Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Coronation (1)
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Yeouido's high-rise residential complex apartment.
A place others envied, with a vast view of the Han River flowing right in front of it.
But to one person, that scenery meant something a little different.
Park Han-i, the president, sprawled on the sofa in his underwear, drunk since midday.
He stretched a hand toward the window, his face like he'd given up on everything, and opened his mouth.
"Damn it... Maybe I should just chuck myself out this window and end up fish food. If Han Seo-jun becomes chairman at next month's board meeting, we're done for."
"Ha! If you're just gonna spout that beggar crap, why the hell did you call me here? Huh? You're the one who said we should discuss solutions first, aren't you, sunbae!"
Na Deok-sul, the president, yelling at him in frustration.
Park Han-i, already stripped of his position and on standby, had been half-desperate since the last group morning meeting.
"It's not like there's an answer... Shit, prison's the only place left for me now."
"I'm gonna lose my mind. That's why we should just go straight to Han Hwa-gi, bang our heads on the ground, and beg! Plead for our lives!"
"Oh man, you idiot... The Iraq deal got exposed big time. You think that guy's gonna save our asses?"
The two hadn't received even a lifeline from Han Hwa-gi, let alone any harsh reprimand.
That was why their anxiety was incomparable to any past screw-ups. No telling what punishment was coming, unable to see even an inch ahead.
"Goddamn... Should I have jumped ship like Seong Won-sik, riding that rewind wave?"
Seong Won-sik, the president's name that came out of Park Han-i's mouth.
He'd already declared at the last group morning meeting that he was siding with Han Seo-jun, along with Gu Seok-su and Executive Director Jung Chul-sik.
As an outsider, he'd weathered plenty of checks and pressures. The Iraq deal should've pinned the biggest risk on him instead of Park Han-i himself.
"Originally, Seong Won-sik was supposed to take the fall as the main culprit, and we as minor accomplices! That traitorous bastard..."
Na Deok-sul grabbed fistfuls of his hair like he was ripping it out.
Park Han-i, lying on the sofa, looked at his junior and said,
"You see, backstabbing's all about timing, timing. So... whether it's you or me, when it's time to die, we die."
He pointed with a finger at the expensive whiskey in the living room display cabinet.
He staggered up, pulled out a dark brown bottle.
"Let's die looking good like this. Can't drink for a while now anyway."
"You're really something, you know that? Totally given up, huh."
His slouched, tank-top-clad wreck of a reflection in the glass of the display case.
Liquor that didn't make it past his Adam's apple dribbled down his chin, quickly staining the white tank top brown in spots.
"Tastes gone. The man's tastes are gone... Huh? Wait a sec, this..."
Na Deok-sul watched him pathetically. Suddenly, a loud ringtone blared from the cellphone in his hand, green light flashing.
"Hey, they finally starting? He ain't even appointed chairman yet, and they're already sending us to the guillotine?"
"Ah, sunbae! It ain't that, so shut up and stay quiet! Close your mouth!"
Was it a call from someone unexpected?
Like a raw recruit snapped to attention, Na Deok-sul stood ramrod straight and answered.
"Yes... Yes, Young Master Seo-ho. This is President Na Deok-sul."
The caller was Han Hwa-gi's eldest son, Han Seo-ho.
The yelling reprimand from the phone sounded like static, loud enough for anyone nearby to catch.
"...We have no excuses. It's all our fault. Even apologizing feels like a sin."
"Damn... We went all out to make their old man chairman, and now they wanna apologize? Hic!"
Daytime boozing turned into drunken rambling right in the middle of important news. Na Deok-sul shot him a glare.
But Han Seo-ho's words in his ear made his eyes bulge like saucers.
"Is that... true? Can I really dare to do that?"
"Huh? Hold on, hold on. Deok-sul—no, President Na. Let me listen in too."
Na Deok-sul shoved away the sticky drunk with his palm.
Bowing repeatedly as if his superior were right in front of him, he said,
"Thank you! Thank you! Young Master! I'll repay this grace from the Headquarters Director by working till my bones shatter!"
Reddened cheeks as the call ended.
Park Han-i, whose face was red for a different reason, crawled over on his knees and asked,
"Han Seo-ho? That Han Hwa-gi punk's eldest? What the hell did he say to make you like this?"
"Chairman appointment... Says we can flip it through the clan council. Sunbae, looks like we're somehow gonna survive for now."
"What! Tell me details! Spit it out!"
"So, here's what happened..."
The Han River bridge visible from the balcony. Countless car lights like ants blinked as they passed for a long time.
