TOIGC 26

Chapter 26  …

Goal: 4 Years Later (3)

“Come on, Colson. Are you still going to be doing this when you’re ninety?”

“I fully intend to, sir.”

“Unbelievable. I’m going to be playing soldier even when I’m a hundred.”

General Custer let out a dry chuckle, but a warm smile lingered in his eyes and around the corners of his mouth.

At least, for now.

“Anyway, I only flew out here because you practically begged me to meet your grandson. So, is this the boy?”

“Yes, sir. I’m truly sorry for making you travel such a long distance.”

“Hardly a hardship. I flew first class and rested the whole way.”

Naturally, General Custer didn’t reside in Korea. To secure his presence, Yoongi had personally provided a first-class ticket, a chauffeur, and a luxury Mercedes arranged through Brigadier General Colson’s connections, sending them directly to the airport.

Given the lavish, respectful treatment, Custer still viewed Yoongi with a relatively favorable eye.

“Hello, General. My name is Choi Yoongi. People in the States usually call me ‘Yoon.'”

“You certainly look like a sharp kid. But why did you ask to see me? Yoon, why did you want to meet?”

The warmth in Custer’s eyes vanished, replaced by the sharp, analytical gaze of a veteran commander sizing up a target.

“Since we shouldn’t discuss this standing up, perhaps we could take a seat, sir?”

At Yoongi’s suggestion, Custer nodded and sat down at the suite’s dining table. Yoongi smoothly pulled out Custer’s chair for him—a subtle touch of manners that earned a flicker of faint admiration from the retired general, who hadn’t expected such composure from a young child.

“Hmm. Colson, how old did you say your grandson was?”

“He’s ten, sir.”

“Korean age or American age?”

“Korean age, sir. Born in 1968.”

“Which makes him eight or nine by American standards.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Hmm.”

Brigadier General Colson was practically sweating bullets. While he knew his grandson’s sole motive for inviting Custer was business, Custer was a figure of immense authority—someone Colson found intimidating to handle. Half-spaced out from anxiety, Colson merely answered when spoken to, leaving the conversation at the table entirely between Custer and Yoongi.

“Alright, let me ask you once more. Why did you ask to meet me?”

Custer fixated on Yoongi with an intense, serious gaze—not one reserved for a child. While this was a courtesy to Colson, it was also a double-edged sword: if the meeting turned out to be a waste of time, Colson’s standing with Custer would vanish in an instant.

“I would like to buy your protection, General Custer.”

“You want to buy… my protection?”

It was a strikingly unexpected yet concrete request. General Custer took a silent sip of the black tea sitting on the table.

“And what kind of protection would that be?”

“I have two grandfathers. One is Grandfather Colson here.”

“Right. My lifelong brother-in-arms and one of my most cherished subordinates.”

Custer drew a clear, deliberate line.

“And my other grandfather is currently running a business in Korea—Choi Gihyeon.”

“Never heard of him.”

It sounded arrogant, but Custer had the pedigree to back it up. The only names worth remembering in his book were chairmen of the top three—or at most top five—conglomerates in the country. Samwoo Group, currently scraping by at the 100th spot in corporate rankings, didn’t even blip on his radar. Without Colson’s leverage, Choi Gihyeon wouldn’t have been able to book a simple tea time with a man like Custer, let alone a private meeting.

“Yes, it’s only natural that you wouldn’t know him, sir. That’s precisely why I asked Grandfather Colson to arrange this meeting—so Samwoo Group can become a brand whose name you do remember.”

“Hmm.”

Custer nodded slowly, acknowledging the logical reply.

“The protection I’m seeking is a shield that will allow me to run my business in Korea safely.”

“From where I’m standing, it looks like your family is doing plenty of business already.”

“It’s not enough.”

“Not enough?”

Yoongi nodded.

“My grandfather’s company, Samwoo Group, is barely hovering around 100th place in Korea. To climb higher, we have to compete against mega-corporations that have already forged ironclad ties with the President. If we push too hard without leverage, the government will stamp us out.”

