Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Self-Destruct Button (5)
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“Aigoo, President Seong. Ain’t you too busy these days? Got that much to handle?”
“Well… yeah, there’s a ton of it.”
Near the Ammunition Group headquarters, in a certain Japanese restaurant.
Inside a tatami-floored room, Park Han-i, the president looking all excited, fiddled with his chopsticks as he spoke.
“Makes sense, though. With Ammunition Shipbuilding & Marine leading the Iraq seawater desalination plant project, you must be runnin’ ragged.”
Park Han-i, looking all pumped up.
In stark contrast, President Seong Won-sik’s face carried the tension of a samurai donning an iron helmet.
He was already gripping his sword backward, just waiting for that day to come.
“…Started executing the funds, so it’s been hectic. Lucky Ammunition Securities opened up a path for us.”
Having sorted out his tangled inner thoughts, President Seong Won-sik spat out a fitting reply.
Since he’d already switched sides, he needed to gather info without raising suspicion.
He downed a shot of sake from a small cup, then casually brought up work as if it were nothing.
“Heard the bank consortium’s proof of balance issue got sorted? Well, long as we get the cash infusion, that’s all we care about.”
“Oh, that thing with the U.S. securities firms and the real estate-backed whatever… you mean the derivatives they peddled?”
As the Ammunition Group’s resident glad-hander, Park Han-i had apparently already heard the details through the grapevine.
Lowering his voice like he was sharing insider gossip only he knew, he leaned in.
“Truth is, I heard about that too. Word is, it was the Finance Headquarters Director’s eldest son who came up with the idea?”
His tension melted away like a belt unbuckled too loose around the gut.
Park Han-i seemed to fully see President Seong Won-sik as one of his own now.
Refilling an empty sake cup to the brim, he burst into laughter and kept on talking.
“Heh heh heh… What a headache that coulda been, but it worked out. Man, the Han family folks might be pains in the ass, but they’ve got skills, I’ll give ’em that.”
“Skills… yeah, plenty. Too many, almost a problem.”
“Huh? What’s that outta left field?”
Park Han-i’s words no longer reached President Seong Won-sik’s ears.
The turncoat stared at his rippling reflection in the sake cup, downed it, and held his tongue.
Then, checking his watch, he stood up as if something had just occurred to him.
“Let’s wrap it up here. Got somewhere to be.”
“Aw, c’mon, man. All work and no play. Ain’t you livin’ too hard?”
“Can’t let my guard down for a second. I’ll get the bill. See you next time. If there is one.”
With a rushed goodbye, President Seong Won-sik slid the door shut behind him.
Park Han-i, looking stunned, watched his retreating back and raised his voice, face flushed from the booze.
“Worried for nothin’! Even if internal audit’s gone off the rails, rack up some credit on the Iraq deal and Han Hwa-gi’ll smooth things over!”
His hollow shout echoed back down the hallway.
Maybe Park Han-i was instinctively putting on a bold front to shake off that creeping unease.
He called the server over and ordered a bottle of sake, then poured it overflowing into a big water glass instead of a small cup.
“Damn, that guy’s no fun either. Ain’t askin’ you to shake a tambourine or nothin’, just have a drink…”
Like gulping ice water on a sweltering summer day, Park Han-i knocked back the full glass of sake in one go.
He wiped his lips with his sleeve and stared holes into the empty seat where President Seong Won-sik had been.
As if he could claim that very spot for himself.
“Actually turned out better this way. Yoo Ji-won’s out anyway, and if Seong’s gonna play it so stiff, he ain’t climbin’ higher.”
He’d heard recently that Audit Team Leader Yoo Ji-won, who’d failed to trace the slush funds in the internal audit, had been reprimanded.
Obvious end for a loyal dog that didn’t deliver results.
“Yeah. If we take this chance to lop off that punk Han Seo-jun’s pretty little head… I’ll shoot straight to the top.”
Park Han-i wiped the sweat from the back of his neck, now redder than usual.
In his eyes, he could already see himself as vice president, right at Chairman Han Hwa-gi’s side.
His surging desire outstripped any other emotion, proving its power.
“Heh heh heh… Won’t be long now. Vice President—me, Vice President of Ammunition Group.”
And so the Seoul night deepened.
President Seong Won-sik passed through the boisterous alleyways alive with drink and revelry. Confirming no one trailed him around the corner, he pulled out his phone from his pocket and made a call.
“Yes, Strategy Director. President Seong Won-sik here. Making my report.”
He drew in a deep breath of the now-chilly night air and exhaled toward the sky, as if blowing away all his past worries into the void.
