Chapter 189
Chapter 189
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 189
Chapter Title: Flowers Bloom Amid the Ashes
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A flower blooms atop the ashes.
The chairman's office, perched at the pinnacle of the Taesung Group's heart, was as serene as ever.
Seoul's towering skyscrapers stretched out beyond the window, their surfaces fracturing the sinking sunset into shimmering gold.
Chairman Cheon Myeong-hwan sat at his hefty solid-wood desk, savoring the tidy leisure after watering his prized wind orchid.
This tranquility, this order—it was the testament to the kingdom he had built over a lifetime.
"Chairman."
The chief executive secretary appeared with a cautious knock.
His face bore a tension he couldn't quite hide, no matter how he tried.
"A report on Blue Sky Investment."
Cheon Myeong-hwan nodded wordlessly.
His gaze lingered on the elegant curve of the orchid's leaves.
The secretary swallowed dryly and brought up the screen on his prepared tablet PC.
"From 9 a.m. to 10 a.m. this morning—exactly one hour. Blue Sky targeted seven of our group's affiliates with simultaneous stock trades."
"......"
"The transaction volume is estimated at around 56 billion won."
Only then did Cheon Myeong-hwan's eyes shift to the secretary.
56.7 billion won.
Compared to the group's overall scale, it was less than a breeze in a teacup—a sum that frontline staff should have handled without even reporting upward.
Yet the fact that it had reached his desk meant there was something "off" about this deal.
Cheon Myeong-hwan's expression showed no great change.
The amount of money wasn't the issue.
He was curious about the "intent" behind it.
"So, what was the outcome?"
That was the first question from the seasoned king.
The secretary replied with an even stiffer face.
"...None. The stock prices fluctuated wildly for that hour, but at exactly 10 a.m., they all snapped back to their starting prices. Blue Sky's realized profit and loss is, effectively, zero."
Silence fell.
The heavy air in the chairman's office seemed to freeze in an instant.
Cheon Myeong-hwan stared into space for a moment.
He couldn't comprehend it.
Playing around with pocket change like that, for no real gain?
That was when it hit.
"Hah."
A deflating sound leaked from Cheon Myeong-hwan's lips.
It soon escalated into uncontrollable laughter.
"Hah, hahaha... hahahahaha!"
It wasn't laughter of joy.
Nor of anger. It was the hollow, chilling laugh of one who had seen through everything.
The secretary, seeing a side of the chairman he'd never witnessed before, could only bow his head helplessly.
When the laughter subsided, Cheon Myeong-hwan's eyes gleamed colder than ever.
This wasn't about making money.
Nor about tanking the stock price to sow fear.
It was pure showmanship.
Mockery.
And a declaration.
'Your market? It's just my one-hour plaything.'
'I can stroll into your heart anytime, stir everything up without spilling a drop of blood, and walk away.'
'Don't give me a reason to play the numbers game with you.'
For the first time in his life, Cheon Myeong-hwan felt confronted by a power utterly unlike wealth or authority.
A primal violence that wielded force simply because it could—devoid of justification or profit.
An absolute confidence lurking within that vulgarity.
He rose quietly and approached the window.
Seoul's nightscape no longer looked like his kingdom; it resembled a vast jungle where a new predator had emerged.
"Hands off Busan, is that it...?"
The secretary looked up at the quiet murmur.
"...Pardon?"
"Never mind."
Cheon Myeong-hwan shook his head, as if brushing away his own thoughts.
Whatever that young one's intentions, he couldn't stop now.
The game was already underway, and he had a bigger picture in mind.
"Any word from the Blue House?"
"...Only that it's difficult."
"Tch."
The secretary held his breath at the chairman's tongue-click.
The Blue House's response was clear.
They couldn't provide political assistance for Taesung Group's "irregular succession."
And above all, they couldn't wield the state's blade—the prosecution—against just one man, Kim Cheolsu.
The upright administration had politely declined the battle-hardened old king's shady request.
"They've grown fat and complacent."
Cheon Myeong-hwan fell silent, gazing at the jungle-like city nightscape.
To protect his kingdom, he needed fresh blood.
But in this jungle, who could he truly trust?
His political ties had frayed away, and business loyalties were as flimsy as paper.
One face surfaced in his mind.
Park Seon-woo.
The son from the only woman he had ever truly loved in his life.
His sole sanctuary, deliberately kept distant from this harsh storm, shielded from even a speck of dirt.
Seon-woo was no blade.
No tool.
Unlike his other children.
But now, there was no choice.
To safeguard the kingdom from this jungle, paradoxically, he needed those purest hands.
Cheon Myeong-hwan resolved to shatter his lifelong convictions and his tender feelings for his son.
Kim Cheolsu or Han Yura.
Those young beasts undoubtedly saw Seon-woo as the real "heir" he had hidden away.
