Chapter 200
Chapter 200
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 200
Chapter Title: A Flower Blooms on the Ashes
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A flower blooms atop the ashes.
Silence blanketed the studio.
Anchor Kim Min-jun's expression stiffened for a split second, but he quickly regained his composure with the poise of a seasoned veteran.
He neatly wrapped up Cheon Hye-yeon's response and swiftly shifted his target.
"We've heard from former Executive Director Cheon. We'll revisit her sincerity shortly, but now I'd like to turn to Professor Park Sun-woo."
All the cameras swiveled toward Park Sun-woo in unison.
He still hadn't fully shaken off the dramatic tension his younger sister had created.
"Professor Park, the materials you've disclosed are shockingly explosive, enough to shake the very foundations of Taesung Group. As a scholar who's devoted his life to history, it's only natural for you to share their historical value with the world."
Anchor Kim Min-jun opened gently once more.
But beneath that softness lurked thorns far crueler than before.
"That said, viewers are also curious about your personal background. As you know, Professor, you... were never entered into Chairman Cheon Myung-hwan's family registry, nor did you take his surname. And you've walked the path of a scholar without any material support from Taesung."
He paused briefly, staring straight through Park Sun-woo.
"It's admirable, but it does raise some questions. Can you confidently say that this exposé isn't driven by a belated hunger for the recognition and wealth you've lived without as the 'hidden son' all your life?"
It was a more blatant, more vicious attack than before.
An attempt to reduce Park Sun-woo's scholarly integrity to petty cravings for money and approval.
Park Sun-woo's face flushed red with anger and humiliation.
He tried to retort, but his emotions choked him—his lips trembled, but no coherent words came.
Is he crumbling? That idiot...
Cheon Hye-yeon watched him coldly.
It was the worst-case scenario she'd calculated.
A rational rebuttal would sound like an excuse, while emotional fury would play right into the anchor's hands.
At that very moment, Park Sun-woo drew a ragged breath, quelled his rage, and stared straight ahead.
His eyes no longer wavered.
Instead, they held the pure, wounded sincerity of a true scholar.
"Yes, that's right."
He acknowledged it calmly.
"I don't bear my father's surname, and I've never taken Taesung's money. I've lived my whole life... that way."
A faint smile tugged at Anchor Kim Min-jun's lips.
"But Anchor,"
Park Sun-woo's voice was low, yet it resonated through the entire studio.
"That's precisely why I'm sitting here. If I'd studied with Taesung's money, would my conscience be intact today? If I'd lived in my father's shadow, could I have found the courage to speak the truth of history?"
He appealed earnestly to the viewers beyond the camera lens.
"In exchange for no money or name, I gained a 'freedom' and 'conscience' owed to no one. And now, I'm simply standing here, staking everything on that conscience. Compensation, you ask? Yes, it is. But not for money—for the years I spent as a scholar turning a blind eye to the truth."
Silence fell over the studio once more.
Cheon Hye-yeon swallowed dryly without realizing it.
It was a counterattack beyond her calculations, beyond even her imagination.
Her 'clean blade' was a holy sword that shone with its own light.
For the first time, a flicker of 'fluster' crossed Anchor Kim Min-jun's face.
A few more questions flew back and forth.
Anchor Kim Min-jun pressed Park Sun-woo on the authenticity of the slush fund documents tied to Taesung Group, but Park stood firm, verifying and explaining from a scholarly standpoint.
At his side, Cheon Hye-yeon meticulously dissected Taesung's internal management structure and issues, bolstering his claims.
Their flawless tag-team assault had fully swung the studio's atmosphere in their favor.
Anchor Kim Min-jun's expression grew tense.
An urgent voice seemed to buzz in his in-ear monitor.
He decided to play his final card.
"I understand your courage and resolve. But,"
This time, Kim Min-jun spoke with razor-sharp finality, as if to end it all.
"Since your revelations, Taesung Group's stock has plummeted. Hundreds of thousands of retail investors who trusted in the group's future are shedding bloody tears right now. What do you have to say to their suffering? How do you intend to take responsibility for this chaos you've unleashed?"
It was the most effective strike, cloaked in the banner of 'public good.'
A trap demanding sacrifice from the little guy for some grand cause—one no answer could easily escape.
As Park Sun-woo opened his mouth to respond, Cheon Hye-yeon lightly touched his shoulder, stopping him.
This question demanded an answer from her, not the scholar.
She bowed deeply toward the camera.
"I feel the shareholders' short-term losses more keenly than anyone. After all, I was a Taesung shareholder myself until recently."
She lifted her head.
The sorrowful expression from before was gone, replaced by the cool intellect and conviction of a former top executive.
"But Anchor, look at the essence of the matter. This stock drop isn't due to the exposé. It's simply the painful process of corruption and inflated falsehoods from decades past returning to their true value."
She pressed on.
Her voice carried unyielding power.
"Taesung, this giant, is riddled with cancer right now. The current decline is the agony of surgery cutting out those cancer cells. Surgery hurts, but ignoring the cancer kills the patient. Chairman Cheon Myung-hwan's way has been nothing more than covering the cancer patient's face with glamorous makeup and deceiving the market that 'he's still healthy.'"
She now stared straight at Anchor Kim Min-jun.
"I want to excise the rot and grow transparent, healthy new flesh atop it—a 'new Taesung.' That's the only path that truly serves shareholder value in the long term."
She landed her final blow.
"Are you asking me, Anchor, if it's right to let the patient die out of fear of immediate pain?"
"......"
Anchor Kim Min-jun had no reply.
