The Chairman's Decree
The headquarters of the Lee Do Group.
Chief of Staff Yu Cheol-ong stood before the assembled crowd and spoke in a low, steady voice.
“I will now convey the Chairman’s will.”
As Yu Cheol-ong continued, the reactions of the two groups split sharply.
The team on the right stood at perfect attention, 007 briefcases in hand, looking every bit like soldiers on parade.
The team on the left, by contrast, wore flawless smiles while scribbling furiously in their notebooks. The combination was somehow unsettling.
Two organizations that seemed alike yet fundamentally different.
They were the shadow organizations born from Yu Cheol-ong’s own hands: the Strategic Planning Office and the Crisis Management Office, the ones who handled every dirty job the Lee Do Group required.
—This is Chairman Lee Sang-byuk’s will. Use any method necessary. Support is unlimited. Act first, report later. Everything is left to the discretion of the Strategic Planning Office and the Crisis Management Office.
Yu Cheol-ong scanned both groups with the eyes of an examiner, then gave the order.
“Begin.”
The moment the words left his mouth, both teams burst through the doors like racehorses leaving the gate. One interesting detail was how little affection the two groups seemed to have for each other.
And that observation was entirely accurate.
From their origins to their personalities, the two organizations were eerily similar. Both had been created for Chairman Lee Sang-byuk. Both existed to protect the empire called Lee Do. When departments with overlapping purposes existed, friction was inevitable. In fact, they had been designed to compete.
Soon the vehicles carrying each team raced out of the group complex as if trying to outrun one another.
“Look at those Crisis Management bastards—eyes completely bloodshot. Tell everyone to stay sharp.”
“I can’t stand it! Did you see Philip Yoon sneering at us? If the Planning Office team loses to them again, tell everyone to prepare to clear out their desks!”
The side that moved first was the Strategic Planning Office, which had held the upper hand lately.
“Remember the key points! This situation must not appear to be a direct clash between the major conglomerates and the Association.”
It was true that the four major guilds Lee Shin had created had elevated the Korean league to the absolute pinnacle of the world stage. Yet hidden beneath that overwhelming success were more holes than most realized.
The deeper one looked—ranker contacts, power monopolies, and other structural issues—the more uncomfortable the picture became. The four major groups at the center of it all were especially vulnerable.
So the Strategic Planning Office shifted its focus.
Fortunately, the Association had plenty of enemies, and they had already turned the one group they should never have antagonized into their greatest foe.
The public.
“We must shape this into a narrative where the public itself punishes the Association. Good triumphs over evil. Justice realized. All we need to do is give the people the power to seize that justice for themselves.”
Let’s begin.
The instant Director Philip Yoon of the Strategic Planning Office gave the order, every major hunter-related channel on YouTube began broadcasting simultaneously.
“The Association has finally crossed the line! Today we’ll listen to the hottest leaked recording making the rounds and discuss the corruption within the Association’s supervisory body…”
“As a former supervisor, I’d like to use this opportunity to make a confession of conscience. The corruption among supervisors is very real. They’ve received money from guilds through various channels. They call it ‘pocket money’…”
“We’ve been covering guild-related stories for ten years, but every time the Association pulls something like this, it’s demoralizing. Is the Association really an organization that exists for the good of the league? The league is finally gaining real momentum and popularity—why are they ruining it like this?!”
It wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t even the second. The Association’s blunders were already infamous among fans who followed the league closely.
Especially in the lower leagues where the Bureau paid less attention—their misconduct had long crossed into unforgivable territory. Yet every time a scandal broke, they would shove hunters forward, blame the guilds, and let the whole thing quietly blow over.
Some assumed it would happen again this time, but…
Just as the commenters predicted, this time was different.
They had touched the one group in this industry that must never be provoked.
A race of born fighters. A natural disaster in the league that crushed the other nineteen guilds with sheer firepower.
The Yongbung-i.
And, as expected, they did not hold back.
