Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: Baghdad Declaration (3)
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“Hey! Hold off for now! I get that the item’s a good one, but the chairman’s changed, so show some damn restraint! Why can’t you get that through your thick skulls!”
President Lee Taek-gyu of Ammunition Electronics was clutching the phone and bellowing into it.
His subordinates were competent and sharp as tacks, but that was the problem with engineering grads—they had zero political sense. They were miles away from the delicate art of walking tightropes.
After unleashing a barrage of thick, hearty, yet properly masculine curses. President Lee slammed the phone down like a spike.
Fortunately, the corded phone made by Ammunition Electronics wasn’t defective; it seemed to withstand the spike from his college volleyball days unscathed.
“Damn it… Those engineers have no sense, no coach to guide them. You think I wanted to hold off? Sigh, at least this didn’t break.”
He lit a cigarette out of habit and glanced at the phone he’d nearly smashed. An utterly ordinary gray desk phone.
And right beside it, like a twin, sat a red snail-shaped phone. With bold lettering stamped on it.
-[Buster Call]
“What the hell’s a Buster Call? And seriously, why’d they give us this? Ugh, it looks like some haunted prop…”
The red phones handed out like candy by the Chairman’s direct secretariat to executives at president level and above.
It had never rung once since he got it, but staring at it alone like this always gave him the creeps.
Feeling a strange chill, President Lee reached to raise the office temperature a bit.
Just as he grabbed the remote and pressed the button. A bizarre ringtone he’d never heard before erupted from that red phone.
-Beep! Beeeeeep!
“What the—! What’s this now? Why’s it ringing out of nowhere like a maniac!”
A fragment of memory flashed in President Lee’s mind.
The young Chairman, heading to Iraq after repeatedly stressing that this phone must be answered no matter what.
“Should I pick it up? Or just yank the cord?”
The salaried president tore at his hair in agony.
After agonizing for a while, his hand inevitably reached for that ominous receiver.
“H-hello. This is President Lee Taek-gyu.”
“This is the Secretariat.”
“Secretariat…? Oh, the Chairman’s direct one? W-what’s going on?”
“Chairman’s emergency order. Cancel all schedules and depart for Baghdad, Iraq immediately.”
“What kind of bullshit… No, wait, not bullshit exactly. Anyway, that’s kinda hard to make out?”
The call ended after instructing that tickets were prepared via the Secretariat, so depart by tonight.
Licking his dry lips with his tongue, as was his habit.
It was the tic that came out when his bottom-up-honed instincts swung like a metronome between extremes.
Finally, the metronome settled.
His eyes shook as if an earthquake hit his pupils, and standing there, he muttered something.
“Damn… This means I gotta hightail it there right now, doesn’t it?”
* * * *
Me, holding a red pencil like a strict teacher with a red pen.
And in my other hand, the report handed over via Aide Yoo Se-na. It divided those who’d obeyed the order to rush to Iraq from those who hadn’t.
“Ammunition Electronics’ President Lee Taek-gyu’s coming right away… Looks like pretty much everyone we expected is rushing over.”
“The fence-sitters with neutral gears jammed in deep now have to pick a side. Anyway…”
Uncle Kim Won-cheol stood from his seat and pulled a single sheet from the report stack, handing it to me.
Share transfer records for the financial subsidiaries slated for spin-off.
“So Han Hwa-gi plans to wrap up the spin-off while our Chairman’s here.”
Last night’s surrender declaration from Audit Team Leader Yoo Ji-won.
He’d watched his master crumbling right in front of him.
Blinded by illusory will-o’-the-wisps, Uncle blindly digging his own grave with eyes rolled back.
Even the most loyal hound wouldn’t volunteer for live burial in the tomb.
With all checks done, I stood, stretched, and draped my suit jacket over the sofa.
“It’s going exactly as predicted. And… it’ll crash exactly as predicted.”
I stripped off the suit and changed into a yellow work uniform.
With work gloves, hard hat, and safety goggles, I looked the part of a site worker.
Uncle Kim Won-cheol shook his head at the sight.
“Grimy. Really. Feels even worse than the old man back in the day.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment?”
“Yeah, right.”
Our banter dragged on until the appointed time arrived. As the clock hit exactly three, the phone on the table rang.
-Chairman. All presidents assembled at the site. Invited reporters are in place too.
Aide Yoo Se-na’s report that everything was ready.
“Whew… Alright.”
I took a deep breath in and out.
