The Dissolution of Yuseong Group
The doorbell’s chime shattered the silence of the penthouse.
Lee Jaseung, already dressed to leave, checked the intercom, confirmed the unannounced visitor, and exhaled a quiet sigh.
The instant he opened the door, a pale, panicked Han Juhyeong strode straight inside.
“Lee Jaseung, did you see the news?”
Jaseung’s brow furrowed. He had never liked letting people into his home—least of all visitors who arrived without an appointment.
“What about the news?”
“Yuseong Steel is being sold off!”
“And the problem is? I told you that would happen.”
“It was supposed to be sold to Hanyeong Auto! Who the hell is this Hong Kong bastard that just shoved his way in?!”
Juhyeong paced the living room in agitation, words tumbling out in a rush.
“The court receivership part—okay, fine. That was our plan. But what? They’re selling it to a Hong Kong fund? And the chairman’s resigning this time? They already swapped out the entire management team! What if the court just appoints the new executives as the court-appointed administrators?!”
Jaseung checked the watch on his wrist, then gave a calm order.
“Han Juhyeong. Sit.”
Juhyeong sat. Jaseung took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and handed it to him.
“Drink.”
Juhyeong gulped the cold water, trying to settle his rattled nerves.
“Calm down.”
He could not. Only the trust he had slowly built with Jaseung kept him from lashing out.
“You never said anything about this. If Yuseong Steel goes to a Hong Kong fund, the entire acquisition project our group is running will—”
Jaseung cut the spiraling worries short with a single, firm statement.
“That’s the slush fund.”
Silence dropped over the room.
Juhyeong blinked, uncomprehending. Then his expression shifted from confusion to pure shock.
“Huh?”
“I’m about to blow it open, so Yuseong Steel will never be sold to any Hong Kong fund. Clear?”
Juhyeong’s mouth fell open.
“You knew?”
“Obviously.”
“Then tell me next time! Do you know how much I freaked out?!”
“Is a slush fund something you go around broadcasting to the whole neighborhood?”
“Well… no, but still.”
Juhyeong calmed down in an instant. More than that—color flooded back into his face. He leaned back against the sofa with a suddenly expansive posture and asked,
“I actually figured you already had a plan for everything. So what do we do now?”
Watching the abrupt about-face, Jaseung let out a short, incredulous snort. The man really was transparent.
“Nothing changes. If anything, this works in our favor. Once word spreads that your uncle is using the slush fund to buy Yuseong Steel back, public opinion will turn even uglier. That’s our opening. You make an official announcement that you’re acquiring Yuseong Steel.”
“So the whole country ends up rooting for the acquisition?”
“Exactly. Your uncle has kindly volunteered to play the villain. All you have to do is stand on the opposite side, and you’ll be treated like a hero.”
“Ohhh!”
Awe lit Juhyeong’s eyes. The same unwavering direction as always—taking a simple strategy of seizing public opinion and driving it to its absolute limit.
“Okay. I’m heading out right now to prep the announcement.”
Completely at ease, Juhyeong rose with a bright grin. Only then did he notice that Jaseung was also finishing his own preparations, adjusting the set of his cufflinks.
“Where are you going?”
“To pay my respects.”
Jaseung picked up his jacket and stepped toward the entrance. Juhyeong followed, tilting his head.
“Respects? Whose funeral is it?”
“Yeah. At Yuseong Group headquarters.”
“Yuseong headquarters? There’s a press conference today—”
Only then did Juhyeong grasp that Jaseung meant he was going to personally conduct the chairman’s funeral. He let out a scream.
“You absolute lunatic!!!”
The front of Yuseong Group headquarters was packed with protesters as usual. Vivid primary-colored banners snapped in the wind, and slogans blaring from loudspeakers slammed against the building’s outer walls and rebounded.
Today, however, something was different. The scale of the demonstration had grown, and the crowd’s voices carried a deeper, more raw fury than usual.
“Yuseong Steel does not need court receivership!”
A voice thick with rage erupted from the throng.
The essence of court receivership was corporate rehabilitation. Yet Yuseong Steel was already a healthy company. Sales and operating profits were stable; its market position was rock-solid. Driving such a firm into receivership made no sense.
