The Curse of the Overprivileged
Moon Sang-oh called the infighting among the royal family a fate—or curse—that anyone born with far too much was destined to endure.
Kang Min-ho had linked the group together through JK Card. He had taken his first step toward expanding his influence within the conglomerate.
The sharp-eyed butler fixed not on Min-ho's footsteps, but on his gaze, probing meticulously to discern where his ambitions lay, what he truly aimed for.
Once the financial real-name system kicked in, the real war would begin—and there was no escaping it.
Moon Sang-oh, ever curious about Min-ho's desires, which the young man had never once voiced aloud, seized the moment when Chairman Kang stepped away to pose his question.
"May I interpret your latest plan as a foundation for expanding your influence within the group, young master?"
It was the first time the butler had crossed the line in front of him—a question tantamount to staking his life on the answer.
Min-ho couldn't possibly miss the butler's intentions.
"That's awfully personal, isn't it?"
"It is."
"Doesn't seem like something Grandfather put you up to."
"I stake everything I have on this. It's purely personal. Of course, you're under no obligation to answer."
Min-ho replied with a relaxed smile, eyes fixed straight ahead.
"You know why I accepted such a minor post..."
"I've surmised it's preparation for the financial real-name system. Am I off base?"
"Spot on. You've got incredible instincts. No wonder Grandfather keeps you close."
"First, I'm most curious about the circumstantial evidence behind your choice."
"I'm no fortune-teller. How could I possibly know that?"
Plans that always seemed impossible had invariably ended in triumph under Min-ho's hand.
Convinced there must be solid grounds if Min-ho had mentioned the real-name system, Moon Sang-oh brought up an incident from the previous year.
"No matter how I rack my brain, I recall no discussion of policies with Candidate Kim Dong-il at that meeting."
"Correct. I never breathed a word of it. Though it was deliberate, of course."
"I've lost sleep for months wondering if I overlooked something."
"Nothing there, so now you're wondering what clue let you predict this one, right?"
"Precisely. Forgive me, but I'd greatly appreciate a clear answer this time."
It was a rare, earnest plea from Moon Sang-oh, who had never insisted on anything before.
Min-ho explained in a roundabout way, just enough to satisfy.
"I'm preparing for the financial real-name system because of President Kim's personality."
"President Kim Dong-il always opts for safe choices. The odds of him playing a card that failed twice before seem vanishingly low."
"Why do you think that?"
"The public might cheer, but corporate backlash is a given. I doubt he'd push something so reckless."
"Quite the opposite."
"Pardon? What do you mean?"
Implementing the real-name system would hit hardest those conglomerates hoarding slush funds. Chairman Kang was no exception.
"President Kim stakes his life on approval ratings. And once he's in that seat, he has the power to act."
He let out a quiet sigh, pondering deeply before responding as if struck by realization.
"Surely... you're not referring to an emergency fiscal and economic order?"
"If he resolves to, he could issue it tomorrow. Even if it's challenged constitutionally, there's no stopping it."
"Do you know when he might pull the trigger?"
Only six months remained until the real-name system. Min-ho knew the exact date, but it was one of his weapons—no need to reveal it now.
"I'd love to know, but sadly, I have no way of telling. I'm just sending early signals to prepare as best we can."
Min-ho glanced up, scanning the surroundings before answering.
"That should be preview enough, don't you think? Grandfather's due back any moment."
Uncharacteristically hesitant for a long stretch, Moon Sang-oh finally spoke gravely.
"My concern with the real-name system isn't the policy itself—it's what comes after."
"Sounds like you're worried about the war."
"I'd prefer it didn't come to that, but I see it as inevitable. I'm wondering if you've factored that in, young master."
Moon Sang-oh thought only of JK Group. He wanted to gauge the desires of Min-ho, the most promising heir, and prepare accordingly. That was all.
"I don't want war, but if they point guns and knives at me, I'll fight back—no matter who it is. And I'll win. Is that enough?"
He addressed the butler, who gripped the cart handle tightly, lost in thought without a word.
"Since we're past pretenses, let me ask one thing. Among the heirs Grandfather has in mind, am I included?"
For the first time, Min-ho openly revealed his ambition for power.
Caught off guard, Moon Sang-oh agonized over how to respond. Even a brilliant mind like Min-ho's might slacken if told he was a top contender.
The foes ahead—Kang Du-seong and his brothers Min-seong and Beom-seong—were no pushovers.
Now, the butler's words would shape Min-ho's path. He had two choices and picked the safer one.
"Currently, the chairman has one of the three vice presidents in mind—not you, young master. I don't know which."
In his previous life, Chairman Kang had chosen no one. From his four children, he'd elevated Kang Du-seong—the survivor of the mudslinging—as vice chairman. Min-ho, working at JK Group then, had orchestrated it.
He knew Chairman Kang's heart without being told. Understanding why Moon had answered that way, Min-ho smiled faintly.
