Factory CEO: Father's Dramatic Comeback
Nam Gyuil had secured a 5 billion investment promise from the Defense Acquisition Program Administration. And it wasn't just a verbal agreement. He'd prepared all the necessary documents and finalized the contract properly.
Of course, there had been plenty of back-and-forth over equity shares. The administration wanted a large stake, while Nam Gyuil, wary of losing control, aimed for 51%. After lengthy negotiations, he secured that 51% share. The administration had made significant concessions. The actual funds were all government money, after all. But weapons that could be brought into gates? Only Nam Gyuil could produce those. There were no alternatives. If he decided to shut down the business, the administration would continue suffering from weapon shortages. Knowing this, they agreed to 49% equity.
Nam Gyuil held the upper hand in negotiations from start to finish.
With all preparations complete, it was time to bring in the most trustworthy person to serve as factory CEO.
A certain figure came to mind.
'Time to make the call.'
He pulled out his smartphone from his pocket.
Nam Gyuil's father, Nam Minu, ate lunch alone in the company cafeteria. No one sat next to him. Even the seat across was empty. No one wanted to join his table.
Employees who'd once been friendly now avoided him, watching his reactions. Nam Minu shoveled food into his mouth in solitude.
Finishing his meal, he stood abruptly, returned his dishes, and felt the stinging stares around him.
"Heard Manager Nam Minu still hasn't applied for voluntary retirement?"
"Dunno. Don't ask."
"Guy's really clinging on tough."
Despite the whispers, Nam Minu could only bow his head in silence. He shuffled down the hallway. Just months ago, he'd passed his old Sales Team 2 desk on the way to the General Affairs office. His heart felt heavy.
After being urged to take voluntary retirement, he'd been suddenly reassigned to standby duty. His desk from Sales Team 2 had been moved to General Affairs, and no tasks were assigned. He just had to show up and kill time.
The murmurs grew worse each day, and even juniors disrespected him. His old team gossiped behind his back too. With no work, he felt eyes on him constantly, unable even to retort when pointed at openly.
The company's bullying intensified. He'd become an outcast simply for not leaving despite his age.
Ten years until mandatory retirement...
'What a pathetic sight I am.'
Nam Minu gripped the door handle to the General Affairs office. Then voices came from inside.
"Yes, we're keeping a close eye on Manager Nam Minu."
A General Affairs employee's voice.
"We're deliberately isolating him socially. If that doesn't work, reassign him to janitorial duty and pile on the grunt work."
Nam Minu's chest tightened. Hearing them admit to engineering his ostracism stabbed like a dagger. He'd suspected, but confirmation hurt deeply.
The employee snickered.
"Once on janitorial, we'll cherry-pick the toughest jobs. Make it so painful he can't endure."
Nam Minu bit his lower lip. Tears welled up, hands trembling.
"Yes, yes. Even on janitorial, we'll have the staff monitor and harass him."
He didn't enter. Instead, he turned toward the rooftop. The employee's voice leaked through the door crack.
"Yes, yes. We'll assign one 'friendly' employee to cozy up, figure out his thoughts, and relentlessly target his weak spots. Is this the classic good cop, bad cop? Haha."
Filthy words.
On the rooftop, Nam Minu pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. No one around.
'I gave everything to this company, and this is the treatment.'
He'd poured his youth here. Even during the chaotic gate crisis, he never missed work. Risked his life.
When the company pivoted to arms dealing post-gates for profit, he stayed loyal till the end—unlike his peers who left.
Daily overtime, top performance every time.
Yet at 50, they wanted him out. Him, who stuck through the company's hardships.
'I devoted my passion to the company, but they saw me as disposable trash.'
His mind went blank. Regret followed.
'What's the point of always ranking first in performance? In the end, only the office politicians survive.'
He'd naively thought ability would earn respect. This was the result.
A hollow laugh escaped.
Actually, executives were scheming politically behind the scenes. Foolishly, he'd declared neutrality. Now attacked from both sides, reduced to this.
Like his inner turmoil, the cigarette burned to black ash.
Miserable.
'Kids haven't even graduated college yet... Wife just got voluntary retirement too.'
Tears he'd held back streamed down. Then—
Ring ring. Ring ring.
His smartphone rang. It was his eldest son.
Nam Minu cleared his throat, wiped his tears with his sleeve. Can't show weakness to family. If the breadwinner falters, the home crumbles like a typhoon.
Act normal.
He answered.
"Yeah, Gyuil. What's up?"
"Dad, I'm starting a business. Can you help?"
"What, a business?"
"I want you to run it for me."
Nam Minu fell silent, stunned for a long moment.
