The Giant's Empty Seat

Yoo Jae-won was rich. And not just any rich—he was a globally recognized tycoon. In Forbes' billionaire rankings, which measured wealth based on transparently disclosed assets, he had even claimed the top spot. Thanks to that, he earned the title of the world's richest young man. That didn't mean he was the absolute richest person on Earth, however. Unlisted companies like Saudi Aramco, European royal families with centuries of accumulated prestige, and those who had built unimaginable fortunes through monopolies and oligopolies during the dawn of capitalism were nearly impossible to quantify. But one thing was certain: when it came to liquid cash mobilization, Yoo Jae-won's power was unmatched—even compared to those colossal fortunes that Forbes couldn't touch.

In blunt terms, he was the only individual in the world who could pull out and deploy ten billion dollars in cash on the spot.

“Whoa.”

Yet the money Yoo Jae-won possessed existed only as numbers on a computer network. On a monitor, those figures boasted an absurd number of digits, but they weren't physical cash. There was no reason he couldn't withdraw it as cash if he wanted to. But doing so would only complicate things unnecessarily, and there was no pressing need, so he rarely converted it into actual bills.

That was why the sight of cash stacked on pallets inside this vault delivered an overwhelming visual shock. Team Leader An Jong-cheol felt the same. He'd been on guard, wary of what strange things might lurk inside the unknown vault, but the moment the lights came on and revealed the visual spectacle, he was genuinely stunned.

After being handpicked by Yoo Jae-won and rising to lead the domestic intelligence team—with dozens of subordinates under him—An Jong-cheol had accumulated a wide range of experiences. Before that, he'd handled every dirty job imaginable in the underworld. Even for someone like him, this was a first.

Fortunately, with his extensive experience came the ability to regain composure quickly. He soon figured out there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were five pallets, each stacked with ten billion won in cash. Four of the pallets consisted of crisp new bills that looked fresh from the mint, untouched by human hands. The fifth pallet held ten billion won in well-worn, circulated notes with non-sequential serial numbers—clearly gathered to avoid traceability. He saw it all at a glance.

Yoo Jae-won was no different. His mouth had fallen open at the sheer volume of cash, but once his mind calculated its value, the shock faded rapidly.

“Even with this much bulk, it only adds up to about fifty billion won.”

“Ah, yes! I calculated the same—fifty billion won.”

An Jong-cheol readily agreed with Yoo Jae-won's assessment. However, the word “only” felt a bit off. Fifty billion won in cash was not an amount that deserved the qualifier “only.” As the head of ID Group's intelligence team, An Jong-cheol could confidently say he could succeed anywhere. Even for him, amassing fifty billion won would require saving every penny of his salary for a hundred years.

Yet An Jong-cheol didn't argue. To him, it was an astronomical sum. To Yoo Jae-won, calling it “only” was no exaggeration.

ID Investment had reportedly earned over forty billion dollars in Japan this year alone. In Korean won, that exceeded fifty trillion. Divided by 365 days, it meant they were pulling in more than a hundred billion won per day—an absurd figure. But it was also an undeniable fact. The fifty billion won piled like a mountain before them? That was barely half a day's work.

Team Leader An Jong-cheol felt a sudden wave of existential insignificance. Strangely, the mountain of cash began to look rather trivial. His vision widened, and something else caught his eye.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

“Chairman, there's another safe over there.”

The entire space was essentially a vault. Considering the depth the elevator had descended and the solid feel of the walls, it seemed sturdier than most bank vaults. And yet, here was another safe inside it.

“Indeed.”

Following where An Jong-cheol pointed, Yoo Jae-won saw a small safe sitting on a shelf. It was modestly sized—about forty centimeters wide, fifty centimeters tall, and sixty centimeters deep. The locking mechanism was a dial. There were no visible marks on the exterior to hint at the combination, but Yoo Jae-won had a feeling he could open it.

Naturally, his gaze turned to Team Leader An Jong-cheol.

“Ah, yes. Please call me when you're finished.”

Reading the look in Yoo Jae-won's eyes, An Jong-cheol immediately stepped back and exited the vault. His instincts were sharper than most. Surviving the underworld and rising to this position hadn't been solely about skill—his keen intuition had played a major role. He instantly recognized that Yoo Jae-won wanted privacy and moved accordingly.

