2025-09-01 14:05:40 +0000 UTCA week later.
I arrived in Denmark.
David, who had flown in ahead of me to lay the groundwork, greeted me warmly.
“Looks like you’ve done more than just sketch the outlines. You seem in excellent spirits.”
“You underestimate me, boss. I didn’t just sketch—I finished the painting, colors and all. All that’s left is for you to sign it, and the painting will be yours.”
“So the coloring’s complete, is it? I suppose once I meet the board, I’ll know whether the picture is finished—or if there are still blank spots that need filling in.”
I climbed into the car.
On the way, David briefed me on the developments so far.
By the time he finished, we had already arrived at Novo Nordisk.
“I’ll wait for you out here. This won’t take long.”
“Alright then. I’ll trust you.”
Leaving behind David, who gave me a confident thumbs-up, I entered Novo Nordisk.
The CEO himself came to greet me and quickly escorted me into the boardroom.
“It’s an honor to meet you again. Thanks to our insulin partnership with Novo Nordisk, Centurion has achieved significant growth in Asia. Taewoo Group will continue to invest heavily in advancing the pharmaceutical industry in the region.”
I opened with words of gratitude—part of the plan David and I had laid out in the car.
The lower I bowed, the more Novo Nordisk would see me as a gullible partner.
“Taewoo Group’s collaboration has also brought great benefits to Novo Nordisk. We look forward to maintaining this mutually profitable partnership for many years.”
“The feeling is mutual. Beyond insulin, we’d like to manufacture and distribute a wide range of drugs together with Novo Nordisk.”
“For Taewoo Group, our doors will always remain open.”
The board meeting began in a warm and friendly mood.
No surprise there—thanks to the exclusive insulin sales rights in Asia, Novo Nordisk had been reaping a handsome profit.
They didn’t even manufacture the drug themselves.
All they had done was hand over the sales rights, and in return they received enormous royalties every quarter. Who could possibly be unhappy about that?
“Taewoo Group and Centurion have learned a great deal through our collaboration with Novo Nordisk. We are truly grateful for the expertise you’ve shared, which we could never have acquired in Korea.”
“Drug development may sound simple in words, but in reality, it involves a very complex process. Just observing from the sidelines is not enough to absorb all the know-how.”
A man with a yellow beard suddenly cut in.
That must be Director Eriksen, the one David had told me about.
As planned, I pretended to show great interest in Eriksen’s words.
“That’s exactly what I regret. I would love to observe the process of drug development more closely, but I’ve felt it would be far too presumptuous to ask. Every company is, after all, wary of leaking technology. Even Taewoo Group goes to great lengths to guard its patents and proprietary knowledge.”
“Of course, stealing technology would be a serious problem. But if you pay a fair price to acquire knowledge or learn research methods, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Eriksen skillfully steered the conversation in just the right direction.
I raised my voice as if I had just been presented with an extraordinary opportunity.
“Are you saying that as long as we pay a fair price, we can really gain access to your drug development know-how? Taewoo Group is more than ready to compensate Novo Nordisk fairly.”
“Are you perhaps interested in the drug we’ve been developing recently?”
“If you mean the new diabetes treatment, of course—we’re very interested.”
“We are preparing to halt development on this particular drug and pursue a new approach. Which means we may be open to selling the full rights and research data for the existing one.”
I tilted my head slightly, scanning the faces around the boardroom.
Eriksen’s remarks implied that Novo Nordisk was about to abandon the current project.
The rest of the board seemed displeased by this, as if they felt his comments put them in a weaker position for negotiation.
But Eriksen was working hard on my behalf.
So if he had slipped, it was only right that I step in to cover for him.
“Even if the current drug has issues, that doesn’t matter. The rights and information surrounding it are invaluable resources to us. Taewoo Group would like to purchase them.”
“Hmm. Well, those materials are of great importance to Novo Nordisk as well. Halting development doesn’t mean the project failed. It only means we’ve discovered a better direction to pursue.”
“Of course. But this drug has already gone as far as clinical trials, hasn’t it? That process is essential to us. Only by learning the process can we create successful outcomes.”
That was enough of my little performance to stoke their interest.
By now, I had made it abundantly clear that Taewoo Group wanted to acquire the drug rights.
The board members began to ease their frowns.
I could almost see them running calculations in their heads, estimating how much they might be able to extract from me.
“As you know, drug development requires enormous investment. Therefore, the fair market price has been set quite high.”
“How high are we talking?”
“The total investment into this drug was 1.4 billion dollars. Wouldn’t half of that be a fair price?”
Half of 1.4 billion meant 700 million dollars.
That was nearly 900 billion won—far too high for a drug riddled with side effects.
Of course, the Novo Nordisk board knew that just as well. This was simply their way of opening negotiations at the highest possible number.
“That’s excessive. I don’t doubt that you spent 1.4 billion dollars, but much of that was invested across multiple drug projects, wasn’t it?”
“There’s some truth to that, yes. But this is still the only way to rapidly acquire Novo Nordisk’s know-how. If it weren’t Taewoo Group—an established and trusted partner—we would never sell, not even for several billions more.”