Management’s true intent was transparent and brazen: hide behind the shield of court receivership and protect control of the company.
“Punish the fraudster Lee Jeonghwan!”
“Full compensation for the victims!”
“End chaebol privilege now!”
The protesters’ chants reached Chairman Lee Jeonghwan as he descended toward the press-conference hall. He paused briefly and glanced at the demonstration visible through the window. Disgust was plain on his face.
“I won’t have to watch that circus much longer.”
Over the past month the work of acquiring Yuseong Steel had accelerated at breakneck speed. Liquidating the slush fund and moving the money had continued day and night.
If only that Lee Jaseung hadn’t been in the way, I could have handled everything quietly, at my own pace.
For a moment he remembered Jaseung appearing at the house every week for an entire month—showing up at three in the morning, staring silently, then announcing he would return next week before vanishing again. The memory still sent a chill through him.
“Crazy bastard.”
At first he had wondered whether it was some sophisticated psychological pressure tactic. Later he simply concluded the boy was insane. No matter how hard he thought about it, there had been neither reason nor logic in that behavior.
Still, it worked out in the end. Because he went wild, I was forced to cut the problem off quickly.
The moment Yuseong Steel was sold, every bit of noise would vanish. Once Yuseong Group itself was dismantled, resentment, anger, and responsibility would all lose their target. After that he would quietly gather the assets again and start over—as if pressing a reset button.
Lee Jeonghwan entered the main auditorium of Yuseong Group. A massive banner hung at the entrance.
Chairman Lee Jeonghwan’s Public Apology and Resignation Press Conference
He stepped onto the podium and bowed deeply in greeting. When he raised his head, his motion froze for an instant.
Directly in his line of sight, leaning casually against the wall by the entrance, stood Lee Jaseung.
Jeonghwan blinked slowly. It was no illusion. Amid the charged atmosphere of the hall, only Jaseung seemed to move through a different flow of time; his characteristic air of leisure drew every eye.
Their gazes met. Jaseung gave a slight nod.
How did he get in?
The answer came immediately. He was family of the chairman. Staff who recognized him would naturally have waved him through.
Memories of the past month of harassment flickered, and Jeonghwan’s eyes wavered.
What is he planning to pull today?
But the press conference had already begun. He moistened his dry throat and launched into the prepared remarks.
“First, I offer my deepest apologies to everyone who suffered harm in the Yuseong Securities incident. Our Yuseong Group has committed the grave error of betraying our investors’ trust. Full responsibility lies with management…”
The entire time he recited the apology in a mechanical voice, his gaze remained fixed on Jaseung. Arms folded, Jaseung simply watched—as if he were nothing more than a spectator.
I must not give that boy any opening. Leave him no room whatsoever. If he causes a scene, send security to throw him out immediately.
When the reading of the apology ended, the moderator took the microphone.
“We will now open the floor for questions.”
Hands shot up from the press corps. Jeonghwan selected a questioner exactly as planned—a reporter who had been coordinated in advance.
The reporter stood and delivered the prepared question.
“What are your plans after resignation? And could you share concrete details regarding the succession system?”
It was a suitably moderate question—neither too sharp nor too soft.
Just as Jeonghwan opened his mouth to answer, a sudden movement caught his eye.
Lee Jaseung was cutting across the press seats.
“Who is that guy? A victim?”
“Who cares! Just start shooting!”
In a single breath he seized the attention of the entire hall and walked straight up to the reporter who had just asked the question.
“May I borrow the microphone?”
“Excuse me? Why do you need the—”
The reporter looked bewildered, but before the sentence finished the microphone was already in Jaseung’s hand.
With a light nod of courtesy, Jaseung walked out to the exact center of the press-conference floor—directly facing Chairman Lee Jeonghwan on the podium.
Cameras that smelled a scoop swung their lenses as one. The clatter of shutters erupted like machine-gun fire.
Jaseung willingly became the actor they wanted.
Villain secured.
He lifted his gaze to meet Jeonghwan’s. The color draining from the older man’s face was visible even from a distance. Jeonghwan was jabbing a finger and shouting in a voice thick with panic.