Now alone, Yoo Jae-won opened the notebook he'd brought. It was filled with names, but there were also large, seemingly meaningless numbers written among them. He selected the four digits written alongside “206” and entered them into the safe's dial.

Click.

As expected, his grandfather's notebook was straightforward and clear. No twists, purely intuitive. Yoo Jae-won's hunch had been correct: if 206 was the code for this vault, then the four digits paired with it were the combination for the smaller safe inside.

He opened the door immediately.

“CDs, stereo tapes, Beta videotapes, film?”

The “CDs” weren't music compact discs—they were bundles of certificates. Specifically, negotiable certificates of deposit. Present one at a bank, and they'd issue a passbook with fifty million won. Being bearer instruments, anyone could claim them. There were two bundles of one hundred certificates each, totaling ten billion won.

The labels on the stereo tapes and videotapes bore names of people anyone would recognize. The stereo tapes were likely recorded phone calls or wiretaps. The Beta videotapes—he could guess their contents but had no desire to watch them.

Finally, Yoo Jae-won picked up the film. There was a roll of microfilm and several standard 35mm rolls. Since they were already developed, he held them up to the light.

“Hmm. This is a collection of documents.”

Microfilm had originally been designed to store documents efficiently. It contained checks and several other sensitive papers. The 35mm film captured scenes of people meeting.

“I see. Money and bombs.”

Yoo Jae-won summarized the contents of the Piggy Bank Safe in two words: money and bombs. At the same time, he now fully understood why his grandfather had given him the notebook, the safe's business card, and the seal.

He could use the notebook and the items in the small safe as bombs, or he could follow Jeon Myeong-heon's example—distributing bribes to maintain influence. Especially if he used the cash stacked on those pallets for bribes, the chance of being traced would be extremely low.

Of course, the delivery method was an issue, but that wasn't a major obstacle. There was a reason his grandfather had mentioned Kim Kwang-il, his right-hand man, in the will. Asking the former chief of staff would likely yield the solution easily.

The only remaining question was Yoo Jae-won's choice. His deliberation didn't last long. As he made up his mind and reached to close the small safe, something unusual caught his eye. There was a drawer in the safe door, and inside it was a single note and a seal.

When he unfolded the note, it read “LK Bank” and the number 5252. They were identical to the items needed to open the Piggy Bank Safe.

“What? So this isn't the only safe like this. I wonder if that one is similar?”

Later, when Yoo Jae-won sent someone to investigate, he learned that the LK Bank safe led to yet another seal in a chain. There were about fifteen in total, leaving him awestruck at the sheer scale of Jeon Myeong-heon's slush fund.

Yoo Jae-won closed the small safe and stepped out of the vault.

“Have you finished your business?”

At An Jong-cheol's question—he had been standing guard outside—Yoo Jae-won nodded. The two of them exited the Piggy Bank Safe using the reverse of the procedure they'd followed to enter. When they emerged onto the gold and silver street, the atmosphere changed completely. It felt like stepping from the underworld into the world of light.

Thanks to his grandfather, Yoo Jae-won was experiencing all sorts of fascinating things. Once inside the car waiting on the gold and silver street, he used his Tiffany Phone to call his parents. He explained that something had come up and he'd come up to Seoul, and that he'd need to stay there until his departure.

After ending the call with his family, Yoo Jae-won immediately dialed another number. It was former Chief of Staff Kim Kwang-il.

Power must never have a vacuum. Following this absolute principle, the Election Commission finalized and announced all procedures for electing the next president.

The most contentious issue had been whether this would be a by-election to fill Jeon Myeong-heon's remaining term or a full presidential election. Jeon Myeong-heon had lived a life as brilliant as fireworks. During his tenure, he had overcome the IMF crisis to some extent, declared an end to the war, and recently even pushed through constitutional amendments. As a result, many South Koreans felt as if Jeon Myeong-heon had been president for years. In reality, his time as president of South Korea had been less than a year.

Even if it were a by-election to serve out the remainder, that term would have been slightly longer than four years. However, with the constitutional amendment also changing the structure of presidential power, the Election Commission decided to hold the election based on the 10th Constitutional Amendment from the start. This set the term at four years and allowed for reelection.

