Puberty and Menopause (4)
It was in that instant. His heart had pounded at the sight of his son staring straight at him, declaring with unwavering resolve that he would become the heir to Cheongeumbang.
He hadn't been able to do anything for him. Hadn't this child been tossed away as a mere infant, spending fourteen long years at Shaolin without the care of those called parents?
Even after returning after such a long time, it was natural for him to feel disappointed by a cold father whose paternal affection couldn't be felt. And no one could blame him for feeling despair at his circumstances.
"Are you serious?"
"Dead serious. I've never been good at lying, anyway."
"Hah, hahaha."
Jin Ha-seong couldn't hold back the laughter bubbling up from deep within, unable to mask the emotions swelling in his chest at his son's words. Something long suppressed and sealed away surged forth.
Jin Yeo-rip, and the two younger sons born later—they were all his blood. The paternal feelings were the same. But deep down, he might have hoped for it. That his eldest son, Jin Yeo-rip, would succeed him. That he would properly lead Cheongeumbang, built by their ancestors.
He's grown so much.
One might think it insufficient to merely complain or rage at a cold father, yet here he was... so steadfast. So proud.
In that moment, Jin Ha-seong's gaze shifted. The fervor faded, replaced by the stubborn, dignified eyes of the man called Paegum, spreading softly outward.
With his son's resolve so firm, how could a father pretend otherwise?
"Very well. If that's your determination, then so be it. Become the heir to Cheongeumbang."
"Yes!"
Jin Yeo-rip responded to his father's stern words with a voice brimming with ambition.
"Then!"
"......"
"What should we start with?"
"Hm?"
"Am I leaving the academy right away to learn management from you, Father? Any position is fine. I'll outperform anyone else by far."
Jin Ha-seong stared at his son, whose words overflowed with confidence.
"Management?"
"Yes?"
"What nonsense is this? Why would you sit in a position already?"
"Huh?"
Something felt off about the atmosphere. Why was he tilting his head like that? Wasn't this how it worked in chaebol families? Starting as a parachute appointee in some executive role like branch manager or director, learning the ropes, then announcing the successor. With stock transfers for leverage, reliable executives by your side...
But why the weird expression? Wasn't that the scenario? Or maybe... fieldwork? No way, starting from the bottom rung and climbing up slowly? That'd be brutal.
"Yeo-rip, it seems you've misunderstood something. Of course, you wouldn't have heard how the previous generations became masters of Cheongeumbang."
"Ah, so there's a different process? I got ahead of myself. Haha!"
Jin Yeo-rip scratched his head and laughed awkwardly.
"Very much so."
"......"
"The master of Cheongeumbang isn't a position one inherits simply by blood."
"Yes?"
"Nor is it an easy seat won merely by being the eldest son."
Jin Yeo-rip blinked at Jin Ha-seong's explanation.
Hold on. Not by blood, not by primogeniture? It felt like the cards he held were being discarded one by one.
"Of course, being my son could give you a head start on the starting line. It's the first thing considered for the master."
...Phew.
Jin Yeo-rip sighed inwardly in relief. At least it wasn't a total discard. How rare was it to have such a background? In his past life, he'd cursed those damn kids with great parents, but now that he had it, screw what others said—it was damn good.
"The first virtue required to become master is talent."
"Talent... yes?"
That he had in spades. He'd inherited genius, and though shallow, he had knowledge from his past life. How helpful Brother Pythagoras had been. Plus, his martial arts talent was plenty. He hadn't realized he was that good. His inner energy grew daily, and his combat experience improved by the day. After learning how much more one gained in real battles, he'd even asked Im Pilsaeng to train him like it was life or death.
Of course, the Reverse Heaven Method was a concern, but as long as no one found out, it was fine. How often did a merchant need to fight? He had his bodyguard Pilsaeng anyway.
Even amid his thoughts, Jin Ha-seong's stern voice continued. Now he finally seemed like a father, disciplining his child for the path ahead. Even if it was over noodles at a street stall.
"You've already proven you have talent in many ways."
"Yes."
Jin Yeo-rip smiled contentedly.
"But that's not enough. Internally, you must manage twenty-five great merchants under Cheongeumbang, along with numerous mid- and small-sized trading firms, from Outer Market to Inner Market to Taewon. Externally, countless trading partners."
It was a valid point, so Jin Yeo-rip nodded attentively.
"Thus, the second requirement is prestige."
"Prestige?"
"You must show everyone that you're worth following."
"Hm, that could take quite a while."
"Indeed. Sometimes you forgive, sometimes you cut decisively, and sometimes you must be ruthless enough to be called tyrannical."
That was tough. Talent was innate, and if lacking, one could reach it with tenfold effort. But prestige was external judgment. It changed based on how others saw you, and you couldn't always know how your words and actions were perceived.
