Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Hunter (2)
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Dark night. The public Han River parking lot right in front of Yanghwajin Park in Mapo-gu.
Amid the steady summer drizzle, the headlights of a car illuminated each raindrop.
A single sedan slowly making its way to the most remote corner, where no one was around.
Finally, the growling engine noise stopped, and the car's ignition turned off.
“Whew, no one's gonna hear a damn thing out here. No tails on us either.”
The man at the wheel was Na Deok-sul, president of Ammunition Construction.
After pulling out the SD card from the dashcam, he glanced at the rearview mirror.
Two men in the back seat, arms crossed, unable to hide their anxious expressions.
Na Deok-sul directed his question at one of them, a guy whose head was clearly filled with the same worries as his own.
“Phew… So what now? Prez.”
“I'm gonna lose it, for real. That damn kid Han Seo-jun…”
Park Han-i, president of Ammunition Heavy Industries, rested his interlaced fingers on his bloated belly, swollen from nerves.
Letting out a long sigh, he shot a quick glance at the dashcam before continuing.
“And Han Hwa-gi too. What, did he take a bullet to the head or something? Internal audit out of nowhere.”
“Hah… You see it, don't you? Han Seo-jun's got something on us he wants to grill us about.”
Seong Won-sik, president of Ammunition Shipbuilding & Marine, sat next to Park Han-i.
Clutching his temple like his mind was a tangled mess, he cautiously spoke up as if struck by a thought.
“I hear weird rumors floating around among the staff in Finance HQ.”
“Rumors? What kinda rumors?”
“Y'know, that Han Seo-jun's got the old chairman's overseas slush fund through Kim Won-cheol. Supposedly around 100 billion won in Hanwha…”
“What?! It's real?”
Park Han-i's eyes bulged at the mention of nearly 100 billion in slush funds.
And since it was overseas, in foreign currency, its power would be even greater.
Seong Won-sik pushed away Park Han-i, who had leaned in uncomfortably close, and replied.
“Whether it exists or not, Han Hwa-gi's the type to make it happen. I'd do the same, pull every string I could. The problem is…”
Seong Won-sik turned to look out the window.
The pouring raindrops traced streams down the foggy glass.
Just like the regrets he couldn't voice, festering silently inside.
“Phew… Guess I'm hanging my neck out in the family crown fight too. You two included.”
“Son of a bitch… Dead either way. What a screwed-up fate…”
An uneasy silence.
Na Deok-sul, fed up with the sighing exchange, gripped the steering wheel tight and spoke.
“Anyway, why do you think Han Seo-jun said that? He couldn't know about the Iraq seawater desalination plant deal, could he?”
Han Seo-jun had said if they needed a rat hole to escape, contact him. No need to experience hanging, he'd added snidely.
And right after the internal audit talk, so the suspicion had only grown.
The three presidents ran through countless scenarios in their heads.
Park Han-i was the first to conclude.
“Nah, not that.”
“Why not…”
“The Saudi thing was a jackpot, sure. Started with arms sales, then hooked up with that Arab prince Bin Salman somehow.”
He chalked up the massive Saudi prince's rebellion win to pure luck.
“But desalination? That's no stroke-of-luck deal. Even Kim Won-cheol couldn't swing that. So Han Seo-jun's got nothing.”
“So, prez means stick with Han Hwa-gi to the end?”
“Hell, we're just scaredy-cats who pissed our pants a little. Maybe Han Seo-jun was just poking to see.”
Like a spark in dry grass, his reasoning spread into conviction.
The flame of certainty, starting at their scalps, slowly consumed their bodies.
Deep down, Park Han-i and Na Deok-sul might have known.
They had… nowhere to go back to. So they had to ride it out, willing or not.
Clenching his fists in forced self-hypnosis, Park Han-i spoke to Na Deok-sul up front, like affirming himself.
“Anyway, we're on the tiger's back now—no getting off. Unless we get thrown.”
“Hah… Yeah. Let's do what prez says. Stick with Han Hwa-gi to the end; he'll cover our screw-ups eventually.”
“Damn right! Once we pin the chairman badge on him, we're top功臣—no way he ignores us. Don't worry.”
Park Han-i wiped the sweat from his palms on his suit pants thigh.
Glancing at the seat next to him, he sought agreement.
“So, what about you, Seong prez?”
“……”
“Seong prez?”
No answer from Seong Won-sik.
Lost in thought, he gave no reply.
He snapped to when Park Han-i's elbow nudged his arm.
“What the hell you pondering so hard?”
“Ah, just spaced out… What'd you say?”
