» The Youngest Son of Sunyang
The Youngest Son of a Chaebol Family - Chapter 265
[265] The Secret Gallery 3
"Bette. How are secret transactions usually handled on the black market?"
"Once the artwork is appraised and confirmed to be authentic, payment is made in the seller's preferred method. For large sums, it's a bank transfer; otherwise, it's cash."
"What about contracts?"
Perhaps my question was foolish, for she let out a snort.
"It's literally the black market. There's no such thing as a contract."
I thought about my grandmother's way of doing business.
My grandmother employed forgery experts and even smuggling rings. It was uncertain if she'd create fakes to store this time, but if the paintings were to be brought here to New York, smuggling would be unavoidable.
Bette Porter, seeing me lost in thought, widened her large eyes.
"Are you perhaps suggesting that Sunyang Gallery would conduct business like a black market?"
"Yes. And they'll agree to almost any condition we set."
"No way! Why would an establishment like Sunyang Gallery do such a thing...? I can understand not making the deal public or keeping the contract details secret, but there'd be no reason for the transaction itself to be illegal, would there?"
How could a woman who had devoted her life solely to art understand a family like ours, a den of intrigue unlike any other?
"Bette. Even if you're curious, don't get nosy about unnecessary things. Just think about what we stand to gain from this deal. A sponsorship of three million dollars every year. And masterpieces that we might even be able to exhibit forever. We wouldn't want to miss out on this because of curiosity, would we?"
Though I spoke with a smile, Bette Porter, realizing it was a stern warning, closed her mouth with a stiff expression.
"Now, these are our proposed conditions. We'll make reasonable concessions to make things easier for them. We can even compromise on the price, but there's one thing we absolutely cannot budge on: the contract."
"But as I see it now, that seems impossible."
"No contract, no deal. Furthermore, that contract must bear the handwritten signature of Sunyang Gallery's top executive—not merely the nominal gallery director, but its true owner."
"The true owner? Who would that be?"
"The chairwoman of the Sunyang Arts Foundation."
She must have wanted to tear her hair out. Demanding the chairwoman's handwritten signature on an illegal transaction was tantamount to saying, "Let's not do business."
Before she could say anything, I raised my hand, silencing her.
"She will do it. A single transaction brings in six hundred million dollars. The chairwoman of the Sunyang Arts Foundation is not someone who would miss an opportunity like this."
"Do you know them? Ah, family...?"
"I told you. Unnecessary curiosity is forbidden."
She cautiously closed her mouth once more.
"Here's a tip: tell them this. 'We understand that Asian companies, especially those from Japan and Korea, often do not grant full authority to their representatives. We need direct confirmation of the top executive's decision to trust the deal.' Of course, emphasize that the contract will be kept strictly confidential and never disclosed. You can even stipulate a non-disclosure clause for the contract's contents within the agreement itself. This should be enough for them to accept."
"What if they refuse?"
"Insist that there will be no deal. Don't back down. Then you'll get the contract."
My grandmother, who couldn't possibly be unaware of the joint voting rights promised between Vice Chairman Jin Donggi and me, would undoubtedly pour all her money into accumulating even more Sunyang shares.
It was hard to imagine her rejecting such an enormous sum—six hundred billion won. Though she wouldn't like it, she would pick up the pen and clearly write her three-character name on the contract.
* * *
"Six hundred thirty million."
"Six hundred million dollars. This is a sober evaluation. If you want more than this, consign them to Christie's or Sotheby's. You'll certainly get more than six hundred thirty million. But considering the enormous commission fees the auction house will take, six hundred million dollars will be more practical, wouldn't it?"
Secretary Song observed Bette Porter's confident expression and realized her assessment was not mistaken.
"Please excuse me for a moment. It seems this is difficult for me to decide... I'll need to get approval."
"By all means."
Watching Secretary Song hastily pull out his mobile phone and step outside, Bette Porter let out a wry chuckle. Jin Dojun's words hadn't been wrong by an inch. He had flown all the way to America but held no decision-making authority whatsoever.
It was hard for her to understand, given her common sense. If one lacked any decision-making power, why bother coming all the way on a business trip? Wasn't it common practice for someone, even if not the ultimate decision-maker, to at least be delegated authority and take full responsibility when attending meetings and negotiating?
As she pondered this, Secretary Song, who had stepped out, returned with a smile.
"Alright. Six hundred million dollars it is."
Bette Porter barely managed to suppress a laugh at the man's magnanimous demeanor, as if the decision had been his own.
"Thank you for the difficult decision. Have we overcome one hurdle now?"
"Pardon? What do you mean by that...?"
"Well, I just have a feeling we'll have to overcome many extremely difficult hurdles to finalize this deal."
Bette Porter took a breath and then spoke to Secretary Song.
"Judging by what you said last time, Mr. Song, this doesn't seem to be a normal transaction, so I'll lay out our terms first. After all, my career in this field seems to be far longer than yours."
She recalled Jin Dojun's thoughts and words as she spoke.
"The payment for the artworks will be wired to the account of your choosing. We will send a 10% down payment first, and we would like to receive the artworks here at the gallery's vault. Of course, they will need to undergo appraisal by our experts, won't they? Once the appraisal is complete and authenticity is confirmed, we will immediately send the remaining balance. And naturally, this will be a secret transaction. How does that sound?"
Secretary Song's face brightened.
"You're quick-witted. That's precisely the method we prefer."
"Since we've agreed to your preferences, I trust you'll grant me a very small condition of my own."
"Please state it."
"We'll need to draw up a contract exactly detailing what I just said, won't we? The method of payment, the timing of artwork delivery..."
"A c-contract...?"
