Seeing the Future (1)
The chaebols were all mad.
They turned a younger brother’s death into an opportunity.
They ran scams against tens of thousands of investors.
They pinned the crime on their own nephew.
Yes. I was talking about my uncle.
To survive in this deranged world, you had to be a little mad yourself.
So I decided to go mad too.
Yuseong Securities Headquarters.
In front of the building that had sparked the largest financial fraud scandal in history, protestors packed the street.
“Punish the swindler Lee Jaseung!”
“Full compensation for the victims!”
“End chaebol privilege!”
The moment the black sedan came into view, hundreds of demonstrators surged forward and surrounded the car. The vehicle could only inch ahead a few centimeters at a time, shoved by the press of bodies.
The driver, sweating profusely, glanced back at me.
“Sir, perhaps we should turn around for now.”
“It’s noisy.”
“……Pardon?”
“Outside.”
I jerked my chin toward the window. At that moment a man charged in, shouting, “Lee Jaseung, come out!” A red placard began hammering against the car with sharp thuds.
I watched him for a beat, then turned back to the driver.
“Would you turn on the radio?”
The driver switched it on and raised the volume to drown out the chaos. Soon the interior filled with the voice of a news anchor.
With perfect timing, my name came up. Looking flustered, the driver reached for the radio button.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll turn it off right away.”
I waved him off.
“No. Leave it.”
“Sir? But……”
“I’m curious. Let’s hear exactly what kind of fraudster I’m supposed to be.”
My tone was so casual it might have been someone else’s problem. The driver glanced at me, then focused on driving again. The news continued. I closed my eyes and listened to the anchor.
— After taking office, CEO Lee Jaseung deliberately avoided audits of insolvent affiliates……
False.
— Before issuing corporate bonds, CEO Lee Jaseung concealed the risks……
False.
— CEO Lee Jaseung ordered the CFO to falsify the accounting books……
False.
— Meanwhile, investor losses are expected to exceed one trillion won. Some forty thousand individual investors have suffered principal losses……
True.
Ironically, among all those claims, only the numbers were true.
One trillion won.
Forty thousand people.
Those figures were the noose currently around my neck. That was how I became the star of a “historic financial fraud” that had inflicted a trillion-won loss and ruined forty thousand individual investors.
And only three months after taking office, no less.
Truly an astonishing talent.
After my parents died, I—the third-generation heir of the Yuseong Group—had been appointed CEO of Yuseong Securities. That had been a mere three months ago. If the charges were real, I would hold the record for the fastest fraud in history.
Who wrote a script this shoddy?
Korean prosecutors could be idiots at times, but even they had to recognize how flimsy this scenario was. And yet they had planned a large-scale investigation against a chaebol? On whose authority?
First I need to get inside the company and assess the situation.
The car finally forced its way through the crowd and reached the main gate. Bodyguards cleared a path. I stepped out and went straight up to the CEO’s office. But the moment the elevator doors opened, I had no choice but to stop.
The office had already been turned upside down. Investigators were stuffing documents into boxes as if ransacking a warehouse. Another man was roughly yanking a painting—one I had paid hundreds of millions for—off the wall as if it were a poster.
I warned him.
“Handle that carefully. That single painting is worth ten years of your salary.”
Startled, the investigator set the painting down with care. At that moment a man in a long coat emerged from the inner room.
“You even know an investigator’s salary?”
“I know a prosecutor’s salary too.”
I replied while checking the badge hanging around his neck.
“If you quit on the spot and take my case, I’m prepared to pay you ten times that. How about it, Prosecutor? Ready for a fresh start tomorrow?”
“Still got room to spare, I see. Chaebols are all the same.”
Sneering, the prosecutor walked over and gave my shoulder a familiar pat.
“But I’ll pass. Catching chaebols is cooler than defending them. I need to show that even chaebols aren’t exceptions before the law.”
I let out a short laugh.
