Chapter 180
Chapter 180
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 180
Chapter Title: All Parents Are Different
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All parents are different.
At the very moment Cheon Heyeon was panting like a beast in ecstasy at Kim Cheolsu's mansion in Paju, tears and saliva streaming down her face...
In the study of Cheon Myeonghwan's residence in Seoul's Hannam-dong—a serene space surrounded by a tranquil pine garden—a war of an entirely different kind was unfolding.
Seated at a heavy solid-wood desk, Cheon Myeonghwan listened to the report from his chief secretary.
No emotion flickered across his face.
"As of 10:05 a.m., we have confirmation that Executive Director Cheon Heyeon is en route to Kim Cheolsu's residence in Paju."
In response to the chief secretary's first report, Cheon Myeonghwan merely lifted his teacup and took a sip.
It was he himself who had pushed his daughter into the enemy's lair.
It was a cost he had to bear.
"Next report. Kim Cheolsu's mouthpiece, Assemblywoman Oh Se-ah, has seen her approval ratings surge 15% following the candidate debate. She is now the frontrunner for election. The environmental issues she raised have soured Paju citizens' perception of Taeseong to the worst possible level, and there are even signs of boycott movements centered around local shops."
"...Continue."
"Yes. Finally, stock trends for Taeseong Group affiliates. With the union strikes and environmental scandals erupting simultaneously, Taeseong Heavy Industries and Taeseong Pharmaceuticals have plummeted for two straight days, wiping out approximately 1.2 trillion won in market capitalization."
The chief secretary finished his report, but Cheon Myeonghwan remained silent.
He simply gazed indifferently at the meticulously tended garden outside the window.
Kim Cheolsu.
That young beast had set fires ablaze across every front all at once, as if he'd been waiting for the perfect moment.
Politics, public opinion, unions, and even the stock market.
An aggressive, merciless strategy designed to choke the life out of his opponent in one fell swoop.
After a long silence, Cheon Myeonghwan finally spoke.
His voice carried no anger or despair—only the cold hardness of tempered steel.
"What a tiger of a fellow..."
Referring not to a pack animal but a lone, ferocious predator, Cheon Myeonghwan thought of his daughter heading to Paju.
The image of her as Kim Cheolsu's cum receptacle stirred no feelings in the old fox.
She was a child he'd placed on the front lines for exactly that purpose, after all.
Born into the world through a loveless political marriage—a mere chess piece.
A shield paraded as the "heir" to protect his true "child."
Was Cheon Myeonghwan's chess piece...
...fulfilling her role properly?
Tap... Tap... Tap...
Drumming his fingers on the desk, Cheon Myeonghwan shook his head.
No. The wench is being corrupted by the beast.
Through Han Yura's reports and his own intelligence network, he had detected the changes in his daughter.
She was falling into the man's arms, growing stupider by the day.
Cheon Heyeon was no longer of any use in the battle against Kim Cheolsu.
She had become nothing but a liability.
Having made his decision, Cheon Myeonghwan issued his emotionless command to the chief secretary.
"Transfer Executive Director Cheon Heyeon to the Philippines branch. Make the pretext airtight."
The chief secretary's eyes flickered for a moment, but he asked nothing and simply bowed his head.
Cheon Myeonghwan turned his gaze back to the window.
He continued, still staring outside.
His focus had already shifted from personal "disposals" to the heart of the war.
"Any moves from Representative Kim to buy up our shares?"
"None so far. He holds about 30 billion won worth of our group's stock, but it's on par with other companies. For now, we're assessing it as large-scale dividend farming."
At the chief secretary's report, Cheon Myeonghwan's brow furrowed ever so slightly.
Overwhelming performance, the skill to generate it—why resort to dirty tricks instead of a straight numbers fight?
He couldn't comprehend it.
Just to scoop up cheap shares?
No.
