Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Self-Destruct Button (2)
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*Rrrring! Rrrring!*
A quiet summer night in the countryside.
A cicada clung to the trunk of a pine tree in the garden, sounding just like one.
Kim Won-cheol, perched on the edge of the spacious wooden porch, accepted a bowl of makgeolli poured by former secretary Han Yul-san with both hands.
"Aigoo, sir. I drank like a champ last night. If I keep going here, my gut's gonna explode."
"Sip! Don't whine! If I didn't know your limit, I'd buy it!"
Already on the fifth jug.
Ever since being dragged here straight away by Han Yul-san, it had been an endless pilgrimage of makgeolli joints.
"Ay, old man. Take it easy on me. You ease up too."
As the white makgeolli jugs rolled messily across the platform, Madam Kim Bok-hee emerged from the kitchen and began clearing the drinking table.
"If you two old coots get plastered, you won't even talk business. Have some fruit punch to settle your stomachs."
Soda water with ice and chunks of watermelon.
She ladled out a big bowl for each of them with a hefty ladle.
She gazed long and hard at Kim Won-cheol, whose face was flushed red.
The man who had served the late chairman closest and was called the Zhuge Liang of the Ammunition Group.
He'd seemed content fishing for a while, but lately, he'd jumped in as an advisor in the succession battle.
That's why Madam Kim Bok-hee had to hear it from Kim Won-cheol.
Whether the master he served was truly worthy of the password to her husband's secret funds.
"So, what's this young new master like? Worth serving?"
"Hey! You asking 'cause you don't know? He's just a babysitter gig, babysitter! What does that twenty-five-year-old kid know..."
As if something really rubbed him the wrong way, Han Yul-san cut off Madam Kim Bok-hee's question midway.
With a sour look, he bellowed and crossed his arms, eyes shut.
"Aigoo, old man, just sit tight. Why block him from talking?"
"Huh, where'd I go wrong!"
The stubborn old geezer. The warm summer night at the countryside home froze over like a winter riverbank in seconds.
"Hey, Kim Won-cheol! Since it's come up, spill it straight! What's really going on in that head of yours?"
Suddenly pointing at Kim Won-cheol, Han Yul-san demanded.
He seemed intent on dragging out what he'd been mulling over.
"No, sir. What thoughts? I'm just a fool. Drool sometimes too."
"What! The Gumi munitions factory permit and that Saudi stunt. All your doing, right? You gunning for prime minister or something?"
Disappointment crossed Han Yul-san's booze-reddened face.
On second thought, from an outsider's view unfamiliar with group internals, it was a misunderstanding anyone might make.
Kim Won-cheol hurriedly waved both palms forward in denial.
"Th-that's a misunderstanding. Those two things you mentioned? Straight from Strategy Director Han Seo-jun's brain. I just assisted."
By now, the green mosquito coil had burned down to a spiral stub.
Only after gray ash shadowed the yard dirt did his explanation wrap up.
"Honestly, he's sharper than the late chairman. He'll do great as chairman. Nothing like that deadweight in Finance HQ."
Even after the repeated explanations, Han Yul-san couldn't shake his skepticism.
Stroking his long beard habitually, he grumbled shortly and sank into thought.
"Hmm..."
"So when Madam Kim called me today at noon, I was shocked."
"What's to shock? What'd this hag say?"
"Actually... I had something urgent to tell you both too."
* * * *
Glancing at Han Yul-san, Kim Won-cheol trailed off, unable to continue.
Clearly, this crabby old codger harbored stubborn disdain for his master, Han Seo-jun.
Kim Won-cheol couldn't just blurt out a request for the password.
As he pondered how to broach it, Madam Kim Bok-hee beside him spoke first, as if resolved.
"Seems the reason I called you and you came are one and the same."
"Madam?"
"You came for the secret funds password, right? This ornery old man's got it in his pocket. Just take it today."
*Thud!*
Chopsticks clattered roughly onto the table with a dull thunk.
And with it, fire lit in Han Yul-san's eyes.
"Hey! You really!"
"Han Hwa-gi won't do. He can't handle the big leagues."
"What do you know! Do you grasp how dire the group's situation is!"
"Aigoo, this damn old coot... Getting more pigheaded since that Seoul trip..."
Kim Won-cheol watched the old couple's exchange quietly.
Her mentioning a recent Seoul visit clearly signaled some shift in the clan council.
"Uh, sir. Something happen at the clan council?"
"Don't ask! I was just..."
Han Yul-san pulled out a full pack of smokes from his pocket.
In the overflowing ashtray. Gray clouds from his frustration lingered like halos in the sky.
"...utterly insane. Parasites sucking the group's spine dry, puppeteering their own son."