“Anyone listening would think you were a righteous prosecutor. Instead of going after an innocent man, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“What?”
“Forget it. Who planned this?”
“What are you talking about?”
“In three months I supposedly inflicted a trillion-won loss on forty thousand individual investors? I’m flattered you think I’m that capable, Prosecutor. But we both know the truth. This whole thing was orchestrated. Who gave the order?”
The complaint had been filed with the prosecutors that afternoon, yet within a few hours they had already obtained and executed a search warrant. Far too fast. Only a handful of people could push legal procedures at that speed—someone at the very top of politics, or……
Just then the office door opened again and a familiar voice called out.
“Jaseung.”
I slowly turned my head toward the sound. Lee Jeonghwan, Chairman of the Yuseong Group. My uncle.
The prosecutor immediately bowed deeply the moment he saw him. The arrogant posture he had shown me vanished; he retreated politely.
“Ah.”
Everything suddenly made sense. I let out a dry laugh.
“Of course. Who else but the Chairman could give the prosecutors free rein to tear into the Yuseong Group?”
“Jaseung.”
“How long has this been going on? No—there’s no need to ask.”
The answer was already clear in my mind.
“Right after my parents died.”
Back then my uncle had been unusually attentive. He had guided me through every inheritance procedure, handed me Yuseong Securities, and even personally given me management lessons—all to manufacture the pretext for this very moment.
My uncle spoke with a bitter expression.
“There was no other way. The situation is serious. One trillion in damages, forty thousand victims. The government had to calm the enraged public somehow. Someone from the Yuseong family has to go to prison. They need an example.”
“And that someone was me.”
“You already know why.”
“I know perfectly well. Because I’m the nephew who can be discarded at any time, because I have no parents and therefore no allies, and because I’m young enough that it can be neatly packaged as the solo crime of an inexperienced executive.”
Cynicism edged my voice as I listed each reason.
“Very efficient of you.”
“I’ve already assembled the best legal team. You only need to endure one year. I’ve received a promise that you’ll be released on Liberation Day special pardon next year. If you step up, I’ll give you five percent of Yuseong Group shares and the entire financial affiliates.”
“Give up one year and receive Yuseong Group shares plus the financial affiliates. Quite a generous offer.”
“This isn’t a request, Jaseung. Accepting this proposal is in your interest as well. Otherwise you’ll rot in prison for years, not just one.”
“Yes. I’d rather do that.”
“What?”
“I’d rather rot in prison for a few years.”
The dogs my uncle had used would have gratefully accepted this generous condition. A few years in a cell in exchange for a lifetime of luxury. He had always managed people that way, but……
“I’d rather be despised by the entire world than thank you for charity tossed my way like alms.”
I smirked and looked at the prosecutor.
“You brought an arrest warrant, right?”
“……What? Ah…… yes.”
“Then arrest me.”
He clearly hadn’t expected this development. Flustered, the prosecutor glanced at my uncle. When the older man nodded, the prosecutor produced the handcuffs. Cold metal touched my wrists. With a sharp click, the cuffs clamped tight.
After kicking aside my uncle’s generous offer, I became the nation’s number-one bastard. Everything proceeded exactly according to the board my uncle had set. The government wanted the crisis resolved quickly, the furious public needed a scapegoat, and the prosecutors needed the achievement of a successful chaebol investigation. For their sake, the Yuseong Group offered me up as the sacrifice.
A cramped space barely the size of a single pyeong became my entire world. The rough prison uniform chafed my skin. The sensation of cheap blended fabric—not the finest cotton—against my body was new.
Detention center visitation room.
My defense was handled by a mid-sized firm. Every major law firm had refused after pressure from the Yuseong Group.
“Hello, sir. I’m from Myeongjin Law Firm. Uh…… the situation is worse than expected.”
“What’s the projected sentence?”
“You should prepare for at least seven years in the first trial.”
“Seven years?”
It was so absurd that a laugh burst out of me on its own. I crossed my legs and jerked my chin.
