Chapter 100: Beggar Taekwondo
Even as Lee Sooyoung delivered her report, her heart raced. 20.6 billion won. It was an unimaginable fortune for her—a sum she'd never dreamed of touching in her lifetime. And Shin Jaewoo had earned it effortlessly.
Coming to work for Mr. Jaewoo was definitely the right choice!
Watching him spend money so freely, she sometimes wondered if even his vast wealth might one day run dry. He didn't seem like the type to invest with a long-term vision. But she had been the foolish one.
Mr. Jaewoo's fortune is way beyond that point. It won't just vanish like that.
Even now, her heart pounded with excitement—and it wasn't even her money. How must Shin Jaewoo feel, actually holding that cash?
'Huh?'
She blinked in confusion. Shin Jaewoo's expression was far calmer than expected after hearing her full report.
"I see."
His flat tone caught her off guard, and she blurted out, "Director... aren't you happy...?"
"Hm. If I had to say, yeah, I'm pleased."
His face didn't show a hint of joy, though. Still, he wasn't lying. He was genuinely glad. It was just that 200 billion wasn't enough to shock him anymore.
"But honestly... even earning 20 billion doesn't make much of a dent in my balance these days."
His words settled her emotions too.
'Oh.'
20 billion was huge only to someone like her, a regular person. She realized a new truth. And Shin Jaewoo felt much the same.
I'm... richer than I thought.
The thrill of earning money hit differently from the realization of spending it. He already knew he was filthy rich. But cashing in 20 billion—a sum he'd once thought impossible to earn in a lifetime—drove it home. It was roughly the price of the Seongbuk-dong mansion he'd bought on a whim. Earning that much and seeing his net worth barely budge? It just felt like reimbursing his past splurges.
Still, it felt good. No denying that.
"Sooyoung."
"Yes, Director...?"
The way she looked at him had shifted subtly. She'd known it intellectually before, but now she felt it: the worlds they lived in were worlds apart.
Shin Jaewoo smiled. "They say joy multiplies when shared."
"Huh?"
He intended to close that gap between them—and her wide eyes showed she hadn't caught on yet.
"We made money, so bonuses are in order."
"...!"
Finally, it clicked. A bonus. Lee Sooyoung swallowed hard.
"So...?"
"Yes, a bonus."
News any office worker would celebrate. Her face lit up instantly.
"Thank you, Director."
He hadn't specified the amount yet, but that was enough for now. She doubted he'd skimp; he always took good care of his people.
That ex of his, Kim Hyeju, was the real idiot. How do you let a guy like Shin Jaewoo slip away?
How much will it be? A million won? Or maybe... ten million? Nah, that's too greedy. She dialed back her expectations.
Meanwhile, Shin Jaewoo's expression shifted. "But before that... mind pulling some overtime today?"
"Huh? Oh... of course, Director."
Their little code phrase hung in the air. Smiling playfully, she stepped closer.
Shin Jaewoo mulled over Lee Sooyoung. Poaching her from Panta Bank hadn't been a whim. He wanted more from her than just a pretty secretary.
Secretary Chief Lee Jinmyeong is solid, but... the secretary office still lacks my direct people.
He trusted Lee Jinmyeong completely. And the staff he'd recommended were all competent and reliable. But not everyone fit that mold.
Even so, I need my own inner circle.
His confidants. A direct line, not funneled solely through Lee Jinmyeong. Lee Sooyoung might be the start of that. Keeping Han Taeho close served the same purpose.
And this leak about the foundation staff—someone tipped off about my short on Nimo Entertainment.
It had been a minor hiccup this time. No losses; he'd even turned a profit with their unwitting help. But no guarantees next time.
Time to build my own team.
Lee Sooyoung and Han Taeho were prime candidates. Time to empower them properly.
"Wait, really...? This much?"
Her eyes widened.
"Yes."
Her shock made sense. A 100-million-won bonus dwarfed most annual salaries. To Shin Jaewoo, though, it was less than 1/200th of his latest haul.
"That's the least I can do."
Funny part? He'd used personal funds for the investment, pocketed the profits personally—yet the bonus came from the Daniel Foundation.
Am I turning into Grandpa? Using foundation money to play the hero?
He was starting to act like those chaebol types everyone loved to hate. It felt too natural now.
"And Sooyoung, hire some new staff to work under you."
"New... staff?"
"Think of it as forming a new team. Under you."
This meant real authority. Her eyes gleamed with understanding—he was backing her up.
"May I ask... what for?"
"Just treat them as my personal secretaries. People to assist you."
Skills mattered less than one key trait.
"Condition: tight-lipped types only."
He hated loose talk. Her eyes sparkled with ambition at his words.
"Got it, Director. I'll pick ones who won't disappoint. Or better—I'll keep them on a short leash."
She was sharp, no illusions about blind loyalty.
Right. No one's perfectly trustworthy. Control and discipline keep the secrets in.
She grasped the basics of leadership, at least. Time to test her.
"It's yours to handle, Sooyoung. Do well."
She left with purpose. Alone again, Shin Jaewoo revisited his nagging doubt.
"Hm."
Neither Han Taeho nor Lee Sooyoung were fully trustworthy yet, despite being "his" people. It left a lingering unease. And one name crossed his mind.
Is this the right call?
The most reliable person had been obvious from the start. He'd just hesitated to bring him in.
But no more stalling.
...Gotta at least talk to him.
Kim Taeksu. He'd been an athletic prodigy through high school. But he quit sports, crammed for college, and made it into a top Seoul university—a rare case. And that wasn't all.
"Master! Good to see you!"
"Come on in."
After graduating, he returned to athletics—not his old sport, but as an instructor making a living. At a new dojo, he'd become the master.
Or rather, the son-in-law.
Which brought its own worries.
Kids are definitely thinning out these days.
Korea's low birth rate hit harder each year. He taught taekwondo, one of the nation's most popular sports. Every neighborhood had a dojo like this. His father-in-law had run it for over 15 years.
But now it was bleeding red.
Fewer kids meant a shrinking pie, but the real killer was competition.
"Teacher, aren't you remodeling this place?"
"What do you mean...?"
"The one next door looks so clean and modern. From outside, this place seems dingy and worn. I hope I'm not overstepping..."
A parent trailed off, glancing at the playing kids before whispering, "The children are calling it Beggar Taekwondo."
The neighbor's dojo gleamed—spotless exterior and interior. After 15 years, their place showed every mark of time. The building itself was crumbling.
But the building's not our fault—we don't own it.
"Kids tease mine for going to Beggar Taekwondo. It hurts, and now all their friends are switching next door..."
Somang Taekwondo, run by Kim Taeksu and his father-in-law, was fading in the shadow of its shiny rival.