The two men stroked their chins with their right hands, pounding mental calculators.
The booze haze had long evaporated.
"Sunbae. This is our last shot. We gotta make it work no matter what."
"Yeah. We're flipping this time. Whether Han Seo-jun's balls get cut off or ours do. Let's give it a go."
Eyes bloodshot, staring at each other. They vowed in their hearts.
If it meant surviving... they'd sell their souls to the devil.
* * * *
Hotel Florence's top floor.
As the call end tone sounded, Han Seo-ho's voice began.
"The two underlings will follow orders as you commanded, Father."
"You've done well. Now the adults have business to discuss alone, so step out for a bit."
Han Seo-ho bowed to his father and left the room.
He joined Clan Council Chairman Han Hyung-min, who was about his age, in stepping out. As if decisions were for the elders only.
"Heh heh heh... Things are going smoothly. Shall we wrap this up?"
Han Deok-sul, the Honorary Advisor with his kindly face hiding sharp intentions, spoke to Han Hwa-gi.
On the central table lay scraps of paper tracing their exchanged interests.
Raw desires, unsparing of means for clan loyalty, densely scribbled.
"Once Han Seo-jun's chairman appointment passes the board, we'll immediately call a shareholders' meeting via the clan council."
Han Deok-sul sketched diagrams with his fountain pen.
Inside the 'Board of Directors' circle, Seo Taehu's name—who held successor designation rights—was written alongside Han Seo-jun's.
And... right over those names, a single scissor mark slashing through.
The weapon for their rebellion—to render the old structure meaningless—was funds from a Chinese private equity firm.
"Then... [Shanghai Capital] will move the money. The weak link in the group you pointed out. We'll pour funds there heavily."
The pen tip pointed to one link in the chain of interlocking affiliates.
A circular investment structure letting small capital sway a chaebol behemoth.
The most secretly guarded weak point was about to open like city gates, thanks to the greedy fools.
"Well, well, circular investments. Always a worry before, but now from the other side, it looks easy pickings. Heh heh heh."
"One more thing the elders mustn't forget."
Han Hwa-gi raised one finger to the old man, who stroked his silver-gray mustache and laughed heartily.
"Spread the word among clan council members that Han Seo-jun is that guy's illegitimate son."
The bloodline issue, like shackles on his political rival nephew.
Half-blood from a concubine was bound to stir noise in the clan council.
"Of course, that's a given. No worries there. Just mind what you need to handle separately."
Like a seasoned gambler with his winnings on the table, smiling slyly, Han Deok-sul recited three company names to Han Hwa-gi in a flat tone.
"YSS Precision, Yeongil Metal, BT Chemical."
"...As you heard earlier, I've ordered procurement from Heavy Industries and Construction increased fivefold. With leeway on unit prices."
"Keep long-term supply contracts in mind too. Max out the penalty clauses."
"No worries. I'll spare no aid to achieve your goals."
Only then did Han Deok-sul nod in satisfaction.
Mutual interests finally aligned. Cold night air seeped through the window.
Along with a nagging unspoken unease.
"And... don't forget what the Shanghai guys want. Well, you know already without me saying."
* * * *
Shanghai.
In an office overlooking the Yangtze River Delta, the fax machine whirred, spitting out paper.
-Sender: Ammunition Group Clan Council
-Recipient: Shanghai Capital
The staffer checked the contents and slipped the fax into a black approval pad for his boss.
"Director James Wang. Looks like Korea's Ammunition Group Clan Council has reached a decision."
"Hand it over. I'll check it myself."
The document detailed even fine points.
Easier for a circular investment conglomerate, they'd thought, but it required more funds than expected.
James Wang lit a dark brown cigar, exhaling thick smoke.
"Minimum 5 billion yuan, at least."
"We'll need substantial countermeasures."
James Wang just nodded silently at his subordinate's words.
As if sorting thoughts, he began writing on the fax in the pad.
"This should suffice. Cut the unnecessary, take the core."
"Understood. I'll transmit as instructed."
The subordinate tucked the pad under his arm and left.
As he walked the long corridor, papers in the pad slipped out bit by bit.
-Plop!
The fax finally fell to the marble floor. The staffer bent to pick it up, muttering to himself.
"If we get all this... our faction holding the Northern Military District will strengthen."
Under the dim corridor lights, the fax showed scrawled handwriting in the center.
-Core Defense Technology Transfer
-Cheap Sale of Overseas Resource Development Rights
"Heaven helps us. Thanks to their family feud, the boss is about to land a big one."