“Han Hwa-gi or Han Seo-jun? You're the one with the biggest stake—why you acting like your soul up and left?”
Seong Won-sik looked like he was deep in deliberation.
To Park Han-i, he seemed especially spineless and indecisive today.
Of course, that was just an outsider's misconception.
“Phew… Too late to turn back now. You're right, Park prez.”
The answer finally slipped out.
Watching him, Park Han-i seemed pleased with the resolve.
He slapped his knee heartily and summed up in a brighter tone.
“Okay. Then let's each head home and clean up those books squeaky clean. If they grab any dirt on that slush fund or whatever, I'm tattling straight to Han Hwa-gi.”
* * * *
The secret meeting broke up, and Seong Won-sik returned home.
Late night. On the balcony beyond the empty living room, where only a family photo hung forlornly.
Facing the night breeze, he muttered to himself.
“100 billion won…”
About a year ago, he'd quit consulting and joined the Ammunition Group.
While reviewing the books to gauge the company's state back then.
One nagging question had circled his mind ever since.
“Was Ammunition Shipbuilding & Marine the final domestic stop for that slush fund?”
Traces of unnecessary inter-affiliate deals within the group. The money had tried to flee the country.
Sometimes as service fees to foreign clients, or investments in overseas subs.
The footprints of capital flows that Seong Won-sik had spotted.
Like a siren's call luring sailors, those remembered tracks whispered to him now.
Turn the helm of this sinking ship hard the other way.
“Park Han-i and Na Deok-sul have no choice… but I have a bargaining chip.”
Seong Won-sik ran scenarios in his head.
Han Hwa-gi or Han Seo-jun. Grab just one lifeline.
Weighing rewards against risks, success against prison, time slipped toward midnight.
As the wind from on high whistled past his ears like a song, he finally reached out for his line.
His right hand emerged from his jacket pocket, phone in grip.
“Phew… Seong Won-sik speaking.”
The call connected faster than expected.
Like they'd been waiting.
The voice on the other end carried a certainty that he'd call, no doubt.
“Yes. Exactly as you thought.”
Seong Won-sik's voice trembled.
Finally, with head bowed, the declaration of surrender escaped his lips.
“Better a rat hole than the noose. If possible… I'd like to meet in person and talk.”
* * * *
Office near the company.
After becoming Strategy Director, I'd rented a 39-pyeong place five minutes' walk away.
Not for living—mostly rest space, or… like now, unofficial meets.
Finishing the call sprawled on the sofa, I set the phone on the table and spoke.
“White flag and surrender. Sharpest of the three, as expected.”
“See? Told ya. Fork over ten grand.”
Kim Won-cheol held out his palm to me.
No bet made, but he insisted he'd won.
“Nah, we both predicted Seong Won-sik would call, you and me.”
“Pfft. First to say it wins. Don't you know?”
“Nope. And we never said bet.”
“Hmph… Harsh, man. If you won't pay, order some late-night grub. Working conditions here are brutal.”
Past midnight, stomach rumbling a bit.
Aiming to be a model boss, I handed him a few delivery flyers from the fridge.
“Order whatever once Seong Won-sik gets here.”
“Jumbo pork hocks? Soju too.”
“Go big. Anyway… pushed hard today, but good results. Satisfied.”
Euphoria from success.
Uncontrolled, it bred cocky amateur vibes.
The image I'd shown Han Hwa-gi—and made him believe—that overconfident act had landed well.
“Honestly, I was more worried about our old hag's reaction than Han Hwa-gi.”
Kim Won-cheol set down the flyers, sounding a tad disappointed.
“Felt like your rep took a hit. The 'desperate' act sold too well.”
Grandma's gaze had held a flicker of disappointment, sure.
To fool one, fool all—unavoidable risk.
High danger, but sweet fruit.
“Laid a solid trap instead. While prepping the audit, Uncle'll spot the Iraq desalination plant too.”
Dad's slush fund. Iraq seawater desalination plant.
These two hot potatoes linked by Ammunition Shipbuilding & Marine.
“And… he'll panic. Can't dodge blame for missing embezzlement and cooked books as Finance HQ Director.”
“So Han Hwa-gi buries the Iraq deal outright?”
“He'll pump extra funds into the desalination project if he has to—anything to bury it. By then…”
Just then, footsteps from outside the door.
Each step oozed the owner's anxiety.
Finally, the steps halted, and the doorbell chimed.
Fingers heavy with hesitation pressing it—a jaunty hunter's signal.
“Well, he'll figure it out himself. That it's a trap. Snared tight, can't budge an inch.”