Pocheon - Kang Jin-gwang, the <strong>Mingdong Viper</strong>
Kang Jin-gwang, Chairman. On the surface, he looked like a kindly old man who won people's hearts, but in reality, he was a loan shark everyone feared. People called him the Mingdong Viper. If you didn't repay his money, debtors had to pay a corresponding price—no exceptions. There was no escaping Kang Jin-gwang's debts. As long as you were breathing anywhere on earth, he would find you. The only way to avoid his collectors? Death.
Legend had it that when a debtor took their own life without repaying, he didn't shed a tear of pity—he wailed in frustration at not recovering the principal, loud enough to shake all of Myeong-dong. Even the worst choice didn't fully free you from the Viper's clutches. A loan shark had to squeeze out every last penny, even from the grave. He was more faithful to his trade than anyone. He'd crash the debtor's funeral and strip every bit of condolence money. Death wasn't a perfect escape either.
Barring a tiny few, people never played that final card. Most bolted in the dead of night, figuring they'd never get caught. Not a smart bet on a narrow peninsula like this. It was only a matter of time before their hideout was exposed. Before long, they'd be dragged back by the hair to the shutter factory in a remote corner of Pocheon. There, they toiled until every debt was paid.
At first glance, it might seem like brutal forced labor. Surprisingly, Kang Jin-gwang was almost humane. More precisely, he bent the rules for the long game. Contrary to expectations of harsh treatment, he paid workers proper wages—even overtime premiums, rare as hen's teeth back in the '70s and '80s. The employer-employee relationship was crystal clear, with no legal issues. On paper, a legit company. In truth, a prison without bars.
A few brave souls occasionally tried to break out. What did Kang Jin-gwang do? No beatings or wage cuts. He issued a punishment far worse. Something no one saw coming: he dragged in their families. With loved ones held hostage, escape was a pipe dream. All they could do was work day and night to pay off the debt.
This was the JK Group's top-secret site, brimming with hidden truths—and that's where Min-ho was headed. Choi Jong-hoon gripped the wheel. No matter how he racked his brain or sifted his memories, he couldn't fathom how Min-ho knew about Pocheon.
After agonizing hesitation, Choi finally broached it obliquely. "Young master, this is a top-secret matter within the group. Only a handful of affiliate presidents and the legal team know."
"Curious how I found out about this place?"
"Yes. Depending on the source, we can't rule out a leak."
"Why overcomplicate it? I overheard Grandpa on the phone as a kid."
"Really? You remember a call from your childhood?"
"I knew but played dumb. No point advertising it—too much headache."
As the one who'd once overseen the Future Strategy Office, Min-ho couldn't not know. He fudged just enough to satisfy Choi.
"Mind if I ask why we're heading there?"
"Someone I need to find. I'll explain when we arrive."
"So you're keeping it from the president?"
"Yeah, for now. Anyway, tell me about the factory. Who's running it? How many staff?"
Min-ho fired off questions to double-check for blind spots.
"Ham Gi-nam handles day-to-day operations."
"He's in overall charge?"
"Yes. Fun fact: Ham was a debtor himself."
"How'd a debtor end up as manager?"
"Body's not great, but he's got killer dexterity—picks up manufacturing skills in no time."
"Skilled, but frail?"
The car pulled over briefly, and Choi gestured wildly to illustrate Ham Gi-nam. "Spinal issue—back sticks out like this. Not polite, but folks call it hunchback."
"Paid off his debt, no job prospects with his health, so he's staying for life?"
"Seems that way."
If word of Min-ho's visit reached Chairman Kang, trouble would brew. To muzzle Ham, Min-ho played another card.
"Treat me like a new hire when we get there."
"Not hard, but why?"
"To see someone's true nature, don't watch how they suck up to bosses—watch how they treat underlings."
"Got it. While you talk, I'll chat with the debtors inside. Factory's at 1 o'clock—see it?"
***
Pocheon Shutter Factory. Tucked at the mountain's edge, far from roads—out of sight, out of mind. No tiger, no lion, not even a fox? The raccoon rules the roost. Unchecked power corrupts, and arrogance pierces the heavens.
Ham Gi-nam, cigarette dangling, barked nonstop at his workers. "Hey, Kim! Newbies gotta hustle—move it!"
-Sorry. Right away.
"And you, Gwang-seok? Gawking? Get moving!"
-Yes, sorry.
Mid-rant, Ham's eyes locked on someone. "Hey, Section Chief Cheon, you moron—been at this one day or a hundred? Where'd you park your age? Work like that?"
"................."
Cheon Dong-gwan couldn't challenge the boss. He let his pissed-off glare and silence speak.
Stuck together over twelve hours a day, they read faces like books.
