Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: The Day of the Shareholders' Meeting (1)
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Near the Ammunition Group headquarters, a blowfish soup restaurant.
Under the thick blanket of heated beef lung soup leaves, the bubbling blowfish soup had boiled down to almost nothing.
Just like the heart of the person silently watching it.
"Damn... I'd rather it had some pufferfish poison mixed right in here. That'd be just perfect."
"Senior, cut the nonsense and have another drink. Hell, maybe dying from booze would be quicker."
Unlike the barely touched blowfish soup, the table was already piled high with empty green soju bottles.
Park Han-i, president of heavy industries, gulped down his worry-laden drink and wiped his mouth with his sleeve before letting out a sigh.
"That thing... did you finish it, Mr. President? The report for handing over to those Chinese jjajangmyeon bastards."
"I did. I finished it... but I can't bring myself to send it off."
"Yeah, well. I've got mine all ready too, just sittin' there untouched..."
Han Hwa-gi's eldest son, Han Seo-ho. Or more precisely, what [Shanghai Capital] had demanded of them.
Core defense technology transfer. And selling overseas resource development rights at a bargain price.
The two presidents had finished all the preparations needed. All that was left was to stamp their names on the documents and hand them over to Han Hwa-gi.
"At first, I thought this was our lifeline. But now... if this goes wrong, we might end up seein' the National Intelligence Service comin' for our faces."
The hand they'd desperately grabbed to stay alive, because they didn't want to die.
It was like the deadly poison seeping into pufferfish flesh.
The moment they wolfed it down recklessly and the hunger started to fade, a chilling sensation crept into every nerve ending.
There was no antidote left for them now, no emergency rations.
Just one more spoonful, two more, stuffing their mouths until their bellies burst, without a thought for tomorrow.
"We can only hope Han Hwa-gi handles this right. What other choice do we have?"
"True enough. If Han Seo-jun becomes chairman like this, we'll be locked up for embezzlement and breach of trust for sure."
A ladle full of blowfish soup.
Park Han-i grimaced as he downed the broth from the side dish plate in one go, then wiped his lips with his sleeve.
His eyes, bloodshot like he'd swallowed poison.
Something like resolve flickered over them as they blinked.
"Heard there was a huge uproar at the clan meeting last night? Everything flipped upside down?"
"Han Deok-sul, the honorary advisor, straight-up called Han Seo-jun a concubine's bastard. All the old clan fogeys lost their minds."
The two men's gazes met silently. And without a word, they nodded in unison.
A poisoned chalice—perhaps their last chance—filled their glasses to the brim.
Clink. The glasses crashed together noisily in midair.
Lost in drunkenness or poison, who could tell, Park Han-i opened his mouth with grim determination.
"Heh, screw it. Let's just approve and send it up. That report selling out Ammunition Group to Shanghai or whatever, those jjajangmyeon kids."
* * * *
Ammunition Group headquarters. Han Hwa-gi's office.
Morning sunlight crossed the transparent glass window and stopped before the suited man.
He must have some important schedule. Han Seo-ho was dressed more formally and refined than usual.
What could make him so happy?
Standing before his father, his face bore a confident smile.
"Those two dogs have finally made up their minds. The approvals came in this morning."
"Everything fits perfectly. You've done well, Seo-ho."
Han Hwa-gi looked at his son with undisguised pride.
His eldest, who hadn't been quite up to par—never quite boast-worthy enough to show off proudly.
But these past few months, he'd shot up like a weed, quietly doing his duty in his assigned role.
"From now on, that Seo-hu punk won't set foot outside his exile."
"Father..."
Like a reward, Han Hwa-gi casually pronounced judgment on his second son.
He patted his chosen heir's shoulder and continued.
"It's right to give everything to the eldest son. Once this crisis ends, you take the reins."
"Me... sir?"
Seeing his father's nod, Han Seo-ho couldn't hide his pounding heartbeat.
With the succession solidified like bedrock and a bloodied knife added, inheriting the crown didn't feel so far off.
"Seong Won-sik, Gu Seok-su, Jeong Cheol-sik, Yang Taek-su, those lowly concubine-spawn bastards and the dogs who danced to their tune."
Like a wild beast growling, Han Hwa-gi listed the traitors' names low and menacing.
Veins bulging with rage on his neck, his voice trembled with hatred, unfiltered.
"And... Kim Won-cheol too. You cut their throats yourself."
Under that razor-sharp gaze, Han Seo-ho could only nod silently, unable to reply.
