Chapter 62
Chapter 62
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Yangtze River View or Yangtze River Waters (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“…I’ve switched the call.”
“Is that Chairman Han Seo-jun? Nice to meet you. This is James Wang.”
The voice of James Wang, whom I was hearing for the first time, was a deep baritone that grated like metal scraps scraping against sheet iron.
Judging purely by the sound, he seemed to be in his late thirties or early forties.
It felt a bit young for the head of a private equity fund managing tens of trillions in Hanwha funds.
Though low-pitched, it lacked the gravitas born of experience. If anything, it evoked the raw ferocity of a beast that had just broken away from its pack to forge its own territory.
“It’s been a while. Of course, this is our first time speaking directly.”
“It’s been a while, you say. I see you’ve got the leisure to start with a joke.”
A joke.
Yeah. It must be, to you.
But I remember.
Before the regression, that sensation of becoming the first prey for that lion with its short, wind-tossed mane not yet fully grown.
The Ammunition Group of the past, limping like a wounded gazelle calf.
The one who had swooped in and torn off its hind leg, blood streaming, before it even realized it was under attack. That was James Wang, director of [Shanghai Capital].
“Let’s cut to the chase, busy as we both are. Director James Wang, what’s the purpose of your call?”
I spat out words utterly devoid of pleasantries, cold as ice.
They would surely come again… at the first opportunity.
It hadn’t been my uncle’s blunder; those sharp fangs had aimed to swallow the Ammunition Group whole in an instant.
“…….”
James Wang, director, paused as if lost in thought, steadying his breath.
Soon, his voice returned—discordant as a poorly tuned woodwind, utterly unpleasant.
“Congratulations. And a warning.”
“Neither holds water. Let’s hear what you have to say.”
The image of him smirking silently was so vivid it grated on me, even unseen.
Clink. The sound of ice cubes clinking in a glass, and with it, Shanghai’s greed crept through the phone.
“The congratulations are obvious, aren’t they? You’ve crammed a chaebol group into that crude vessel of yours, and crushed your own blood under the name of purge.”
Blatant provocation.
His voice continued relentlessly, without even pretending to hide his hostility.
“Both done so successfully—how could I not offer congratulations?”
“I’ve received your utterly useless congratulations. You must’ve suffered holding back what you really want to say. Go ahead and deliver that grand warning of yours.”
A nerve-wracking standoff, taut as a bowstring ready to snap.
My grip on the edge of the desk had unconsciously tightened, rattling the ornaments.
By the time I felt veins creeping into the whites of my eyes, his rasping voice filled my ear.
“Chairman Han Seo-jun. You have no idea what impact your recent actions have had on the restructuring of China’s political sphere.”
“I didn’t realize I had to worry about the Communist Party’s playground antics.”
“You should. Every seemingly reckless act comes with a price too heavy to bear.”
“Price, price. So you plan to bare your claws at the first chance. Be my guest—try it if you can. But.”
A clear declaration of war.
No retreat. I couldn’t afford to.
James Wang, licking his bloodied lips with his tongue, as if savoring the moment.
We glared at each other from afar. I lowered my voice and delivered my final words.
“To face me, you’ll have to stake everything. That pitiful private equity fund included—your entire life.”
No shouts to shock the listener, no crude curses—just coldly refined words exchanged that late evening.
The distasteful call ended there.
-Tap, tap, tap, tap.
I drummed my fingertips on the desk’s edge, face grave. [Shanghai Capital] posed no immediate threat.
But… once this financial crisis blew over, they’d attack the Ammunition Group in some form. That much was certain.
“Phew. I need to tie up all loose ends properly.”
I exhaled deeply, muttering to myself. My fingertips felt an odd softness.
Something plush and yielding had brushed against the fingers still tapping the desk.
“Shu cream… red bean bun?”
“Heh heh heh. Why so serious? Recharge with some sugar first, then think.”
Uncle Kim Won-cheol’s usual cackle.
Beneath my index finger, smeared with white cream and black beans, lay the sweet treat he adored beyond measure.
“Phew, well, your timing’s spot-on today. I was craving something sweet.”
“I overheard your call—it sounded brutal. Makes me wonder if I shouldn’t have connected you with those jjajangmyeon guys.”
“No, you did well. Better to face open provocation than get blindsided. Makes it easier to prepare. Anyway…”
I crammed the hole-poked cream-filled red bean bun into my mouth whole. The sugar rush finally calmed my mind a bit.
“Anyway, what?”
Uncle Kim Won-cheol’s question.
