Chapter 162
Chapter 162
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 162
Chapter Title: Chaebol? Hell, I'll Give It a Shot
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Chaebol? Screw that crap, I'll try it too.
Slurp, slurrrp.
In the deathly quiet prosecution interrogation room, only the cheerful clink of my spoon and the gulp of broth breaking the silence.
In front of me sat a steaming earthenware pot of seolleongtang, and beyond that, two prosecutors with faces twisted like they'd just eaten shit.
"Kuuh—"
I drained every last drop of the kkakdugi broth and slammed the empty pot down with a satisfying clang.
Seolleongtang in a prosecution office? Fucking delicious.
Honestly, the taste itself was a solid three notches below my regular spot in Paju.
But this flavor wasn't for the tongue.
It was the thrill of indulgence right in front of these power-tripping bastards trying to pin something on me from the top of their perch.
The deviant rush of it all. Imagining Taesung's Cheon Hye-yeon vomiting blood if she saw this right now.
Those two were the perfect seasonings.
And pulling off that drama cliché in real life? A novel thrill.
'Bucket list item: complete.' I muttered to myself, letting out a deeply satisfied belch.
The young prosecutor from the Seoul Central District Prosecutors' Office, sitting across from me, must've hit his patience limit. His face hardened as he spoke.
"Kim Cheolsu. Now that you're done eating, let's get to the point."
"Oh, sure thing. Time to start. But Prosecutor, do you always spring for premium seolleongtang for suspects? On our tax dollars? Doesn't this violate the Kim Young-ran Act?"
His temple vein popped at my cheeky retort.
"No need to get heated. We both know there's nothing to dig up anyway, right?"
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs. Inside, I was cracking up.
Personally? Yeah, I'm a total piece of shit.
But as a businessman? squeaky clean and upright as they come.
Taxes? Paid in full the second the bill hits, no deductions.
Corporate social responsibility?
I told you. I'm Paju's donation angel, remember?
Taesung digs all they want—they'll find jack shit.
Every deal's locked in airtight legality.
This was the other meaning of the 'sanctuary' I'd built.
The young prosecutor exhaled sharply, then picked up a document like he was switching gears.
"Hoo... Fine. Let's start with your daughter. The 500 billion won stock gift to Kim Haneul."
His tone implied he'd nailed me on something big.
I blinked in disbelief.
"Wait, Prosecutor. You're phrasing that weird. What's wrong with me giving stocks to my own daughter? Did I do some illegal transfer or what?"
I leaned forward over the table, locking eyes with him.
"Gift tax: 250 billion. Paid every last won. Check with the NTS if you want. Want a receipt?"
He was speechless at my brazen confidence.
Who the hell gifts 500 billion and shells out half as tax without flinching?
Me. Right here.
As he flapped his lips for words, the door opened and my lawyer walked in.
He sat beside me, bowed politely, then whispered so only I could hear.
"Sir. Just now, New York Federal Court officially accepted the 1 trillion won punitive damages suit against Taesung Pharma. Wall Street Journal broke it as a flash."
My lips curled into a long, slow grin.
Finally. It's on.
I eyed the young prosecutor across from me.
He was still glaring, stuck on the 500 billion gift.
I gave him my sincerest pity-face and said kindly,
"Prosecutor, think it's time you head out."
"What the hell are you talking about?!"
"Big news from New York. Taesung Pharma stock? You won't even spot it tomorrow morning. Right now, your boss's boss's boss is probably swamped with Taesung calls. Worry about real crooks, not small-fry like me."
I stood, patted his frozen shoulder.
"I'll cover the seolleongtang. Hang in there. Plenty more bad guys out there besides me."
I strode past his shocked, confused stare toward the door.
My lawyer quietly opened it.
Just before stepping out, I glanced back over my shoulder.
Life's a battlefield.
One wrong move and you're fucked in a heartbeat...
Choi Yang was waiting in the hallway.
She handed me my coat, giving the tiniest nod only I'd catch.
Everything on plan.
I slipped it on, already plotting the next move.
'Alright, Cheon Hye-yeon. What's your play?'
She'd seen their 'physical blade' bounce off me. She'd try something else.
Too late.
My die roll would flip the board beyond her wildest dreams.
Win the suit? Don't care.
Never planned to.
Kim Seulgi, that fist-happy genius scientist, faked side effects perfectly from a real Taesung Pharma trial subject.
But she said proving direct Taesung link in court? Brutally tough.
I want one thing.
'Lawsuit value: 1 trillion won' etched in scarlet forever on their financials.
A massive uncertainty no one ignores.
'One-trillion-won big turd.'
Drop it, and institutions and foreigners bolt.
Stock plummets, trust evaporates.
Win or lose, years of litigation bleed them astronomical opportunity costs.
I chuckled softly down the cold prosecutor's hall.
Yeah, Cheon Hye-yeon.
Now the real war begins.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The next morning at 9 AM, Taesung Group HQ executive office.
The second the stock market opened, hell's gates swung wide.
On the massive monitor center-stage in Cheon Hye-yeon's office, Taesung Pharma's chart plunged straight down—no rebound, no resistance.
Opening bell to limit-down: a blue bar smashed to -30%.
The Wall Street Journal headline—"1 Trillion Won Punitive Damages Suit"—had vaporized trillions in market cap.
Not just Pharma.
Affiliates tanked in tandem, the board a blaze of blue fire.
Her father's calls, group execs', shareholders'—a barrage she ignored.
Couldn't answer.
In her hand: an electric toothbrush she hadn't put down from this morning.
Its hollow whiiir tickled her palm.
Yesterday's peaceful dawn to today's inferno.
In that chasm, the last thread holding her sanity snapped.
Whoosh—!
The toothbrush arced through the air.
Crack—!
The slim plastic shard stabbed dead-center into the screen.
Cracks spiderwebbed over the limit-down blue bar.
And from her lips, a beastly scream never before heard.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!"
Her shriek startled the secretary, who rushed in flustered.
What she saw: her boss, perfect hair a wild mess, bloodshot eyes glaring daggers.
Cheon Hye-yeon rasped with swallow-them-whole venom, grasping at her last hope.
"Kim Cheolsu? What's the status?"
The secretary knew exactly what it meant.
The prosecution raid, their final card.
But her news would ash even that.
"...Cleared of all charges. Released last night."
"……"
No sound from Cheon Hye-yeon.
Her eyes blazed like hellfire.
All failed.
All her money, power, system—utterly crushed by some Paju hole-in-the-wall owner.
Nothing left.
Just pure hate craving total destruction.
The secretary recoiled from her murderous glare.
But trembling, she had to deliver.
"Um... ma'am... Chairman's summons. To his office. Now."
Her quaver sliced the hellish silence.
Cheon Hye-yeon didn't respond.
Gaze fixed on empty air.
The secretary swallowed dryly, holding breath for what came next.
After long silence, Cheon moved—slow, creaking like a machine.
No fixing her hair, no smoothing her clothes.
Just hollow eyes, shuffling like a specter crawled from hell's pit toward the chairman's office.
No more noble grace or intellectual arrogance.
The death throes of the defeated—or birth pangs of a new monster. An ominous stride.