Pushing Them to the Precipice
“My goal is to drive those bastards right over the cliff's edge. To do that, I need ties with the lord first—but you've already got that covered, right?”
“Of course. The Oclo Trading Company has done business with their family for three generations now.”
“Then get the lord to shake them down. Just a light touch on their taxes will do the trick.”
Was this really such an unexpected approach?
It took over a full minute for Haiyel to respond.
“Using a method like that could wreck the trading company badly.”
“Doesn't matter. What I want isn't their operations—it's the contracts they've got.”
“No clauses in the military contracts that kick in if something happens to the company?”
“I've checked them all already. Nothing to worry about.”
The contracts were riddled with loopholes, probably to give them an easy out if things went south.
'Which is exactly why I can pull off an aggressive play like this. Their own self-sabotage.'
That's why you always have to be careful when drawing up contracts.
“That's... incredibly bold of you. You didn't used to be this type.”
“A few brushes with death change a man. Anyway, you'll handle it for me, right?”
“Yes. It's still within legal bounds, so I can move on it without asking the family head.”
It was the best possible answer—the absolute top outcome he'd hoped for.
“Thank you so much.”
“It's only right. And after you absorb them, any plans for how you'll run things?”
“I'm swamped right now, so I'll hand it off to the Oclo Trading Company. Better left to the experts.”
“I'll line up some top talent for you.”
“I'll trust you on that, branch manager.”
Now that I'd set the board, it was his turn to make the moves.
“Haha, don't put too much pressure on this old man. I'll do my best not to disappoint.”
His words were humble, but his eyes gleamed like he'd just found a fascinating new toy.
'Alonso, was it? You're in deep shit now.'
Haiyel had spent decades in the cutthroat world of the Oclo Trading Company, where only the ruthless survived.
He was at least as vicious as me—probably more.
“It's getting late—care for dinner?”
“Can't tonight. I'll make time soon.”
A chance for a good meal, but unfortunately, the timing was off.
“I'll be waiting for your call.”
“Feel free to reach out first. I've got plenty to learn from you.”
I kept up the humble front as I left the building.
“At least he's on friendly terms. Was worried he might be one of my brothers' guys.”
No matter that Father had tapped me as heir—my two older brothers were still around.
Especially Tems Oclo; his influence in the company lingered strong.
“Now it's just a waiting game.”
With no one but Haiyel handling it, things wouldn't drag on long.
“The real problem, though... is overtime tonight too.”
Knowing it was hell didn't make going back any less brutal.
“Family head, deliveries complete—back from the unit!”
Colvet, returning from the military base, gave Alonso a quick report.
“No unusual activity?”
“None, sir. Quiet as the grave. Looks like he finally knows his place.”
“Right? He slashed margins out of fear, but starting next week, back to normal.”
“Understood!”
Colvet nodded eagerly, as if he'd been waiting for the word.
“Should've played nice from the start. Would've been good for everyone. Right?”
“Haha! Exactly! Just follow the family head's lead, and everything falls into place. How could anyone be so stupid?”
Alonso's lips curled at Colvet's slick flattery.
“Yeah, back when I was a major, the current division commander was just a captain. Coming at me is like spitting on the army's rank structure...”
BAM!
“Family head!!!”
As Alonso geared up to brag more, a staffer burst through the door without knocking.
“No knock...?!”
Colvet started to chew him out, but panic like that always had a reason.
“Tax officials from the lord's castle are tearing the office apart! This is bad—really bad!”
“What?!”
“Why the hell would taxmen show up out of nowhere? No warning? Out of my way!”
Alonso shoved past and bolted downstairs to the first-floor office.
“Grab every ledger here!”
“Chief, these numbers look off. Purchases like this should've doubled the reported sales.”
“There have to be hidden books. Search every inch!”
Over ten tax officials were ripping through every scrap of paper in the office.
“What the hell do you think you're doing in here without my permission?!”
Alonso's face flushed crimson as he bellowed—but it wasn't a smart move.
“Perfect timing. Alonso Trading Company head—mind explaining?”
Tax chief Delun called him over like he'd been waiting.
“Explain what?! More like, barging into my company without notice!”
“Got a tip. Said you evaded over 50,000 gold. Looks legit so far—better talk.”
“E-evasion? What the—?”
“If you're innocent, clear it up. I'll punish the tipster myself. Have a seat.”
At Delun's signal, an official dragged over a chair.