"I was worried what I'd do if you were the enemy. Glad you're not."
"Pardon? That's not what I—"
"The cart's heavy anyway—let's change topics. Can you make a call to Gi-yeong Motors?"
"Certainly. May I ask why?"
"I'll explain later."
"Understood."
Just then, Chairman Kang emerged, wiping his hands with a handkerchief and beaming.
Min-ho approached his grandfather at once.
"How was the restroom?"
"So big and clean, I could eat dinner in there."
"Glad to hear it. You have high standards for bathrooms, Grandfather."
"This one's excellent. All that walking's left me starving. Let's finish shopping and grab a bite."
"Yes, Grandfather."
***
At the same time, Kang Beom-seong—president of JK Investment Trust Securities and the third son—hummed a tune as he gripped the wheel.
After Chairman Kang accepted Min-ho's proposal and issued orders, a new system rolled out: JK Card holders got fee discounts on JK Securities accounts. Promotion happened automatically, and sign-ups surged.
Out briefly on business, Beom-seong veered toward the outskirts for a drive.
"Man, they say good things come to those who obey their father—and bam, it fits! Stuck in that backroom for over twenty years, and finally, my day's come."
His reward for decades of silent toil in Myeong-dong's loan shark office: the JK Securities presidency. Employees handled the work, money flowed in—no worries.
As he shifted gears, humming away, a massive sign caught his eye.
"Oh yeah, Pocheon! President Kang's there, and Deok-hyeon too... Been ages—maybe drop by for a face."
Pocheon Factory was off-limits without Chairman Kang's orders, but Beom-seong forgot all that and floored it toward Pocheon.
"Memories flooding back. Kneeling in that rice paddy up ahead, bawling for President Choi's life—feels like yesterday, but it's been over ten years... Time flies..."
Muttering like a man caught in the rain, Beom-seong arrived at the factory minutes later.
As he stepped out and looked around, Ham Gi-nam—shouting orders in the workshop—came scurrying over with short, hurried steps.
"Aigoo! Third Vice President!"
Linked through Myeong-dong dealings—Ham receiving the men Beom-seong sent—their bond went way back. Ham loyally followed the unassuming Beom-seong.
"Whoa, if it isn't our Ham President!"
"No heads-up—how'd you get here? I'd have prepped a meal if you'd called."
"Aigoo, you're alive and kicking... Never mind! I swung by on my way to Seoul just to see your face."
"Any... orders from headquarters?"
Beom-seong clapped Ham's shoulder.
"If there were, I'd send someone else with grease dripping off their mug. You look like you're eating well, huh?"
Ham sighed as if the ground might swallow him.
"It's been tough all around."
"Why? Trouble? Another runner?"
"No, sir—not that. Remember Cheon Dong-gwan from back then?"
"Yeah, the guy who tanked big trying to go legit. What's up?"
"He paid off his debt and left."
Stunned by the unimaginable news, Beom-seong couldn't hide his shock.
"What? Paid in full? For real? You didn't sneak a daytime drink, did you?"
"Sir, you know I don't drink on the job."
"Fine, whatever—details."
"No idea where the money came from. Headquarters called, said release him, so I did."
"Impossible! Lottery? Wait... even that wouldn't cover it... How'd he square it?"
No matter how he turned it over, Beom-seong couldn't buy it.
"Why would I lie over fancy food, sir?"
"True... First I've heard of it. What's he up to now?"
"No clue. Hasn't called."
"Makes sense—I'd avoid this hellhole too. How're the workers these days?"
"No drive, all mediocre."
Beom-seong demonstrated with exaggerated gestures.
"Don't listen? Joints and bats. Keep 'em on edge or they slack."
If Beom-seong followed his own advice, Min-ho wouldn't stand for it. Unable to speak plainly, Ham dodged.
"Yes, sir—wise words. Gotta smack 'em when they act up."
"Machine workers need the right beating. Got it?"
"Of course. Nothing fancy to offer, but the Chinese place up ahead? Their jjajangmyeon is killer."
"Eggs sunny-side up on top?"
"Wouldn't mention it otherwise."
"Let's go—catch up on old times..."
Then a man caught Beom-seong's eye.
"Hey... Ham, hold up..."
"Sir? Spot a wild animal?"
Stammering in disbelief despite his own eyes, he pointed.
"That glasses nerd in the corner... Yeah... Director Seo Gwang-hun! Right?"
"Yes... but..."
"Why's Director Seo here?"
"I don't know the details."
"Fetch him."
"Sir, meeting Director Seo might be..."
Seo at Pocheon Factory was unthinkable. Staring in disbelief, Beom-seong strode over.
"Hey! Director Seo Gwang-hun! That you?"
Seo—face smeared with grime, in ragged work clothes—turned from his task to face Beom-seong.
"Th... Third Vice President..."
Seo knew it all. For a man with no dreams, hopes, or future, a slender lifeline had finally descended.