Family Gathering (3): Twenty Questions Wager
“Twenty Questions?”
“Yes. Though it’s a bit of a twist on the classic game~”
The rules of Twenty Questions are incredibly simple. One person picks an answer, and the guesser has up to twenty questions to figure it out. Victory comes from narrowing down the possibilities through clever questioning until you hit the mark within those twenty tries. Easy as pie.
“Sounds good. What’s the penalty?”
Han Taejun said it with a smug, confident grin. He probably figured a kid my age would be an easy mark in a game like this. I watched his cocky assurance in silence, the corners of my mouth twitching upward ever so slightly. Like a fish thrashing helplessly in the net.
“How about something straightforward for the penalty?”
“Fine by me. I’ll go first, then.”
“Sure. Fire away.”
He stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then let out a snicker. The picture of leisure, like victory was already in his grasp.
“If I win, you send me a letter once a week with all the latest from the Bukchangdong Mansion. Secretly. Just to me. Deal?”
Far from the dimwit reputation he had in public, this was a shrewd, calculated penalty. The Bukchangdong Mansion is surprisingly insular. No surprise there—it’s the home of Hansung Group’s top power player, and any leaks from here could tie straight into the group’s major projects.
Han Umin, Hansung Group’s vice chairman and eldest son. And his son, Han Taejun. Like father, like son—sneaky runs in the family.
“Deal. If I lose, I’ll send you letters once a week about the mansion’s happenings. Secretly, of course.”
“Good. Then the reverse should apply too. Not that it’ll ever happen.”
Han Taejun dangled the bait, prompting me to name my terms. I flashed a grin.
“If I win, you send me letters once a week about what’s going on inside Hansung Group. Secretly, naturally. Hehe~”
Our family only runs the food division. As for headquarters, I’m still in the dark—like a total novice.
In 1997, what’s known as the IMF crisis hit. Hansung Group took a massive blow from overleveraged expansion and liquidity woes. Short-term foreign debt piled up, markets froze, and the group’s cash flow ground to a halt.
How does a ramen obsessive like me know all this? Straight from the autobiography of none other than Hansung Group Chairman Han Seongcheol—my grandfather.
Out of 25 affiliates, they sold off 9. Plummeting from 5th in the rankings to outside the top 10. His kids eventually clawed it back, but...
Still, the IMF scars never fully healed.
What exactly went down at Hansung Group? Grandpa’s book didn’t spill everything. Maybe he left it out on purpose.
“That’s fine. But if you’re confident enough to bet like this, you really think you can beat me?”
“Didn’t the old saying go, ‘You’ll know who’s long and who’s short when you measure’? Things don’t always go smoothly.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. In my past life, soul-crushing poverty had me scraping by at rock bottom. I’d tried everything to survive until I made it as a ramen researcher.
“Referee?”
“Han Jihun oppa, would you do the honors?”
Han Jihun nodded at my suggestion.
“No complaints here.”
Players set, referee ready. Now just the scope.
“No limits on the answer’s category?”
“No limits?”
“Yep. Anything goes.”
“Ha!”
Han Taejun’s lip curled in an instant.
“Pretty cocky for a kindergartener.”
This kindergartener just aced the aptitude test for early admission to Yeonhwa Elementary School. And that’s just a pit stop—I plan to graduate early from there too.
Han Taejun had no clue about my test. It’s a mansion secret, known only to insiders. No wonder he’s fishing for Bukchangdong intel. He doesn’t even know about the early admission, let alone deeper secrets.
He’s after info on Grandpa and Director Woo Shijang.
Somehow, Han Jihun had already donned a referee’s getup.
“Ready? Who goes first?”
“Me.”
Han Taejun declared.
“Let’s see how far that confidence takes you.”
“Sure thing. Give it your all, Taejun oppa~”
Han Taejun couldn’t wrap his head around it. The kid in front of him was just a clueless six-year-old, max.
People called him a lucky foal, riding his chaebol parents’ coattails. He knew he wasn’t book-smart. But that was by the standards of esteemed adults. Among peers? Totally different story.
Surprisingly, even at his age, he’d tagged along with his vice-chairman dad on company tours. Sometimes chiming in with execs.
By contrast, little Han Seoyeon seemed like a ditzy doll-player. Or so he thought—until this very moment.
“Got my answer.”
Han Taejun handed the answer slip to referee Han Jihun.
Han Jihun took it, signaling readiness. He’d start with a probe—something tough for a kindergartener.
“First round of Twenty Questions, begin.”
Bam! My questions flew out like bullets.
“Is it alive?”
“No.”
“Does it exist in nature?”
“...Huh? Yeah.”
“Is it a physical substance?”
“Yes.”
“Do people make it?”
By now, cold sweat beaded on Han Taejun’s forehead. Something felt off. These weren’t kid questions. Biology? Nature? Form? Substance? From a six-year-old girl?
“Uh, yeah.”
“It’s the hardest, right?”
“!”
“Answer: diamond!”
“Gasp!”
Fast. No hesitation. Like she knew it from the start, zeroing in instantly.
Impossible! How could she read my mind?
Regret flooded him. Should’ve picked something harder.
But he didn’t know how many books I devoured daily. The day Jeong Haewon from the Seongbukdong mansion visited, she freaked at my room—stacked with original English newspapers and global papers.
“It’s... correct...”
Han Jihun stared at the slip, stunned speechless.
“Guess that means it’s my turn to set the answer?”
“F-Fine. L-Let’s see it!”
Did he regret suggesting the bet? Rumors swirled in business circles: Hansung’s sole granddaughter had humiliated Hyundai Group Chairman Jeong Munju himself.
Han Taejun dismissed it as hype for the chaebol princess. Fake talent propping up the name—par for the course.
What would she pick? Even he looked wary now, post-diamond shock.
Just as I thought!
No mind-reading without being a god. But I knew Han Taejun’s answer was diamond from the jump.
Why? Past-life memories.
He loved diamonds. Proposed to his future wife with a diamond ring. Later, as Hansung vice chairman, gifted them for big deals.
A reporter asked in a massive portal-site interview.
“My turn to set the answer~”
“O-Okay.”
Han Taejun scribbled it down with forced nonchalance. Not some pushover. This would end the bet.
Current him couldn’t possibly guess it.
I handed the slip to Han Jihun.
“Wh-What’s this?”
Han Jihun looked utterly baffled. Han Taejun’s eyes bulged too.
What could make Jihun oppa react like that?
“Hehe, nothing special. Feels easy yet tricky, right?”
“Easy yet tricky?”
“Yep~ The answer itself isn’t hard. If you can guess it, Taejun oppa.”
Twenty Questions is a blast. Even simple answers can be impossible depending on the questions—or a breeze.
My slip to the referee? Grandpa. Han Seongcheol.
A sly smile crept across my lips. Get it right, break even. Get it wrong? Can’t show your face anywhere.
“Ready when you are, Taejun oppa.”