Furious at Cheon's vibe, Ham stubbed his cig irritably and closed in. "Cheon, front and center."
"Yes, sir."
"Got a problem? Hate it? Then you be president."
"No, sir."
"Look like a sushi-munching Jap—why borrow from loan sharks, huh?"
".........."
Ham jabbed Cheon's gut with his finger. "Pissed? Pay up and bounce—or leave the wife and kids here and run solo."
"..........."
"Else, shape up. Want it in Japanese?"
"No, sir. I'll work hard."
"We're all just trying to eat, idiot—not hear 'sorry' from your Jap mouth."
Ham's inferiority complex ran deep. At 142cm, with a congenital hunch and scrawny frame, his back view screamed grade-schooler. Bullied since childhood, his resentment was off the charts. He dreaded disrespect most—hence the constant edginess, occasional violence, to project authority.
After chewing out Cheon for "disrespect," he couldn't hold back—kicked his shin full force.
"Sor... sorry."
"One more shit-face like that, you're done. Now scram and work."
A pulpable target, but untouchable. Cheon limped back, fists clenched.
"Damn Jap's glare pisses me off."
As Ham lit another cig, the youngest worker piped up. "Boss, car from Seoul incoming."
"No heads-up—what car?"
"Familiar one—looks like that lawyer."
Ham scrambled up a ladder for a peek. "Kid, sweep here quick! You, tidy the office—hurry!"
-Yes, boss.
Choi's sudden drop-in turned the factory into pandemonium. They swept furiously, hiding filth.
Soon, the car with Choi and Min-ho rolled up. Weak to the weak, cringing to the strong—that was Ham Gi-nam. He rubbed hands like a fly, hunching deeper to greet Choi.
"Aigoo, Lawyer Choi! Long time."
"Yeah."
"No call—what brings you all this way?"
"Gotta announce myself first?"
"No, no—don't be offended."
Min-ho knew Ham's type; contempt filled his gaze. Choi stayed polite, but hierarchy was clear.
"Just checking on staff."
"Of course—they're eating hearty, sleeping warm. Oh, who's this?"
Min-ho, claws sheathed, played nervous newbie—bowed 90 degrees. "New hire Lee Min-ho. Please take care of me."
"Rare for rookies to come here, but follow me. Tea?"
Per their script, Choi made an excuse to bail. "Gotta check workers. Be right back."
"I can guide you."
"No need."
"Right, as you wish."
Choi enunciated sharply for Ham's ears. "Lee here ain't a regular—treat him right. I'm stepping inside."
"Yes, sir—safe travels."
Choi nodded and vanished into the factory as promised.
Now, alone with Ham. Lawyer's out, but this newbie might take over... Better break him early.
Their seamless act convinced Ham Min-ho was legit fresh meat. To dominate the much younger-looking kid, he opened with a foot-check.
"Lee Min-ho, huh?"
"Yes."
"Handover gig? I got an eye—you'll be running this soon."
"Not sure yet."
Spit flew from crooked yellow teeth as Ham lit up. "Clueless newbie? Know what this place is?"
"Heard nothing."
Min-ho hammed it up, feigning ignorance despite knowing all.
"All I know: deadbeats who can't pay come here. True?"
Ham sighed long, bursting with tales. "You don't know the Viper."
"Viper? A name?"
"Our chairman—that old buzzard. Got bit, now I'm warped for life."
"Tell me more. Bosses never spill."
"Wet-behind-the-ears like you? What'd you know."
His arrogance scraped the sky. Min-ho slipped in a probe.
"You got debts too, boss?"
"What am I, scum? Paid mine ages ago. Skills too good—they begged me to stay."
Min-ho barely stifled a laugh at the bullshit. Ham topped it with "advice."
"Don't borrow shady—wait, do, but skip the Viper's."
"Got it. More on the chairman?"
"Viper's kid's no slouch either—Kang Du-seong..."
Once the dam broke, no stopping it. Clueless to his doom, Ham trashed the royals nonstop.
"Once begged to waive 100 won—he slapped on interest anyway. Like father, like son."
Min-ho and Choi overheard it all. At Kang Du-seong's name from that slime's mouth, Choi's face iced over. To him, Du-seong was a life-changer—untouchable grace. The unflappable lawyer snapped.
Min-ho nodded. Like a shot, Choi lunged, seized Ham's nape, hoisted him skyward.
Thunderstruck, Ham dangled, legs kicking, choking. "Young master—what's the play?"
Eyes bulging, Ham gawked at Min-ho. "Y-Young... master? No way..."
Choi called only one "young master": Chairman Kang's grandson.
To the flailing hunchback—like a cicada on an old tree—Min-ho smiled leisurely. "Ham, I've got a job for you. Cooperate."