“That is certainly a real risk in Korea.”

Custer had spent time stationed with the US Forces in Korea, receiving extensive briefings on how the local government wielded absolute authority over corporations and private citizens alike. Because of that background, he recognized the terrifying logic in the ten-year-old’s assessment. Internally, however, he was quietly stunned that such an analysis was coming from a child.

“Be that as it may, why do you think I can act as your shield?”

“Because I learned it through Grandfather Colson.”

“Through Colson?”

“Yes. Thanks to Grandfather Colson’s influence, we were able to grow to this point. But to scale even further, we came to the conclusion that we need a shield from someone higher up the chain than him. That’s why I asked him to make this difficult request and bring you here.”

“You’re a brilliant kid.”

“Thank you, General.”

Custer openly acknowledged Yoongi’s sharpness, but he didn’t lower his guard just yet.

“However, I do have one question. If you want my protection, this is a transaction. But no matter how I look at it, I doubt you can afford the price tag required to protect your grandfather’s entire conglomerate.”

“You’re right, sir. I don’t have that kind of capital.”

Colson turned pale at the confession, but Custer merely leaned in with an intrigued ‘Oh?’, eagerly anticipating the kid’s next words. He knew a child this sharp wouldn’t make such an admission without a backup plan.

“Because I’m not looking for a shield to protect my grandfather’s entire conglomerate.”

“Then what exactly are you asking me to protect?”

“My company.”

“Your company? That means it’s infinitely smaller than your grandfather’s firm, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Why should I bother taking on the headache of protecting such a tiny operation? The payout would be peanuts.”

“Because you won’t have to lift a finger, yet the payout will be substantial.”

“I won’t have to lift a finger?”

Custer found himself increasingly captivated by the conversation. It was rare to encounter a child who spoke with such razor-sharp precision and polite confidence in front of him.

“Allow me to show you something, sir.”

Yoongi stood up, reached into his bag, and pulled out a map alongside a stack of legal documents.

“All the plots marked on this map belong to me.”

“This much land?”

“Yes. And I’m going to build a department store here.”

“A department store…”

“Exclusively for the US military personnel stationed in Korea.”

“Ho…?”

A genuine reaction finally broke through Custer’s stoic demeanor.

“A premium department store built solely for US troops. The shelves will be stocked primarily with American imports, making it the ultimate destination for soldiers who currently have very few entertainment options in Korea.”

Even Brigadier General Colson’s eyes widened in realization as he listened.

“If I import US goods strictly for American military personnel, the Korean government will grant a certain level of clearance. But there is a much more foolproof way to secure absolute immunity.”

“And that ‘foolproof way’ is my shield?”

Yoongi nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Didn’t you say I wouldn’t have to do any actual work, though?”

“That’s correct. I would like you to accept a title as an Outside Executive Director.”

Under standard corporate law, a small firm only needed a single internal director. Yet Yoongi was specifically offering the title of Outside Executive Director to lock in Custer’s authority. It was an honorary executive role that required no office hours—in plain terms, a position where one simply drew a paycheck for lending their name.

With General Custer registered as an Outside Executive Director, no government or military faction—no matter who pulled the strings—would dare mess with Yoongi’s operations.

“I see. So you put my name on the executive board, and pay me a handsome salary?”

“Yes. But I know that alone isn’t enough compensation for a man of your standing.”

“You catch on fast.”

Recognizing the boy’s sharp intellect, Custer dropped the posturing and decided to match his directness.

“Which brings me to my next offer: Do you happen to have a family member you’re concerned about—someone with potential who hasn’t quite found their footing yet?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’d like to hire them as an Inside Director. Naturally, they won’t hold voting shares, but I can offer preferred shares depending on performance.”

“In short, you’re offering them a cushy, high-paying executive gig?”

“Precisely. Furthermore, as my business succeeds, the financial returns will scale up exponentially. If the business expands, even more members of your family will be able to live comfortably.”