Fine. Let them think that.
When those fangs turned toward Seon-woo.
An opportunity would surely come.
Cheon Myeong-hwan decided to play along with the young predators' assumptions.
In a game where nothing went his way anyway, Seon-woo was the last remaining wildcard.
A pang ached in his chest.
He recalled his final promise to Seon-woo's mother.
That he would never drag him into this filthy mire.
'That promise to her?'
Cheon Myeong-hwan scoffed inwardly.
Promises and love were powerless before a greater cause.
He closed his eyes.
Yes, he had another child.
The vast, brilliant one he had devoted his life to.
The name of Cheon Myeong-hwan's most beloved child was...
Taesung.
He opened his eyes again.
No more confusion or guilt.
Only the cold resolve of a king duty-bound to protect his realm remained.
Turning from the window, Cheon Myeong-hwan spoke softly to the secretary, who still had his head bowed.
"Director Yoon."
"Yes, Chairman."
"We'll need to establish a new Taesung Cultural Foundation."
It was an abrupt order, but Director Yoon waited for the rest without missing a beat.
"Name it... 'Cornerstone.' It will be the foundation of Taesung's cornerstone."
Cheon Myeong-hwan paused, locking eyes with Director Yoon.
"For the foundation's chairman... we'll bring in someone prestigious from outside. Say, a young historian who's been riding high lately."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Director Yoon couldn't begin to fathom its meaning.
He simply served his lord's will. That was his sole duty.
"...Understood, Chairman."
Once Director Yoon withdrew, silence returned to the vast chairman's office.
Cheon Myeong-hwan returned to his solid-wood desk and sank into his chair.
All the cards were now played.
Atop the trap laid by the young beast, the old king was willing to dance.
Who would collapse at the end of that dance? No one in this jungle knew yet.
Cheon Myeong-hwan clicked his tongue softly and muttered to himself.
"Tch, such a shame... what a waste."
Once, he had envisioned a different picture.
That young, fierce woman of ambition and talent, Han Yura, managing the vast Taesung kingdom,
While his beloved son Seon-woo lived under her staunch protection, happily buried in history books for life.
That would have been the perfect landscape for his twilight years.
But the young beast had claimed the very blade he coveted most as his confidant.
Judging by the shifting winds, Han Yura had no intention of betraying Kim Cheolsu; she simply stood by his side, scrambling the old king's mind.
That perfect plan was now a mere delusion.
Cheon Myeong-hwan no longer yearned for such a future.
If he couldn't have it, he would break it.
That was the jungle's sole law.
He shook off the brief reverie and switched off the office lights.
In an instant, the vast space plunged into deep darkness, lit only by the city's glow outside.
As the shadows stripped away the stern mask from his aged face, Cheon Myeong-hwan finally revealed his true self.
An unquenchable greed for the kingdom blazed fiercely in his eyes, like a starving beast.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I lay naked on the sofa in the CEO's office.
The heat from my body had cooled, but my mind burned colder and clearer than ever.
Post-Nut Clarity.
Closing my eyes, my consciousness pierced through space and time, illuminating an old man's office.
In pitch-black darkness, the city lights cast deep shadows across his wrinkled face.
I had seen it at dawn in that soup joint.
The true desire writhing beneath his mask.
'Marry my daughter, and Taesung is yours?'
Lies.
'Cold blood ready to abandon his daughter to protect the Taesung name?'
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
Lies.
The old fox's every hypocrisy blazed in vivid blue flames across my mind.
Kingdom? Corporation? Chairman? Father? Honor?
Heh heh heh heh heh.
I laughed silently in the darkness.
Pathetic excuses.
Wrappers for self-deception.
Strip them away, and it was all so simple.
In the end, the only thing that greed-soaked old fox craved was one thing.
The 'power' that came with being a chaebol chairman in Korea.
Standing above the law, politics at his feet, even human lives reduced to numbers—absolute authority.
He wasn't protecting Taesung.
He just didn't want to lose that 'power.'
I slowly opened my eyes.
In the darkness, a slender smile curved my lips.
What face would that old lying fox make when even his self-delusions were stripped bare?
Giggle.
A delightful chuckle escaped, shaking my shoulders faintly.
If the cherished son he protected from every storm, the one he believed was the true heir,
Became the 'traitor son' who destroyed his father's empire with his own hands—what then?
I gazed at my reflection in the window.
Within those eyes, the 'Saint-Making Plan' neared completion.
This wasn't mere revenge.
It was destruction bordering on art.
I picked up the phone tossed carelessly on the sofa.
And sent a short message to one person.
[Taesung, frame them as Japanese collaborators] After sending it, I flung the phone back onto the sofa.
Now, the curtain rose on a long, tedious play.
All I had to do was recline in the comfiest seat and await the old king's final fall.