Even now, it’s not difficult to reach out to executives from public enterprises, former CEOs of securities firms, or current and former high-ranking officials from major banks and financial regulators. But I don’t particularly want to work with them, and collaborating with them tends to be exhausting for various reasons. Most of them were probably big shots when backed by the enormous organizations they belonged to, but once they retire, they inevitably seek a new ark to protect them. Like students who skipped their summer homework and suddenly face the end of vacation, retired executives from the top five banks or public enterprises who managed to hold out until the end of their term aren’t seen as so impressive in the open market.
It’s quite funny. The saying, “Might as well wear a crown and serve time in prison,” isn’t just a joke. One time, I introduced a soon-to-retire executive from a public enterprise to a former securities firm CEO who now works as a lobbyist. I thought it would be mutually beneficial—this lobbyist regularly earns tens or even hundreds of millions through well-played deals. But the diligent executive who managed to retire quietly and without incident was of no use. It’s ironic. Someone who once played the boss in the most prestigious office in the region now wields power with an expiration date of less than a year.
I’ve also met with many executives from major Buddhist organizations, including the Jogye Order, as well as countless leaders of cult-like religious sects. One common misconception people have is that religious groups make money solely through religion. Sure, religion can serve as a kind of emotional service industry and generate small income, but in reality, they often secretly offer laundering services or squeeze money out of believers to invest heavily in various goldmine-like ventures. Why do politicians always start their campaigns by visiting religious leaders? There must be some exchange going on—otherwise, would they seek support and endorsements purely on faith?
That’s the way the world works—and if you look closer, it's even more so. Yeouido and Wall Street aren't all that different. Nor are Shanghai and Hong Kong. To those people, I was a useful tool—a sharp blade. I could easily grasp the strategies preferred by finance professionals and lobbyists, even without much explanation. Only the M&A jargon required a bit of studying; the rest I could understand over dinner meetings and briefings. That’s why whenever technical analysis or risk assessments were needed, or some software support was required, I could be used like a MacGyver knife.
But the most surprising thing for these executives—from public enterprises and commercial banks to securities firms and financial authorities—was that I could understand almost anything they threw at me and respond immediately. They may have initially assumed I wouldn’t understand, but within 30 minutes of conversation, I could provide the structured answers they needed.
The desires of most wealthy individuals are predictable. The wants of high-level financial executives nearing retirement are no different. Like all things in life, people tend to see their own problems as uniquely large and difficult to understand. But from a more objective view, these concerns are typical and repetitive. When you’ve heard the same kind of cases over and over again, formulating an answer becomes almost automatic. But that’s not enough—legal knowledge was also necessary.
Of course, legal advice should only be provided by licensed attorneys if payment is involved. But I didn’t charge any fees and still managed to give legally grounded answers to most of their questions. Why? Because I had asked those very questions to the best people in the industry and gotten their answers. I had been introduced to legendary figures in the field, learned from them, studied thoroughly, and used that knowledge to help others in similar situations. I’d often add in my own thoughts and examples—especially recent cases, since those tend to include the latest interpretations of legal principles.
The key wasn’t just legal advice, but having a system-wide perspective and the ability to fully project myself into it. Thankfully, through all kinds of strange and unique experiences, I had many interesting times with these people and witnessed more than a few outrageous deals. I may feel like a deflated tire now, but I’ve met everyone from people who claimed close ties to President Yoon Suk-yeol before his impeachment, to political factions on opposite extremes. Older political figures always had one thing in common: business cards full of Chinese characters that were nearly impossible to decipher. Naturally, technical explanations were useless.
I developed a broad insight into the world through all these projects, but one realization stood out: those who are genuine are heavy, and those with little substance are light. The light ones make promises easily and never keep them. Some just aim to make a year’s income off a single commission. They’re no longer professionals—they’ve become hustlers. They don’t seek honest, sustainable livelihoods. They just want to hit it big once—pocketing hundreds of thousands or even tens of millions in one shot.
After spending enough time sharing drinks and meals with them, I learned a lot about the morally bankrupt strategies used in the financial world. Everything from issuing CDs for failing companies to cash in and then vanishing, to market manipulation by insider syndicates. Even though the Financial Supervisory Service monitors everything, these players still find ways to maneuver. Who wins when the bad guys and the regulators face off? No one wins every time. It’s just an endless cycle of offense and defense.
In some cases, projects involve hundreds or thousands of jobs—or the life trajectory of countless people—but if all you see is money, maybe being a lobbyist is the right path. If you can strip away all sentiment and become a strategist who only plays to win in the financial warzone, maybe that could be considered a form of “virtue,” too.
That’s why I often received what felt like love calls from finance players. From CEOs inviting me to work together in corner offices with a view of the Chosun Hotel, to boutique operations near Samseong Station and Bongeunsa solving problems through every financial play imaginable. But I’ve been walking away from those relationships. I just didn’t want to stay in touch, and it didn’t feel like the life I wanted.
I don’t hold a grudge against project management that brings in big money all at once. But I usually dislike the people who broker those deals because they only take the upside and never assume responsibility. Even when there’s a clear mistake during the deal process, they rarely apologize or offer meaningful compensation. They always protect themselves legally and avoid risk. So who takes on the risk? The side that’s more desperate and struggling. The side that actually has to execute the business or solve the problem. It’s no different from real estate scams—agents who arrange jeonse (lease) contracts don’t go to jail, but they also don’t filter out the fraudsters. In the end, innocent victims are created.
The problem with many financial players is that they lack even a basic moral responsibility for the harm they cause. Whether it’s issuing CDs, pushing inflated capital through rights offerings, or creating shell companies and using real estate for money laundering and stock price manipulation—they do it all. I understood their strategies instinctively. I saw how brilliantly finance could skirt the law and create money from nothing.
Yet they feel no guilt, even when they create massive potential harm in the capital markets. They blame the individual investors who were “dumb enough” to buy in and toast to their own success. Maybe it’s because I come from an underdog background, but I never wanted to make money that way. If you deceive someone and rob them of their life through money, isn’t that the same as ripping out their heart for cash? Some say, “Even if we don’t do it, someone else will, and those people will fall for it anyway.” They think it’s better to be the first to take advantage. Those people believe the victims were always going to fail, so you might as well be the one to profit.
So even now, while running my own company, there's one thing I always say to my partners: there should never be a clear victim. This may seem obvious, but in finance, it's anything but. That's why I get dizzy just thinking about playing the financial game—and why I’ve grown to feel no joy in playing the fixer on their turf.
- #finance