"As Baekhak taught me, he must have told you the same: There's no royal road to prestige. Speak rightly and stand straight, and eventually, people will flock to help you."
He had. While drunk off his ass...
"I still believe that's true. Deviate from the righteous path, and critics will always emerge."
"......"
"But you've already shown potential."
"Potential?"
"Merchants are quick with information."
"......"
"How could I not know what you've been doing in Outer Market? You treated them with humility—not servile, bold but not arrogant. And in resolving this recent attack, your methods were radical, but the outcome was magnanimous, wasn't it?"
What luck. If he'd lost patience and lopped off those kids' heads, it would've been disaster. A momentary choice shapes a lifetime—words weren't empty.
"Your mother was like that."
"......"
"She pitied the unfortunate and never bent, even with a blade to her throat, if it was right. It's probably your innate nature, inherited from her blood."
Jin Ha-seong wore a wistful expression, as if recalling someone dear. Ak Seoyeonn. She must have been that kind of woman. Naturally—the Ak family had crumbled, yet retainers who couldn't forget her served her son as lord.
"You'll do well. I believe in you."
His father's encouragement filled him with pride. If only he'd believed this sooner. The leisurely life of doing nothing and feigning ignorance felt a bit less regrettable now.
"And finally..."
As Jin Ha-seong's face darkened slightly, Jin Yeo-rip tensed.
"You must create something from nothing."
"...Pardon?"
Create from nothing?
"From the previous leaders to me, all who succeeded Cheongeumbang did so."
"......"
"You'll take nothing with you. Leave Cheongeumbang empty-handed and return with achievements others recognize. That's the path to becoming heir."
Jin Yeo-rip stared blankly at his father.
Wait, what? Did I hear that right...? Empty-handed? Leave Cheongeumbang?
"Cheongeumbang doesn't value inheritances. You must prove yourself to them."
"......"
"That you're a true merchant. And the right material to lead Cheongeumbang."
His father's words ended. In summary: Talent and prestige, plus a miracle creating something from nothing... to become heir.
Jin Yeo-rip gazed blankly at his stern father, then chuckled.
"You're joking, right?"
"Joking?"
"Come on, you're just saying that. But really, you'll support me from behind, yeah?"
Did he think he'd only read chaebol stories once or twice? In a world flooded with dramas and novels, no one succeeded alone. Empty-handed? Bullshit—everyone started with something.
As Jin Yeo-rip pouted and grinned slyly, Jin Ha-seong spoke.
"I..."
The whisper, barely audible, slowly widened Jin Yeo-rip's mouth.
"W-Wait, for real?"
"Yes, that's how it was. It was the first thing that caught my eye."
"Whoa."
Jin Yeo-rip gaped, staring at his father in dismay. To become successor, the first thing he'd done after leaving Cheongeumbang was...
Human waste disposal. Literal shit-shoveling.
He'd done that? No support for his son shoveling shit? This was insane!
"It was truly fortunate."
Fortunate my ass! A chaebol son shoveling shit!
"I collected and sold it, making a huge profit."
"Pardon?"
"Haha, look at your face—I know what you're thinking. But is there nobility in professions? Even if night soil stinks, does it seep into your bones? A person's three-inch tongue can leave deeper scars than marrow."
Absurd, but his father remained dignified to the end. Proud, even, rather than ashamed.
Still, even so.
"I got paid to dispose of it, then sold the processed stuff to farmers for more money. No better business. Cheongeumbang still does it."
"......"
Too proud to argue. So one of Cheongeumbang's businesses was... damn it!
They really gave no support? For real?
"Me too, then?"
"Do you think so?"
"R-Right?"
Close call...
"Something else."
"Something else?"
"Yes. Redoing what others have done for profit won't leave a deep impression. Do something that's yours alone."
His father's voice softened, encouraging his son's future... Don't encourage! Not like this! Don't cite your shitty experience while cheering me on!
"Father."
"Yes?"
"Is it still valid?"
"What?"
"That thing in Guangdong Province you prepared for me."
"It's valid, but I doubt you'll need it."
"Yes?"
"I told you. Yang Sojin—no, Yang Taek of Saihai Money House—won't leave you be now."
"...Ah."
"But don't worry."
"Pardon?"
"They'll only bring up naming you successor at the trading firms' grand assembly. Until then, take time to think carefully about what to do. And though I may not seem it, I'll give you a chance to observe from the side—managing the merchant world."
"......"
"It's a father's consideration for a son gone fourteen years."
Finishing, Jin Ha-seong rose with a relieved expression.
"Oh! One more thing I must ask."
"Ask?"
"From now on, always wear the silver ring."
"Why?"
"Poison might seep into everything you eat."
He smiled so warmly. Life felt... fucked.
Ah, menopause. If only, at their first meeting, he'd said he'd prepared various things so just do nothing. Why stay so taciturn? On this day of sudden father-son bonding, that trustworthy gaze felt strangely resentful.