Chapter 8

Risk Disclosure

At nine in the morning, Cheolho and Han Soyeong sat side by side on the office sofa. Cheolho had brought three rolls of convenience-store kimbap, and Han Soyeong had brought her clear file. It was their first time meeting, but when Cheolho held out a roll of kimbap to her, Han Soyeong hesitated a moment, then took it.

I sat at my desk and slid two copies of the contract across. I'd written them overnight. Three pages of sales contract, one page of settlement agreement.

"Before you read, there's something I need to tell you first."

Cheolho, peeling the foil off his kimbap, and Han Soyeong, about to pick up the contract, both looked up at the same time.

"With this contract, you two give up the 140 million in deposits Gap-dol owes you, and in exchange you get land Gap-dol owns. An abandoned factory at the foot of the hill in Sillim 9-dong. There's a dungeon underneath."

Cheolho stopped mid-chew and, without even managing to swallow, asked:

"That dungeon—what grade is it?"

"On the certified appraisal, F."

The office went quiet. Han Soyeong set her clear file down on her knees, and Cheolho's mouth fell half open.

"...F? Boss, our deposits are 140 million, and you want us to trade them for an F-rank dungeon?"

"Yes."

"My 7-2 was an F too! That's the whole reason we're in this mess!"

It made sense for Cheolho's voice to rise. I waited until it came down, and Han Soyeong, without a word, picked up the contract and turned to the first page.

"On the certified appraisal, it's F."

Once I'd made sure Cheolho's voice had come all the way down, I said the same thing again.

"But I went and looked at it myself. To my eyes, it isn't an F."

"Your eyes?"

"Yes."

"Do you have an appraiser's license, boss?"

"No."

Cheolho looked at me, and Han Soyeong raised her eyes from the contract too. I didn't avoid their eyes. Look away here and it's over—that's something I learned from ten years at the contract table.

I couldn't tell them I saw listing windows in my eyes. It was something I'd never managed to say even to Cheolho, who'd asked me on the first day if it was a cobweb.

"Cheolho, remember when we went to 7-2 the first day? The appraisal said C, but I saw an F that day. I just didn't say so."

"...What? Why not?"

"I wanted to check first. Ms. Han's 4-11 too—the appraisal says C, but to my eyes it was F. Bongcheon 2-8 was the same. All three carry the same appraiser's seal. If you got your dungeons re-appraised right now, they'd all come back F."

Cheolho closed his mouth, and Han Soyeong spoke slowly.

"So this time it's the opposite? The appraisal says F, but it's actually higher?"

"I'd put it at B."

"B?"

"And there are mid-grade mana stones buried underneath. Ones nobody's mined yet."

Han Soyeong set the contract down on the table and put her finger on the purchase price. 140 million.

"Boss, how much is a B-rank worth?"

"At this neighborhood's market rate, 500 million minimum. More if mana stones come out."

"Then why would Gap-dol sell it for 140 million?"

"Because he thinks it's an F too. It leaks. The first price Gap-dol named was 100 million. I added the forty."

"...Why?"

"Because your two deposits together come to 140 million. It has to match exactly, so we have something to say to Gap-dol. You've paid back everything you owed the victims, in land. We're done now. That's exactly what Gap-dol wants to hear most."

Han Soyeong read the contract all the way through, and Cheolho gave up on page one and ate his kimbap. I drank two coffee mixes waiting for them to finish.

Han Soyeong turned through all three pages of the sales contract, and her finger stopped on the last page, the settlement agreement.

"The buyers shall bring no civil or criminal claims relating to 7-2 and 4-11."

Han Soyeong read the line aloud, then looked at me.

"This means we don't press charges. Against Gap-dol."

"Yes."

"Then he doesn't get punished?"

"Not for your two cases."

Han Soyeong's lips pressed tight, and on the back of the hand gripping the clear file on her knees, the veins stood out.

"I want to see that man go to prison. The money matters, but. That night, my husband didn't say a single word to me. He didn't even get angry. That was scarier."

I didn't have anything to say to that, so I didn't answer. At twenty-four, I'd wanted to see that lecturer go to prison too. That lecturer is on TV now.

"Ms. Han."

"Yes."

"If you get the money, you have to give up the punishment. If you get him punished, you don't get the money. You can't have both. Because Gap-dol has no money. Except this one piece of land."

"..."

"But look at the proviso below. This agreement is limited to the above two matters of the two buyers."

Han Soyeong looked down at the contract again and read the proviso. Once, then twice.

"...So the victims in Bongcheon and Sadang can still press charges."

"Yes. The people who commented on Cheolho's post. If they press charges, Gap-dol ends up at the police station anyway. Your two cases just won't be part of it."

Han Soyeong went without speaking for a long time. Meanwhile Cheolho finished his kimbap and folded up the foil, and the only sound in the office was the second hand of the clock.

"And there's one more thing I need to tell you. The risky part."

I pulled over the contract in front of Han Soyeong and put my finger on special clause 7 on page 3.

"My eyes could be wrong. I was right on the two dungeons where I already knew the answer, but that doesn't mean I'll be right this time. If this dungeon really is an F, you two will have traded a 140-million-won claim for a piece of leaky land. And because of clause 7, you can't ask to undo it, either."

"..."

"But that claim—can you collect on it right now? Gap-dol is transferring 7-2 to a straw owner on Wednesday. And 4-11 sooner or later. Then what you're holding is paper."

Still clutching the foil, Cheolho asked:

"What about you, boss? What do you get? We agreed on a ten percent success fee."

"I can't take it in cash. You two won't be getting any cash either."

I turned to the last page of the contract. One blank line under the buyer box. Something was written there faintly in pencil.

"Instead, pay me in equity. Twenty percent of the land and the dungeon. Instead of the ten percent success fee. Yes, I'm asking for double. In exchange, if my eyes are wrong and it's an F, my twenty percent is an F too. I go down with you."

Han Soyeong looked straight at me. The eyes of someone who puts index tabs in her clear file—the eyes of someone weighing things on a scale.

"If your eyes are right, your twenty percent is worth at least 100 million."

"If they're right."

"That's what you were after from the start, wasn't it?"

I didn't answer, but she was right that I was after it. Ever since I sat on the factory floor and thought about putting my name in the buyer box, in small print.

Han Soyeong watched that silence for about two seconds, then picked a pen out of the pen holder on my desk.

"Fifteen."

"...The twenty is for the risk—"

"Fifteen. In exchange, you manage this land. I have to go to work, and Cheolho's F-rank, so he can't manage a dungeon. And no management fee."

Next to her, Cheolho nodded vigorously. Whether he understood everything he was nodding at, I couldn't say.

Last time it was seven and a half; this time, fifteen. Every time, this woman countered with three-quarters of what I asked.

"...Fifteen. Management included."

Han Soyeong wrote her name in the buyer box in neat handwriting, and Cheolho wrote Na Cheolho next to it in a wobbly scrawl.

On the blank line below, I erased the 20 I'd penciled in, and wrote 15 in pen. Bong Mansu.

"Now there's only Gap-dol left."

Han Soyeong said it while slipping her copy of the contract into her clear file and sticking on one index tab.

"Will Gap-dol sign this?"

"He will."

"How can you be sure?"

I answered while making the third copy of the contract.

"Because Gap-dol's going to laugh when he sees it. A couple of idiots showed up to buy a leaky F-rank for 140 million."

☾