002 The Unused Quota

“That old codger is clearly trying to fool you, Hui. Don’t fall for it.”

“Do you even need to say that?”

After returning from the SBS Film Production Center in Gaoyang City to Seoul, night quietly fell.

With his old man gone and no direct relatives left alive, Yoon Yunhui felt no urge to go home. Instead, he called a childhood friend out for a drink.

“Hey, Hui, don’t find me annoying. Some things only hit you once you start working. Here’s to you.”

At a casual dining bar in Cheongdam-dong, Gangnam District, Lee Jun-ho raised his glass. Yoon Yunhui glanced at him.

“I know you too well, Jun. Judging by how smug you look, work must not be going so well.”

“See but don’t say, Hui. Just drink and forget it.”

“Drink.”

Lee Jun-ho looked troubled as he downed half a glass of whiskey in one gulp. Yoon Yunhui took a small sip, listening to his friend’s grievances.

“It’s tough. I’m even thinking of going back to study. Damn it, Han Seong-su that bastard took all the staff away after the contract ended. I have to hire new agents. How am I supposed to manage this?”

Jun-ho came from a branch of the Samsung family. He was the nephew of Lee Jae-hyun of CJ.

Both were born in ’98 and had been classmates for years. Yoon Yunhui was admitted to Yonsei University, while Jun-ho went abroad to study.

The reason Yoon Yunhui was still a student while Jun-ho had graduated and was working was simple: Yoon had completed his military service, Jun-ho hadn’t.

It’s well known that the extended Samsung family carries a genetic disease that exempts them from military duty but doesn’t affect their lives.

Jun-ho was ‘unlucky’ enough to have it.

“You just have to keep at it. I can’t help you.”

Yoon Yunhui was busy; he had to finish his studies first, especially since the official filming of “Penthouse” wouldn’t start until summer.

“So, Hui, you’re really planning to debut as an actor?”

“What else?”

Yoon Yunhui rolled his eyes, then gave a vivid example.

“Imagine your father died right now.”

“Damn, you wish!”

Jun-ho laughed.

His father had caused a scandal a couple of years ago with his female secretary and lost his position as vice chairman of CJ Group, ousted from management. Jun-ho now had to start from the bottom.

He was the strategic director of OTR Management, a subsidiary of CJ Entertainment under CJ Group, recently taking charge of the groups Izone and Fromis_9.

“Exactly. So you inherit your father’s shares now.”

Yoon Yunhui continued.

“But there’s inheritance tax. Pay it in cash. For amounts exceeding 3 billion won, the highest rate is 50%. What will you do?”

“Uh…”

Jun-ho suddenly felt like he’d swallowed a fly, empathizing deeply. Yoon Yunhui pressed on.

“Would you want to sell assets to pay the inheritance tax?”

“Reluctantly…”

“That’s just it. I don’t want to sell at all.”

Yoon Yunhui clapped his hands, his expression animated.

“You know my parents passed long ago, and my grandfather left everything to me. There’s an additional 30% generational omission tax.

As a major shareholder, holding stocks means an extra 20% tax. Fortunately, the tax rate caps out, so it doesn’t keep piling up.”

Just hearing the long list of numbers made Jun-ho’s heart race. Yoon Yunhui feigned ease.

“I just arranged a five-year installment loan to pay the inheritance tax.”

Yoon Yunhui’s situation was special.

His inheritance was primarily stocks and real estate, a heavy tax burden. The sole operating entity, the Songdo Memorial Foundation, was a nonprofit charitable organization.

The foundation ran two large general hospitals, which were highly profitable, but to avoid taxes, he couldn’t liquidate those assets and had to live off a fixed monthly allowance.

Faced with such steep inheritance taxes, Yoon Yunhui had no choice. Selling off the family estate? Not a chance.

Just honestly debut and act.

“Tch, Hui, you’re amazing.”

Jun-ho was amazed; he didn’t have that kind of inheritance to count on.

