The Third Son of the Chicken Farm
On the day Yi Yeon left, Stephen saw him off at the airport.
Stephen had been in nonstop production at the shotgun factory, where they were building the Remington and Mossberg advantages into one machine. Even so, he still helped without a single complaint.
Feeling genuinely grateful, Stephen took the handle himself.
Lithium USA had offered a private jet, but Yi Yeon had turned it down.
Curious, Stephen asked, “Why not take the private jet?”
“I just want to live quietly.”
“A private jet is quieter, isn’t it?”
“That’s only true in the United States. If I show up in Korea on a cutting-edge private jet, what would people think?”
“What would they think? Our company has made so much money.”
“But it’s Lithium USA’s jet.”
“I never thought of that. Damn! While we’re at it, our company should buy one too. No, I’ll buy two—yours and mine.”
“Yours would be expensive, though.”
“Why?”
“Because it has to fly nonstop all the way to Korea.”
“Oh. Then we should get the latest Gulfstream. The Northern Hemisphere can reach anywhere nonstop.”
Stephen whistled happily as he drove.
He had every reason to be cheerful. He had already bought land everywhere, but hunting grounds would take forever. His dream was to create the best luxury leisure firearm company—and he was finally making it happen.
After receiving his boarding pass and entering the departure hall, Stephen called out to Yi Yeon.
“Kite, take this.”
“Why are you giving it to me?”
“I still can’t figure out how to use it.”
“You really believed in it?”
Stephen smiled sheepishly. “Alright. I’ll keep it as a gift of friendship.”
“Don’t say that. Try researching it once. Maybe you’ll understand the principle.”
“Alright. I’ll do it after I spend some money first.”
“Of course you would.”
The two men embraced so warmly they could have been mistaken for lovers.
* * *
Eight years later, Yi Yeon returned to Korea and tore into the chicken farm his second older brother ran.
He wanted to repay the brother who had helped manage the farm while their mother raised him after their father’s early death.
Without the help of his big brother, a middle-school teacher, and the second brother, Yi Yeon would never have been able to study abroad.
Watching the construction site being upgraded to the latest facilities, the second brother asked, “How much money did you really make?”
“This chicken farm earns enough to build hundreds more. If you want, I can build you more.”
“For real?”
Yi Yeon grinned and nodded.
The second brother grumbled, “I heard a weapons dealer got rich, but it turns out to be true.”
The second brother had also subscribed to Stephen’s channel. He only knew his little brother made money selling guns.
“Still, the money you earned through hard work shouldn’t be spent recklessly.”
“It’s an investment. Don’t worry and let me handle it.”
Yi Yeon glanced at his brother, who fell silent for a long moment, then nodded firmly. “Then I’ll buy every chicken farm around here. Honestly, I can’t stand the smell of chicken poop either. Let’s buy them all and turn them into our farm.”
“That’s a good idea. I always struggled too when I came home. Since we’re doing it, how about starting a chicken chain restaurant company?”
“You think so?”
“Yes, don’t worry about the money. Do whatever you want.”
“No more talking?”
“Yes!”
Yi Yeon had wanted to do exactly that—give his second brother the chain restaurant company he dreamed of. He had watched chain stores cheat his brother on every delivery by slashing prices for one excuse or another.
His second brother had dreams too. He wanted to run his own chicken chain one day.
That was why, the moment Yi Yeon transferred the three billion dollars secured by Lithium USA stock into his account, his second brother immediately bought the struggling company.
The Three Brothers Chicken chain started growing rapidly. Franchise owners were overjoyed.
Every outlet now used robots to fry the chicken, guaranteeing consistent taste. With strong capital, the owners only needed to want it, and the company supported them fully—including low prices. Sales skyrocketed.
Feed costs rose often, but Yi Yeon had no worries. When Stephen heard Yi Yeon was doing chicken in Korea, he bought farmland in Texas and supplied the feed himself, shielding his brother from the feed company’s antics.
