A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 308: The 100-Billion Race (4)

“The sheer scale of assets under management alone makes South Korea’s National Pension Service impossible to ignore. Just in terms of size, that is.”

Pierce wasn’t wrong. Surprisingly, South Korea’s National Pension Service is the third-largest pension fund in the world. Right after Japan and Norway. It’s even larger than China in terms of assets.

The problem is—

“It has almost no presence.”

When you work in investment banking, you feel this reality all the more painfully. In the global capital markets, South Korea is still treated as an “emerging market,” and in many cases, it is excluded from investor pitches altogether.

It was a rather bitter reality. Even from the perspective of a third party, one couldn’t help but think, “With this level of capital, shouldn’t they be treated with a bit more respect?”

Of course, this wasn’t about patriotism. It was simply frustrating to realize how weak my country’s brand power was. If South Korea had just a little more influence, the label “Korean” alone could have opened far more doors.

But reality is cold. As of now, South Korea is virtually nonexistent in terms of influence in global finance. Considering that South Korea is the world’s 10th-largest economy with a core position in strategic supply chains, this was truly unfortunate.

Why did this happen? The answer is clear.

“The Korea Discount.”

“In fact, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t recommend South Korea as an investor. Communication is difficult, decision-making is slow, and every administration change comes with a complete policy shift.”

Korean companies and assets are consistently undervalued. People outwardly blame geopolitical risk from North Korea. But the deeper cause lies in opaque corporate governance and political instability.

Especially in the financial sector, South Korea’s most fatal weakness is its “lack of independence.”

Finance in South Korea is never free from politics. Of course, in any country, finance can never be completely separate from political influence. But what matters is the institutional effort to protect that independence.

For example, Norway constitutionally bans political interference in its sovereign fund, and Japan guarantees independence through a “professional advisory committee” firewall.

But South Korea’s National Pension Service? From the moment the CIO (Chief Investment Officer) is appointed, the Blue House’s influence is deeply involved. Because of this structure, positions are often filled not by investment professionals, but by bureaucrats or political figures connected to the ruling administration.

Perhaps it’s no surprise, then, that their investment decisions often defy logic. They move not for returns, but in alignment with government policy. This means capital frequently flows into companies that support policy objectives.

Thus, the National Pension Service is often suspected of being a “tool of the administration”—and now, that suspicion had become a reality.

“I tried reaching out just in case, but the response I got was that it’s difficult to even arrange a meeting right now. The timing is just…”

“Well, that’s only natural.”

January 2017. The Republic of Korea was in turmoil over the presidential impeachment crisis. Enraged citizens, outraged by the corruption scandal, were taking to the streets with candles in hand.

And—the National Pension Service was at the center of the scandal.

It had been revealed that the fund had intervened in a conglomerate’s merger and acquisition. Allegations arose that the decision was influenced by political pressure in favor of the chaebol, and the NPS had become the direct subject of investigation.

In short—it was the worst possible time to be discussing investment.

“Practically all operations are frozen. The person at the top is under investigation, and the administration will soon change… There’s a high chance nothing will move until the next presidential election.”

“Yes, that’s my expectation as well.”

The impeachment bill had already passed the National Assembly. The Constitutional Court was expected to deliver its final ruling around March, and the next presidential election was projected for May or June.

In other words, for nearly half a year, the government of South Korea would be effectively paralyzed. And the National Pension Service, long known as the “tool of the administration,” would be no exception.

However—

By the time Pierce finished speaking, the corners of my lips were already lifting. Pierce frowned as he saw my expression.

“What are you thinking now…?”

“They say crisis is just another word for opportunity, don’t they?”

“You can’t possibly be thinking of using… this impeachment crisis…?”

Pierce looked at me as if I had lost my mind. After all, I was talking about exploiting South Korea’s nationwide political chaos triggered by impeachment.

“Too much uncertainty… too many variables. With the whole country in turmoil, I can’t even be sure my ‘Korean pride’ strategy would work. But still, there was one undeniable advantage. Right now is the one time when the National Pension Service cannot be influenced by the government.”

“...What?”

“Because there is no functioning government to interfere in the first place.”

From now until May—every decision made in that time frame would not be made by an administration, but purely by the National Pension Service. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

In other words—

“Those decisions would be fully independent.”

Which meant—

“This is actually better.”

This way, I wouldn’t have to kowtow to loud, fickle political figures. At least, not in this moment.

So, the next question: Who would be making the decisions in this situation?

Normally, investment decisions are made by the CIO. Here’s where things got interesting. That role had historically always been filled by political figures or bureaucrats. But now, in an unusual move, it was held by an actual finance expert recruited from the private sector. There were even headlines calling it an “unprecedented appointment from the private sector.”

Of course, he was still appointed with political influence, so it was hard to call him completely independent. However—all of his political connections had now been cut off.

So, in this moment, what strategy would he choose to ensure his survival? Would he perhaps try to build the image of a “true financial professional” distanced from politics?

