Chapter 157
Chapter 157
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 157
Chapter Title: America (2)
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A shooting range nestled at the foot of Bukhansan Mountain, just a bit north of the Blue House.
The president held a hefty shotgun. He loaded shells into two magazines and focused his gaze on the crosshair sight.
"Just a little more... That's it, now!"
Bang! Bang! Amid ear-shattering explosions, a plastic disc shattered mid-air.
He seemed quite pleased that at least one of the two shots had hit. Removing his noise-canceling headset, the president turned to Chief of Staff for Policy Park Dong-hee.
"Refreshing, isn't it? The weather's cool, and the shooting's going great."
"Your Excellency resolves everything with such flair—you're the blooming fortress of South Korean politics."
"Ha, Park, you and your flattery again."
The president let out a light chuckle.
He didn't seem to entirely dislike the sycophancy from his human bidet, Park Dong-hee.
Breaking open the shotgun to eject the spent shells, the president placed the two hot casings on his gloved palm, steam rising from them, and spoke.
"After all, there's only one plate. Hitting it with one of two shots is all that matters—in shooting or in politics. Or am I wrong?"
"Are you referring to the IT frontrunner selection project you mentioned before?"
Park Dong-hee cautiously broached the topic, stealing glances at his boss.
Seated on a folding chair, cleaning his gun, the president replied.
"You should lay out a mat for mind-reading. You pick up on people's thoughts so well, and you're no psychic."
"I noticed you were deeply troubled by it. My apologies."
"What apology? Anyway, it's all worked out for the best. No matter who wins, it's a gain for me."
Two freshly reloaded shells.
Aiming at a disc launched from the machine, the president fired while speaking gruffly.
-Bang!
"If SA Group wins, I can shake the leash of inheritance."
-Bang!
"If Ammunition Group wins, I can grab the leash over that Joo Gwae-yul mess."
Park Dong-hee tilted his head, puzzled.
His boss seemed a bit pleased by the subordinate's somewhat clumsy reaction.
Setting the shotgun on the table, the president added an explanation.
"Han Seo-jun, the Ammunition Group chairman, is the one who brought me that Joo Gwae-yul bribery list. He wouldn't want to publicly clash with opposition figures either."
"...Truly wise, Mr. President."
The Joo Gwae-yul list, tied to factional lawmakers who were frontrunners for the opposition's presidential nomination.
The president apparently planned to use it as a leash to keep Ammunition Group on his side until the election.
Amazed by the fox-like scheming, Park Dong-hee muttered to himself.
'Damn, what a monster... His brain works overtime on this stuff. Anyway.'
Clink. Two brass casings tossed carelessly onto the concrete floor.
No one knew which shot broke the flying disc... but one thing was clear: only a single bullet had hit the target.
Facing the sharp wind blowing from the northeast, Park Dong-hee thought.
'Han Seo-jun, Im Jae-ho. Both heading to America suddenly... Looks like the real show's about to start.'
* * * *
America, a land I hadn't even visited in my previous life before regression. Yet now, I sat in a chair on an observation deck overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge.
In one hand, a hamburger that Kim Won-cheol had raved about nonstop since the plane, insisting I had to try it.
"Kuh, this is a hamburger. Worlds apart from our Ammunition Burger. That thing even tastes like gunpowder—you'd have to pay people to eat it."
"Well, don't say that... Though you're not entirely wrong."
Ammunition Burger, the most notorious affiliate in the Ammunition Group. It had a terrible reputation, but since it wasn't a core business, no one paid it much mind.
I'd always eaten anything without complaint, so I hadn't noticed before, but comparing it to an authentic American burger made the difference stark.
"Urgh, look at this juiciness. Chairman, let's scrap that tasteless disaster Ammunition Burger and direct-import these."
"It is different. Once this trip's over and we have some breathing room, let's push for it. But for now."
The last bite. After devouring the burger, I wiped my lips with a napkin and pulled a notebook from my pocket.
A USB from Seo-hee noona. I'd jotted down the promising contacts from the networking list inside.
"Right here—this company's patents come first."
The very first page. J-Coco, the firm I'd investigated most thoroughly.
As I pointed to the odd name, Kim Won-cheol rubbed his chin, deep in thought.
As a proud man, not just a businessman.
"The CEO's name is Dick Johnson. Sigh... Just from the name, he seems like no small fry. In more ways than one."
"The name's hefty, but his character apparently isn't. Whether other things on him are hefty too... I don't care to know."