Then one day, a call came from Park Bu-jang, the former researcher who had been pushed aside.
—Hey, I think I’m getting laid off.
“Why? Who else would manage the silicone division if not you, bujang?”
—Song cha-jang, I mean Song bujang now. The moment that guy became senior researcher, he started cutting me first.
“That’s ridiculous. He’s trying to pin his own mistakes on you.”
—It’s probably because I’m still here. He can’t stand me around.
After Yi Yeon left, the production lines had collapsed. They had changed the line based on his research showing 10 to 20 percent higher yield, but it actually dropped.
The stock crashed, yet Song cha-jang remained safe because his father had forced through a huge government contract.
After that disaster, Song cha-jang became even more reckless. The company still sided with him because he brought in huge profits for the government.
—By the way, I’m thinking of opening a chicken chain restaurant like the one your brother runs. Could you introduce me?
“What? You’re doing chicken?”
—When you get old and retire, everyone ends up living like that.
Yi Yeon felt bitter. Park Bu-jang, who had devoted his entire life to the company, was now being crushed by internal politics and planning to run a chicken shop after retirement.
‘Damn! I’m done for?’
The chemical company Yi Yeon had attended had market cap exceeding three trillion won—solid and stable.
But since it was listed, he could buy it the moment he wanted.
He didn’t have that much money right now, but as the major shareholder of Lithium USA, he could easily borrow that amount using stock collateral.
Just as Yi Yeon tried to probe Park Bu-jang’s intentions, the man spoke first.
—That Song guy won’t last long.
“Why?”
—His father’s corruption charges are about to get him arrested.
“Still causing trouble?”
—Exactly. The bastard thinks he can survive without me.
“Ah… I see.”
—Anyway, arrange a meeting with the responsible person.
“Yes, I’ll handle it.”
—Thank you.
After hanging up, Yi Yeon watched the news that evening.
—Today, manufacturers of paper straws gathered in front of the Ministry of Environment.
—They protested the government’s announcement that it would no longer regulate major disposable items like paper cups, plastic straws, and plastic bags, despite having built factories after only hearing about regulations on single-use plastics.
—It’s a pity, but the government says it has no choice because paper straws have become the center of the environmental debate.
“Environmental…”
Yi Yeon fell into thought.
His doctorate thesis and research field had been silicone. If handled well, he could flip the entire industry.
“General-purpose liquid silicone can be produced without curing processes, saving time and energy.”
Silicone containers cost far more than plastic ones, but their heat resistance, chemical stability, durability, and safety for the human body made them perfect for an environmental image.
The price was the problem.
“If nothing else, I can use it only for Three Brothers Chicken packaging.”
Yi Yeon immediately met his second brother to discuss.
“I’m fully in favor. It won’t make much difference in cost anyway. Just make it pretty. Then we can sell it separately.”
“Yes, brother. I’ll make it beautiful.”
Yi Yeon and Park Bu-jang co-founded Three Brothers Silicone.
They created sturdy silicone boxes for storage—perfect for side dishes, random gadgets, and tools.
Though not as transparent as plastic and slightly translucent, the glass-like material was so well-received as “environmental” that people bought them even for personal use.
They stuck well and sealed perfectly. Three Brothers Silicone grew explosively.
One day during these peaceful times, news arrived that his mother had passed away from illness.
Yi Yeon set aside his delayed travel and returned to Korea.
He had spent eight years roaming the world. He had met people of every culture and done every dream imaginable—wandered endlessly with just a backpack, dug wells and irrigation channels across Africa, galloped across the grasslands under a knight’s escort, and even bought an entire island in the Mediterranean to build his own kingdom.
Then, one day while enjoying the world without a care, he learned of Stephen’s plane crash while exploring the seabed in the latest submarine.
The grief was so overwhelming that everything felt meaningless.
Back at the chicken farm, Yi Yeon was simply killing time.
Worried, his big brother suddenly spoke up.