No matter how bargain-basement the market shares got, without controlling stakes from off-market sources, even Kim Cheolsu knew he couldn't devour Taeseong.
And yet...
Why go to these lengths?
Suddenly, Cheon Myeonghwan recalled Han Yura's words.
[Kim Cheolsu isn't the kind of man you think he is, Chairman.]
He had imagined him as a conqueror even more ruthless than himself.
Was that wrong?
What if...
A horrifying hypothesis surfaced in his mind—one he'd never considered before.
Is Kim Cheolsu simply a madman who finds joy in burning the world—his own kingdom—for the thrill of it?
A being whose goal wasn't conquest or domination, but destruction itself.
Cheon Myeonghwan shook his head.
No, that was excessive speculation.
There was no way someone would torch the ninth-largest conglomerate in the nation just for "fun."
His reason rejected the idea, but the animal instinct honed by decades of experience kept blaring warnings.
He was facing an enemy of a type he'd never encountered in his life.
If he couldn't understand it, he just needed to find a weakness and smash it.
Cheon Myeonghwan shifted his line of thinking.
"Have you located Representative Kim's 'parents'?"
"Yes, sir. We've confirmed she's working as a madam at a nightlife establishment in Busan."
"Excellent..."
For the first time in ages, good news drew a faint smile to Cheon Myeonghwan's lips.
He had finally found the beast's leash.
"Any chance it's a decoy planted by Kim?"
"We've completed DNA testing via a hair sample collected from Executive Director Cheon Heyeon's residence. It's a confirmed match for his biological mother."
"Are Kim's parents well-off?"
"No, sir. Just a low-rent karaoke bar madam in Busan."
The chief secretary delivered detailed intel on Kim Cheolsu's mother based on prepared files.
A karaoke bar madam in a small Busan joint, living alone.
One 20-year-old daughter under her care, age 41.
A tragic life: child born young, eventually relinquished to an orphanage.
The perfect weakness.
Having heard the report, Cheon Myeonghwan asked indifferently, as if discussing the weather.
"I've heard rumors of illegal nightlife spots popping up around Busan lately. What do you think?"
The chief secretary immediately grasped the implication.
"...I'll contact Prosecutor Kim at the Busan District Prosecutor's Office."
"Ignorance is bliss, but now that we know... it's troubling how a parent and child can live 'unaware' of each other..."
Cheon Myeonghwan let out a hypocritical sigh.
The chief secretary bowed, reconfirming the order.
"Consider it handled."
Using Kim Cheolsu's mother as bait would buy time to drag him into the mud.
But it wasn't enough.
The Blue House's response was still pending.
To utterly crush the monster that was Kim Cheolsu, Cheon Myeonghwan needed more "time."
"How's Seonwoo been lately?"
"Fully focused on the museum project being handled by Executive Director Han Yura."
"Does he meet with Executive Director Han Yura often?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good..."
Information on Han Yura flashed through Cheon Myeonghwan's mind.
College dropout, former nightlife worker.
And now, Kim Cheolsu's cum dump.
Her origins and background were lowly and vulgar, but she was a woman who knew how to survive.
And that made her resemble a young vixen from his own youth.
Plenty tame enough to fill the gaps in my gentle son's deficiencies.
The past could be washed clean.
Cheon Myeonghwan steeled his resolve and issued his final directive.
His voice turned kindly, as if merely inquiring after her well-being.
"The streets have been rough lately. I worry something might happen to a young, beautiful executive like Han Yura."
It was a veiled test of her loyalty.
Even if the heart was true, verification was essential.
Probe deeper to confirm she harbors no divided loyalties.
The chief secretary caught the meaning at once and bowed silently.
All orders were given. The dice had been cast.
Cheon Myeonghwan closed his eyes softly, awaiting contact from the Blue House.
The long, grueling battle to defend his kingdom had begun anew.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
In the faint light of dawn breaking over a quiet residential neighborhood in Busan, the front door of a rundown two-room villa creaked open quietly with the turn of the lock.