My mind clearer than ever.
Only the final task remained.
To purge Uncle and [Shanghai Capital]—all obstacles—and seize the entire Ammunition Group in my hands.
“Time to head out. It’s… finally time to end this.”
* * * *
A coastal area about 500km southwest of Baghdad, Iraq’s capital.
After crossing asphalt roads through sandy deserts, a seawater desalination plant came into view alongside the blue sea.
Under the scorching sun, the construction site was in full swing—but today, unlike usual, there were no noisy machinery sounds.
The site was quiet, almost eerily so. The heavy silence didn’t last long.
Grumbles started bubbling up. Mostly from older executives with whitening hair, their patience at its limit.
“Sigh, what’s that young Chairman thinking, dragging us to this sweltering hellhole?”
“Probably imitating his dad’s old tricks. Discipline the presidents, and get some press to boost his presence.”
Executives with lips pursed like duck bills.
They’d answered the [Buster Call], but canceling all schedules to rush here bred resentment.
And complaints taste best when spread.
They sidled up to President Lee Taek-gyu of Ammunition Electronics beside them, fishing for agreement.
“What the Chairman’s doing is just…! Right, President Lee?”
“Hm? Oh… Well, could be. Probably.”
“Huh. No spine at all.”
President Lee brushed off the jab with a vague reply. He wiped sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.
His expression subtly off from his words. His true thoughts differed.
‘These senile old coots still don’t get it? Just for discipline? Han Seo-jun pulling this scale just for that?’
Local chatter faded from his ears.
He trusted the instincts honed over 30 years on the ground.
‘No way. This has to be some complex political play. Soon as we’re back, I’ll line up with the Secretariat somehow…’
-Grrrrumble!
And then.
A thudding mechanical roar that forced open plugged ears.
An engine growl that seemed to shake every grain of desert sand reached President Lee and everyone else.
“What? Was that heavy equipment just now?”
“Heavy equipment? Construction’s fully stopped today. Did the foreign workers miss the memo?”
Reflexively, all eyes turned toward the noise.
As someone squinted into the distance, a massive shape emerged from the dust cloud, sharpening into focus.
As big as a military tank. No, bigger than one—a massive clamshell excavator.
“Argh! What the fuck! What the hell is that?!”
Like some industrial claw machine?
The huge steel claw moved once, and a bundle of plant construction materials shot skyward.
Rebar bundles, aluminum pipes, temperature control units. Before the mighty claw, all flew equally.
-Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Who’s the lunatic doing this shit! Security! Security Chief! Hey, you bastard! You call this security while napping?!”
The HR exec from Group HQ frothed at the mouth, leaping up.
His furious shout hit the Security Chief’s face, but the man didn’t twitch.
As if he’d been forewarned.
“Chairman’s orders. Stay seated and wait.”
“What kind of bullshit—!”
-CRUNCH!
The claw excavator rampaged like a demolition tank, cleaving everything in sight.
Its mad frenzy halted only when the fuel tank ran dry.
“…….”
Amid the wreckage, only sand-laced dust clouds swirled in this absurd scene.
Everyone on site gaped, speechless. Only stunned silence filled the air.
“Dear Ammunition Group family.”
And then.
The excavator cab door opened, and someone descended the metal steps.
The culprit behind this unprecedented—no, unimaginable—chaos.
Dark sunglasses on, he stood tall before the crowd with a faint smile, as if nothing happened.
“Sorry for the long wait in this heat. I hope you’ve all been well?”
An absurd greeting.
Too shocked, perhaps?
The first to regain composure weren’t insiders, but the invited reporters.
“Senior, this… huge scoop. Han—Han Seo-jun! Chairman Han Seo-jun, right?”
“Hey, no time for chit-chat. Snap pics! Hurry!”
Camera flashes erupted wildly. Questions poured.
Finally snapping to, one president shook his head cautiously.
“Ch-Chairman? What’s…?”
“Exactly as you see. Things aren’t running right from below, so I’m stepping in personally, aren’t I?”
“Pardon…?”
The execs looked half-possessed, like talking to a goblin.
And the man in work clothes with a Chairman badge, dusting off his work gloves.
Sleeves casually rolled up, he hadn’t lost his poise despite the mess.
If anything, he eyed those who didn’t get it with reproach—the new master of Ammunition Group.
Without looking back, the sunglassed man thumbed at the wreckage behind him.
“I’m personally clearing out the total trash hiding under this seawater desalination plant shell.”