Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Nguyen Seo Chun (3)
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“Woof! Woof! Woof woof!”
It was the sound of dogs barking, plain and simple.
Heavy Industries, Construction, Shipbuilding & Marine. All three presidents wearing their shiny name tags. It was like they’d been scouted for some amateur dog choir.
They were all feeding me excuses that didn’t even qualify as words.
“Heh heh… Strategy Director, a total crisis? Our Heavy Industries isn’t that sloppy.”
Yeah, right. In exactly two years, you won’t be able to collect on those bonds laid out in the Middle East, and it’ll all end in bankruptcy.
“I can’t agree. Construction’s booming with New Town developments. Recent apartment presales have been selling out left and right…”
No way they knew the Subprime Mortgage crisis was about to blow up, leading to unsold units piling up even in Seoul’s Gangnam. Or that Ammunition Construction would eventually get delisted.
“Oil’s topped $130 a barrel lately. High oil prices are here to stay. We’re entering the offshore plant market—late to the game, but we’ll catch up fast.”
They couldn’t have dreamed that fancy oil price would crash to $50 a barrel by winter. Or that every company pushing offshore plants would go belly-up.
Caught in the KS Industries crossfire, they were pulling out all the stops to prove their worth.
I let the barrage of nonsense flow past me like a river and turned to my uncle.
“…….”
He sat there, arms crossed, mouth shut like it was locked with a steel padlock.
That ‘I know nothing’ look on his face was enough to make me scoff.
Part of me wanted to yank the USB from my pocket and shout:
‘The connection between KS Industries and Finance Headquarters Director Han Hwa-gi is right here! You idiots!’
But now wasn’t the time to go after him. You strike with a honed blade at the decisive moment—in one clean blow.
Today was just the stage to prove my value as the heir to the Ammunition Group chairmanship.
I gripped the edges of the table with both hands, leaned forward slightly, and brought my mouth to the mic.
Slow, low voice. Eyes brimming with confidence and conviction.
“I’ve heard the barking. Now it’s my turn to talk, so shut up.”
“W-what? Barking?!”
No need to listen to these incompetents yap again.
They wouldn’t have time to speak once they started crunching the numbers on what I was about to say.
“I won’t see the KS Industries matter as embezzlement or breach of trust. No need to send in an external accounting firm’s audit team either.”
“What the hell does that…?”
Surprised by my unexpected response?
While the yapping presidents clamped their mouths shut, my uncle—who’d been silent—finally spoke.
His wide eyes were dying to know what I was up to.
“Isn’t that right, Director?”
I ignored his reaction completely and fixed my gaze on Grandmother.
Seo Taehu, the one to crown me. Now I’d show her my insight.
Insight worthy of a true talent who could shoulder Ammunition Group’s future.
“The KS Industries issue means Heavy Industries, Construction, and Shipbuilding & Marine are so stuck in a rut that they can afford sloppy finances.”
“Strategy Director, are you saying those three badge-wearing clowns aren’t earning their keep?”
Grandmother tapped the end of her fountain pen on the table, a sign she was paying close attention.
The sharp glint unique to Seo Taehu peered through her silver frames, demanding an answer.
“Is it just about earning their keep? Can’t you see they’re trying to tank the whole Group?”
The polar opposite of what the presidents had just pitched so aggressively.
Right now, those three divisions looked like the Group’s sturdy pillars, bearing the future.
But… come this winter. The moment the chill wind from Wall Street hits Seoul, the rot inside those pillars would be laid bare.
“Begin.”
I gave a light gesture to the staffer running the meeting. She’d been prepped and hit the remote, lighting up the beam projector.
*-Flash!*
Complex data filled the screen. But any exec in this room would grasp what it meant.
“U.S. Subprime Mortgage lending status. And the derivative products tied to it.”
“W-what the hell is this?!”
Gu Seok-su, president of Ammunition Securities, who’d zipped his lips to avoid getting dragged into the KS Industries mess.
Having spent over 30 years in securities, he sensed the gravity more than anyone here.
“The time bomb’s about to go off. Definitely within the year. Now, a question for the ones who barked earlier.”
“Ahem…”
The presidents of Heavy Industries, Construction, and Shipbuilding & Marine looked grim.
Their stiffly raised heads—frozen like they had neck braces—had long since bowed humbly like autumn rice stalks.
And my question stabbed at them like a dagger.
“Are you prepared for the coming crisis? Is the company so rock-solid you don’t need to plug leaks like KS Industries?”
“…….”
Rock-solid? Hell no. If the financial crisis hit tomorrow, every capital-intensive project would grind to a halt.
The Group had zero risk-hedging measures in place.
I left the dumbstruck fools behind and met Grandmother’s eyes.
“The current situation is a house of cards. The party’s ending soon. So… right here, I propose to the Director.”