His 'shareholder protection' logic crumbled before the greater discourse of 'the patient's life.'
Cheon Hye-yeon had elevated herself from 'tragic hero' to 'Taesung's sole alternative' and 'the future.'
The broadcast was, for all intents and purposes, over.
As the show ended, all the studio lights blazed on.
There was no applause, but the staff's gazes—filled with hotter awe and reverence—poured onto the two.
Anchor Kim Min-jun muttered a perfunctory "Good work" and fled the scene.
As they exited into the broadcast station's hallway, Park Sun-woo couldn't hide his excitement.
"Hye-yeon, that was... incredible. I had no idea you were that strong."
His eyes shone with genuine respect.
Cheon Hye-yeon, drained of all energy, gave a faint smile.
"It was only possible because you spoke the truth, brother. Thank you... truly."
"No, thank you."
Two cars waited at the station entrance.
A black sedan from Han Yura, and a modest model taxi for Park Sun-woo.
A symbol of their diverging paths.
"I should head back to the university. I'll be in touch."
"Yes, brother. Drive safe."
With a brief farewell, Park Sun-woo boarded the taxi.
Cheon Hye-yeon watched him go for a moment, then approached the black sedan whose door her driver held open.
Thud.
The moment she sank into the back seat and the door closed, every thread of tension binding her snapped.
The mask fell away, revealing Cheon Hye-yeon utterly spent.
She leaned her head against the headrest and let out a long sigh.
Right then.
...Ah.
From the depths of her relaxed body, something sticky trickled out, soaking her underwear.
Familiar yet repulsive, repulsive yet thrilling in some way.
The beast's lingering trace.
Throughout the broadcast, that nagging sensation had clawed at her nerves. Cheon Hye-yeon twisted her waist instinctively.
Then, absentmindedly, she glanced up at the room mirror to check the driver's seat.
The woman who was driver, bodyguard, and... her watcher.
Neat bob haircut, cool impression without a trace of makeup.
Familiar face.
Fragments of memory flashed through her mind.
Cheon Hye-yeon's eyes turned ice-cold.
It was definitely that night.
The beast's 10-to-1 orgy.
In the massive room decked out like a lounge bar, under flashing lights, she had knelt on the table in a line with the other women, 'waiting.'
Like mere merchandise awaiting his selection.
And the woman in the driver's seat was definitely...
Right there beside her.
Not even allowed a single thread of clothing. Bent over just like her, awaiting her turn.
That same face now gripped the wheel.
Cheon Hye-yeon stared at the familiar face through the rearview mirror.
Their eyes met in the glass for a fleeting moment.
No shame.
No contempt or pity.
Just recognition of another actor in this vile play.
Cheon Hye-yeon broke the silence first.
Her voice lacked the charisma that had shaken the station moments ago—languid and everyday.
"Got any tissues?"
"......"
The driver's shoulder twitched ever so slightly.
But she didn't turn.
Moments later, she gripped the wheel with one hand, opened the glove compartment with the other, and passed back a sealed wet wipe.
"Here."
Her voice held no emotion.
Cheon Hye-yeon took it.
Her movements showed no hesitation or tremor.
The car pulled away smoothly.
Beyond the heavily tinted windows that blocked the outside view, Seoul's scenery began to flow silently past.
A hermetic chamber, sealed from the world, for two women alone.
Cheon Hye-yeon leaned deeply into the seatback and slowly slid both hands under her skirt.
The faint rustle of lining against thigh was the only sound breaking the quiet.
Her fingertips first met the rough texture of her pantyhose.
Beyond that, the cotton underwear dug into her flesh.
She hooked her fingers into the taut waistband of that humiliating sensation and yanked it down without pause.
The childish strawberry-print panties, dragged down with the stockings, dangled helplessly at her knees.
And even in the shadows beyond her sight, the damp, sticky stain on the intimate fabric was unmistakable.
At the same time, an unmistakable 'night-bloom scent' wafted through the car's sealed space.
The trace of the man who had dominated her body last night.
The driver couldn't possibly miss the smell.
Yet she gripped the wheel without a twitch.
Cheon Hye-yeon casually tore open the wet wipe packet.
An artificial citrus scent briefly disrupted the night-bloom aroma.
She pulled out a cold sheet and slipped her hand back under her skirt.
Then she began meticulously, impassively wiping away the man's remnant from her deepest place.
This wasn't tidying up shameful aftermath.
It was prepping her weapon for the next battle.
She folded the used wipe discreetly and tucked it into her handbag's inner pocket, then straightened into perfect posture.
The disheveled stockings and skirt showed no trace.
To any outsider, she was the epitome of the poised, elegant career woman returning triumphant from her broadcast.
The lingering scent in the car had already faded, masked by the air freshener.
Cheon Hye-yeon shattered the silence again.
"Heading to Paju now?"
"Yes."
The driver woman replied curtly.
Her voice remained emotionless.
Paju.
Cheon Hye-yeon rolled the name on her tongue.
What fresh humiliation awaits today?
What new stage had Kim Cheolsu prepared there?
What degradations and pleasures would he use to test and tame her?
The mere thought sent a tingle through her lower belly, yet strangely, no fear.
As the car arced onto the highway, far off in Yeouido, Taesung Group's towering headquarters came into view.
A massive Babel gleaming silver in the sunlight.
Her eyes burned hot with her still-simmering body's heat and vengeful fire.
Cheon Hye-yeon shot a predatory glance at Taesung's distant headquarters.
That.
That is my kingdom to reclaim—no, to seize.
She would gladly endure even greater humiliation.
If it meant claiming that throne.
The car sped out of Seoul toward Paju.