Throw that bastard out right now!
Truly an excellent villain.
And here come the supporting players.
From the rear of the hall, security guards began to move. Massive figures in black suits pushed through the crowd toward him.
They were in a hurry. He had roughly twenty seconds.
In that short window he had to position himself. The move had to feel spontaneous, yet not so bizarre that it broke immersion. A cliché the public would love—and one that still carried persuasive force.
The conscientious chaebol third-generation heir who could no longer stand by and watch corruption.
A perfect character.
He turned toward the camera zone. Slightly furrowed brows, a jaw set with tension—he presented the image of a young man in anguish, then let a subtle tremor enter his voice so that sincerity would bleed through.
“I am Lee Jaseung of Yuseong Group. I am also the nephew of the current Chairman Lee Jeonghwan.”
In that same moment a security guard closed the distance; a hand was already reaching for Jaseung’s shoulder.
Perfect timing.
He twisted his body slightly, conscious of every camera angle so that from any direction he would look desperate.
“I have a confession to make! I wish to raise questions regarding the sale of Yuseong Steel!”
It was a bombshell declaration.
Reporters leapt to their feet as one. The crash of toppling chairs and excited whispers spread like a wave.
At the same instant the guard tried to cover his mouth. Jaseung jerked his head away. Disheveled hair fell across his forehead; his necktie twisted askew. The flawless image of a chaebol heir collapsed.
Yet that was exactly the picture he had wanted.
“The Hong Kong-based Taepyeong Fund is my uncle’s slush fund. He intends to use that slush fund to buy Yuseong Steel ba—”
Before the sentence could finish he was dragged out of the hall.
It did not matter. There was no need to say anything more. Imagination was often more powerful than fact.
In that regard the reporters were reliable veterans. An internal whistle-blower from the chairman’s own family. Content exposed by the chairman’s nephew himself. He had tossed them a juicy enough scrap; they would spin out colorful theories on their own.
Bang!
The conference-hall doors slammed shut with a crash.
Jaseung, dumped onto the corridor floor, rose to his feet. His fingertips brushed dust from his jacket; he precisely realigned the skewed knot of his tie. Returning to perfect composure took only a moment.
“Lee Jaseung!”
Seo Minjae came running up. Jaseung tilted his head slightly.
“Seo Minjae? How did you get here?”
“Juhyeong called me. Said you’d gone completely insane and I should get over here fast.”
Minjae glanced around and added,
“Looks like you already did the deed… What the hell did you pull in there?”
“Played the clown.”
“What?”
“I made a conscience declaration. That my uncle is going to acquire Yuseong Steel with the slush fund.”
“Are you out of your mind?! There was no need for you to do it yourself. You could have just tipped off the prosecutors—”
“I did that too.”
Over the past month, while coming and going from his uncle’s house, he had gathered evidence and already handed it to the prosecution.
“But waiting for an investigation would take too long. I’m a member of the chairman’s family. An internal tip from the chairman’s own blood will be believed. Now that the slush-fund suspicions are boiling over, the financial authorities won’t be able to approve the sale of Yuseong Steel easily.”
“Wow…”
Minjae let out a sigh mixed with sheer disbelief.
“Wow. You really… Is that easy for you?”
“Nothing difficult about it.”
He had planted the slush-fund suspicion, delayed the sale of Yuseong Steel, blocked the administrator Jeonghwan had put forward, and even secured the title of “conscientious chaebol third-generation heir.” The price of becoming a public spectacle had bought him a great deal.
After adding everything that needed adding and subtracting everything that needed subtracting, the final result was profit. That was the only reason he had done it.
In a suddenly light mood, Jaseung started walking.
“Let’s go. Now it’s your turn.”
“Huh? Mine?”
Minjae flinched and stared at him. My turn? What is he planning to make me do?
Meeting the anxious, wavering eyes, Jaseung gave a short laugh.
“You’re not going to collect that two hundred billion?”
“!”
This work is a work of fiction. All characters, groups, place names, and events appearing in the story are entirely fictional and have no connection to any real-world counterparts. Specialized knowledge described herein has likewise been reconstructed and adapted to fit the narrative and may differ from actual information.