Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: I'm Gonna Screw You Over!
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I'm gonna screw you over!
"Wha... what the hell is this crazy bastard saying?!"
Father bellowed.
His face had turned beet red, like a stylish tomato.
I'm gonna~ get beat~ I'm gonna~ hurt so bad~ I'm gonna~ end up in a coffin~
Ah.
This was fucked.
"Oh dear, honey! Calm down!"
Mother jumped in alarm as Father looked ready to grab the filial bamboo cane nearby and started trying to hold him back.
I chimed in too.
"Yeah, Dad. Just hold it in for now. Goodness, Dad, you need to watch your health these days. If you get too worked up and keel over, who's gonna tend the jars?!"
"You... you little punk!"
It was truly a peaceful weekend scene in the Kim family home.
Father huffed and puffed as he sat back down.
I wiped the sweat from my brow.
'Phew... almost ended up pickled in the jars with him.'
The moment Father had shot up, the row of jars in the courtyard had briefly looked like my grave.
The reason Father was so furious.
It was because of the bombshell I'd just dropped.
I'd declared it with utmost resolve.
"If you make me split the assets, I won't last long from the sheer rage. And rather than hand over a drop of our hard-earned blood money to that bitch, I'd sooner take the cash and emigrate instead.
Don't worry about the family line anyway—big bro, the firstborn, will carry it on. I'll head abroad and spread Father's legendary sauce flavor across the whole world!"
It was a perfectly structured statement, but to Father, it must've sounded like a dog barking.
And just like that, our house erupted into chaos over my emigration declaration.
Along with Father's insides flipping upside down.
In truth, I'd loved hanging around Father's workplace ever since I was a kid.
Our family had been making jang—fermented sauces—for generations.
That jang was Korea's absolute top-tier luxury item, known only to those in the know.
It was supplied exclusively to fancy hotels, high-end restaurants, and department store VVIP sections.
Mother used it to run a famous hanjeongsik restaurant in Seoul.
A place that operated almost entirely on reservations.
Its main customers were top officials and chaebol chairmen whose names anyone would recognize.
Thanks to that, I'd never worked anywhere else my whole life.
When I needed pocket money, I'd help Father scrub the jars or sit in Mother's restaurant kitchen peeling onions to earn some cash.
Watching the head chefs cook over their shoulders like that, I'd picked up decent basic cooking skills.
But the real reason my cooking skyrocketed was something else.
My ex-wife, Ji-su.
Whenever she was bored, she'd dig up shitty posts on SNS and shove them in my face.
Stuff like "A Few Virtues Every Beloved Husband Should Have."
And then she'd drop hints.
"All the guys these days do this~"
Like an idiot, back then I thought that was really essential for a loving husband.
To become a "hot sexy man," I dove headfirst into learning to cook.
Looking back now, wasn't the whole thing one massive brainwashing operation?
"Men who cook are sexy!" "This is the trend these days!"
Women were collectively gaslighting guys through SNS.
Probably some advanced ploy to dodge cooking even a single meal.
And past me?
My blood was probably sugar syrup back then.
Sweet guy to the tune of 100% sucrose, melting from head to toe.
Well, thanks to it, I could cook all sorts of things now.
In the end, that is.
I'd hated math ever since I was little.
No, loathed it.
Luckily, my language skills were top-notch.
Especially English, the world's lingua franca.
My English was fluent enough to chat freely with natives.
On our honeymoon, my wife loved seeing that.
Said it made me seem different somehow.
Maybe that's part of why I could decide on emigrating so easily.
'If the language works, what's the problem?'
And our family had stubbornness running through our veins for generations.
Once we decided something, we pushed forward with terrifying drive.
That blood flowed strong in me too.
'Ahh... was the wife's cheating meant to fuel my immigration drive?'
I mulled over such lame thoughts inwardly while throwing a tantrum in front of the family.
Legally, I just had to bolt within a year.
But I wanted out of this shithole country ASAP.
The divorce suit was done, and leaving the country itself was no issue.
If there'd been a kid and I skipped child support, I might've ended up on the deadbeat dad list and banned from exit.
'Heh. She'd never dream I'd pull a runner like this.'
Imagining that bitch's face twisting when she couldn't get the money after I left—it sent shivers of delight straight to my balls.
Of course, my grand plan hit a snag right from day one.
"Quit your nonsense and get lost!"
On Father's stern command, I got kicked straight out of the house.
But I didn't give up.
From that day on, I clocked in daily at the family home.
And kept nagging.
Just like two years ago, when I'd prostrated myself on the floor to get marriage permission.
After a week of relentless tantrums, I finally got Father's approval.
The official reason was my earnest attitude.
