Chapter 222
Chapter 222
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 222
Chapter Title: Ransomware (6)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Myeongdong, Yoo Tae-chon's residence.
The grandmother, whose spark of life was fading, now reduced to a faint glimmer. And along with her final words granting parole, the uncle and his sons Han Seo-ho and Han Seo-hu, released from their exile.
Having heard that the uncle was once again targeting the Ammunition Group, Yoo Tae-chon couldn't contain his rage.
"Heh, can you believe these bastards? The scum of the earth! They don't even appreciate the mercy of sparing their necks!"
Already in the same boat as me, Yoo Tae-chon now saw his own fate tied to the survival of the Ammunition Group.
On top of that, the deepened wrinkles and sunken cheeks of age must have tugged at his heartstrings.
He must have felt some resonance with the grandmother's dying words himself.
"Whew. So, the Director must be in pretty bad shape, huh."
"Looks like we'll need to prepare our hearts sometime this week or next."
"Urgh, I get it. A parent's heart isn't something I can fully dismiss."
That was why Yoo Tae-chon was supporting me so actively.
He seemed quite satisfied with his unofficial elder statesman role too. Without me even asking, he started going through options one by one, slashing red X's across a blank sheet of paper.
"Let's see here. The prosecution line is already no good."
Scratch, scratch. Red paint over the black letters reading "Prosecution."
The Park Eun-ji card at the Ministry of Justice was hard to play anymore. After the Lord's Garden incident, her superiors must have felt she was getting out of hand and shipped her off for overseas training.
"Not just that one lady prosecutor I know personally—the whole prosecution organization will be tough to move."
"You've got it exactly right."
Even rousing the heavyweights higher up, like the Prosecutor General or the Justice Minister, would be a challenge.
With only about eight months left until the presidential election and a regime change on the horizon, the timing was terrible for the entire prosecution to dive into a chaebol case like this.
"Not that the president can draw his sword easily either."
For the same reason, borrowing the president's power was off the table.
"They'll be watching the opposition. If the Ammunition Group favoritism issue hits the chopping block, it'll hurt them more than the uncle."
"Exactly. So, outside help is out."
In the end, a big red X slashed across the black letters "Blue House."
The same went for all other power institutions.
Once we'd confirmed no external options panned out, Yoo Tae-chon looked up at me.
"So, how can this old man help? That's why you came, right?"
Beyond the faint aroma of the herbal tea rising between us, his eyes met mine. Even in short sentences, he was saying:
You've come up with some other plan, haven't you? Don't just beat around the bush—spill it.
And with a faint smile, I answered straight away.
"Isn't school the slang for prison?"
Thud. Two photos placed on the table. They showed two underworld heavyweights coiled up on the third-floor hallway left side of Anyang Prison.
"Funny thing—these two seem like they'd pair well with the uncle."
"Ju Gwae-yul will do it without anyone asking, no doubt. This one..."
Yoo Tae-chon furrowed his brow, staring at one photo for a long time.
Was a fragment of the past surfacing uncertainly, or had he spotted someone he'd forgotten about? After a low groan, he finally spoke.
"Heh, if it isn't Teacher Jo."
"Teacher Jo...?"
"Yeah, Jo Seok-gu's nickname is Teacher Jo. Not because he's wise or anything."
Of course, the memory of Jo Seok-gu he'd dredged up wasn't pleasant.
"He got famous in Honam for being so brutal. Cut off all their toes, and even the haughtiest guys call him 'Teacher.'"
"......"
"Then he swallowed up savings banks and started acting like a local kingpin. Fits the title perfectly."
Followed by a rough rundown on this Jo Seok-gu.
A Honam gangster who'd acquired a couple savings banks a few years back—he was a bigger player than I'd thought.
Even Ju Gwae-yul, who'd carved out a spot in southern Gyeonggi, looked like small fry by comparison.
"So, how much firepower does Jo Seok-gu have?"
"Officially, liquid assets just under 200 billion won. Officially."
"You're saying there's more off the books?"
Off the books.
I'd guessed as much, but hearing it from Yoo Tae-chon drove home how these underworld types wield money and power.
"Customer deposits. What else? Massive embezzlement of savings."
"Then... if he goes all out, bloating himself to the bursting point, what's the max funding he could muster?"
"Hmm..."
Yoo Tae-chon pondered for a moment.
Couldn't pin it down right away? He turned to the door and bellowed in a gravelly voice.
"Hey! Who's out there? Bring the ledger from the basement vault!"
Thud, thud, thud.
The sound of a servant taking the key and climbing the stairs with a heavy ledger.
