Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Blueprint of the Future (1)
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Ammunition Group headquarters, 45th floor Strategy Office.
Kim Won-cheol, the uncle with a red handkerchief draped over his head, was imitating the match girl.
“Yoo Tae-chon, you old man! Buy shares in [Cocoa Bank]! Warmly welcome the coming winter!”
“Ha… What kind of cosplay is that? Now I finally understand why you got divorced.”
Kim Won-cheol kept up the cosplay, chuckling away as if it was the funniest thing.
He had the group headquarters morning meeting in just an hour, but he didn’t seem tense at all.
“Hey, kid. Yoo Tae-chon promised to procure 60 billion won by August, so he’s earned a little match girl act.”
“You’re just messing around because you want to, Uncle…”
60 billion won.
The amount Yoo Tae-chon had promised to lend me interest-free.
Add in the 10 billion won from Mom, and that made 70 billion won.
One step closer to the 200 billion won goal.
“Well, Yoo Tae-chon added his own safety net, so I’m not particularly grateful.”
Yoo Tae-chon had designated his daughter, Yoo Se-na the manager, as the investment manager for the 60 billion won he was lending.
Essentially, putting his daughter on as a watchdog.
“Eating with this hood on makes it feel like winter.”
Kim Won-cheol flashed a sly grin as he scooped pudding with a spoon.
He ate so heartily, it was enviable and annoying at the same time.
Someday, I wanted to smack that broad forehead of his once with that cute little white plastic spoon.
As if reading my mind?
Kim Won-cheol spoke up again. Fortunately, the topic shifted to Han Seo-hee noona, who had visited late that day.
“And, to be fair, Han Seo-hee sold her light well, too.”
“Well, yeah, she did.”
“She’s locked in the future CEO spot at [Cocoa Bank]. If only her personal stake wasn’t so small.”
The fusion of IT and finance.
Easy to say, hard to do.
But bringing in someone with Han Seo-hee noona’s caliber as a professional manager changed everything.
On the rough sketch he’d outlined.
She could layer on pastel touches, once, twice, endlessly.
“The problem is that old fart Yang Taek-su. And ultimately, the witch granny… no, our beloved Director Seo Myung-hee.”
Kim Won-cheol, apparently low on sugar, had fetched two more puddings from the fridge in the meantime.
He tossed one up like he was playing catch and continued.
“The framework’s solid. Just nail the performance in front of the old folks today.”
“Can I really sway Vice President Yang and Grandma to my side?”
Yang Taek-su, Vice President, holder of a Swiss bank account ID containing 100 billion won.
What he wanted, the qualification for an heir, was resolving the Gumi Munitions Factory explosion compensation case.
And the promise I’d made to Grandma as Strategy Director at the previous group headquarters morning meeting.
The bold claim that I’d present a draft to solidify Ammunition Group’s foundation.
To win support from Vice President Yang Taek-su and Grandma, I had to overcome the current crisis and paint a blueprint for the future.
“Heh heh heh… No point talking if it’ll just make my mouth hurt. Right?”
Kim Won-cheol polished off the pudding like melting snow in a breeze. Then he slid a thick stack of documents my way.
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
And an instinctive sense hit me.
“See? You’re smiling, so you already know. This’ll work for sure.”
“Stop pumping me up. I’m the tense one here.”
I picked up the stack of documents.
The texture of the paper under my fingertips and the ink scent in my nose felt especially fresh today.
Documents written through the night.
Each living word seemed to whisper a story to me in this moment.
Weaving the current crisis as the warp, the future blueprint as the weft.
In the shadowed bars without a ray of sunlight. The tale I, in prison garb ten years from now, had silently penned.
“Strategy Director. Time to move.”
Yoo Se-na the manager called to me right after finishing a call from somewhere.
The group headquarters morning meeting time had arrived.
“Alright then… Whew.”
I took a light deep breath.
The slight tension flowing through my veins felt like it was invigorating me instead.
And it didn’t take long for that tension to turn into exhilaration.
“Let’s go. Time to dance a fierce sword dance today.”
* * * *
-Tap tap!
Ammunition Group’s top floor. The large conference room.
As if harboring grim thoughts, Na Deok-sul, president of Ammunition Construction, eyed Park Han-i, president of Heavy Industries, uneasily and spoke up.
“Prez Park. You hear about it?”
“Huh? Hear what? My wife’s card bill hit 20 million this month?”
Seong Won-sik, president of Ammunition Shipbuilding & Marine, watched Park Han-i’s response with pity.
Just two weeks ago, it had been warlike. He chided him, dredging up that horrific memory.
“Hey… This the time for card bill whining? That Strategy Director, Han Seo-jun or Nguyen Seo Chun or whatever, is coming to the morning meeting today.”
“Damn it… Hope he doesn’t stir up the hornet’s nest with that prison rod like last time. If Han Hwa-gi shoots his stinger later, I’m the one who gets hit… Eek!”
Park Han-i’s neck shrank like a whack-a-mole.
He’d climbed this far on sheer nerve. But the one person he couldn’t stand tall against.
Han Hwa-gi, Finance Headquarters Director, entered the room with his piercing aura.
“Oh… G-Good morning, sir.”
“Sit.”
Fortunately, Han Hwa-gi hadn’t heard Park Han-i muttering about stingers.
His mind was filled with what his second son had secretly told him recently, sneaking away from the eldest.
