Prestige Breaking News: Incheon Police Chief Jang Kyung-su Vanishes
November 5th, Thursday. From the morning, the news feeds were ablaze with one explosive story: Jang Kyung-su had gone missing.
In reality, I'd already sliced him in half, pulverized his remains beyond recognition, and dumped them into a microbial decomposition unit. The grinding process first obliterates all identifiable info, and then the microbes erase every last trace. Pack those bugs into regular trash bags or scatter them into the sea or a river, and you've got perfect evidence disposal. Just like chemical melting, no amount of scientific advancement can recover shit from that.
"Search for a hundred years, a thousand—good luck finding anything."
Im Sua sipped the coffee she'd brewed for me and flipped past the news. Switching to entertainment, the feeds were still flooded with lamentations. Thanks to Inaeun's special prosecution, dozens or hundreds of sex-for-favors scandals were pouring out daily, with high-ranking officials occasionally implicated.
Amid the usual chatter, there were pieces on the rising stars Nokono-go Girls and LUMINA, plus a column hinting that my Goryeo Entertainment was swallowing up Rainbow Miracle and Nokono-go's headquarters.
"Who's this sharp-eyed bastard?"
Damn, some folks move fast.
"Maybe it's time to eye the media outlets too."
My current media connections were jotjip Seo Hyun-ju and Yoon Ha-young, the reporter tangled in Inaeun's special probe. Seo Hyun-ju was a solid team leader at Shinmirae Daily, worth her keep, but Yoon Ha-young hadn't produced much. She seemed dazed since I broke her, but as long as she showed up for the probe and worked diligently, I'd let her be.
Can I take down both entertainment and media with just 16 trillion? Probably not.
The cash flow was the real issue. I'd sucked 16 trillion out of Real Production, but the bubble burst hard, freezing the market. I wasn't some stock wizard either. The other stocks I knew would explode were still a ways off, so I'd have to make do with 16 trillion for now. Hell, even conquering entertainment would be a stretch at this scale. Sure, stock prices were in the toilet, but those mega-entertainment conglomerates were still multi-trillion or tens-of-trillion behemoths. Gaining meaningful control with 16 trillion? Fat chance.
Can't sell drugs again either.
With Jang Kyung-su dead, drug dealing was off the table. No one could handle that volume right now, and stirring up trouble just for it wasn't appealing. Grandpa's watchful eye was a factor too... but sticking to prison distribution as planned seemed best.
I've built up some rep by now. If I say it's not me using, just selling, maybe he'll look the other way.
Still, that wouldn't kick off for months. No quick cash influx in sight.
Or just take out loans? Investing pure cash is kinda silly anyway.
That sparked a thought: Goryeo Cards and the Goryeo financial affiliates. Their big boss was my aunt Go Ha-young, Gohayan's mom. If I sweet-talked her into low-interest loans...?
Hmm... Table it for now. Don't rush into anything.
"Master."
Im Sua entered my room, clutching a stack of documents.
"Prestige sent the roster."
"Hand it over."
Today, November 5th, Thursday—my secretary lineup was finally set.
"Holy shit, look at those tits. And those legs—damn."
The team leads I'd handpicked and the secretaries Im Sua selected were all top-tier. My dick twitched just flipping through. For the fun of it, I made Sua suck me off while I ogled their profiles.
Ha... even I had to admit, my daily life was filthy and depraved.
Perfect.
After blowing a load in Sua's mouth, I set the files down.
"Tell them I'll visit Saturday as planned—get everything ready."
"Mm, yes."
Sua swallowed my cum with a gargle and replied.
"Cash all prepped?"
"Yes. As instructed: 30 million for team leads, 20 million for sub-leads, 10 million each for regular secretaries in envelopes. Lower staff get 1 million wired by Saturday morning."
"Good. Hop on."
Sua hiked up her skirt and mounted me. Her insides were scorching hot as always.
+++
Goryeo Prestige—the Goryeo Group's holding company and a monstrous conglomerate with roots across Asia—boasted headquarters of equally terrifying scale. The "campus" wasn't just one building; it was a whole district.
They'd built an entire new city on the vast plains north of Pyongyang for Prestige alone. Most residents were Prestige employees, living their entire lives there.
At the city's heart stood the colossal "The Prestige," a behemoth soaring 1.83 km high. Rumor had it Grandpa Goyeongman modeled it after my father Go Mu-jin's height—needless to say, the world's tallest building and structure, with 20 underground floors and 260 above ground. An unprecedented landmark.
For all its immense size, it served one purpose: attending to the "owner family."
Every facility, system, personnel, and scrap of intel inside existed solely for us. Naturally, that included the staff themselves.
Joining Prestige meant dedicating your life, but The Prestige took it further, binding even those around you. Direct family (parents excluded) was forbidden from forming (unless chosen by the owner family), with brutal physical and mental restrictions: rigorous self-discipline, castration for men, absolute chastity for women.
In short: "Once you're in The Prestige, you're owner family property."
Yet the pay and family perks were stellar, so applicants never stopped coming.
Seo Aram, personally selected by me, was one such case. After grueling training that felt like forging a new species, she'd cut a pass for a brief outing beyond The Prestige.
The moment she stepped out, countless employees checked her badge and bowed at 45 degrees. It happened everywhere now—routine.
I've gotten used to it.
At first, it was overwhelming. Always groveling under debt, now suddenly elevated: step outside, and everyone halts to bow politely. Need something? Issue an order—they obey unless on special duty, as Prestige commands were absolute.
She saw it as a caste system. Minus total devotion to the owner family, Prestige staff lived like nobility, one rung higher.
"How's the condition?"
"Much improved. Lesions have largely resolved—indistinguishable from a normal person now. We're monitoring with concurrent gene therapy."
"Fully cured?"
"Not yet. Symptoms and lesions are greatly alleviated, but full recovery needs more observation."
"Got it. Thanks."
"Of course."
The doctor and nurses bowed deeply and left the room.
A custom-designed suite for Seo Aram's mother. Modular design made personalization easy, but redesigning an entire room for one Prestige member left Aram with profound gratitude—and bitterness.
While some reveled in such luxury, the weak—like her three months ago—withered under debt, dying day by day.
"Mom, you'll be shocked when you wake up. Stay calm, okay?"