“Go on. My tenure was only three months, and even then I was in the United States for overseas deals. How exactly am I supposed to have run a massive fraud when I wasn’t even in Korea?”
“Well, that’s…… Testimony has come out that your time in America during your tenure was for laundering slush funds.”
“Testimony?”
“And it wasn’t three months. The prosecution claims you had been conducting shadow management for a long time. That you were already effectively running the company before the official appointment. The problem is……”
The lawyer wiped sweat and pushed up his glasses.
“All five directors of Yuseong Securities are giving the exact same testimony. That you had been deeply involved in management since last year and that you masterminded the financial fraud.”
I cut him off flatly.
“Perjury.”
“But it’s not just testimony. Internal documents have surfaced.”
“Internal documents?”
The lawyer pulled a copy from his file and held it out.
“Documents discovered during a special audit by the financial authorities. The problem is that several of them bear your signature. Look here. A review report on Yuseong Construction’s corporate bond issuance from last November has your signature.”
It was unmistakably my signature. I immediately understood where the sample had been taken from.
“My uncle helped with the inheritance of my parents’ estate. He must have stolen signature samples then.”
“But proving that will be extremely difficult, sir. The situation is truly bad.”
Without thinking I rubbed my left wrist. Where a watch used to sit, only red marks from the handcuffs remained—just as every privilege I had once enjoyed had vanished. Third-generation heir of the Yuseong Group. The moment that modifier was stripped away, I was simply “the third generation.”
“Ruthless of him. He plugged every single hole.”
I went to trial with only a single lawyer and it was nowhere near enough. Before I knew it, the trial had entered its eighth month. And finally the day of the last argument arrived.
Courtroom 417, Seoul Central District Court.
The room was already packed. Victims filled the front of the gallery; behind them reporters sat ready with cameras and laptops.
“All rise.”
At the bailiff’s booming voice everyone stood. Three judges in black robes entered. After all were seated, the presiding judge spoke in a low voice.
“We will now proceed with the final arguments in the Seoul Central District Court case 2011Gohap21, the Yuseong Securities financial fraud case.”
I rose from the defendant’s dock and swept my gaze across the courtroom. My uncle sat in the witness box. The victims crammed into the gallery hurled open curses. The reporters looked thoroughly entertained. For eight months they had written the script together with one heart. The fallen third-generation chaebol. It had been the Republic of Korea’s highest-rated drama. Since I had become the nation’s spectacle, I at least had the right to write the climax myself.
The beauty of a climax is the twist—the single unexpected line that flips the entire board. So today I decided to abandon my final argument.
“Your Honor. I will not claim my innocence in this place today. Because my claims are irrelevant in this courtroom anyway.”
The presiding judge’s eyebrows rose. The lawyer beside me gestured in panic. I turned my body and faced the gallery head-on. I slowly savored the contempt and resentment pouring toward me.
What shall I use for the twist? The truth?
No. I held far too few cards to wield the truth as a weapon. Truth that cannot be proven is powerless.
But.
Doubt is different.
“I will speak frankly to the victims. The Yuseong Group made a deal with the prosecutors over sentencing. In exchange for me admitting every charge and taking the blame, they promised to extract me with a Liberation Day special pardon within one year.”
My uncle’s face stiffened. Confusion showed through the deep wrinkles. This was not the “letter of reflection” they had expected. A new scandal was being born in the middle of the final arguments.
Unlike truth, which requires hard evidence, doubt needs only a single possibility to function. Efficient, isn’t it? With this statement the seed of suspicion would sprout, and the final destination of their rage would become not me, but my uncle.
“And once this case is wrapped up today, the entire Yuseong Group will receive a free pass. The actual responsible parties will face no punishment whatsoever.”
A collective intake of breath came from the gallery. They had probably been expecting a fairy tale: righteous citizens enraged, the fraudster Lee Jaseung judged by the law, victims receiving proper compensation—a happy ending. I kindly shattered that illusion. The justice they sought did not exist here.