The presidential race was now fully underway, and each party scrambled to select its candidate. Because the timeline was so tight, most preparations were rushed. Still, some people were relatively prepared even in this situation, while others were not.

The best-prepared candidate was former Prime Minister Kim Dae-jung of the Democratic Party. He had risen to the premiership through the coalition with Jeon Myeong-heon and clearly established his presence as the second-in-command of the administration. He had visited North Korea, handled economic policy, and provided stability as acting president when Jeon Myeong-heon fell critically ill. Moreover, having stepped down from the prime ministership, there was no obstacle to his running in this election.

On the other hand, the person whose grand plans had been completely shattered was Lee In-je of the Tongil National Party. Although he had gained the title of acting president, the guaranteed period was only about two months. The biggest blow was that he couldn't even run in this election. The 10th Constitutional Amendment required high-ranking officials to resign their positions sixty days before the election—and that deadline had already passed.

It wasn't that Lee In-je had failed to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠recognize these risks when he accepted the prime ministership. He simply hadn't expected Jeon Myeong-heon to pass away so quickly. Lee In-je had assumed the president would live at least until summer. His calculation had been that by diligently performing his duties as acting president during that time and building up his somewhat lacking recognition, the next election would be his for the taking.

Looking back now, it was clear there had been some understanding between the late President Jeon Myeong-heon and former Prime Minister Kim Dae-jung regarding the next administration.

“Coordination? Isn't that obvious?”

On his way to meet former Chief of Staff Kim Kwang-il, Yoo Jae-won looked at the Nextcom news page on his laptop and spoke as if addressing someone. While Yoo Jae-won had given Jeon Myeong-heon the greatest advice during his presidency, former Prime Minister Kim Dae-jung had been nearly as important. Through that process, Jeon Myeong-heon had come to fully recognize Kim's character and ability, ultimately designating him as the next leader.

From Jeon Myeong-heon's perspective, extending the Tongil National Party's hold on power wouldn't have been bad. But he had chosen to make one final gamble on former Prime Minister Kim, who possessed the ability to make South Korea better than before—the country he loved so dearly.

That didn't mean he had completely abandoned the Tongil National Party. Rather than choosing Lee In-je, he had handed it over to Yoo Jae-won. Of course, party power technically rested with the party leader, but with the notebook and funds now in Yoo Jae-won's hands, control of the party had naturally come to him as well.

Jeon Myeong-heon's choice had soon proven correct. Although the National Assembly was in chaos preparing for the election, there could have been complications with Attorney Kim Chang-wan's appointment as head of the Corruption Investigation Office if things went wrong. But with the Democratic Party providing full cooperation, the appointment had gone through without a hitch.

Yoo Jae-won also met with Kim Kwang-il and made clear that he would follow Jeon Myeong-heon's will.

“That's a relief. The old man was quite worried that you might be disappointed, Chairman.”

As expected of Jeon Myeong-heon's right-hand man, Kim Kwang-il seemed to have guessed what was inside the box. In fact, it wouldn't have been surprising if Kim Kwang-il had been the one who prepared the box himself.

“Chief of Staff Kim Kwang-il.”

“Yes, Chairman. Ah, but I'm no longer the chief of staff.”

At Yoo Jae-won's call, Kim Kwang-il answered, then scratched his head a bit sheepishly at the title. Yoo Jae-won's gaze briefly went to Kim Kwang-il's head before shifting to the boldly advancing hairline on his forehead. He got straight to the point.

“Anyway, what do you plan to do from now on?”

At Yoo Jae-won's question, Kim Kwang-il's expression turned awkward. His current position was floating in limbo. Acting President Lee In-je had brought in his own staff, and within the Mirae Group—his original affiliation—Jeon Myeong-heon's traces were disappearing rapidly. The princes' war had begun, and there was no place for Kim Kwang-il in it.

“I'm thinking of creating a new position—Director of Communications at ID Group. I'd like to bring you on in that role. What do you think?”

“Pardon? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Me?”

Was the offer unexpected? Or had his grandfather's words not been phrased this way? Either way, Kim Kwang-il looked quite surprised. In contrast, Yoo Jae-won's eyes were resolute.

His grandfather had said to grab him if possible. Since Yoo Jae-won had decided to follow that instruction, he naturally intended to secure Kim Kwang-il.