RaymondsIndex

In the first half of 2026, Korean investors exercised ₩3.24 trillion of equity-linked bonds through the Korea Securities Depository — up 21.7% from the prior half, across 3,166 separate exercises (+10.7%). Buried in that total is a sharper signal: exchangeable-bond (EB) conversions alone surged 95.7%, from ₩0.83 trillion to ₩1.62 trillion in six months. That single line drove most of the increase. Convertible bonds (CB), exchangeable bonds (EB), and warrant bonds (BW) are the everyday financing tools of lower-rated companies — disproportionately KOSDAQ small-caps. The instrument is elegant and quiet: if the stock disappoints, the holder collects interest; if the stock rises, the holder converts and captures the gain. The asymmetry is structural. The bondholder — often the issuer’s insiders or the funds that underwrote the paper — decides when to convert, armed with the best possible read of the company. The retail investor who bought the stock during its run-up decides nothing. They s...

There is a particular kind of risk that never appears in a financial statement until it is too late to matter — not because anyone hid it, but because the rules never required it to be shown at the moment it became real. A recent KOSDAQ case reads like a controlled experiment in exactly that. The timeline. In February 2026, Vietnamese customs ordered the core production subsidiary of Seojin System — a KOSDAQ-listed manufacturer — to pay roughly ₩100 billion in back VAT. The subsidiary is not a peripheral entity; it is the group's main production base, and a liability of that size bears directly on the parent's liquidity, operations, and financing. Yet the item did not appear in the first-quarter report at the time. Reporting indicates the risk reached rights-offering investors before it reached the public filing, which was corrected only in June. When asked, Korea's exchange said a subsidiary's tax was not among the enumerated items requiring timely disclosure; the fi...

On 1 July, Korea's exchange switched on a tougher delisting regime. A KOSDAQ company whose market value stays under ₩20bn for 30 consecutive trading sessions goes on the watchlist; fail to hold the line for 45 sessions out of the next 90 and the delisting process begins. Kim Seong-cheon of the Korea Exchange told the KOSDAQ 30th-anniversary event on 2 July that roughly 50 companies are expected to become delisting candidates on the market-cap test alone, with the first designation likely in August. The threshold rises again in January, to ₩30bn. The reform is sensible, and the design detail is the interesting part: the exchange deliberately made it harder to leave the watchlist than to enter it. As Kim put it, the entry bar is similar to before, but the exit bar is much higher. That is an explicit attempt to stop distressed issuers from parking in purgatory for years. Still, notice what the trigger actually observes. Price. What the price knew last, and what the filings knew f...

Every equity raise comes wrapped in a growth story. New capacity, a strategic acquisition, deleveraging before an upcycle. The story is always about motion — capital going somewhere useful. But the most revealing question about a capital raise is not why a company says it needs the money. It is where the money actually lands once it arrives, and how quickly. Sometimes the honest answer is: nowhere. It sits in short-term deposits and money-market instruments, earning interest, waiting. Korea's market gave a clean illustration of this gap this month. According to filings compiled by regulators, 265 listed companies — 50 on the KOSPI and 215 on the KOSDAQ — announced rights offerings so far this year, up 44% from a year earlier. Yet the capital actually raised in the first five months fell 27.7%, to ₩1.81 trillion. More companies asking, less money arriving. The Financial Supervisory Service, which lifted its correction demands on offering filings by roughly 50% year over year, has b...

There is a moment in the life of many a good company when the income statement and the balance sheet start telling different stories. The business hums along — margins intact, brands strong, customers loyal — while the capital behind it slowly stops working. Last month gave us a clean example of that divergence, and an activist willing to name it. The case. Quad Asset Management, a long-term shareholder in Youngone Corporation — the Korean OEM behind outdoor labels including The North Face — published an open letter on June 30, 2026, asking the board to respond by July 31. Its central figure is the kind that reframes a company in a sentence: Youngone earns a 17.5% return on invested capital in the apparel operations it actually runs, but only 2.1% on its financial assets. As of end-2025 the company held ₩1.1 trillion in net cash (about 36% of market capitalization) and ₩1.5 trillion in non-operating assets including financial holdings and investment real estate (about 48%). Quad'...

Two stories from the past week describe the same structure in two languages. In Tokyo, on July 17, the Liberal Democratic Party's project team on corporate governance circulated draft proposals warning of suspected collusion between activist investors and private-equity buyers in take-private deals. The document flagged cases where activist shareholders were suspected of "securing unfair gains" by reinvesting part of their sale proceeds into acquisition vehicles set up by the PE buyer, and floated tighter rules on calling extraordinary meetings, on shareholder proposals, and — borrowing from Delaware — on appraisal-rights claims by investors who bought in after a deal was announced. The backdrop is a market that has become one of the busiest for activism outside the U.S.: Japanese private-equity deals jumped 47.8% last year to $42 billion, and this year features a bidding war between EQT, SoftBank's LY Corp and Bain Capital over Kakaku.com, plus Elliott's stake-...