‘Father. I’m sorry. I think I slipped up that day because hyung kept pushing drinks on me.’
The pathetic, clumsy self had been compared to his brother, it seemed.
And that comparison had hit hard enough to feel it viscerally.
Han Seo-hu, trying to make up for his mistake.
Late at night, he’d visited Han Hwa-gi’s home and handed over a USB.
‘What’s this?’
‘I’ve got… my own thoughts too, you know. I put some brainpower into this Gumi Munitions Factory compensation thing.’
Obviously, Han Seo-hu hadn’t come up with it himself.
Han Hwa-gi could picture him squeezing his underlings like rats to produce something.
Still, he was glad to see his second son finally getting his act together.
He opened the USB file without much expectation.
But surprisingly, the report Han Seo-hu brought was more appealing than thought.
‘How about it? Pretty… usable idea, right?’
The compensation via external insurers for this incident: 3.8 trillion won.
Han Seo-hu’s plan: Convert it into insurance securities, underwritten by Ammunition Securities and Ammunition Casualty Insurance.
Then sell them as flawed financial products.
‘First, dump those insurance-backed financial products on the market.’
With Ammunition Securities and Ammunition Casualty Insurance’s sales networks, hawking this to financial illiterates was child’s play.
Already half-scam hot potato. But Han Seo-hu’s plan didn’t stop there.
‘Any unsold insurance securities, mix with regular bonds and shove to Capital…’
‘Ammunition Capital?’
‘Pin the blame on Seo-hee. Let one affiliate go bust and wrap it up.’
His second son, whom he’d pegged as dull and foolish.
He’d finally proven his worth after so long.
In peacetime, a dangerously risky plan. But now, wartime around Ammunition Group’s throne.
Even with side effects, Han Hwa-gi figured they could handle this level of risk.
Just as he finished his thoughts, Director Seo Myung-hee’s crisp voice pierced his ears.
“Finance Headquarters Director, nothing to say on the Gumi factory compensation?”
* * * *
Seo Taehu.
Han Hwa-gi’s own mother, but cold as ice, an ice queen.
She played the empress, crowning the one who’d defend Ammunition Group fortress.
Director Seo Myung-hee, with her frozen gaze, refused to favor son or grandson.
Meaning she judged strictly by her own principles.
“I have a plan in mind, Director.”
The sword his second son had forged and offered.
Han Hwa-gi performed a sword dance before his mother with its razor edge.
Dozens of eyes ringed around him, silently shouting from the stage.
Show us.
The qualities of your master.
“No need to compensate rashly right away. Securitize first and release to the market…”
The executives nodded unconsciously.
Silent praise unspoken. Eyes fixed breathlessly, immersed in Han Hwa-gi’s sword dance.
‘Is it working…?’
Han Hwa-gi tossed an uneasy question to himself amid the dance.
As if dispelling the anxiety, Seo Taehu’s gaze gleamed like moonlight.
That gaze, shown only to those with promise.
‘Success! It’s working!’
The blade, gleaming bright in the light, pointed somewhere.
A red mark he itched to thrust deep into a chest.
His nephew Han Seo-jun’s heart, pulsing redder than his own half-blood.
“The remaining volume goes to Capital, then depending on circumstances, spin off the affiliate and proceed to bankruptcy…”
“Hold on. Mind if I cut in for a sec?”
Heavy metallic tang.
A metallic rupture tearing empty space.
Like a crude blade shoved into his sword dance, a chill tremor in his fingertips.
When had he stood? Han Seo-jun’s wild heartbeat sounded close in his ears.
“Isn’t Ammunition Group too screwed up to gobble down poisoned apples in a frenzy?”
“…The Strategy Director should be well-versed before opening his mouth.”
Han Hwa-gi glared coldly at the interrupter of his sword dance.
And Han Seo-jun, fearlessly jumping into it.
Right now, bare neckflesh exposed between armor plates entered his sight.
“Or does the Strategy Director have a better scheme? No room here for empty talk without a plan!”
A hand drawn like to a ghostly dancer.
Just a bit more. One more handspan, and his second son’s sword would pierce that white neck.
But.
“I have a scheme, of course. No need to cough blood swallowing poisoned apples.”
Rustle of paper, and the sword shattered.
Like a long scar, what gleamed smooth crumpled into dull shards, reflecting no light.
Whipping around, his gaze landed on Seo Taehu clicking her tongue at him.
“Tsk tsk tsk… Useless fool.”
Eyes open, mirror shows a man.
Himself, neck pierced center by shattered blade.
The stage center had shifted unbeknownst.
And into view, white background. A beam projector, turned on who-knows-when, displayed Han Seo-jun’s woven tale.
“Huh, I’m floored. How’d you even think up a plan like this?”
“So creative. You can tell Strategy Director Han Seo-jun put real effort in.”
Lost souls?
Like moths to streetlamp, all gazes that fixed on Han Hwa-gi now turned to the projector.
Ammunition Group’s current crisis.
The future blueprint awaiting Ammunition Group.
Declaring the crown’s true owner.
“I’ll begin the presentation now.”
His nephew, monopolizing all eyes, stood.
Calm voice. Straight back.
Drawing the room’s full focus, he began his own story.
“Topic: Gumi Munitions Factory explosion damage compensation measures. And… using it for the group’s overall restructuring.”