[Explain this incident right now!]
[Association ruining the league—get out!]
[Abolish the outdated supervisory body!!]
[Just hang those sons of bitches already!!]
[We demand an apology. Association President, bow your head right now!!]
[Hey!! Have you lost your damn mind!!]
The next day, an endless stream of trucks converged on the Association headquarters.
The Association tried to block them, but it felt like trying to cover the sun with one hand. The scale was overwhelming—like every truck in Korea had decided to show up. Association employees swallowed hard at the sight.
It was a literal wave of madness.
When even that wasn’t enough and excavators and other heavy machinery began arriving, the Association finally panicked and hurriedly called the police.
But the police response was lukewarm at best.
They were already swamped handling the major incident the Strategic Planning Office had dropped in their laps. With their own feet on fire, how could they spare attention for anything else?
While the Strategic Planning Office had turned public rage into tangible action, the Crisis Management Office reached out to the group most sensitive to that crystallized anger.
National Assembly members.
“Congressman, are you just going to sit and watch?”
“This is an opportunity. A chance to leave a deep impression on the citizens.”
“There are already many eyes suspecting ties between you and the Association. If you hesitate, you’ll be painted as one of them. Take the initiative.”
For politicians who fed on public votes, this scandal was the perfect stage to boost their own profiles. The optics were beautiful. A few strong swings and they could wear the mantle of justice itself.
With elections approaching, securing a favorable image now would practically guarantee reelection.
All the Crisis Management Office had to do was stoke their ambition and slip them some operational funds. That alone produced a flood of self-proclaimed warriors ready to burn themselves alive for justice.
“I’ve been watching the Association for a long time, but I never imagined they were this corrupt.”
“What era do we live in? Even backdoor advertising gets condemned these days, and they’re taking bribes?”
“I asked the guilds in my district, and they all said in unison that the Association’s misconduct has gone too far. This cannot continue!”
The Crisis Management Office didn’t stop at the legislative branch. They reached into the executive branch as well.
Once the various ministers each added their own statements, the matter inevitably reached the prosecution. When the Prosecutor General himself spoke on it, the Assembly members immediately chimed in with one voice.
“A parliamentary audit? Of course we must do it! Isn’t it our duty as representatives to carry out the people’s will?”
“Let’s hold the parliamentary audit! This is a serious matter!”
By the time the situation had escalated this far, the Association was completely unable to regain its footing.
They were already dazed from the relentless public beating and the terrifying Yongbung-i demonstrations. Now a gleaming blade labeled “parliamentary audit” hovered at their throats.
People often revert to familiar behavior when panicked. The Association was no exception.
They tried to struggle as usual by pushing hunters forward, but…
“Th-the government and National Assembly intervening in the league’s development is inappropriate!”
“You know the World Raid has been postponed by a year. If you pressure the Association like this, we won’t be able to achieve good results in the World Raid!”
“Are you seriously saying that right now?!”
“So that’s why you were shaking the very team that has to compete in the World Raid! What? You’re a traitor to your country?!”
“Looks like we need to intensify the prosecution’s investigation.”
“N-no, that’s not what I—”
It was a catastrophic own goal.
Like pouring oil on a fire, the supervisors’ corruption spread until the flames reached the Association President himself, demanding accountability.
The Association now faced a choice: grit their teeth and wait for the pot to cool as usual, or go out and at least pretend to bow their heads.
But choice is a luxury for those with options. They weren’t even granted that much.
Taeyang Group. Boycotting the Association.
Shinseong Group. Refusing all donations.
Kirin Group. Rejecting all Association sponsorship.
Lee Do Group Chairman Lee Sang-byuk. “Why would I? Did I leave any money with them?”
* * *
Lee Do Group headquarters.
The elevator doors opened and Yu Cheol-ong stepped out, followed by a middle-aged man walking with heavy, defeated steps.