My ambition to gain a broad worldview abroad, secure permanent residency, and spread Korean cuisine far and wide.
But the real reason was different.
It wasn't just stubborn whining—I'd pulled all-nighters crafting a roadmap and business plan.
And gave a full PPT presentation in front of Father.
About 30 minutes long.
Sharp questions flew, met with my answers.
When it ended, Father silently nodded.
Rough breakdown:
Bro was obviously inheriting Father's skills to carry on the business, so as the second son, I needed my own path to survival.
I emphasized my outstanding language skills.
Explained no one was more suited than me to spread Father's sauce worldwide.
Tied it to the divorce, framing it as a chance to chase dreams in a bigger world.
Then drove the final nail.
"Dad. I've had it with marriage now. Unless Korea's laws change, I won't even think about it again. I've got trauma!"
At that, Father's face twisted unpleasantly.
His second son slapped with the "divorcee" label—had to sting.
But it bolstered my case.
Evoking pity: better to venture into the wide world than live as a divorced man here.
Just like that, the biggest hurdle—Father—fell.
Now the plan started picking up speed.
Permission granted.
So, which country now?
I pondered briefly.
'Might as well go to the strongest damn country on earth.'
Thus, I chose America.
The undisputed superpower, properly playing Earth's Boss right now.
Turns out, U.S. investment immigration terms weren't bad.
Required amount: 1 million USD.
About 1.4 billion KRW.
Obviously, I didn't have that kind of cash on hand.
So in the PPT, I'd laid this out for Father too.
Asked to borrow a generous 1.5 billion KRW.
Promised to repay in full within four years.
I was the type to keep my word.
Honestly, I was confident.
Considering the price gap in dining out between Korea and the U.S., it was doable.
Sure, monthly rent was brutally expensive without mercy, but still.
The biggest issue was how to move the money.
Just wiring from Korea? Boom—gift tax nuke.
So I asked Father to buy Bitcoin for me.
My plan went like this:
First, head to the U.S., do part-time gigs for a few months to scope the market.
Meanwhile, stash the 1.5 billion in BTC in a cold wallet and let it sit.
Later, sell locally for cash.
The U.S. taxes crypto.
But only the "gains" when it rises.
Over a year hold: 23.8%. Under: up to 37%.
Meaning, if the price doesn't rise or I sell at a tiny loss?
Tax owed: zero won.
That was my angle.
Plus, a cold wallet was the ultimate hiding spot.
No one—not even the state—knows until you crack it open.
Worst case, tax office shows up at Father's: just flash the USB and say, "It's in here?"
What could they do, force open a private wallet?
Legally impossible.
And by the time I start business in earnest in the U.S., months will have passed.
To the tax office chasing hundreds of billions in evasion, 1.5 billion is pocket lint.
'Hmm... Bitcoin around 30 million each now? 1.5 billion gets... about 50 coins.'
I planned to bolt not just with Father's loan but the full 550 million from selling the apartment too.
Leave zero assets in my name in Korea.
Then the court's property division order? Toilet paper.
No assets to seize—what enforcement?
Perfect timing too.
Quick search: U.S. median home price just over 550 million KRW.
Apartment sale funds as investment immigration portion, wired legally for local house purchase.
Pre-buying a U.S. house smooths the EB-5 review big time.
Everything clicked perfectly.
I admired my own plan.
Bitcoin for tax-free transfer, apartment cash as legit investment, zero Korean assets to nullify enforcement.
'Where you gonna blow our family money, you bitch?'
Imagining the near future, I burst into a satisfying laugh.
If anyone heard Ji-hoon's plan, they'd probably say:
"Dude... do you really have to go that far?"
Honestly, over 200 million KRW wasn't a huge burden for Ji-hoon.
But think about it.
Your cheating spouse has you raging to the max, and now you gotta hand over half your assets?
This wasn't about big money or small.
'Yeah, fuck it. Eat this, you bitch.'
It was one man's final stand of pride.
Most folks would cling to lifelong Korea, lack confidence for foreign life, have all roots here—so they'd sob and pay up.
Not Ji-hoon.
One thing mattered to him.
"Fuck 'em! I'm gonna screw you over!"
Ji-hoon clasped his hands and prayed toward the sky outside the window.
To his soon-to-be new homeland, America.
"Ahh... great Earth Boss. Please help this humble servant protect his assets."
Prayer done, he snapped back to reality.
'Mm... time to find an immigration specialist lawyer first.'
He immediately called his maternal uncle.
Maternal Uncle, gotta help one more time. Time to make up for royally screwing the trial!
Of course, he kept that to himself.
Ji-hoon stated his business in a polite voice.