"Folks out there have no clue. Thinking a podunk savings bank can't do much, clueless about black money flows."
Using the footsteps as background music, Yoo Tae-chon moistened his lips with herbal tea and said to me.
"Take a good look."
Thud. A bundle of yellowed, musty-smelling paper.
Untying the brown string revealed the contents inside. It laid bare how Jo Seok-gu had clawed his way up from the depths of hell over decades.
"How those bundles pulled from the underground economy swell into a raging river."
Yoo Tae-chon's fingers flew over the calculator.
Adding and subtracting numbers scribbled in the old ledger, finally one figure emerged before my eyes.
Bigger than I'd imagined... a shocking scale.
-[Estimated Amount] 850 billion won.
"Add Ju Gwae-yul's 150 billion hidden stash, and that's a 1 trillion won cash assault. How... do you plan to block that?"
* * * *
"Prince Bin Salman is a no-go. Investment's already maxed out at the legal limit. Legal, illegal—all of it."
A 1 trillion won cash bullet assault.
There is a best way to prepare for a bomb like that.
Begging the big Saudi brother, Crown Prince Bin Salman.
But Kim Won-cheol Uncle was saying we couldn't touch that wallet anymore.
"More investment here? Ammunition Group becomes a Saudi company. Plus, there's foreign investment caps on defense firms."
"Well, it's fine. Begging the Middle East big bro once or twice is one thing—we can't keep eating from the mama bird's beak forever."
And I wasn't thrilled about it either.
A crisis like this, I could handle solo without airing dirty laundry outside.
That's why, as I tucked the golden pistol from Bin Salman back in the drawer, I spoke up.
"Of course, I've got the confidence to punch through the storm without mama bird."
"Huh...? But didn't you say nothing solid came out of Myeongdong?"
A few days ago, our meeting with Yoo Tae-chon had wrapped after sizing up the enemy's cash scale roughly.
He was perfect for insights on old black money piles and underworld history.
But maybe because he'd been out of the game so long? Yoo Tae-chon admitted he didn't know the current street dynamics.
So, anxiety laced Kim Won-cheol Uncle's voice.
"Not to jinx it, but remember that SKC Group attack last time? Those private equity punks. Know how much cash they threw then?"
"250 billion won. A measly 250 billion nearly carved off half of a top-5 conglomerate."
"Right. But these attackers are packing 1 trillion bullets? You need fresh intel... Huh?"
Did he catch my lip twitching into a smirk?
Kim Won-cheol Uncle grinned right back.
"Spit it out."
"Hah, now you read me just from my face?"
Seeing my confident vibe, he pressed for the answer.
Yeah.
The latest intel to counter Jo Seok-gu, underworld titan with 1 trillion bullets.
And the person who'd have that intel? Obvious.
"Honam illegal scene. Someone who knows the latest, especially around Naju and South Jeolla."
"Naju...! Wait, no way?"
Naju.
A few months back, the cult leader from Naju who prayed fervently with me before his whole church got blown sky-high.
Now serving his first-instance sentence, relocated to Cheongju Women's Prison—that person was.
"Lord's Garden cult leader. Looks like I need to visit Park Geum-deok in prison."
* * * *
"Haa, Park Geum-deok, you bitch. Still not getting the pecking order?"
Park Geum-deok, once God's proxy.
The woman closest to heaven was now sobbing with her head shoved in a prison toilet.
"I told you, didn't I? The toilet bowl... is for the newbie... to scrub... spotless."
"Mmph! Mmph! Mmph...!"
With each word punctuated, the senior inmate jammed Park Geum-deok's head into the flush toilet.
"Why can't you get it through your thick skull, you tormenting bitch!"
Bullying ferociously, she lorded over Park Geum-deok, who was now lower than dirt.
"Hey, hey, ease up. If she hangs herself and croaks, corpse stink ruins meal time."
"Pfft, boss sis. Why would Geum-deok bitch die? Thinks she's immortal. Can't off herself till the Savior shows."
"Hah! True that."
Even the boss, who'd pretended to intervene, cackled along.
"Then keep beating her. Who knows? Might resurrect if she dies by mistake."
"Heh heh heh, got it. Right on, Park Geum-deok bitch."
And so, Cult Leader Park Geum-deok's head stayed stuck in the toilet.
"Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!"
Until a voice suddenly called her name.
"Inmate number 2303! 2303!"
"Gasp!"
A guard's voice booming down the hall—who knew when he'd shown up.
Eyeing Park Geum-deok's battered state, the guard glared at the bully inmate and boss, signaling them off, then approached her like it was urgent.
"Special visit. Shower up and come out as soon as you're ready!"