“Hmm…”

It was undeniably an enticing offer.

Granted, Custer already possessed the political clout in the US to place his family anywhere he wanted, and anyone with a shred of talent could land a solid corporate job through his network. However, the proposal coming from Colson’s grandson was uniquely lucrative.

‘If I shove my kids into standard American corporations, they’ll spend their entire lives as middle managers. But if this kid actually possesses the talent I think he does…?’

Instead of starting as low-level corporate drones in America, his family members could step straight into the executive suite of an emerging firm in Korea. Better to be the head of a snake than the tail of a dragon.

‘Besides, I have zero downside here.’

All he had to do was lend his name to a single department store board. An executive director term was typically three years anyway; if things went south, he could simply resign and wash his hands of it.

‘And considering my history with Colson…’

With an 80% cold, calculated risk-benefit analysis and 20% loyalty to his old comrade Colson, Custer reached his verdict: approval.

“Very well. I will grant your ‘request.'”

Custer made sure to emphasize his dominant position right up to the end.

“Thank you for accepting my request, General.”

Yoongi, reading the room perfectly, didn’t push back for a second. Having Custer lend his name was an impossible milestone under normal circumstances—he had gotten exactly what he needed.

“Colson, why are you sitting there so quiet?”

“Ah—no, sir! I just felt it wasn’t my place to interrupt…”

Startled out of his trance, Colson offered an embarrassed laugh and reached for the teapot to refill Custer’s empty cup. Just then, the partially latched suite door swung open, and a blonde young girl stepped inside.

“Meryl, didn’t I tell you to wait downstairs?”

Despite his stern words, General Custer smiled warmly, guiding the girl named Meryl to sit right beside him.

“You remember her, don’t you, Colson? My granddaughter. They sent me two tickets, so I brought her along.”

“Ah… she came with you? Meryl, it’s Uncle Colson. Do you remember me?”

Meryl offered Colson a polite, slight bow.

“I guess Meryl and I aren’t that close yet, seeing how shy she’s acting…”

Custer shook his head at Colson’s comment.

“No, that’s not it. It’s because of your grandson.”

“Ah!”

Meryl had her head turned slightly away, clearly finding it difficult to look directly at Yoongi. Yoongi, however, was quietly observing her without making it obvious.

Wavy, waist-length blonde hair. A lovely dress that looked like it belonged on Alice in Wonderland. A dainty, slightly aloof expression.

She was strikingly pretty. She looked to be around thirteen or fourteen in Korean age.

“Colson, why don’t you and I step into the side room for a quick drink? It’s been too long.”

“Sounds wonderful, sir.”

Once Custer and Colson disappeared into the adjacent room, only Meryl and Yoongi remained at the main table.

Though she maintained a reserved, aloof posture, her expression betrayed subtle hints of boredom. Yoongi watched her for a brief moment, pondering his options, before quietly standing up.

“…?”

Seeing the only other person left in the room get up from the table, Meryl glanced sideways at Yoongi with a flicker of mild disappointment and curiosity.

Yoongi hadn’t left the room, however. Instead, he unzipped a somewhat heavy, hourglass-shaped case and carefully lifted out a violin.

‘Thank goodness I kept practicing in my spare time.’

He recalled a piece of advice from a young construction coworker in his past life—a guy who was notoriously smooth with women:

[“Look, as long as you have decent physical presentation, knowing how to play an instrument expands your dating playbook exponentially. It instantly locks in massive charm points.”]

While his current motive was purely pragmatic rather than romantic, Yoongi had taken up the violin in his spare time specifically to build rapport with people. This was the first time he was performing in front of anyone outside his immediate family.

He drew the bow across the strings, playing Sarabande—a soulful, melancholic Baroque dance piece.

As the quiet, haunting melody echoed softly throughout the suite, Meryl’s gaze gradually shifted toward Yoongi. Slowly, her head turned, and a faint, subtle blush spread across her cheeks.