The man with slumped shoulders like a defeated soldier was none other than the Association President, whose soul seemed to be burning alive these days.
“You may enter.”
“…Thank you.”
The Association President swallowed hard as he entered the chairman’s office, only to be greeted by the sight of Lee Sang-byuk’s back.
Whether the chairman knew he had arrived or simply didn’t care, Lee Sang-byuk remained completely absorbed in polishing a badge on the shelf.
The Association President immediately recognized it as the MVP badge. His gaze then fell on the attached photo and the handwritten words Giant God, Genius, and Blitz. His neck instinctively shrank.
…
…
One minute. Two minutes.
The Association President stood before the door as if receiving punishment. The first words Lee Sang-byuk spoke were:
“You know what? I don’t trust humans.”
It was the truth.
Lee Sang-byuk did not trust humans.
There was no such thing as a person who could be shaken without producing dust. And if such people gathered to create an organization, how could corruption not exist?
Bribes, embezzlement, collusion.
The words sounded terrible, but in reality such things were far more common in this industry than most realized.
“What’s a bribe? It starts with a grateful meal. Embezzlement? When you’re busy, sometimes company money just ends up in your wallet. Collusion? When you’re too busy to negotiate properly, you just gather people you know and set prices. If that’s collusion, then it’s collusion.”
Lee Sang-byuk was the chairman of the Lee Do Group.
He was the emperor of an empire that fed over 150,000 people.
How could he not know the sweet, bitter, and downright filthy tastes of this cutthroat society?
The question itself was ridiculous. After all, Lee Sang-byuk was the very iron-willed man who had built that society.
“Flies gather around a honey pot. The sweeter the honey, the more flies come. That is the law of nature. It’s also why I don’t trust humans. Being defeated by greed and doing stupid things is simply natural law.”
Lee Sang-byuk had never cared about the stinking corruption and misconduct the Association President had committed until now.
No matter how much he had eaten, no matter what he had devoured—bugs would be bugs. What was the problem?
He truly meant it.
His attitude toward corruption and misconduct had always been the same, both then and now.
Go ahead. Eat as much as your ability allows.
Just…
“Don’t let it enter my sight.”
“!!”
“I don’t like bugs, you see.”
It wasn’t about lofty ideals like eradicating corruption or realizing social justice.
Lee Sang-byuk simply hated seeing bugs within his field of vision. Especially ones that buzzed annoyingly near his ear.
He picked up the badge and smiled faintly.
“Look. There are so many good and fun things in the world—why waste time on useless bugs?”
“…That—”
“Shut up. Who told you to open your mouth?”
“……”
This meeting had never been intended as a conversation.
It was a one-sided proclamation from Lee Sang-byuk.
“I’ll tell you what you need to do immediately. First, clean up that supervisory body. I hate nothing more than sweeping things under the rug. When something blows up, someone has to take responsibility.”
That was the first order. The next went further.
“Get rid of all the useless things like yourself. If an old bastard has no ability, he should retire. Stop sucking the blood of the younger generation. Understood?”
Whether it was the shit you piled up or the shit your predecessors piled up, you will take responsibility and clean up the massive mess you’ve all made.
Once everything is clean…
“Retire honorably next year.”
“!!”
“I know you’re preparing for a fourth term. Don’t. It’s unseemly. At least make your final exit clean.”
Got it?
When asked directly for the first time, the Association President hesitated for a long time before finally answering.
“…Understood.”
“Good. I like that clean answer.”
Now leave.
At Lee Sang-byuk’s cold dismissal—without once turning around—the Association President turned to leave, then stopped. With a trace of defiance, he clenched his teeth and asked.
Who will be next?
Lee Sang-byuk placed the final badge on the spot reserved for the Giant God and let out a small chuckle.
“Well… I hear he’s a good man.”
* * *
“M-me? The Association President?”
“Yes. The Association President.”
Jeong Sun-dong’s eyes widened like saucers as he accepted the coffee Lee Shin held out to him.