Now this was the essence of negotiation.
There had to be push and pull, give and take. Only then could both sides walk away satisfied, with no lingering resentment.
“Then perhaps I can make you a counteroffer.”
“Please, by all means.”
“Taewoo Group will purchase the rights for one billion dollars. In exchange, I’d like to eliminate the insulin royalties.”
There’s nothing more painful than watching money drain away through royalties.
Of course, the royalties themselves weren’t worth a full billion dollars, but as part of a package deal with the drug rights, the value more than justified it.
“Please give us a moment.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
“No need. This won’t take long.”
I stayed quietly in my seat.
Director Eriksen pulled out a calculator, punched in some numbers, and then walked over to the chairman to jot figures down on a notepad.
He was probably running the profit-and-loss calculations.
Comparing the royalties they would earn over the next ten years against a one-time payment of one billion dollars.
He seemed to be showing the chairman which option would be more profitable.
The chairman and Eriksen whispered back and forth.
When the math was settled, Eriksen returned to his seat.
“Not a bad arrangement. We’ll agree to the deal: full rights and research data for the drug, along with the removal of insulin royalties.”
“Since I’ve come all the way to Denmark, I’d like to finalize everything today. The finer details can be handled by our respective staff, but I’d prefer we conclude the framework of the agreement now.”
“We wouldn’t want to trouble someone of your stature to return again. Very well, our legal teams will confer and begin drafting the contract immediately.”
I had already sent our staff ahead to Denmark to prepare for this day.
From Novo Nordisk’s perspective, the agreement seemed very favorable to them, so the contract was drafted largely on our terms.
“It came together faster than expected.”
“Once it’s signed, Taewoo Group will wire one billion dollars directly to Novo Nordisk’s account.”
Scratch, scratch.
We signed the contract at the same time.
From that moment, all rights to the new drug belonged to me.
The drug’s value was at least 300 trillion won.
In other words, I had purchased a drug worth 300 trillion for only about 1.2 trillion won.
It was a deal with a 300-fold return.
And it wasn’t just about the direct financial gain. Once the added value was factored in, it meant a profit in the thousands of times over.
I returned to Korea carrying good news from Denmark.
In my absence, Vice Chairman Han had been running Taewoo Group. I had given him full authority, especially over matters related to short selling in China.
“Congratulations on securing such a great deal.”
“It’s not over yet. What matters now is how Centurion analyzes this and completes the new drug.”
“If we can just undo the corrupted data, development should be quick, don’t you think?”
It was Director Chun who had corrupted the information.
Which meant it was also possible to restore it.
“Once the data is recovered, the rest will depend on Centurion’s capabilities.”
“Centurion isn’t globally recognized yet, but we do have strong talent. I expect development will be completed in a short time.”
“That would be ideal. So, what’s the situation in China?”
At that, Vice Chairman Han’s face lit up.
Was this what a miner’s expression looked like upon striking gold?
“Warning signs are bursting out everywhere. It feels just like Korea right before the IMF crisis.”
“Back then, we lacked the strength and went bankrupt, but China won’t collapse that far.”
“I agree. Still, I believe China is heading into an economic crisis on par with the Lehman Brothers collapse—serious enough to spark fears of a global financial panic.”
Everything was connected.
China’s economic crisis would trigger a chain of events.
When the economy falters, consumption naturally drops. That in turn drags down a wide range of industries.
Most of all, shipping.
The day when Hyunjin Shipping would fall into my hands was close.
But for that to happen, I had to make this short-selling move a success.
“Remember, this short-selling isn’t aimed at just any country. It’s China, a communist state.”
“Are you worried about them concealing information?”
“No one trusts the numbers released by the Chinese government. Even if a crisis hits, they’ll do everything they can to cover it up.”
“But once sixty billion dollars’ worth of short-selling hits the market, there’s nothing China can do.”
Vice Chairman Han brimmed with confidence.
And why not? A sixty-billion-dollar short position could topple most countries. Even China would struggle to withstand such pressure, especially with multiple crises already weighing on it.
“We’re almost there now. Don’t loosen your grip until the very end.”
“I’ll keep the tension as tight as a bowstring!”
***
June 1, 2015.
This was the promised day.
Every financial firm housed in the Financial Tower had agreed to strike at the Chinese stock market. Today was D-DAY.
And the moment the markets opened—
An avalanche of short positions poured in all at once.
“Chairman! The market dropped the instant trading began!”
“Billions will evaporate in a single day. Capture as much of it as possible and move it into our accounts.”
“All of Taewoo Securities’ staff are on standby!”
For this one day, Taewoo Securities was working under different banners.
Some had disguised themselves as the Korean branch of a fintech bank, others operated under the name of Quantum Fund.
It was all to avoid giving the impression that Taewoo Securities itself was spearheading the attack on China.
A last-ditch effort to preserve some semblance of goodwill with Beijing.
But once this operation succeeded, there would be no need for such disguises ever again.
