A Weekend Morning at the Pinnacle of Capitalism
Weekends at the peak of capitalism dawned differently. Instead of an alarm blaring, it was the soft tickle of breath against my ear and a sweet whisper—"Jinwoo, it's morning"—that opened my eyes. As the blackout blinds slid up with a gentle whir, sunlight poured in, illuminating Han Seol-ah's face beaming up at me from my arms. It was more unrealistically beautiful than any masterpiece painting.
But a stubborn remnant of my old dirt-poor returnee instincts lingered in the corner of my mind. Out of habit, I tapped through my smartphone calendar—then bolted upright.
"Whoa. Right, today's the day for that mandatory group project meeting for my major!"
"...Huh? Meeting?"
Seol-ah's eyes, which had been nuzzling against my chest with an angelic smile just seconds ago, chilled instantly at the word meeting.
"What meeting? With who? Any girls? Jinwoo, are you trying to sneak off without me?"
"No, no! It's not like that—it's for a university class. I'm still a junior, remember? We have this business strategy group project, so we're meeting at a café near campus."
I rushed to explain, but Seol-ah's brows furrowed. She hugged my waist tight, her face screaming utter incomprehension.
"University? Jinwoo, why would you go to school? I told you yesterday—Grandpa gave you 50% of our affiliate shopping mall shares. You're already sitting on billions. Who needs a stupid piece of paper like a diploma? If you really want one, I'll buy out your entire university foundation today and tell the president to print you an honorary doctorate. So don't go. Stay by my side."
Her miraculous logic—acquiring a whole foundation just to get a PhD—nearly dropped my jaw.
"Come on, Seol-ah. A student has duties, you know. And it's a group project—if I bail, the others get screwed over..."
"I don't care if those nobodies suffer! You disappearing from my sight for even a second is the biggest damage to me!"
Seol-ah wailed like she was about to burst into tears. I sighed deeply and stroked her soft hair like I was soothing a child.
"Just an hour and a half. No, hour and a half tops. We'll compile the research and I'll come right back. I'm sick of this crap too—I wanna wrap it up fast. Okay? Then I'll spend the whole day with my head in your lap."
Tempted by my earnest compromise and the killer bait of a lap pillow, Seol-ah bit her lip in conflict before reluctantly nodding.
"...Exactly an hour and a half. One minute late, and I'll deploy my personal security team to shut down your entire university building. And..."
She hopped out of bed and headed to the dressing room, returning with an armful of clothes.
"Fine, go if you must—but I won't let my Jinwoo look shabby. Strip."
"Huh? I showered and got dressed already..."
"Take off that grubby department jacket right now. You think I'll let you leave my penthouse in that?"
In the end, I was dragged into a forced wardrobe change by Seol-ah. The outfit she picked—a simple beige knit sweater and slacks—looked ordinary at a glance. But the insane fabric against my nape, softer than anything my old net worth could buy, screamed it cost as much as a mid-size car.
"Perfect. Subtly luxurious and handsome. Now go."
"Wait—you're coming too?"
"Of course! You think I'd let you go alone? I'll wait in the car till your group whatever ends, so quit whining and follow me."
And so, I rode in the personal limo of Taesung Group's No. 5-ranked Strategy Planning Director toward campus on a weekend.
The biggest, busiest chain café right by university. When the black limo growled to a stop on the narrow street out front, every student on the block whipped their heads around. Eyes wide with shock: What the hell is a car like that doing in a college town?
Then the back door opened, and out stepped a regular 20-something returnee student with a plain backpack—cue double-take astonishment.
"Hour and a half. Exactly an hour and a half, Jinwoo."
Through the half-open window, Seol-ah—sunglasses on—shot me a obsessive warning glare. Wiping cold sweat, I bolted into the café like a fugitive.
Our appointed spot in the upstairs corner already had familiar faces: the infamous 4th-year business major senior, a total jerk who freeloaded on every group project under the guise of job hunting. And two clueless 2nd-year juniors fiddling with their phones, oblivious. Classic cursed lineup for 'group leader does everything' hell.
"Well, well, if it isn't our leader Kang! Tough weekend, huh, Jinwoo?"
The jerk senior greeted me smugly, legs crossed.
"Ah, yeah. You're here early, Senior. Everyone brought their research, right?"
