Chapter 46
Chapter 46
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: Shanghai Capital (3)
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Shanghai's financial heart, the Pudong District.
The towering forest of skyscrapers, built from sheer ambition, glittered with golden lights far beyond the "city that never sleeps."
And those lights weren't content to merely illuminate the night sky.
They descended to the curved river encircling the city, flickering in harmony with the waves.
At the center of it all, a particularly brilliant spark of desire.
Following the reflection on the water, up to the pinnacle of a high-rise. Before its glass window stood a figure gazing down at the world below.
"Come in."
A faint knock echoed softly.
James Wang, director of Shanghai Capital, didn't turn around. He simply stared blankly at the lights reaching the eastern edge of the Yangtze.
"Director, word from the Munjung Association of the Ammunition Group—they've made their decision."
"Ah, yes. Give me a moment."
The man waiting, documents in hand on the desk for approval, was named Yen Lung.
For a full decade by the calendar. He could now gauge his boss's intentions just from the sight of his back.
James Wang remained silent. Yen Lung continued in a low voice.
"Do you hope these lights... stretch beyond the Yangtze, all the way to the Yellow Sea?"
"Yen Lung. I'm just impatient because time isn't on my side."
James Wang turned slowly. Perching casually on the desk's edge, he picked up a binder and scanned its contents deliberately.
His mind racing through calculations. Knowing it impossible, he still posed the question he'd asked his subordinate countless times.
"Can't we swallow the entire Ammunition Group? It seems like just bribing a few South Korean bureaucrats would do the trick."
"As I said, it's impossible in the current situation. Unless something like the 1997 IMF currency crisis comes along."
Yen Lung shook his head.
The Korean economy wasn't rotten enough to crumble just yet.
Though ominous signs were brewing across the Pacific in America, uncertain variables couldn't be treated as certainties.
"For now, you can secure everything within reach, even just as an ally."
"I know. It's just frustrating that time isn't on my side."
With that, James Wang pulled a fountain pen from his suit jacket pocket.
Its diamond nib gleamed transparently. The one he always used for final decisions on major deals.
"Once decided, we push forward swiftly."
The bitter ink scent tingled his nose. With a faintly regretful expression, he signed.
"Proceed as planned, Yen Lung. I trust only you. The goals are the two we discussed."
He slid the black-leather-bound binder forward.
"Ammunition Group's defense technology. And their overseas resource development rights. Secure them at all costs."
James Wang emphasized, pressing the words like the pen nib itself, his face resolute.
He had to succeed. The power struggle within the Chinese Communist Party loomed near.
"Two years after enthroning Han Hwa-gi as a vassal king. Bring it all back within two years."
"I'll deliver the best results."
Yen Lung bowed and exited the office. James Wang stared at his lingering afterimage, as if it might vanish.
"So Han Hwa-gi's rival is this Han Seo-jun punk?"
Fatigue overtaking him, James Wang collapsed onto the leather sofa in the office center.
He stretched an arm toward the ceiling, where a Northeast Asian map was embossed into maple wood paneling.
China, at the continent's heart.
His clenched fist claimed the southeastern coast, gripping it tight.
And right beside his pinky—a stubby peninsula jutting out.
Like a sharp thorn embedded in his fist, a furrow creased his brow.
"No matter. A pathetic little splinter like that? I can yank it out anytime."
* * * *
"Work's done, so let's head back. We've got to transit through Saudi again—no time to play tourist here."
After claiming Father's slush funds, I'd transferred everything to the paper company I'd set up in advance.
A paper company disguised as an ordinary asset management firm, perfect for concealing the funds' origins.
With the shareholders' meeting looming, Swiss sightseeing was out of the question.
No skiing in the Alps, no dipping bread into that funky fondue.
"Man, I knew our chairman-in-waiting was tough, but flying all the way to Switzerland just to wrap up business and bounce? Never saw that coming."
"When you remarry, I'll book you a full honeymoon package. Just cooperate for now."
"With the ex? Hell, eat me instead."
Kim Won-cheol waved his hands wildly at any mention of his ex-wife.
From what he'd let slip over drinks before, when Father introduced him to Mother, he'd married a fellow actress from her agency.