“So, you have to make money, right?”

Yoon Yunhui picked up the bottle. Jun-ho poured him a drink as he continued.

“Jun, you’re in the entertainment industry now. Don’t underestimate how much top stars earn.”

In the peninsula, entertainers’ incomes were relatively modest, but stars made far more than average jobs.

Since Yoon Yunhui had some connections in the field, why not debut and make a quick buck?

Besides, he had a strong desire to perform.

“Of course. I went to a group meeting earlier this year and even received a content creation award. Chairman Lee Jae-hyun praised Izone as one of CJ Entertainment’s best global marketing cases last year.”

“What does that have to do with you? You just joined earlier this year.”

Yoon Yunhui was speechless. Someone unaware might think Jun-ho was responsible for Izone’s success last year.

“Ahem, don’t expose me.”

Jun-ho smiled awkwardly and changed the subject.

“So, Hui, what’s your plan about the Taeyong Group issue?”

“Since Yoon Seok-min took over as the second generation head of Taeyong, he’s been eager to regain control of SBS.

He’s deliberately bypassing my family’s side and will probably try to buy back the shares I hold next.”

Yoon Yunhui’s guess was spot on.

Taeyong’s core real estate business had slowed, so naturally, they saw SBS as a breakthrough for the group’s transformation.

Of the three major networks, only SBS was privately owned, but ownership and management rights were forcibly separated. It was like a stunning beauty teasing from afar—visible but untouchable.

Although Taeyong, as the major shareholder, could easily influence SBS, the separation of ownership and management meant they had to resort to covert maneuvers.

Now Taeyong was trying to exploit loopholes to regain management rights and fully seize this lucrative prize.

“Let him make a fuss for now. What can I do?”

Yoon Yunhui shrugged, showing his current weakness and plea not to be bullied.

“Pride goes before destruction, arrogance before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18)

“Alright, alright, stop playing Jesus. I know you’re the great scholar from Yonsei.”

Hearing Yoon Yunhui quote the Bible offhandedly gave Jun-ho a headache.

He understood that Hui wasn’t planning to share how to deal with Taeyong, so he was throwing out these cryptic remarks.

“Okay, I have a supporting role spot in a major SBS project. Jun, want it?”

Yoon Yunhui wasn’t distrustful of his friend but felt the matter was too complicated for Jun-ho to get involved.

In plain terms, Yoon thought Jun-ho, just another typical chaebol’s son, was only good at partying, useless for anything else.

“Why would I want that? CJ Entertainment doesn’t even have actors.”

“What about Izone?”

“Damn, it’s a limited-time group, man. Sending a member to act? That’s absurd!”

“So I can’t give the spot away?”

“Oh, so last time you visited my office, who caught your eye?”

Jun-ho teased with a knowing look.

“Actually, I think Kim Min-joo is nice, very cute; Captain Kwon is better, mostly because he’s big; Kang Hye-won is quite pretty, my type.”

Yoon Yunhui’s eyes flickered, but there was absolutely no hidden meaning.

“Come on, are you flipping cards here? Should I take you to Izone’s dorm now?”

“Don’t. I’m a decent guy, none of that nonsense.”

Yoon Yunhui firmly declined and suggested:

“As the president of Yonsei University’s student council, I’m inviting Izone to perform at the university’s celebration in the third week of May. How about that?”

“No problem.”

Jun-ho didn’t mind. Izone was disbanding in six months anyway. He wouldn’t force any member to stay. It wouldn’t fall into his hands, so big brother had some discretion.

For CJ Entertainment, owning the platform but building new groups around individual members was putting the cart before the horse. The priority was to restart the audition series.

“Is this bar close to SM Entertainment?”

Yoon Yunhui suddenly asked, eyes fixed on the entrance. Jun-ho followed his gaze and saw four masked women entering the bar.

“Yes, just across the street is Samseong-dong.”

“I recognize someone. I’ll go say hi first.”