“By sacrificing only one person—me—the Yuseong Securities incident will be neatly closed. Without any compensation, without any punishment of those truly responsible, and above all without any genuine apology. Your one trillion won will never return.”
My uncle shot to his feet, the prosecutor shouted, the judge banged the gavel—yet I smiled. Fire had already caught in the gallery. The rage that had driven me into this place began to flow in another direction.
“A sentencing deal? Then what about our compensation?”
“Are you saying we really won’t get the trillion back?”
“You swindler bastards! Give me my money! When do I get my money back?”
“They’re all accomplices! Just lock every last one of them up!”
The victims’ agitated voices exploded.
“Maintain order in the court! I will order forced removal!”
The judge slammed the gavel and issued the order, but even that sound was swallowed by the roar. And then an unplanned variable appeared. From the back of the gallery a victim suddenly burst forward. Taking advantage of the chaos, he vaulted the railing and charged the defendant’s dock. Court security rushed after him.
“Stop that man! He’s armed!”
Too late. Tangled in the crowd, the guards’ feet were bound. In that interval the victim reached me with astonishing speed. The cold gleam of a blade flashed under the fluorescent lights.
My heart seemed to skip a beat. My body froze; my head became strangely clear.
It ends like this?
Sharp metal bit into my neck. A sensation like an ice shard grazing skin, followed immediately by searing pain. Instinctively I clutched the wound. The vivid feel of warm, sticky liquid gushing between my fingers was unmistakable. Through blurring vision I saw the attacker’s face. Satisfaction mixed with madness filled his eyes.
“This is my severance pay, you son of a bitch!”
Surely it doesn’t end here. This emptily?
My uncle would no doubt make perfect use even of my death. Damn it. For whose benefit?
Right then, the surroundings began to blur like a watercolor soaked in water. I looked around. The courtroom undulated like waves; sounds stretched long as if heard underwater. The judge’s shout, the shocked faces, the camera flashes—everything slowed and distorted. With the sensation of plunging into deep water, I was flung out of that place.
Lee Jaseung’s eyes snapped open. His fingers clamped hard onto the armrests of the chair. Blinking, he surveyed his surroundings. Not a courtroom under cold fluorescent lights, but a familiar space bathed in warm illumination. On the walnut display shelves, the collection he carefully assembled stood in neat rows—rubber balls arranged with the precision of constellations, boasting perfect order. This was the study of his penthouse.
“Hoo……”
Only then did Lee Jaseung draw a deep breath. His heart still raced; cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He lifted his wrist and checked his watch.
Three in the morning.
Must have dozed off.
Documents were neatly arranged on the broad desk. Last month his parents had died suddenly in an accident. He had been reviewing papers all night to handle the inheritance procedures and must have fallen asleep without noticing.
But for a dream it had been far too vivid. Residual images still remained as clear as if he had actually lived them—the Yuseong Securities financial scandal, his uncle’s betrayal, the cramped walls of the detention center, the final argument in court. And the last moment: the blade slicing into his throat.
Lee Jaseung reflexively touched his neck. The phantom pain lingered, but of course there was no wound.
What was that? I think I’ve had similar experiences before……
For the past month, dreams with similar content had repeated—being interrogated at the prosecutors’ office, being hit with raw eggs on the photo line, being stabbed in the courtroom. Once could have been dismissed as a nightmare. But when the same phenomenon continued for an entire month, it was no longer something that could be shrugged off as a mere dream or superstition. Especially not when he had received a message like this from his uncle:
“Jaseung, I would like to discuss the matter of Yuseong Securities with you.”
This work is a work of fiction. All characters, groups, place names, events, and other elements appearing in the story are entirely fictitious and have no connection whatsoever to anything existing in reality. The professional knowledge described has also been reconstructed and adapted to fit the narrative and may differ from actual information.