“Did he reject after hearing the proposal?”

“No, he didn’t even listen. The response was that he simply doesn’t have the capacity to entertain anything right now.”

“In that case, we should continue making steady contact.”

Of course, he wouldn’t have the courage to step forward right now. However—what if the stage were to change?

So then, if a stage were prepared—one that drew the attention and support of the entire nation? For example, a classic favorite like a Korea–Japan match. Or, a chance to brand an entire industry the way Taiwan elevated its national image through semiconductors.

Would he still hold back then? Or would he finally show a truly independent and professional side?

That remains to be seen. In the end, everything depends on what kind of “stage” is set. And it is my role to create that stage.

“Then, let’s begin laying the groundwork.”

***

The next day. I immediately launched into a pre-roadshow.

A pre-roadshow is the stage before the formal roadshow. A roadshow is when you take an investment product directly to investors and pitch it in person—essentially, door-to-door selling for finance. The pre-roadshow is the preliminary scouting phase. Before the product is fully constructed, you meet VIPs in advance, listen to what they want, and gather their opinions.

The reason for this is simple.

“Because that’s how you sell well.”

Let’s say you’re planning to sell handbags. If you first visit the highest-spending customers on your list and ask them directly what material they want, what size, what colors—then create a product that fits those answers perfectly? Naturally, when the time comes for actual sales, the purchase rate will be dramatically higher.

That, in essence, is what a pre-roadshow is for.

Anyway.

With that in mind, the first destination of my pre-roadshow was Canada. The office of the Canadian sovereign wealth fund was located in a glass building in Toronto. From the outside, it looked quite ordinary. But the moment I opened the conference room door, I paused for a moment.

The room was packed with people.

Usually for meetings like this, only three or four people from the relevant department show up, but just from a glance, there were easily more than ten.

“You’ve arrived. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Bradley Cooper, the chief officer. And this is…”

As the introductions continued, I realized that many of them were not even directly related to the matter at hand—there were heads of risk management, legal partners, policy strategy directors, even staff from the ethics committee.

After the introductions wrapped up, the chief officer clasped his hands and spoke.

“Sean, to have you visit us personally… it’s truly an honor. It’s not often we get to meet someone of your stature.”

For some reason, there was a deep sense of satisfaction in his smile. The people seated around him seemed to share the same feeling.

“For someone whose time is so valuable to make time like this… we’re very curious what brings you here.”

The words were polite, but beneath those smiles lay a subtle undertone. It was the kind of tone that said, “So in the end, even someone like you needs people like us, huh?”—a gentle attempt to assert superiority.

‘So that’s what this was.’

It became clear why so many people had bothered to show up. Each of them wanted to later brag, “I was there when Ha Si-heon came to pitch personally for investment.”

I let out a quiet sigh. ‘It begins again.’

Meetings between investors and fund managers always begin with an invisible battle. A silent tug-of-war to seize the psychological upper hand. Until now, I had always held the initiative. No matter how large the investors’ wallets were, I never opened my fund to just anyone.

But today was different. Unlike usual, I had come here in person. That alone was an admission that, this time, I was the one more eager. Their attitudes stemmed from that fact.

However—

I couldn’t let this stand as it was. Even if it seemed petty, lowering myself here would only invite future disadvantages.

I slowly scanned the conference room, then spoke calmly.

“In the East, there’s a saying: ‘When there are too many captains, the boat ends up in the mountains.’ I tend not to board boats with unnecessary captains on them…”

A brief silence. No one moved.

They exchanged glances, wondering, “Are we supposed to leave?” but the chief officer hadn’t given any instruction.

I waited a moment, then spoke firmly.

“In that case, I look forward to meeting again in a more efficient setting.”

It was both a warning and a declaration. If the room wasn’t cleared now, I was prepared to walk out immediately.

For a brief moment, the chief officer met my gaze. In that silent moment, he seemed to read my expression—then he smiled lightly and gave a conciliatory nod.

“Ah, I see. I hadn’t realized this matter was of such a high security level. As you suggest, we’ll clear the room.”

He made it sound as though the reduction in numbers was due to “security protocols,” not because of my warning—a graceful excuse to save face for everyone.

Then he flashed a pleasant smile. “It seems there was a misunderstanding. I hope you weren’t too offended.”

“Not at all.”

In truth, this kind of hierarchy adjustment is standard protocol on Wall Street—it’s almost a formality. If someone gets offended by something like this, they were never fit to be in this game to begin with.

With a neutral expression, I watched the people file out of the room. The ones I paid the most attention to were—Risk management, legal, and ethics compliance staff. The ones whose job was to warn against danger. The ones whose paychecks depended on minimizing risk.

In reality, the posturing was just an excuse. I had simply cleared the stage of anyone who might interfere with my presentation. Now, only three or four executives remained quietly seated. The perfect audience.

I relaxed slightly, turned my gaze toward them, and spoke.

“Now, let’s begin.”