“Yea, you have a second-grade teaching license, right?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like to teach science at our middle school? I’m worried you seem too depressed lately.”
His brother had brought work because he was worried about his dazed little brother. He knew it was a huge favor, but he wanted to give his sibling something to live for.
“What?”
“Our middle school’s science teacher is on maternity leave for a while, and we can’t find anyone.”
Many people wanted to become teachers, but few wanted temporary ones. Landing even a temporary spot was as hard as catching stars in the sky.
While Yi Yeon was away, his second brother had bought the private middle school his big brother attended. Since both brothers had gone there, they couldn’t just leave it.
The big brother, now chairman of the foundation and principal, had begged him, and Yi Yeon accepted.
“That’s amazing.”
While preparing lessons, Yi Yeon opened the middle-school science textbook and was stunned. The explanations had far more pictures than his own time, and the content was rich.
Teaching young students at his late age felt joyful. Simple questions came without hesitation, and even a basic experiment made them look surprised—adorable.
“Teacher? Why is sodium called sodium and potassium called potassium?”
“That’s because our country decided to use American-style terminology. It’s also for historical reasons.”
Even after Yi Yeon’s detailed explanation, the student still looked mischievous.
“Sunwoo, it’s hard to understand, isn’t it?”
“Yes, teacher.”
“Then remember: sodium is one of the main components of salt, so call it sodium. Potassium is a main component of bombs, so call it potassium.”
One day while teaching like this, Sunwoo suddenly asked, “Teacher, but is saltpeter potassium nitrate?”
“Saltpeter?”
“Yes, teacher. Changsik and I bet it wasn’t, and you said it wasn’t.”
“Mmm, saltpeter is also called niter—potassium nitrate. It’s not exactly right. But why do you ask?”
“I was just curious.”
It turned out Sunwoo and Changsik, both members of the science club, were fans of alternate-history novels.
They had started watching ‘Rocket Candy’ on YouTube and got hooked on the novels.
Yi Yeon, who had made a slingshot with matches as a child, understood them perfectly.
But he had to stop them.
He couldn’t force them, of course. If he did, they would just hide and do it anyway.
Yi Yeon discussed with his brothers and equipped every school around with a perfect laboratory.
The students learned faster through experiments, and since they would get bored after one try, they wouldn’t cause trouble.
In the process, Yi Yeon himself got hooked on alternate-history novels.
“Damn! My name is the same as Ronzo’s.”
Not only that. His father’s early death, the age gap with his two brothers, suddenly becoming king and then being refused—everything felt eerily similar.
Yi Yeon researched King Seonjo’s entire life.
A deep sigh escaped him.
“What if I had been King Seonjo?”
It pained him.
“There were so many talented people…”
King Seonjo, who became king at sixteen, had turned a stable Joseon into a hell.
“If that was the strength of Joseon back then, he wouldn’t have been crushed by Japan’s invasion…”
But because of King Seonjo, everything had gone wrong.
Instead of preparing for war, he had stirred up factional strife and plunged the country into even greater chaos.
“What if Jeong Yeo-rip had been employed?”
Jeong Yeo-rip, who dreamed of the Great Unity world, had committed suicide.
In connection with him, over a thousand talented people were executed in the Gichuk Prison Incident.
Yi Yeon hated that King Seonjo with all his heart.
—Boom!
Outside, thunder rumbled with lightning, as if rain were about to fall.
In that instant, a forgotten memory resurfaced.
‘Right! That’s it.’
Yi Yeon sprang to his feet, opened the drawer, and pulled out a leather box.
He carefully lifted the soul transfer device shaped like a dreamcatcher and stepped outside.
“It was said blood couldn’t be spilled…”
Yi Yeon gazed at the darkening sky. Thick clouds were gathering.
Eyes closed, he raised the soul transfer device high with both hands.
Nothing happened.
“What?”
Just as he was about to give up—
A blinding light pierced his eyes, followed by earsplitting explosions.
Yi Yeon lost consciousness.