“First: your main revenue is military food supplies, correct?”
“Yes! We work hard feeding the troops, and now this heavy-handed—!”
“Quiet. Last year's reported sales are double off from reality. Explain.”
“That's ridiculous!”
“Tipster sent estimated sales. Very plausible.”
Delun slapped a paper scrawled with figures onto the desk.
“15 silver per soldier, 18 for officers. Even basic math shows your reports don't add up.”
“How did you...?”
“And you got tax breaks for supplying only local ranch meat—yet signed a 300,000-gold deal with a massive ranch in Kier barony.”
Thud!
The contract they absolutely couldn't get caught with landed on the desk.
“How...?”
“Guys like you hide in the same spots every time. Want to live? Try an excuse.”
His tone dripped finality.
Alonso squeezed his eyes shut and dropped to his knees.
“Just this once... please look the other way? I'll go straight from now on.”
“You call that an apology?”
“I'll show sincerity—whatever you want! Please!”
He clutched at Delun's legs, offering a fortune—but Delun's face didn't budge.
“Tsk tsk. Normally, maybe. But you pissed off someone high up.”
“Me...?”
“Lord himself ordered a full sweep. He wouldn't know a small outfit like yours—someone asked him to.”
One face flashed in Alonso's mind the instant Delun finished.
'Palan Oclo...! Screwing me over like this?!'
Rage boiled up, but with a blade at his throat, he was powerless.
“Tsk tsk. If you're gonna run dirty, don't make enemies. Flight risk, bad crime—take him away.”
“Yes, sir!”
The guards Delun brought grabbed Alonso's arms.
“W-wait! I know people at the castle—just let me talk to them!”
“Even better. Chat in the dungeon. Move.”
Reserve Colonel Alonso was hauled limply into a transport wagon and thrown into the underground prison.
Late that evening, one man came to see him.
“What the hell happened?”
A sturdy middle-aged man: Belkero, knight commander of Bern barony and Alonso's old training camp buddy, a reserve lieutenant colonel.
“You messed with the Oclo family's youngest. Didn't think he'd drag the lord into this sleazy revenge.”
“Why poke a beast like that?”
“Figured a guy booted from the army had no pull. Bad call. Damn it!”
Thud!
Alonso punched the bars.
“Lord wants every speck of dust from your company. Won't be easy.”
“Th-then what happens to me?”
“Hm.”
Belkero hesitated, then forced the words out.
“Sad truth: you and your wife probably won't make it.”
“What the hell?!”
“Calm down. I'll save David somehow at least.”
“Nonsense! Take my money—bribe the guards, sneak me out. Not that hard!”
A future of death he couldn't fathom—Alonso's voice rose in fury.
“I'd love to, but springing someone from the dungeon? Impossible.”
The underground prison housed only the worst offenders.
Even as knight commander, Belkero couldn't touch it—especially not with the lord eyeing this prisoner.
“You think I'll go quietly alone?!”
Belkero had taken a fat bribe to cover for Alonso.
If the lord found out, he wouldn't walk free either.
“That's why I'm saving David at least—why can't you see that?!”
Realizing his own neck was on the line, Belkero's voice sharpened too.
“Get me out!”
“You should've been careful from the start! Yelling at me now changes nothing! Get a grip!”
Endless bickering.
They were pointed in opposite directions—no common ground.
“I'll come back tomorrow. Cool off and think straight.”
Belkero calmed his flushed face, turned, and left the dungeon.
The next morning.
Palan—who'd thrown Alonso in here but might now be his savior—visited the underground prison.
“You look like hell. And it's only been a day.”
Click! Click!
The lord's castle underground prison, accessed with a morning pass.
The facilities were worse than expected.
'Was that a rat I just saw scurry by?'
High humidity made it prime real estate for bugs and filth.
“You bastard!!!”
Alonso, jolted awake, charged with bloodshot eyes bulging.
“Still got some fight in you.”
If he'd been closer, those hands might've grabbed his collar through the bars.
“You son of a bitch! Once I get out...”
“Haven't learned a thing. I'm here to save your neck, and this is the thanks? Maybe I should just leave.”
“Wh-what?”
Had he caught a glimmer of hope in those words?
Alonso's voice softened instantly.
“This way, it's the gallows for sure. Unfair, right? Dying over a little extra coin.”
In modern Korea, tax evasion never meant execution, no matter the billions skimmed.
'They bounce back quick every time.'
No country quite like Korea.