"Show no mercy at the blade's edge. Not just their lives, but their entire families—make them outcasts, crawling wretchedly on the ground."
"...I'll keep it in mind, Father."
He answered sharply, but Han Seo-ho still glanced at his father cautiously.
One name still unspoken. The rebel leader, Han Seo-jun.
Perhaps understanding his son's rigid stance now, Han Hwa-gi gave a small snort.
His voice came out casual, but loaded with boiling emotion from his chest.
"I'll handle him myself."
"Ah..."
"Watch and learn this time. How to crush a leech that's crawled up your leg and burrowed into your clothes."
"Then... what happened at the clan meeting yesterday—was that part of it too?"
Han Hwa-gi nodded sternly. His gaze fell on the clock hands racing toward nine a.m.
"It's about time."
Like an executioner in a black mask, gripping the bluntest axe from his arsenal.
The one from [Shanghai Capital] had a keen edge.
Sharp enough to behead a political foe tied to the scaffold, conical hat and all.
"Let's move. Go watch... and burn into your eyes exactly how that lowly concubine's spawn meets his end."
"Yes. I'll etch it into my bones, Father."
Father and son rose and headed to the shareholders' meeting hall.
Blinded by the crown so close he could snatch it?
Behind them, the TV news droned on, unheard amid their flushed excitement.
-The Industrial Bank's acquisition pullout is confirmed, and Lehman Brothers has been silent for a while.
-Just in, Lehman CEO Lou Pearlman's emergency announcement is coming up soon.
-Everyone's on edge, fearing this could trigger an economic crisis.
* * * *
Hotel Florence annex multipurpose hall.
The gym-sized hall buzzed with pre-shareholders' meeting frenzy.
Ammunition Group's youngest-ever chairman. Maybe the youngest chaebol head in Korean business history.
Media folks, economic paper reporters included, had camped out since dawn.
"Oh, Senior, you're here too? Heard you moved to Hanseong Economics—still out in the field?"
"Kid, a reporter doesn't quit till he's dead and buried with his pen. Means runnin' these streets forever."
"You always said you'd quit this crap once you hit management."
The senior reporter chatted with his arms crossed, bantering casually with his junior.
Then something noteworthy caught his eye mid-conversation.
"Hey, quit ribbin' me on the no-promotion thing... Hold up. What the hell is that?"
"What now? Hm? Aren't those old geezers from the Han clan association?"
Elderly men in hanbok durumagi robes and middle-aged suits. Faces twisted with fury, they entered the hall in a group.
"What... what is this outrage! Concubine's bastard! That Han Seo-jun, a lowborn!"
"How dare such scum aim for the chairman's seat! I won't stand for it! Not even over my dead body!"
They looked ready to start a riot. Were already causing one. Their glares fixed on the podium, where the chairman-designate looked down at them.
The young man seemed oblivious to their rage. That only fueled the clan members' anger.
Water bottles and eggs flew from their hands toward the podium's edge, amid shouts.
"You punk! You... filthy cur! How dare you stand there! Get down now!"
"What gall to chase the chairman's hat! With your scandals proven true! Think the clan supports scum like you!"
The hall turned into chaos in seconds. The clan's outburst was red meat for the reporters.
Flashes popped wildly. That blinding light would return as words and photos—blades.
From afar, watching the pandemonium, a vile smirk curled Han Hwa-gi's lips.
"You've done well."
"Ha ha ha. Well? It was your seat to claim. I just lent a hand."
Beside him stood Han Deok-sul, honorary advisor.
Humble words from his mouth, but greed gleamed in the old man's eyes.
A silent demand: Don't forget my part. Reward it properly.
"I'll keep every promise, so worry not. The moment that blood clot up there falls to ruin."
Han Hwa-gi pointed at his nephew. Like aiming a loaded pistol—finger itching on the trigger.
He stared down the target in his sights. Breaking the brief silence, he continued.
"Elder and his descendants... Ammunition Group in my hands will embrace them to the end."
"I trust only you, my boy."
The commotion dragged on.
The MC burst from somewhere, grabbing the mic in a panic.
"Oh dear, elders, please calm down... We'll start the shareholders' meeting right away. Everyone, take your seats!"
The mood settled, barely.
Like a dormant volcano stitched shut, pressure building.
As the shaky agenda proceeded, the loose threads unraveled one by one.
And the last thread, fraying, ready to snap with a twang. The MC's voice trembled through the hall.
"Uh... next up! Speech from chairman-designate, current Strategy Director Han Seo-jun. Let's give him a round of applause!"