What went on in some white guy's pants with a weird name wasn't my business. What truly interested me was... the state of Dick Johnson's mind.
"He's a money grubber, that Dick Johnson."
"Everyone in this industry is. Talented but foul-tempered? Perfect for making bank."
"Foul-tempered, yes, but question marks on talent—that's the problem."
Dick Johnson.
In the past decade, every developer in Silicon Valley knew the name.
Constant verbal abuse, cursing, and humiliation had landed several employees in psych wards or graves—it was practically an annual event.
Above all, from an investor's view, the key point was.
"He's got issues galore. Swallowed the company by screwing his co-founder on shares, but rumor is he's just looking to sell, not grow it."
"Classic hit-and-run. This... smells like an all-out capital war. You sure about this?"
"We'll see. The world's full of doors that open if you knock."
Doors that open if you knock.
Everything I'd resolved since regression had gone that way.
And with my foreknowledge of the IT industry's future, every hidden opportunity was visible to me.
I slurped down the last of my drink and stood up promptly.
As always before something important, I straightened my clothes.
"Let's head out. Time to meet that big shot Dick or whatever."
* * * *
Silicon Valley in San Jose, not far from the Golden Gate.
Atop a high-rise in the dry landscape, J-Coco CEO Dick Johnson hurled a stack of papers at the accountant before him and bellowed.
"What the fuck! What am I looking at? Why are my eyes polluted with this maggot-vomit number shit!"
Like a madman, Dick Johnson tore the documents to shreds in a frenzy.
Behind his polished looks and outward joviality, his true face emerged only in this office.
"...Mr. Johnson. Please hear me out."
The accountant, who'd been this lunatic's emotional dumping ground for over a year.
This poor Korean immigrant, tangled in visa issues, carefully broached the topic to avoid provoking him.
"The valuation was done by the bank, not me. There was no way to intervene."
Corporate valuation.
Days ago, SA Group Chairman Im Jae-ho, whom he'd met at his daughter's boarding school.
The guy reeked of sucker, so Dick had preemptively boasted a $5 billion valuation. Now he had to prove it—even if faked—before the mark caught on and fled across the Pacific.
"Shut it! Save that dogshit excuse for your wife's ear!"
"Mr. Johnson, even redoing it with another bank caps at $2 billion at best..."
"Quiet! Shut your stinking trap and open it wide—now!"
Shut up and open wide—a warm iced Americano of a demand from Dick Johnson.
"This corporate valuation report you brought is garbage! Got it?"
"...Yes, understood."
"Intelligence slightly above an orangutan. Repeat after me. Garbage goes in the trash!"
The Silicon Valley psycho balled up the shredded paper and, in ultimate humiliation, shoved it into his East Asian subordinate's mouth.
The classic sociopath gripping someone's leash.
"Chew and swallow! Now!"
"Ghuh...!"
"Screw up again, and I'll crate you in airplane cargo and ship you back to your shithole country! Remember that!"
-Knock knock!
At that moment, the door opened with a knock.
A burly black man peeked in.
"Boss, got something urgent... Oh, happy time, huh?"
"Feeding the yellow monkey. What is it?"
Nodding casually, as if this were routine, the black man skipped the spectacle and got to the point.
"It's about some Asians, actually. Visitors from Korea."
"Korea? Ah, SA Group, right? Those guys are always in a goddamn hurry. It's only been days."
Negotiations were set for mid-level coordination. Thinking it progressed faster than expected, Dick Johnson's face changed at the follow-up.
"Nah, not SA. Different company."
"What? Who the hell?"
"Let me check. Their company... Ammunition Group, they said. Chairman came himself."
"The chairman himself. That madman Han Seo-jun, you mean?"
Han Seo-jun, Ammunition Group chairman.
Dick Johnson had definitely heard the name.
Key player in the Saudi Arabian coup two years back. No way he'd forget the guy firing golden pistols into the air.
Plus, like Dick, he seemed to have a tangled love life.
One female aide in a bunny mask at a Macau casino, the daughter of Thailand's Ing Thak prime minister, even the youngest sister of Crown Prince Bin Salman—who was supposedly just turning nine.
"The last one... yeah, legal issues there. Anyway, unique taste. Likes 'em feisty."
"Boss?"
As a weird misunderstanding deepened.
Dick Johnson instructed the black man before him.
"Show him around slow, then send him in. I wanna see what Han Seo-jun looks like."