"Ha... So that's how it went. No wonder suddenly Han Hyung-min as clan head. That old Han Deok-sul's really something."
"That's why the chairman spot goes to Han Hwa-gi. To wrangle guys like Han Deok-sul, he needs finance mastery first. And..."
Han Yul-san scowled.
Maybe too hard to say sober?
He downed a bitter bowl—don't know when he fetched it—and cautiously continued.
"Not even a proper son. That Han Seo-jun bastard."
"......"
"Putting half-blood on the chairman throne? Can't even imagine the clan council backlash."
*Rrrring! Rrrring!*
In the silence born of anguish, only cicadas cried.
As the last cigarette died, Han Yul-san exhaled a long sigh instead of smoke.
"Whew... Guess the old lady nagging all day had reason."
He looked at Madam Kim Bok-hee and sighed.
The old man's stubborn judgment from his own eyes and ears. And heartfelt persuasion from the two beside him.
The two successors on the scales in his mind. The weight in the center swung left and right repeatedly.
Finally, a compromise he reached himself.
"With the late chairman's passing and all, I'll hand over the password. But."
"Sir?"
"After Director Seo Myung-hee locks in the successor. Then. At best... for living expenses."
In the end, the wobbling scale settled awkwardly between the two sides.
The decision the uncertain old man could—and must—make, lacking the key of conviction.
"Sir..."
"America or Europe... Somewhere safe from your uncle's eyes. That's the only thing I can do for Han Seo-jun."
* * * *
"Yeah. Got it. Don't worry too much for now. We'll find a way."
Late night, eight missed calls logged.
The guy who'd said he was off today had voluntarily gone to Seosan.
Kim Won-cheol uncle explained the whole story over the phone.
An ambiguous outcome: not fully securing the secret account password, but not totally shut out either. He sounded troubled.
"Not refusing outright. Just says I'm not confirmed successor yet. Equation changes if I surpass uncle."
I ended the call with advice to drink moderately.
Han Yul-san, former secretary.
Kim Won-cheol uncle seemed dissatisfied with the trip's result, but I was fine. At least the funds wouldn't go to uncle.
"Seeing internal power struggles superficially... Stubborn principle guy, huh? Spot on."
His name in my mental notes.
Beside it, not a full circle, but a tentative triangle.
Not a total rejection slash, so satisfactory enough for now.
Lost in thought on the sofa, something cold touched my cheek.
"Ah, Seo-hee noona."
"That know-it-all bald uncle can't do everything?"
I chugged the cold beer from Seo-hee noona and replied.
"Yeah, old man's got iron stubbornness. Anyway, where were we?"
My officetel turned meeting spot.
Second night in a row: restock the fridge with booze, and here she was.
Noona reporting on [Cocoa Bank] matters. Her execution was top-notch.
"Following your concept, it's clean. Devs originally wanted PC-screen layout."
*Pop!*
Beer can tab cracked, noona's throat bobbed up and down.
She downed a 500mL can in one go. With a refreshing sigh, she continued.
"Ahh, switched to scroll like you said—way more intuitive. Devs all raving."
"You're doing great. Security's key, so dodge uncle's radar. Then..."
My face in the window reflection turned serious.
I swept crumpled cans off the table and spoke.
"Time to get to today's main point?"
Seo-hee noona nodded.
Sharp as ever, she grasped what I meant.
"Heard today. Bank PF deal. How do financial institutions skip basic risk management?"
"Greed blinds them. Rushing blind in the dark."
I raised my right hand, placing two fingers on the table.
Iraq seawater desalination plant industry.
Drunk on that sweet scent, stepping blindly leads to a sheer cliff's edge.
Like mimicking walking legs with index and middle finger.
Blindfolded, stumbling, they slid toward the table's outer edge.
"The abyss. Tumbling into some deep hell pit. On their own feet."
"Hmm. So you blindfolded my dad too?"
Seo-hee noona eyed me with cat-like slits, playfully.
I shrugged, pretending to take the bait, and she relented.
"Not biting, huh, Han Seo-jun."
"Heh heh, I know how uncle and clan elders treat you."
Can't inherit, so no major HQ posts for Seo-hee noona.
Plus, cousin Han Seo-hu's downfall nailed her fully to my side.
"Little bro's getting spun in Nigeria till forty, looks like."
"Harsh for mere discipline. Really necessary?"
"Prepping next-next gen too? If eldest Seo-ho hyung's crown prince, second son's just a roadblock."
"Hmm..."
Thinking generations ahead showed uncle was blind indeed.
Uncle mistook himself ruler of Ammunition Group's deep mountains.
Now, just trip on that familiar path.
Because of the shout I unleashed. Or rather, made him unleash.
"Anyway. So after blindfold? Gotta yell 'whoa' to drive 'em off the cliff, right?"