"But I thought your marriage was solid. Divorce wasn't over the fishing, was it?"
"Not exactly... Anyway, I'd sooner take the witch—er, Director Seo—than go with the ex."
Kim Won-cheol crossed his arms blatantly and turned away.
I'd have to get him drunk sometime and pry out the full story. Then my pocket buzzed.
"Huh...? How the hell did they know?"
A curt message, almost dismissive. But its single line was crystal clear.
Father. You'd layered the safeguards so thoroughly.
"Whoa, what's up? You wouldn't really snitch to our Empress Dowager, right?"
Kim Won-cheol feigned panic, poking my side.
What explanation was needed? I just showed him the glowing phone screen as is.
"Snitch or not, someone's already moved first."
"Huh? Wait, hold on... How'd they find out?!"
"Father's handiwork, looks like. Let's get to Korea ASAP. No real sightseeing either way."
We hailed a cab straight to the airport.
My phone went back in my pocket, screen still lit.
Glowing through the dark until the battery died.
-Swiss bank slush fund manager notified of everything. Return home immediately.
* * * *
‘The world's most unfilial brat... How did he anticipate his own boy might go first?’
Seo Myung-hee, director, wandered the Pyeongchang-dong estate garden alone. She rarely strayed beyond the study indoors.
The backyard where her late eldest son used to linger, puffing cigarette smoke.
Surrounded by bent pines like a folding screen welcoming the North Han Mountains—a place that was home, yet uncomfortable.
‘To prepare so meticulously...’
For months, she'd deliberately avoided it, leaving the yard neglected.
The metal ashtray on the wall was already rusted red.
Seo Taehu drew a crumpled note from her pocket. Folded and unfolded so often, it was wrinkled despite being freshly printed.
-[Private Bank Switzerland] The heir of the late Han Hwa-yak, Ammunition Group Chairman and account holder, has claimed the funds. Per your prior instructions, attached below.
What followed was a contingency will.
Unsure who would inherit the Swiss slush fund account, but imploring them to support Ammunition Group's future.
And countermeasures if the funds fell to traitorous retainers she trusted.
"Like he's watching from above, alive and all."
Seo Taehu gazed blankly at the mountaintop behind her, fiddling with evergreen pine needles in her rough palm.
"Ma'am. Young Master Seo-jun—no, Chairman—just arrived."
"...Let's go."
The fog clinging to the ridge had seemingly vanished.
Turning, her face held complex emotions. Longing for her eldest son, pride in the grandson who'd passed every test.
* * * *
"That's how I got hold of Father's slush funds."
Straight home upon landing in Korea.
As the bright white sunlight tapping the window turned orange, the tale wrapped up.
Grandmother's eyes, thoughtful behind silver frames. The hesitation flickered briefly, then vanished.
Then came her voice, steely as ice in my ear.
"Eldest son and grandson—both scheming to send this old bat to an early grave."
"Probably startled you. Truth is, I never imagined Father had safeguards like that."
"Hah, slithering off alone like a loach?"
I answered Grandmother's light jab with a smile.
The conversation stretched past dinner. Snacks even brought into the study.
Grabbing a sandwich, I told her.
"That's why, about that U.S.-triggered financial crisis I mentioned. I plan to leverage it."
"Funds sufficient? Even with derivatives to multiply them, you need seed money."
"Honestly... a bit short of the target."
Kim Won-cheol and I calculated the minimum: 200 billion won.
Bet on crisis-hedging derivatives to grow it to 2 trillion, ammo for the share battle to secure group control.
"Father's 100 billion slush fund, 60 billion from Yoo Tae-chon, and... Mom—no, Mother—gave 10 billion. Total: 170 billion."
Short 30 billion.
Riskier than the strategy team's derivative plan.
Like pulling the base block from a Jenga tower to fill the top.
"With 30 billion more, your plan works?"
"Yes, but...?"
Her tone softer than usual.
Eyes brimming with something like longing, Grandmother gazed at me.
As if at Father, now gone from this world.
"Take it."
Her gesture held no warmth. From those rough fingertips dangled a thick bankbook.
"Grandmother, this is..."
"That flighty mother of yours scraped together 10 billion to donate. Can't have me, who's named you heir, sit idle."