"I heard the demand forecast results came out quite well?"
Seok-won, sitting with one leg crossed, asked the question.
From the sofa to his right, Executive Director Yoon Ki-hoon replied with a pleasant smile.
"Yes. Based on the demand forecast conducted for institutional investors, the offering price has been set at eighteen dollars per share — the highest within the expected range of fifteen to eighteen dollars."
"At eighteen dollars per share, that puts the market capitalization at over nine hundred sixty million dollars."
"Exactly nine hundred sixty-seven point five million dollars," Yoon corrected politely.
"That's an amount that would easily place the company among the top tiers if it were listed on the domestic stock market."
"Indeed."
Leaning slightly forward, Yoon displayed a confident, positive attitude.
"Considering the immense liquidity and the strength of the dot-com boom — which far surpass those of our domestic market — everyone expects the stock price to soar well above the offering price once it's listed."
Seok-won gave a small nod in agreement.
"With the current climate, even companies with just 'dot-com' or 'net' in their names see their stock prices jump overnight. Given how well the demand forecast turned out, the first day of trading should yield excellent results."
At that point, Director Yoo Hyun-seok, seated to the left, joined in the conversation.
"Unlike those hollow companies that merely bear the 'dot-com' name, Modunet is a genuine internet enterprise engaged in high-speed internet services here in Korea. That's why investors' interest will be even stronger."
"I share Director Yoo's opinion," Seok-won agreed.
In reality, Modunet was hailed as "Korea's AT&T," and on its first day of trading, its stock price doubled from the offering price, marking a spectacular debut on the NASDAQ.
But unfortunately, that glory didn't last long.
When the dot-com bubble burst, competition in Korea's high-speed internet market intensified to a fever pitch. The company began suffering heavy losses, and within just three years, its stock plummeted to fifty cents per share.
Considering that it had once soared above eighty-four dollars at its peak, the crash was nothing short of catastrophic.
The stock chart perfectly captured the greed and madness that defined the dot-com bubble era.
"If the IPO proceeds smoothly, Modunet will become the first Korean company to go public directly on the NASDAQ rather than being listed on the Korean stock exchange, unlike other Korean firms that issued ADRs in New York."
"That's correct."
Although companies like POSCO and KEPCO were already traded on the New York Stock Exchange, they did so through ADRs — American Depositary Receipts — representing portions of their Seoul-listed shares.
"And the ticker symbol has been set as KOREA."
Ticker symbols are short abbreviations used to uniquely identify a company's stock on the exchange.
"To secure that ticker, I heard they deliberately registered the company name as Korea Modunet when applying to NASDAQ," Yoon Ki-hoon said proudly.
But knowing all too well how Modunet's story would eventually end, Seok-won could only hide a bitter expression.
"If things go as planned, even based on the offering price, the valuation gain is expected to exceed one hundred billion won," said Director Yoo Hyun-seok.
Leaning back slightly, Seok-won asked,
"Our stake in Modunet is ten percent, right?"
"That's right. For this IPO, it's been agreed that a total of 18.1 percent of the company's shares — including both existing and newly issued stock — will be released to the market."
Executive Director Yoon Ki-hoon looked straight at Seok-won and continued speaking.
"However, according to your instructions, we've decided not to sell a single share. We'll retain our entire stake."
"Good. Once the company goes public, the stock price will likely rise, so there's no reason to sell cheaply at the offering price."
At that, Director Yoo Hyun-seok's expression grew slightly uneasy as he cautiously glanced at Seok-won.
"That's true, but… if the stock turns weak during the lock-up period, we might end up taking a loss. That's what concerns me a bit."
The lock-up period was a restriction imposed to stabilize the stock market — it prevented major shareholders from selling their holdings for a certain time following an IPO.
"How long is the lock-up period?"
"One month from the listing date," Yoo replied.
Recalling past events, Seok-won thought for a moment and then spoke reassuringly.
"Given how the U.S. market is surging under the dot-com frenzy, it's unlikely the stock will decline within that time frame. There's nothing to worry about."
Hearing that from Seok-won — someone with a deeper understanding of the U.S. stock market than anyone else — the two men quickly set aside their worries and made no further objections.
"Oh, and Modunet reached out," Yoon added, shifting the mood. "They'd like you to attend the Opening Bell ceremony on the first day of trading and personally ring the bell."
The Opening Bell ceremony was a symbolic event in which representatives of newly listed companies rang the bell to mark the start of trading on the stock exchange.
Setting down his teacup, Seok-won furrowed his brows slightly.
"They want me to ring the Opening Bell?"
Catching his gaze, Yoon quickly clarified.
"Ah, of course, you wouldn't be doing it alone. You'd ring the bell together with Modunet's CEO and other key officials."
Yoo Hyun-seok chimed in as well.
"It's a symbolic gesture, yes — but the more attention it draws, the more it can help the stock price. I think they're hoping to promote the fact that the company is backed by you — known on Wall Street as one of the top investors."
"I'm sure that's exactly their intention," Yoon agreed. "Rather than just being labeled as another Korean high-speed internet company, being recognized as an IT firm personally invested in by you would make a strong impression on American investors."
Yoon Ki-hoon nodded in agreement.
Seok-won was a powerful figure on Wall Street, known by the nickname the Midas of Investments. Every IT venture he had backed so far — from Netscape to Yahoo and beyond — had hit the jackpot, achieving extraordinary success.