Nam Gyuil planned to entrust the business to family while establishing his guild. Strength, money, influence—these three perfected would let him withstand any pressure.
Business management was straightforward; just hand it to the most reliable person.
Nam Minu calmed his shock at the sudden proposal.
"Gyuil."
The father called his son in a soothing tone, gently voicing opposition.
"Business is tough. You'd have to scout sales channels, hire workers. Startup capital's needed too. Plus monitor for embezzlement or issues among staff."
He shared his hard-earned wisdom from society.
But Nam Gyuil countered easily.
"Everything's prepared."
"What?"
"All set. Got investors, tech, and workers."
"Investors? Who?"
"Defense Acquisition Program Administration."
"Defense Acquisition Program Administration?"
Nam Minu blinked. Investors being the administration? 'Is Gyuil lying?'
The thought crossed his mind, but he shook it off. His son was cheerful normally but turned prudent and serious for big matters. No way he'd lie to him.
"Gyuil."
"Yes."
"Bring the contract and read every clause."
"Got it."
Nam Gyuil read the contract aloud. Nam Minu listened meticulously. Worried his young son might've been scammed, but the terms were standard—favorable to Gyuil even.
'No scam at least.'
He sighed in relief but still opposed.
"Still, business is risky."
"Why?"
"Competitors already dominate the market. Fighting them... expect years of losses."
"Fine. No competitors."
"What? No competitors? With DAPA investment, it's arms dealing... You know Hanwha runs defense, right?"
"I know. But my business can monopolize the market."
Nam Minu wondered what this meant. Monopoly? Not for just anyone. What business?
Curiosity peaked—
"Secured manufacturing method for weapons usable in gates."
Nam Gyuil revealed the business. Nam Minu thought he'd misheard. Gate-usable weapons? Something governments, conglomerates, and hunters couldn't make?
"Gyuil, what business exactly?"
"Selling weapons usable in gates."
"For real?"
Nam Minu gaped, speechless. My god. That's the business?
'Explosive demand, no rivals—monopoly potential!'
Hairs stood on end. Chance to get filthy rich fast. Undeniable success.
He inhaled deeply. Cool air cleared his head.
"Alright. I'll do it."
He accepted. His role wouldn't be heavy since prep was done.
Nam Gyuil warned.
"Yes. But don't tell anyone. Leaks could bring guild retaliation."
"Guild retaliation?"
"They sell gate-looted weapons for profit."
"Right."
"They'll sabotage for their gain."
"Aigoo, what then?"
"Government's backing us. Keep quiet, we're good."
"Really?"
Nam Minu's lips curved up. Nam Gyuil chuckled.
"See you tonight. Details then."
"Got it."
Call ended. Nam Minu stubbed out his cigarette.
'Me, a company CEO? Unimaginable.'
His current firm forced retirement at his age.
'Thanks to my son, golden years ahead.'
He returned to General Affairs, wrote his voluntary retirement letter.
"Eat well and live well, you bastards!"
He flung the letter at them and strode out proudly.
Three days passed. Nam Gyuil headed to the factory site. He gaped at the sight.
'Already done?'
The factory stood complete. Government help was expected, but this fast?
Nam Minu beside him nodded satisfied.
"Modular construction is the way."
That explained the speed. Modular: prefab modules assembled on-site, slashing build time. Up to 9 stories a day possible.
Excluding groundwork, it took just 5 hours.
Nam Gyuil acquired a massive factory. Inside was vast—at least 200 pyeong. Fully finished, with AI machines, safety gear.
"This is impressive."
He marveled again. Father, hands on hips, boasted confidently.
"Just production left."
Nam Gyuil handed over the amulet—for summoning Kobolts. He'd explained its role; no questions.
Father took it.
"Let's fire it up."
He flipped the wall switch.
Click click click.
Incandescent lights flickered on from the ceiling. AI machines whirred to life.
Beep beep.
Machines stamped stainless sheets into shapes. Hundreds of metal pieces poured out.
Father summoned Kobolts with the amulet.
"Gruk!"
Kobolts fed pieces into furnaces for final heat treatment. Instantly, hundreds finished.
Into another machine—motors hummed, scale armor produced sequentially.
"Amazing."
Nam Gyuil exclaimed repeatedly. No need for laborers. Machines and Kobolts sufficed for output.
Father grinned broadly.
"Know how much from meeting government's daily quota?"
"How much?"
"3 billion. 3 billion!! Pure profit!"
Nam Gyuil's eyes widened. 3 billion daily net? 90 billion monthly.
Insane margins.
'Even splitting with government, at least 1.5 billion daily.'
Enough for guild building, top training facilities.
He pulled out his smartphone, searched building prices online.
Money flowed. Time for fun shopping.