“They’re clueless over there. No hint of suspicion, so proceed as planned.”
* * * *
Strategy Office.
“Thanks for your hard work. See you at the group morning meeting next Monday. Head on out.”
The call ended with just the essentials exchanged plainly.
As I set down the phone and turned, Uncle Kim Won-cheol in the next seat had just wrapped up his own call.
“Okay. President Gu really outdid himself. After this wraps, let’s go fishing with the boss. Got a spot in Yangpyeong with killer spicy catfish stew.”
Uncle Kim Won-cheol hummed some nameless trot tune after hanging up.
Not so much thrilled the job was done, more excited about hitting that Yangpyeong fishing spot again. Probably had some team-building workshop idea brewing in his head.
“No, wait. Am I going too? To that Yangpyeong fishing hole?”
“Heh heh. Come on, just this once. Real men gotta know the thrill of reeling one in.”
Uncle Kim Won-cheol, whose fishing passion hadn’t dimmed even after it cost him his marriage.
Once he got going on fishing, it’d last forever. I quickly steered the talk back to business.
“Ugh… anyway, what’d President Gu Seok-su say?”
“Oh, that?”
The bald uncle flashed a sly grin and raised both index fingers.
Then, like some cartoon transforming robot, he drew an X, slowly crossing his fingers.
“Heh heh heh… came up empty. Yoo Ji-won got chewed out by Han Hwa-gi again.”
“As expected. That 8888 account—tough to pin down short-term.”
“So internal audit fizzles out, and they’re left with one option.”
Uncle Kim Won-cheol shot me a gleaming look, like he wanted me to finish his thought.
No way I’d disappoint. Nodding, I spoke calmly, like the architect of this grand scheme.
“Iraq seawater desalination plant. Now he’s charging toward the cliff on his own two feet.”
“Woo! Can’t wait to see Han Hwa-gi’s face next Monday. Dying by his own swung sword?”
Like a pilot strapped into a wrecked fighter jet, engine ablaze from his own mistake, alarms blaring—no way down now.
That glaring red button amid the chaos.
“He’ll think it’s his only emergency exit. Can’t resist slamming it.”
Must’ve agonized over it. That ‘Emergency Escape’ button probably looked fishy.
But… beyond the heavy headset, his aides’ voices.
Some who knew what it meant, some who didn’t—all mixed, urging him to hit the red button.
Now, Uncle’s thick-gloved finger had only one place to go.
-Tap tap!
Arm slung over the chair armrest, I tapped the desk edge with one finger.
“If he hits what he thinks is escape and it’s self-destruct instead… that twisted look on his face? Should be a sight.”
* * * *
“Director, meeting’s ready. Shall we head over?”
“In a bit. I’ll prep, so wait for me.”
Seo Myung-hee, the director with snow-white hair like a blanket of fresh powder.
Her eyes, shadowed by recent worries, now gleamed cold as befitting Seo Taehu.
‘The one holding the reins can’t afford a weak heart.’
Pondering the successor to shoulder the group. The growing grumbles and pressure from the family council.
Despite variables that could sway her, Seo Taehu steeled herself.
Just one thing. She’d wield only the strict yardstick she’d first chosen, cutting as planned.
‘Stick to principle. Today’s results from those two will decide everything.’
Her gaze through metal-rimmed glasses fell on the small family photo on her desk.
Her late eldest son, the perennial thorn of a youngest. And herself seated between, Seo Myung-hee.
The grandson who took after his grandfather like a mold only twisted her feelings into an indescribable knot.
-Thud!
As if slicing through the mood, Seo Taehu knocked the frame over herself.
Stroking the back of the family photo now face-down on the desk, she rose.
“Secretary Kim. Let’s move.”
Top floor of Ammunition Group headquarters.
As the elevator doors opened, staff in the hall parted and bowed to her.
Seo Taehu acknowledged with a light wave. Finally, the door at the end of the red carpet path swung open, and everyone in the conference room stood.
“Director, you’ve arrived.”
“Sit back down. Why stand?”
Seo Myung-hee took the center seat, surveying the room.
From today, even this seat would become rarer.
“…….”
The room sharply divided.
Left: the youngest son. Right: the eldest grandson. No swords drawn, but glaring like they’d devour each other.
A bloodless war over the chairman’s throne.
Whichever fell, as the group’s matriarch, she had to crown one—for the future talent to lead hundreds of thousands.
“Let’s start the meeting. Skip the useless formalities; we all know they’re pointless…”
Trailing off, Seo Taehu’s eyes flicked left. Her finger pointed at Han Hwa-gi.
“Right, Finance Headquarters Director. You first. You must have plenty prepared.”