Just his appearance at the Opening Bell ceremony would undoubtedly attract enormous attention.
The executives at Modunet were well aware of Seok-won's influence. During the NASDAQ listing review, they had even emphasized that a major Wall Street investor held a ten-percent stake in the company.
Frankly speaking, flying to New York to stand at the Opening Bell ceremony wasn't a difficult task.
But the real problem was this: Modunet had ambitiously listed on NASDAQ under the ticker symbol "KOREA," only to face delisting a few years later when the dot-com bubble burst — the company's glory fading as quickly as it had risen.
If Seok-won attended the ceremony and rang the bell himself, he knew that scene would forever be cited as a symbol of NASDAQ listing failures — a stain on his legacy. For that reason, he couldn't agree too hastily.
"When exactly is the scheduled listing date?" he asked.
"The date hasn't been finalized yet, but it's expected to be sometime in the third week of November," Yoon replied.
Seok-won put on a deliberately regretful expression.
"It's a historic occasion — the first Korean company to list directly on NASDAQ. I'd really like to attend. Unfortunately, I have another important commitment around that time, so it'll be difficult for me to be away."
"Oh… is that so?"
From what Yoon knew, there were no particularly important events scheduled for that week. He found it strange but couldn't question his superior further. Instead, he simply bowed his head and replied politely.
"Understood. I'll let Modunet know that it may be difficult for you to attend."
"Make sure to tell them gently so they don't take it the wrong way."
"Of course."
Yoon then lifted his head again and naturally shifted the topic.
"Also, thanks to the government's Cyber 21 Policy — launched late last year to promote PC ownership among all citizens — Hancom Innovation's stock hit the daily upper limit yesterday, breaking past ten thousand won per share and setting a new record high."
Hancom Innovation was one of Korea's leading software development companies, founded in October 1990 after releasing Hangul 1.0, the first Korean-language word processor, in 1989.
Some of its co-founders later branched out to establish companies such as MC Soft, achieving great success and laying the groundwork for Korea's venture business scene.
While Microsoft had taken over the global word processor market following the release of Windows 3.1, Korea remained the only country where Microsoft struggled — thanks to Hancom Innovation's continued dominance in the domestic market.
However, even Hancom Innovation was not immune to crisis. The IMF financial storm hit, and Microsoft's aggressive expansion with its Office suite pushed Hancom Innovation to the brink of collapse.
With its management deteriorating and the company backed into a corner, Hancom Innovation even considered selling the source code of its Hangul word processor — the very foundation of the company — to Microsoft as a last resort.
But just then, under Seok-won's direction, Daheung Venture Capital made a massive investment, allowing Hancom Innovation to protect its Hangul word processor and narrowly escape ruin.
"Since Hancom Innovation was selected as the software provider for the government's mass-produced, affordable PCs — expected to number in the hundreds of thousands — its sales have surged, driving up its stock price," Yoon Ki-hoon reported, his eyes filled with admiration.
"Once again, your foresight has proven to be absolutely correct, Chairman."
Seok-won, however, responded calmly.
"For a large-scale government initiative like this, it's only natural that not just hardware but also software contracts go first to domestic firms. Given that Hancom Innovation is the only Korean company with a product capable of competing against Microsoft, being chosen as the key supplier was practically inevitable."
"Quite right, sir."
As Yoon agreed enthusiastically, Director Yoo Hyun-seok, seated on the left sofa, chuckled.
"I remember being puzzled when you decided to invest a staggering ten billion won into a struggling Hancom Innovation. I didn't expect you had already foreseen this far ahead. Your insight is truly remarkable."
At that moment, Yoon cautiously offered his opinion.
"At the beginning of this year, the stock was at four hundred won per share, but now it's over ten thousand — that's a twenty-fivefold increase. Perhaps we should consider selling a portion of our stake?"
Given the example of Goldbank and the fact that the rise had been driven by short-term government policy momentum, there was a real risk of a sudden reversal. Yoon was suggesting partial profit-taking as a safety measure.
But Seok-won shook his head.
"As the internet continues to expand, PC adoption will keep increasing — which means Hancom Innovation's stock will likely remain strong for quite some time. So let's not sell any shares yet. We'll hold our position at least until the end of this year."
"You mean, even after a twenty-fivefold increase, you expect it to climb further?" Yoon asked, incredulous.
Executive Director Yoon Ki-hoon asked back in disbelief.
Sitting beside him, Director Yoo Hyun-seok also looked at Seok-won with an expression that seemed to say, "Surely not…"
Seeing their reactions, Seok-won grinned,
"That's right. If things go as I expect, the price will easily break past fifty thousand won per share."
Yoon Ki-hoon's eyes widened in astonishment at Seok-won's confident tone.
"If that happens, the stock will have soared more than a hundredfold compared to its price at the start of the year. Surely it can't climb that high, can it?"
"The scariest thing in the stock market," Seok-won said, lowering his voice, "is greed. When that greed reaches its peak, it shatters every bit of market logic—and the stock price shoots straight up to the heavens."
His words carried a heavy weight.
"Right now," he continued quietly, "KOSDAQ is in exactly that state."
"Th-that's…"
Both Yoon Ki-hoon and Yoo Hyun-seok swallowed dryly, a vague unease tightening in their chests.