Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Clan Council (2)
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Chungcheongnam-do, Seosan.
A damp breeze carrying the scent of the sea blew into the hanok home of Han Yul-san, the former clan secretary.
Cloudy, overcast skies. Even the weather had to match the dreary mood.
The moment the salty sea air touched his wrinkled face, Han Yul-san felt an unusual sense of unease, unlike his usual self.
"Hmph! I shouldn't have bothered going to Seoul. Even a breath of sea air isn't shaking off this nagging feeling!"
"Oh dear, old man. Are you stewing over something again?"
Kim Bok-hee, Han Yul-san's wife, stepped up onto the large porch.
Whenever her husband was agonizing over clan council matters, he would sit on the porch and take in the sea breeze.
She sat casually beside him with her feet on the stone threshold, tossing out a casual remark as she always did.
"That's why I keep telling you not to wait around endlessly for the successor to be confirmed—just speak up directly. A little chat will reveal everything, won't it?"
"Hey, don't butt in with nonsense. What does a housewife know about outside business!"
Han Yul-san snapped in a low voice for no real reason.
He turned his head slightly, glancing toward the large iron safe fixed behind the screen in the men's quarters.
Inside that hefty safe was a single sheet of paper.
It was the account holding the previous chairman's slush fund—and the note with its password.
Kim Bok-hee shook her head side to side, as if she already knew what was on his mind without him saying a word.
Her characteristic drawling tone reached Han Yul-san's ears.
"Nonsense? ...Keep this up, and with your temper, you'll drop dead any day now. Then I'll be the one dying arranging the funeral."
"Quiet! Women and their loose tongues..."
Han Yul-san bristled unnecessarily. Just as he opened his mouth to scold her more, a piece of sweetened rice cake dusted with soybean powder approached his lips.
"You're no favorite of mine, old man, so eat this cake and suffer or whatever."
"You always say it like that... If you're giving me food, at least bring something to drink with it! You trying to kill me of thirst?"
His grumbled complaint vanished along with a glass of barley tea floating with ice.
And with that, household peace returned.
Time had slipped by unnoticed, and the western sea began to swallow the sun, orange hues spreading like spilled paint across the rippling waves.
"I think that young one's the better choice."
Kim Bok-hee spoke indifferently as she cleared the dishes.
Han Yul-san blinked in surprise at the unexpected opinion.
He furrowed his brow and looked at his wife.
"That blood clot, Han Seo-jun?"
"You hate uncertainty, don't you? In my eyes, it's Han Hwa-gi whose position in the group looks shaky."
"Hmm..."
Her words stuck in his chest like a pebble.
His wife had always been his compass for major decisions, so Han Yul-san began retracing his steps, wondering if he'd overlooked something.
Kim Bok-hee stood with the empty bowl, still flecked with soybean powder.
As she headed to the kitchen, she paused as if remembering something and turned back to her husband.
"You're so stubborn, old man—you wouldn't see it even if it was right in front of you."
"Again with the nonsense!"
"Grumpy head... Time to come inside. You'll catch a cold. Go take a bath."
Kim Bok-hee set the bowl on the kitchen table.
As she peeled an apple to feed her husband, she mulled over their earlier conversation.
The power struggles within the group, the shifting balances of power, the string of recent anomalies.
"Come to think of it, didn't that Saudi deal involve Kim Won-cheol tagging along?"
Finishing her thoughts, Kim Bok-hee seemed to recall something suddenly.
She nodded to herself and muttered aloud.
"Maybe... Han Seo-jun's got that slush fund ID by now."
She plated the roughly peeled apple, steeling her resolve.
She'd grab her husband after his bath and explain why it had to be Han Seo-jun.
* * * *
At the same time.
In an inner room on the top floor of Hotel Florence, after the Ammunition Group clan council event ended, loud voices echoed.
"Ha, seriously. Father! Can't you do something about that uncle? Why does he grab me like a rat every time he sees me...?"
"You fool! Get your act together!"
Han Deok-sul, the honorary advisor, had finally secured the clan council chair for his son—yet here he was, scolding the immature man despite his age.
"Ah, you're always taking it out on me for no reason..."
"It's because you keep acting like a child that Han Yul-san gets to act so boldly!"
Han Deok-sul swallowed his anger with effort. He calmly reviewed the day's events.
It had been a discreet operation that no one else should have noticed: expanding stakes in YSS Precision, Yeongil Metals, and BT Chemicals.
If Han Yul-san had caught wind of it, time was no longer on Han Deok-sul's side.
"Secluding himself in the provinces, my foot! He knows clan council business like the back of his hand. That fox—can't let my guard down."
"Father, still, Uncle doesn't seem to know much about internal group affairs."
Han Hyeong-min, the clan council chairman, gauged his father's expression before cautiously speaking up.
His point seemed reasonable at first glance: the group's internal intelligence-gathering seemed weak.
During the previous Gumi Munitions Factory incident, those who had accompanied the late chairman on the site inspection included many from Han Yul-san's faction.
"For now, around year-end with the regular promotions, if we just rotate out the clan council internals, it'll be clean."
