Chapter 194
Chapter 194
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 194
Chapter Title: A Flower Blooms on the Ashes
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How many days had it been?
The boundary between day and night had long since collapsed.
The small room that was meant to become his child's nursery had turned into a cave reeking of cigarette smoke, cold stale coffee, and the musty scent of old paper.
His jaw was rough with unshaven stubble, his eyes bloodshot.
Park Sunwoo had barely slept for days, glued to his laptop screen, maniacally digging into something.
That sleazy internet agitprop post Han Yura had shown him had become a monster devouring his life whole.
At first, he'd been furious. Then he'd tried to ignore it. In the end, he couldn't overcome his instincts as a scholar.
He had plunged headfirst into this battle of truths to prove that lie as a blatant falsehood.
Dozens of browser tabs open, he scoured every digital archive domestic and international.
He desperately sought evidence that the post was fabricated, an alibi proving his grandfather's innocence.
'This is a lie. Low-class slander.'
Brainwashing himself, he scrolled down the mouse wheel.
The Japanese National Diet Library's colonial-era official gazette archive.
It was just one page among many he planned to skim past.
Then his eyes locked onto a corner of the screen.
[List of Persons Honored for Contributions to the Governor-General of Chosun's Land Survey Project]
A familiar name.
His grandfather, Cheon Gi-ho.
His heart plummeted with a thud.
No. It has to be a namesake.
With trembling hands, he scrolled down.
Beside the list were the honorees' places of origin and the names of the companies they ran at the time.
[Origin: Busan, South Gyeongsang Province. Company: Daesung Merchant House.]
The predecessor to the Taeseong Group.
There was no more denying it.
That trashy internet rumor mill, even if cunningly manipulated with falsehoods, had at its root an indelible shard of 'fact.'
Park Sunwoo slowly closed his laptop.
Click.
The room's only light vanished, plunging it into total darkness.
He didn't move in the shadows.
He had believed his whole life that he stood on the side of victims whose names history hadn't even recorded.
He'd thought representing their grievances was his mission.
But,
Me.
My roots.
His despair-filled eyes gleamed hollowly in the dark.
It was the face of a scholar who had unearthed not rumor, but fact, with his own hands.
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Cheon Myeong-hwan sat at his massive oak desk, listening to his chief secretary's report.
His gaze was fixed on the Go board replay on the desk, but his ears missed not a single word from the secretary.
"...That's the situation. Han Yura, head of Blue Sky Investment, has begun acquisition proceedings on two of our Group's secondary and tertiary subcontractors in Changwon and Gumi, following her takeover of Daejin Precision in Busan last weekend."
The chief secretary's voice brimmed with concern.
But Cheon Myeong-hwan's expression showed no flicker of agitation as he listened.
He simply picked up a black stone and quietly placed it on a point on the board.
A faint smile ghosted across his lips.
The 'chaebol bullying' frame.
Sentimental opinion warfare fronting the tears of the weak.
It was the most childish, predictable move that young beast Kim Cheolsu could pull.
The Busan factory was merely the first sacrificial lamb in that war.
"Chairman, is it really okay to let this slide? It could disrupt the supply chain."
To his worried secretary, Cheon Myeong-hwan replied without even lifting his head.
"A noisy dog barks but never bites."
He was convinced he saw through the entire situation crystal clear.
"Tell the legal team to double-check all contracts with those subcontractors and secure alternative suppliers in advance. Prepare damage claims the moment they breach."
"Understood."
"The punk's goal is just to annoy us into the negotiation table. Let him bark. Pretend to be distracted and play along—that's it."
Cheon Myeong-hwan chuckled inwardly.
The arrogant young beast was abandoning his own strengths to pick a fight in the old fox's specialty.
Reading money flows and crushing foes with numbers—that was the kid's forte.
Yet he dared challenge a man who'd dominated this game for decades with opinion wars and subcontractor management mudslinging.
Youthful bravado.
It was opportunity itself.
Predictable rage was just a controllable variable.
Finally tearing his eyes from the Go board, Cheon Myeong-hwan looked at his secretary.
His gaze was no longer on the board—it spanned a far vaster game.
'This administration is done for.'
Fools ignoring the wolf at the door to cling to their stiff principles.
'Then line up with the next regime. Gain the power to counter Kim Cheolsu.'
He broached an entirely different topic with the secretary.
"Opposition's Rep. Park Min-woo. His voice has been the loudest lately."
"Yes, Chairman. He's being touted as a presidential contender."
"A good politician always needs backing. Make 'personal' ties."
"...Understood."
The secretary bowed without further questions.
It meant massive funds would move.
Having laid his long-term stones, Cheon Myeong-hwan returned to the game at hand.
At that exact moment,
The secretary's pocket phone buzzed lowly.
It was the direct emergency line that rang only for major crises.
The secretary quickly bowed to Cheon Myeong-hwan and checked the phone.
His face hardened instantly.
"Chairman, right now..."
He hesitated, as if the words stuck in his throat. Cheon Myeong-hwan's brow furrowed.
"...Prof. Park Sunwoo... is holding a press conference."
".........."
