Min-ah sat before her aging laptop, frantically scraping investment articles about bio-ventures from late 2003. Under the flickering fluorescent lights, the headlines stung her tired eyes.
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"Juyeon Bio secures 1 billion won investment, transfers 20% equity"
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"Myeong-jae Tech allocates 8% stake per 100 million won in seed stage"
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"Jaegyeong Pharma provides 30% equity for 500 million won initial investment"
Min-ah scribbled the figures Professor Han had proposed on a scrap of paper and tapped her calculator. Numbers, unlike people, did not lie.
- Post-money Valuation = Investment Amount / Equity Percentage
- Valuation = 100,000,000 / 0.005 = 20,000,000,000 KRW
"20 billion...?"
A hollow laugh escaped her lips. This meant that a ghost company—one with opaque animal testing data, let alone Phase 1 clinical trials—was being valued at 20 billion won ($20 million USD).
With trembling hands, Min-ah drew a comparison table:
A markup of 10 to 20 times.
Min-ah’s pen stopped. Han’s plan was to pocket billions by gathering dozens of investors while strictly maintaining his 70% stake to privatize the company entirely. It was a scam meticulously designed for total destruction from the very beginning.
[One Day Earlier: February 9, Monday Evening / Professor Choi’s Lab]
Professor Choi In-seok’s phone rang. "Brother, it's Han Do-yoon."
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"Ah, Do-yoon. What's going on?" Choi answered, pausing his reading.
"Brother, you know CEO Lee invested 300 million, right? Well... because of that, a VC firm reached out. Big players."
Choi’s interest piqued. "Really? How much?"
"They're reviewing a 1 billion won investment. But Brother, the problem is that when VCs come in, the equity of our initial investors might get diluted."
"Diluted? What does that mean?"
"VCs usually demand a larger stake. That 0.5% you have now could effectively shrink." Han paused, letting the fear sink in. "If you invest more this week, I’ll guarantee the initial investor conditions just for you. 100 million per 0.5%. From next week, the VC terms kick in, and it'll drop to about 0.2% for everyone else."
Choi toyed with the pen in his hand. "How much more should I put in?"
"As much as you can manage. But the sooner, the better. This offer only lasts until Friday."
After hanging up, Choi pulled a bankbook from his drawer. The 100 million won severance pay was already gone. He thought of his house deed.
[February 10, Tuesday, 10:00 AM / Min-ah’s Home]
From her room, Min-ah closed her law book and listened to Professor Choi’s kind voice in the living room. He was the benefactor who helped pay her father’s medical bills every month.
"Please, come in. Have some tea..." Min-ah’s mother said.
"No, I only stopped by for a moment," Choi replied. "I put in a bit more than usual this time."
"Professor, we don't know how to thank you..."
"It’s alright. And I think I’ll be able to provide even more soon," Choi said, his voice laced with excitement. "I've made a great investment. I put my severance pay into a venture run by my junior, Professor Han. Once it goes public, it'll be worth billions."
Min-ah gripped the doorknob. 'Professor Choi In-seok — 100 million won.'
"He’s my university junior, so he gave me a special opportunity..." Choi continued. "Actually, he called yesterday. If I invest more before the VC money comes in, he’ll guarantee the initial terms. So, I’m going to the bank today to mortgage the house for another 200 million."
Min-ah couldn't stay silent. She threw open the door. "Professor."
"Ah, Min-ah. How are you?"
"That investment... you need to reconsider."
Words rushed to her throat: '0.5% per 100 million is a scam.' 'He inflated the company value by 10 times.' 'Stop right now.' But she couldn't say them. It would put Yu-jin in danger. Above all, the word of an 'indefinitely suspended' student would never be trusted over that of a fellow professor.
"I just think the equity rate... is too low compared to other cases. Have you looked at other examples?"
"Min-ah, you're still young, so you don't understand," Choi laughed kindly. "Professor Han is sharing the shares of a technology that will change the world. A small stake just means he’s confident the company will grow that much larger."
Her mother grabbed Min-ah’s shoulder. "Min-ah, the Professor is helping our family so much..."
In the face of Choi’s blind faith and her mother’s ignorance, Min-ah’s warning vanished into thin air.
"Well, I should head to the bank. Don't worry. I’ll bring good news soon," Choi said as he left.
As the front door closed, Min-ah collapsed onto the living room floor. The home Professor Choi had built over 20 years was being thrown into Han Do-yoon’s scam as gambling stakes... and she couldn't stop it.
{Equity} = {Investment} / {Valuation}
should have bought 10% of the company. Professor Han is literally stealing 9.5% of the potential value from his "friends."
Discussion Point: Have you ever felt powerless when someone you cared about was making a clearly terrible decision? Min-ah’s frustration is palpable here.
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Rate & Review – Let’s show Min-ah some support as she fights back with math!
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Follow to see the next move in this high-stakes game.