"No. By then it'll be too late! Who knows what that Han Yul-san will pull in the meantime?"
Han Deok-sul had originally planned to bolster clan council voting rights through Shanghai financiers.
Bolstered voting rights meant power—and the clan council chairman wielding them could funnel more work to his major subcontracting firms.
Most of his personal wealth was tied up in private equity for this plan.
One slip, and he'd slide down the slippery slope to ruin, a descent no descendant could ever climb back from.
"One month. Was it one month from now...?"
Han Deok-sul's face was etched with anguish.
His fingers drummed the desk for several minutes before his mouth finally opened again.
"From now on, I need to pay attention to internal group matters. Actively."
"The next chairman seat... you mean? But intervening in successor selection is a bit..."
"If Han Yul-san knows about the Shanghai private equity, it's a race against time now."
"That's true, but if we're not careful, the clan council chair..."
Han Hyeong-min, who could face blame, looked troubled.
Though the clan council held significant sway over Ammunition Group itself, successor selection was solely the board's domain.
One could hint indirectly, but direct intervention was taboo by principle.
"If this falls through, clan council chair or whatever is useless! I'll handle it— you just stay put."
Han Deok-sul pulled out his phone.
A string of calls, at least five or six, dragged on for two hours.
The pristine white paper on the desk had turned pitch black with notes.
It was densely filled with shifts in power dynamics from recent group incidents.
"...Got it. Yes, good work. I'll take care of you once I'm done here."
After long talks with his plants inside the group, Han Deok-sul ended the call with a satisfied expression.
"The most urgent one right now must be Han Hwa-gi. Good. Not a hard task."
"Father?"
"Perfect timing. Watch and learn from the sidelines this time."
Han Hyeong-min stared at his father with a big question mark over his head.
Han Deok-sul clicked his tongue and spoke.
"The way to put on shackles. Remember: to a man at the bottom of the valley, nothing is more precious than the ladder to climb back up."
* * * *
Inside the Strategy Office.
Kim Won-cheol, who had pulled an all-nighter boozing on the job with me until just before dawn yesterday—or rather, this morning—had ultimately called in sick.
-[Kim Won-cheol] Wicked corporate overlord Han Seo-jun, awaken! Long live the communist revolution!
He'd sent that nonsensical text and taken a personal day.
Feeling a twinge of guilt, I assigned tasks to Yoo Se-na.
"Right now, to Shipbuilding & Marine. No, directly to President Seong Won-sik. Transfer 8888 account usage rights. Include the ledger laundering method too."
"Understood, Director. Should I set a deadline for a response?"
"No need—they'll contact us by end of day. Keep an eye on things until then."
The clock already read 2 p.m. I'd skipped lunch rushing through work.
Too late to go out, so I ordered pizza and ate with Yoo Se-na.
"Making your staff skip lunch too. You really are a wicked businessman. So, what did your father say?"
"He was puzzled at first about Saudi capital coming in, but once I explained it's preferred stock with voting restrictions, he accepted it quickly."
[Cocoa Bank] operations were being handled under the radar by Seo-hee noona and Yoo Se-na.
Quietly, step by step, painting the big picture.
Chatting over work, the pizza slices on the box dwindled away.
"...Can I have this?"
"Go ahead. I'm full."
Yoo Se-na cheerfully snatched the last piece. She'd devoured five of eight slices, so she must burn a ton of energy too.
As she chewed with her mouth full, something seemed to strike her, and she turned to me.
"By the way, Director. I have a question."
"Go ahead."
"Um, Finance HQ Director Han Hwa-gi... Rumor has it he has the Group HQ Audit Team Leader under him..."
Yoo Ji-won, the Audit Team Leader, being Uncle's man was already common gossip in Group HQ.
Yoo Se-na looked uneasy, worried it might hinder internal audits.
"We can hide the slush fund trail with the 8888 account, but that Iraq thing you mentioned last time... I'm not sure if it'll be properly flagged..."
"Flagged? Why would the HQ Audit Team flag that?"
"Pardon?"
Her face screamed she'd demand who else would audit if not them.
I dipped a cheese stick side in chili sauce and replied.
"The Audit Team? Just leave them to dig their own holes. Uncle's set to self-destruct anyway."
"Director? What do you mean...?"
Yoo Se-na looked like she'd burst from curiosity. Time to fill in some details.
I wiped my hands with a wet wipe.
Grabbed a marker to explain to Yoo Se-na when the office phone blared suddenly.
-Riiing! Riiing!
"Ah... Hold on, just a sec. Director."
"It's fine. What're you gonna do with pizza-greasy hands? I'll get it. Yes, Strategy Director Han Seo-jun speaking."
The caller was Shipbuilding & Marine's President Seong Won-sik.
My lips curled upward at his swift report wrapping up the task.
"Ah, thank you for your efforts, President Seong. Hm? Really? Uncle's no saint after all, huh."
Good news from the other end of the line.
Yoo Se-na watched, dying of curiosity.
I'd tell her as soon as I hung up.
That Uncle... had unknowingly pressed his own self-destruct button.