Seo Taehu nodded. No twitch at her lips, but I knew.
In this moment, I’d proven the basic qualities of a chairman. And this steely woman in regency had reassessed my value.
“Speak.”
“The castle called Ammunition Group, built on sand—we in Strategy will draft the foundation plan. Give us budget and manpower.”
* * *
*-Thud, thud*
Harsh shoe heels echoed down the empty hallway. The ominous footsteps trailing them kept their nerves on edge until they reached the elevator.
Finance Director Han Hwa-gi’s face was ashen. The moment the doors closed, his fury erupted at the nearest target: Heavy Industries President Park Han-i.
“You filthy worm—what the hell do you do?”
“…My apologies, Headquarters Director.”
“You idiot. Couldn’t manage one slush fund outlet like KS Industries and caused this mess!”
It wasn’t just poor fund management. His nephew had bared his fangs in a public forum, declaring his intent for the Ammunition Group chairmanship.
“H-Headquarters Director. For the slush fund, I made sure no one would trace it…”
“Look here, President Park Han-i. Still don’t get what’s happening?”
“Pardon?”
Park Han-i’s cheeks flushed red with shame as he stammered.
Han Hwa-gi scowled, frustration boiling over.
“They already know everything. What do you think the price is for not exposing the KS Industries slush fund link?”
Silence fell. The longer it stretched, the faster Han Hwa-gi’s patience drained.
As his twisted face opened for a yell, someone from behind spoke up.
“Sacrificing the incompetence of Heavy Industries, Construction, and Shipbuilding & Marine… Strategy Director Han Seo-jun is gunning for the crown.”
Seong Won-sik, president of Shipbuilding & Marine, ex-consulting exec who joined last year.
Maybe because he was an outsider.
He viewed the situation more objectively than the insiders.
“…At least one with a brain.”
“He didn’t strike at you directly this time because the timing wasn’t right.”
“Spot on. And what he got was the full setup for Strategy—budget and manpower.”
His nephew, a tiger cub unchained, wings sprouting on his shoulders.
Chills ran up Han Hwa-gi’s spine. Just then, the elevator dinged to a stop, snapping him back.
*-Ding! Floor 11. Doors opening.*
The doors parted, and waiting staff bowed deeply.
As he’d instructed his personal secretary, the financial affiliates’ execs had gathered to greet him.
And in his sight—his three children.
“You’re here, Father.”
“I told you to use proper titles at the company.”
His eldest, Han Seo-ho, team leader of Ammunition Securities’ Risk Management Division.
Was it a simple slip, or a deliberate bloodline flex amid the execs? He’d used the home title instead.
Even after the correction, the son just smiled. Han Hwa-gi caught the meaning, swallowed his anger, and patted his back.
The blood of the Han family, masters of Ammunition Group. No way a rootless bastard could claim the crown alone.
“The small conference room’s ready.”
“Right, my eldest. Let’s go.”
* * *
Yangpyeong.
A middle-aged man fishing by the lake pulled documents from a yellow envelope.
His name: Kim Won-cheol. Old friend of the late chairman and his most trusted confidant.
He’d ditched everything Ammunition Group-related to return to his hometown, ignoring company affairs.
Until right this moment.
“Whew… Look at this kid. He’s the real deal.”
His face lit up like he’d found a fascinating toy.
Like he’d regressed to his mischievous boyhood.
The bobber thrashed wildly—fish nibbling the bait—but he ignored the rod completely.
“Acts all hot-blooded on the surface… How many snakes is he hiding inside?”
The documents detailed today’s Ammunition Group morning meeting.
To the casual eye, just a string of reckless lines. But not to someone like Kim Won-cheol—he read between them effortlessly.
“Hmm… What to do?”
He flipped through the pages repeatedly, leaning back in his fishing chair, lost in memory.
Not long ago, Director Seo Myung-hee had called, asking him to play nanny.
He’d refused outright, of course.
“That witch wouldn’t babble nonsense about the eldest grandson, and this old bird’s not senile yet… Whoa!”
The fish yanked hard, nearly toppling the rod. Kim Won-cheol lunged, grabbing it.
He reeled and released the taut line in a frenzy.
Finally, a massive loach broke the surface. A real freshwater king, full of fight.
“Whoa, big boy. Gonna make a hell of a print.”
He stashed it in the cooler. It thrashed so hard, water splashed onto the documents nearby.
Staring at the mess, Kim Won-cheol pondered. As the late-summer breeze turned autumn-cool, he pulled his phone from his vest.
“Yes, Director. Kim Won-cheol here. Huh? Heh heh… Why start with the cursing?”
Packing up, the cooler felt heavier than usual today.
“Nothing major… About that thing you mentioned last time, I’ll give it a shot. Playing nanny to Strategy Director Han Seo-jun.”