Go Miran, her body exhausted and reeking of all-night booze, cigarettes, and heavy perfume, dragged herself inside—just as her daughter Yuna emerged from her room, opening the door.
Mother and daughter came face-to-face in the cramped entryway.
Jeans, hoodie, hair tied back tightly, oversized backpack.
The spitting image of a college student heading to the library.
Seeing her daughter like that, Go Miran managed an awkward smile on her weary face.
"Heading out already? Morning classes?"
At her mother's words, Yuna's expressionless face turned toward her.
The daughter's gaze swept over her mother, whose overnight fatigue was plain as day.
Heavy makeup, flashy and provocative outfit.
Cleavage on full display, skirt so short it threatened to reveal everything if she sat down.
"Yeah. Just getting off work?"
Yuna's voice held no emotion whatsoever.
Go Miran knew what that blankness meant and gave a sheepish laugh in reply.
"Yeah... Heh heh heh."
A bar drudge catering to patrons' whims all night, managing the young girls.
That was her job.
To her awkward chuckle, Yuna replied curtly.
"Made some bean sprout soup. Eat it and get some rest."
The tone was brusque, but it carried her daughter's genuine care.
Yuna said nothing more, brushing past her mother's shoulder and stepping out the door.
She closed the front door behind her and leaned against it for a moment.
With a small sigh, she wished fervently.
If only she could graduate college soon, land a job, escape this suffocating poverty—and ensure her mother never had to wear outfits like that late at night, peddling smiles anymore...
Leaving the dilapidated villa complex, she headed to the bus stop.
A university-bound bus soon arrived, but she let it pass.
Then she boarded one heading to the industrial complex from the opposite direction.
Her "morning class" wasn't in a lecture hall, but at a factory conveyor belt amid the roar of machinery.
At the same time, Go Miran entered the house and felt the lingering warmth her daughter had left behind.
She shut the front door and kicked off her ankle-shattering high heels.
Stepping into the living room, she spotted a single pot on the small kitchen table.
Lifting the lid released a puff of steam and the refreshing aroma of bean sprout soup.
A genuine smile finally spread across Go Miran's face.
This was what made enduring this harsh world worthwhile.
She scooped rice into a soup bowl and wolfed down her breakfast.
Her stomach, tormented all night, eased in the hot broth.
It was right then.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Someone began pounding on the front door as if to break it down.
Go Miran tensed, wondering if loan sharks had come calling, and approached the entryway.
"Who is it..."
Before her voice could trail off, a harsh, grating voice barked from outside—like steel on steel.
"Police. Ms. Go Miran, open the door."
The word "police" made her heart plummet.
Even in that terror, the first thought in her mind was relief: At least Yuna isn't here to see this.
With trembling hands, she gripped the doorknob.
What now? Did the girls at the shop do drugs? Was that new girl yesterday underage?
A barrage of worst-case scenarios raced through her head.
Terrified yet falling back on the servile demeanor she'd honed in this line of work, Go Miran plastered on her most fawning smile as she greeted the police.
"Oh dear... Officers. What's this so early in the morning..."
These weren't the local beat cops dropping by for petty bribes.
Men with sharp eyes and rigid expressions.
They carried documents and equipment.
The one in the lead swept a cold gaze over her and spoke.
"Busan District Prosecutor's Narcotics Investigation Team. Ms. Go Miran, you'll need to cooperate."
Busan District Prosecutors...
Go Miran's mind went blank.
This wasn't some neighborhood station matter.
This was beyond anything she could handle.
Before she could utter a word, another investigator twisted her arms behind her back.
Click.
The cold, unyielding bite of metal clamped around her slender wrists—handcuffs.
A wave of utter despair crashed over her, signaling the end of everything.
But amid all that hopelessness,
Go Miran thanked the heavens for one thing alone: that Yuna wasn't witnessing this nightmare.
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