"Uh... Jinwoo, bro was up all night prepping for a big corp aptitude test yesterday. Couldn't squeeze in research. You get it—job hunting's killing me. Handle the research, PPT, and presentation all nice and clean, and I'll buy you a proper round later. Deal?"
Predictable as clockwork. Old dirt-poor Jinwoo would've swallowed tears and nodded like a pushover. My GPA's precious, after all.
But not anymore. Behind me loomed the Taesung empire and a chaebol heiress who loved me to madness. Hell, I owned 50% of a Taesung affiliate—practically chairman-in-waiting.
"Senior."
I rolled up my sweater sleeve with a smirk. My wristwatch gleamed—worth tens of millions. His eyes locked on, pupils quivering.
"When did I strike you as your eternal errand boy pushover?"
"Huh? Hey, Jinwoo, watch your tone. And what's with that watch? Some knockoff...?"
Right as the senior bristled—that heavy, precise footfalls echoed up the stairs.
Ding-a-ling. Three burly suits—elevator-built heavies in perfect black—marched straight to our table in formation. Gold Taesung Group Strategy Planning Division badges flashed on their chests.
"VVIP Kang Jinwoo, good day, sir."
They bowed 90 degrees in unison before me. Dozens of students upstairs froze, holding their breath at the surreal scene. Jerk senior and the juniors gaped, petrified.
"Ah... you're here? The materials?"
I played it cool. The leader pulled a tablet PC and thick binder from a luxury briefcase, placing them reverently on the table.
"Per Director's special orders, our 20-member Global Market Analysis Team at Taesung Group's Strategy Planning Division pulled an all-nighter on this Business Strategy Perfect Analysis Report. Cross-verified against 50 latest Harvard Business School papers. PPT slides outsourced to a pro design agency—Apple keynote level. Script reviewed by presentation pros."
Insane. Harvard papers scraped overnight by Korea's top corp elites—for a junior-year assignment?
"Thanks for the hard work. Leave 'em here."
I nodded casually. They bowed again and glided out. On the table: Taesung-logoed perfection that'd make any prof leap to their feet applauding.
"Wh-what the hell... Kang Jinwoo, who are you? T-Taesung Group? Why would they...?"
"Senior, you said you're swamped with job hunting, right?"
I tapped the tablet.
"As you see, project's handled perfectly. Submit this, and prof'll beg to publish it at a conference."
"O-oh! Yeah, Jinwoo! Knew I could count on—"
"But I'll remove your name from the member list."
"What?!"
Jerk senior's face flushed purple.
"You crazy, Kang Jinwoo?! I'm your senior! No credit this semester, no graduation, no jobs!!"
"Why blame me for your freeloading ruining your life? Oh, right—Taesung aptitude test?"
I grinned, driving the nail.
"I'll tell our director to add you to Taesung's permanent blacklist. AI'll auto-reject your resume, so don't even glance their way."
His face turned ashen. Legs gave out; he slid to the floor, staring up in blank despair—like he'd seen a ghost where pathetic, groveling Jinwoo used to be.
Then—a familiar, intoxicating scent wafted from behind.
"Jinwoo."
The café fell dead silent. Seol-ah ascended, sunglasses off, armed head-to-toe in designer armor, standing at my back. Overwhelming beauty and untouchable chaebol aura: guys' jaws dropped, girls gasped.
Ignoring the stares like dust, she fixed only on me, voice a coquettish purr.
"Time's up—why make me wait? One kiss per second late, remember?"
"Ah... yeah. Project's done. Let's go."
I snatched the tablet and stood. Seol-ah hooked my arm tight, pressing it to her ample chest. Her gaze flicked to the floor-slumped senior—just 0.5 seconds, icy murder.
"Seol-ah, let's hurry—I'm starving."
I wrapped her waist and led her out. Behind: classmates' shrieks—"Kang Jinwoo, when'd he launder into a total stud?!"—but none of my business.
Outside, warm weekend sun bathed us.
"Group project done! Free at last."
"Good job, my husband."
This ridiculously pretty, ridiculously rich, ridiculously obsessive woman smiled radiantly at me. Feeling her soft warmth, I chuckled quietly.
Screw youth's romance or college memories—they're worthless. Crushing group projects with chaebol infinite capital? That's the thrill. Today too, I live as the world's happiest prisoner in Han Seol-ah's perfect capitalist golden cage.