"I'm not finished speaking yet."
At her firm tone, Secretary Song closed his mouth.
"Finally, please provide a handwritten signature on the contract. Such uncertain, secret transactions require verification from the artwork's owner."
"The artwork's owner is Sunyang Gallery's..."
"No. I'm referring to the *true* owner. The very person Mr. Song just spoke with on the phone. The chairwoman of the Sunyang Arts Foundation, Madam Lee."
Secretary Song could think of no reply, merely blinking his eyes.
"Of course, I will obtain the signature personally. If it's inconvenient for Madam Lee to come to New York, our representative will travel to Korea."
"That would likely be difficult, no, impossible."
He managed to speak, but Bette Porter replied with a calm smile.
"We're talking about wiring six hundred million dollars to an untraceable account. I don't think my demand is unreasonable, do you? And we've agreed to all of your difficult requests. If you can't even manage a basic contract signature like this, what assurance do I have to proceed with this transaction?"
"Ah, no... that's not what I meant..."
Bette Porter cut him off with a brief wave of her hand.
"Forgive my bluntness, but you don't have decision-making authority, do you, Mr. Song? Perhaps you should call again right now and get approval? And please, make sure to convey this message: if my conditions are not accepted, this deal will be off."
Secretary Song, his face turning a dark, ashen color, pulled out his mobile phone once more and stepped outside.
* * *
"Seriously? Are you crazy? You're completely determined to take down your grandmother!"
"Why are you speaking so harshly, Uncle?"
"The moment she signs that contract, it's smuggling, *chaemyeong* accounts... no, wait. Six hundred million dollars means it's definitely an overseas account, so that's a violation of the Foreign Exchange Transactions Act. And finally, siphoning off the foundation's assets means embezzlement. For an amount like this, a suspended sentence would be impossible, wouldn't it? Even with the best lawyer, she's looking at five years."
Oh Sehyun, who was enjoying another vacation in New York, clicked his tongue in disbelief after hearing the full story.
"Wouldn't that be enough to force her into retirement?"
"Forced retirement, huh..."
Oh Sehyun still wore a dubious expression.
"But Dojun."
"Yes."
"If she holds the shares under *chaemyeong* accounts, it'll be hard to track them down, won't it? What if your grandmother grits her teeth and decides to do time? She can still move *chaemyeong* shares even from prison."
I chuckled. Oh Sehyun still didn't truly understand my family.
"Uncle."
"Hm?"
"My grandmother, Uncle, can't even stand a prosecutor's interrogation room, let alone prison. She's a woman who hasn't lifted a finger for over thirty years. She can't even sit down unless it's a Barcelona chair worth millions of won; do you think she'd sit in an interrogation room chair?"
"But... will she really sign the contract? Your family members, they never sign anything except for personnel matters, precisely to avoid responsibility."
"It's six hundred million dollars, Uncle. For someone who needs money, that amount is an immense temptation. She's selling all thirty of those expensive paintings in one go. If she were to sell them safely, one by one, it would take years. She absolutely cannot refuse."
My prediction would not be wrong. If she wouldn't sign herself, then I'd have to use another method. Plan B was a crude, unsophisticated approach, but what did it matter? It would also be amusing to show my pretentious grandmother the image of a brutish, unrestrained grandson.
* * *
"She handles things quite well."
"She has quite the reputation as a capable woman over there. The New York Art Center tried to scout her as a director, but she preferred to manage a smaller gallery where she could operate freely, disliking being bound by tradition and convention."
"Why do I have to listen to stories about how capable that woman is?"
"S-sorry, Madam."
The man reporting to Madam Pilok Lee hastily bowed his head.
"She can boast all she wants, but she's just a woman peddling paintings. That gallery is merely an intermediary. What gallery, whose purpose is exhibition, would pour six hundred million dollars into works it can't even display?"
Madam Pilok Lee was certain. This was an American magnate building a collection.
"All our paintings are being bought by a private individual. That woman is simply taking every precaution, intent on pocketing a hefty brokerage fee from this deal. If she loses credibility with a wealthy sponsor, her money-making days are over. She kicked aside the New York Art Center director position precisely because she couldn't make this kind of money there."
Madam Pilok Lee was a woman who believed that the only reason a competent and recognized individual would refuse an honorable position was solely for money.
The bowing man, carefully gauging her mood, cautiously opened his mouth.
"What should we do? Should I call the Insadong 'Wizard' and instruct him to get to work?"
"No, it's fine. When would he ever finish 30 pieces? He wouldn't even be able to complete them within the year. Contact Younggi and tell him to prepare a private jet. I'll take a breath of New York air for once."
"Yes, Madam Chairwoman. Will this matter also be handled in the same manner...?"
"Yes. And tell Secretary Song to arrange a dinner with the New York Consul General. I'll need their help, so I'll have to make some regrettable requests."
"Understood. I'll make arrangements to have your New York apartment thoroughly cleaned."
"No. There's no need for that. This time, I want to stay in a hotel."
"Yes, Madam Chairwoman."
As the man left, Madam Pilok Lee put on her reading glasses, opened a notebook, and after examining its tightly packed contents, picked up the receiver.
Upon hearing a polite voice from the other end of the line, she spoke in a brisk voice unbefitting her age.
"Sunyang Electronics, Sunyang Heavy Industries, Sunyang Life Insurance..."
After continuously naming Sunyang affiliates for a while, she closed the notebook and took off her glasses.
"Find out the stock prices and market volume fluctuations. Also, identify institutions capable of large-scale stock purchases."
Having ended the call, Madam Lee felt her heart pounding with excitement for the first time in a long while, thinking about the shares she could acquire with six hundred million dollars.