The air in the chairman's office froze.
Cheon Myeong-hwan's hand halted mid-air, frozen in the pose of picking up a Go stone.
Press conference?
What press conference?
Without his permission?
Outside his plans?
An uncontrollable, utterly unforeseen variable.
For the first time, a crack fissured the old fox's meticulous calculations.
Taking his silence as assent, the secretary swiftly grabbed the remote.
The massive TV dominating one wall of the office flicked on silently.
Switching channels filled the screen with a familiar broadcaster's logo and the packed press room.
A podium ringed with dozens of mics, camera flashes exploding wildly.
At the center, Park Sunwoo stood with a stony face.
That much was the expected shock.
But when Cheon Myeong-hwan saw the figure standing shoulder-to-shoulder beside him, his pupils quaked like an earthquake.
Cheon Hye-yeon.
His daughter, whom he'd exiled to the Philippines in all but name.
The one he'd cast out with his own hands, deeming her tainted by Kim Cheolsu.
She stood beside Park Sunwoo now.
Two uncontrollable, utterly unforeseen variables stood together, guns aimed at him.
For the first time, a crack fissured the old fox's meticulous calculations.
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Dozens of microphones speared toward him like sharp lance tips.
Hundreds of camera flashes erupted ceaselessly before his eyes, searing his vision white.
Park Sunwoo wasn't used to this kind of noise and scrutiny.
He felt like a herbivore stripped bare before hunters.
Then, his half-sister Cheon Hye-yeon, standing beside him, stepped forward to the mic.
Her posture was upright and proud, unbowed even under the Philippine sun.
"First, I'd like to thank my brother, Professor Park Sunwoo, for joining me here today."
'Brother.'
Watching her casually call him 'brother,' Park Sunwoo recalled the events two days ago, when it had all begun.
After days as a shut-in wreck, he'd finally sought out Executive Director Han Yura.
The scholar's face that had unearthed fact over rumor with his own hands was despair incarnate.
Drowning in guilt, he poured out his woes to the one ally who supported his research—his sole confidante.
About his grandfather's pro-Japanese deeds, and the inescapable yoke on his descendants.
Han Yura listened to his raw confession with eyes brimming with deep sorrow.
She neither condemned nor pitied him.
She simply nodded quietly, as if fully comprehending his pain.
When his tale ended, she spoke.
"Professor, we can't change the past. I... can't even imagine how agonizing that truth must be for you."
She first acknowledged his pain, offering solace. Then, quietly, she proposed a new path.
"But while we can't right the past, we can atone for it."
"...Atone how?"
"Those unjust profits that formed Taeseong's roots—return them now to their rightful owners, back to society. With your own hands."
Her voice was soft, but carried more power than any thunderous declaration.
"And there's someone who shares your vision on that path."
Meeting the eyes of Park Sunwoo lost in despair, she made her final pitch.
"Stand together before the world and declare you'll atone for Taeseong's past, returning ill-gotten wealth to society. That alone will comfort the souls of the nameless victims you've devoted your life to studying. Become the true symbol of reform."
It was an offer he couldn't refuse.
To him mired in despair's swamp, she handed him 'atonement' and 'reform'—the most sublime missions a scholar could pursue.
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My ops room, dominated by a massive wall monitor.
I sank into the house-sized sofa, watching the live-streamed YouTube broadcast.
[BJ Kan Live] 💥SHOCK! Taeseong Group Finally Explodes! Illegit Son and Cast-Off Daughter's Joint Presser!💥
Amid the garish title, BJ Kan's over-the-top voice boomed from the speakers.
[Whoa, viewers! This is a total family dogfight! Siblings vs. Dad! Grab that popcorn tight, folks!]
On screen, Park Sunwoo stood at the podium, face pale as if he'd collapse any second.
Beside him, Cheon Hye-yeon with venomous glare.
The perfect picture Han Yura had painted.
I kept a satisfied smirk, eyes glued to the screen.
Beneath the din of the broadcast, sticky slurps echoed rhythmically from between my thighs.
Slurp, slurp... huff...
Under me, Park Sojin lapped at my cock with a languid, expressionless face.
Financial Supervisory Service team chief. Gang boss ruling Gangnam.
But before me, just a drooling bitch bowing her head.
I gently stroked her hair, refocusing on the screen.
Finally, Park Sunwoo stepped to the mic, voice trembling as he spoke.
"Today... as a historian and as a human being... I stand here to repent for my roots."
Suppressing bursting laughter, I lightly grabbed Park Sojin's hair and shoved her deeper onto me.
The tragedy of Park Sunwoo on screen and Park Sojin's moans below wove perfect harmony.
'Burn, you fucker, Taeseong.'
I'd figured naive saint Park Sunwoo might do something,
But fuck, this exceeded imagination.
A bigger bomb than all my schemes combined,
Detonating right in Korea's heart by that guy.
Harmony at home brings success in all things.
The proverb wasn't wrong.
When the house is at peace, everything goes smoothly.
Conversely, when the house is chaos, everything crumbles.
I had what Cheon Myeong-hwan could never have, and the old fox was cracking right there.