I dusted the crumbs from my hands, moistened my throat with cool water, and opened my mouth as if resolved.
“It’s time to bring it to a close. The handling of my uncle and all related parties. How far along is it now?”
* * *
That day, after the Iraq interview, no one came or went from the Ammunition Group headquarters on the 45th floor.
An empty office, not even an ant in sight. Even the lowliest contract secretary could sense the shift—the scales of power had tipped entirely to one side across the entire Ammunition Group.
Rumors spread first from the rooftop smoking area.
“Man, everyone lined up with Han Hwa-gi got the axe. The axe. Finance is straight-up under <Cocoa> as the parent company now.”
“Industrial side too—Headquarters Director Seong Won-sik’s slashing like demons in his eyes. Total frenzy.”
“That’s proof they switched sides right. Might as well show loyalty… something like that.”
Cigarette butts piled on paper cups with dregs of sticky coffee. Fueled by the cool autumn breeze, the office workers’ chatter bloomed.
“But… what happens to Han Hwa-gi now? Heard even Han Seo-ho’s caught up in this.”
“Lots of talk about prison time and such, but I only heard rumors… Oh! Here he comes.”
A disheveled man with exhaustion etched on his face. Smokers from the lounge approached the one struggling with a cheap lighter that wouldn’t spark.
“Hey, Lawyer Kim. Use a good lighter, man. Here, take my Zippo?”
“Hm? Oh, thanks, Team Leader Park. Not giving it away… just borrow a light.”
Law Team’s Lawyer Kim exhaled long smoke. Looking drained, he plopped onto the wooden bench.
Team Leader Park slithered over like an eel over a wall, plunking down beside him.
“Heh heh heh. Lawyer Kim. So, what’s the word from Legal?”
“It’s out. But tricky to spill casually… You keep your mouth shut for a while?”
“Of course—nothing but eye-food otherwise. Thinking of getting a zipper on my lips at the hospital.”
“Cheeky… Fine, promise kept.”
Lawyer Kim flicked ash from his fingers. Lighting a fresh long cigarette, he continued in a hissing slur.
“It’s ruthless. The young chairman.”
“What’d he do…?”
“Won’t stand again? Han Hwa-gi and Han Seo-ho, the two… minimum 7-8 years. Even with top ex-judge lawyers.”
* * *
-Bang bang bang bang!
“Open up when we’re being nice! Reporters snap pics, and it’s humiliation like no other!”
Han Hwa-gi’s mansion in prime Itaewon. Investigators in blue vests poured through the grudgingly opened gate.
“Team 1, tear through the main house—rip Han Hwa-gi’s study from ceiling to floor. Team 2, hit the annex document vault.”
Marble floors marred by bootprints. Amid the chaos, Han Seo-ho collapsed, on the verge of wailing.
Handcuffed and dazed, he muttered blankly, lost in stupor.
“Han Seo-jun… <Cocoa>… that derivatives scrap worth 1.3 trillion…”
“Tsk tsk tsk. Kid’s lost it. Hey! Team Leader Choi! Secured Headquarters Director Han Hwa-gi?”
Senior investigator glanced up. Footsteps thudded down the stairs.
A middle-aged man who’d accepted it all. Stress-whitened hair half-gray in days—Han Hwa-gi.
“…Perfect timing. No more delays. Let’s move. No cuffs for you.”
“One call.”
“Hey now, you know that’s a no…”
Han Hwa-gi glared at the senior investigator, eyes blazing like embers.
Intimidated by the man who seemed ready to lunge?
Senior feigned reluctance, handing over his phone.
“Ahem, keep it short. International? Don’t get hopes up.”
Pitifully, the investigator clucked his tongue. He figured Han Hwa-gi’s last call was to [Shanghai Capital].
Ignoring him, Han Hwa-gi slowly dialed.
After rings, a voice answered.
“Who’s calling?”
“It’s me. One last thing to say.”
His nephew, victorious in their fight, sole master of the Ammunition Group.
Gritting teeth, Han Hwa-gi forced his mouth open.
“Han Seo-jun, that bastard—everything’s gone your way. Even my head on the block.”
“You knew mercy has no place for the incompetent.”
“I know. I concede defeat. But one thing…”
Han Hwa-gi looked up at the ceiling. Ammunition Group’s flame-etched emblem filled his eyes.
His gaze shifted naturally to his flesh and blood.
“At least let the kids stay out there.”
“…I’ll see to it.”
“Good. Thanks.”
Call ended. Handing back the phone, Han Hwa-gi spoke to the senior investigator.
Utterly detached.
“Let’s go. Time to pay the price.”