Rout
***
In Seongbuk-dong, Chairman Kang Jin-gwang paced restlessly, lighting cigarette after cigarette. He turned to gaze out the window, but neither Moon Sang-oh's car nor Min-ho's figure was anywhere in sight. His face etched with worry, he muttered to himself.
"They're way overdue... what the hell's keeping those fools? Hamhung chariot ride?"
He harbored not a shred of doubt about the outcome of Min-ho's negotiations. What piqued his curiosity was the fine print Min-ho had wielded. With full authority in hand, what trump card had Min-ho played to bend them to his will? That was the burning question.
Unable to sit still, the chairman clasped his hands behind his back and prowled the living room for what felt like ages. Finally, he flung open the curtains and fixed his eyes on the gate.
Just then, Moon Sang-oh's car pulled into view. Heart pounding, Kang Jin-gwang bolted to the front door in a flash.
The chairman stood fidgeting at the entrance. Moon Sang-oh, caught off guard by the unprecedented scene, kept his composure.
"We're back, sir."
"Good work. How'd it go?"
"Just as you predicted—a smooth negotiation."
"Of course, with my grandson at the helm. But how'd you cook those bastards?"
"Well, sir, as for the specifics..."
Moon Sang-oh was about to dive into the details when Min-ho's car appeared in the distance. The chairman's face lit up like a sunrise.
"Speak of the devil—he's here. I'll ask him myself."
"Understood, sir. I'll prepare dinner."
"Kimcheon already has it all laid out, as always. Take a breather—you've earned it."
"Yes, sir."
Kang Jin-gwang, who had been pining for Min-ho like a man starved, could wait no longer. He hastily slipped on his shoes, flung open the door, and charged outside barefoot.
Moon Sang-oh couldn't hide his shock at the surreal sight. The chairman had never once gone out to greet his four children, let alone the prime minister or assemblymen. Yet here he was, dashing out in his socks.
Moon Sang-oh crammed on his shoes and hurried after him.
The chairman's face beamed brighter than ever, opening the gate with the radiant grin of a child awaiting Christmas gifts.
Choi Jong-hoon, the lawyer, was equally stunned. He bowed deeply in greeting.
"Good evening, Chairman."
The words barely registered. The chairman's eyes were locked on Min-ho.
"I was about to die waiting."
"Anyone would think the president himself had arrived. It's freezing—why come out?"
"When my grandson shows up, my feet get itchy. Couldn't stay put."
"Flu season's brutal these days. Once you catch it, it lingers."
Min-ho shrugged off his coat and draped it over the chairman's shoulders.
"Dinner still on?"
"Soseonjae's grub is great, but nothing beats eating with you, Grandpa. Skipped everything to come straight here."
With that perfect mix of eye smiles, charm, and thoughtfulness, how could he not be utterly lovable? The chairman gripped his grandson's hand tight and quickened his pace.
"Knew you'd say that—Grandpa's got a feast ready. Come on in. Jong-hoon, you too—good work."
"Thank you, sir."
"You tense up every time like that, you won't last long. I don't bite—relax."
"Yes, sir."
"Alright, everyone inside."
They moved to the living room, where a massive table groaned under a spread of delicacies.
"You must all be starving. Dig in."
"Yes, sir."
"My grandson worked hard—eat up, and speak up if anything's missing."
"Got it, Grandpa. Thanks for the meal."
As the chairman raised his chopsticks, dinner began. Moon Sang-oh quietly followed suit, but he couldn't help marveling once more. The chairman was meticulously deboning a hairtail fish, placing the tender fillets into Min-ho's bowl.
No other grandchild, not even his four children, had ever witnessed such a sight. His eyes brimmed with adoration as he painstakingly removed every last bone, lest a tiny thorn prick his boy.
"Picked the freshest catch from Jeju just for you, grandson. Look at that shine, that heft—what do you think?"
"Never had real hairtail till now. This melts in your mouth."
It wasn't the fish melting in Min-ho's mouth—it was the chairman's heart. He barely touched his own meal, just watching filled him up.
"That good? Grandpa'll clean it perfect—eat up."
"It's delicious, but there's one issue."
"A bone? Sang-oh, grab my glasses."
"No, it's you not eating. Moon Sang-oh and Lawyer Choi can't dig in either."
The chairman glanced at their bowls. Sure enough, they were just holding their chopsticks, untouched. In his single-minded focus on his grandson, he'd forgotten his dignity as chairman.
"Eat, all of you."
He cleared his throat as if nothing happened and started eating. Min-ho quietly refilled his grandfather's glass from the decanter and got to the point.
"Straight to results: negotiations with the paper mills and ink supplier went off without a hitch."
The outcome was a given. What mattered to the chairman wasn't resolution, but the how.
He drained his glass and nodded.
"Stubborn bastards—how'd you win 'em over?"
Min-ho, armed with full proxy, had played a massive card—and answered nonchalantly.
"Offered low-interest loans."
"Handed parched dogs the whole well?"
"Yeah. Future funding covered, interest at just 30%."
"If they come demanding billions, that could hurt. Got a plan for that?"
"Their sales? Tops out at 20 billion max. Pocket change for you, Grandpa."
A simple, brilliant fix to their cash crunch. The chairman couldn't help but admire Min-ho's boldness.
"Seyoung Paper's infamous for rubber checks—even in Myeong-dong. Late ones, too."
"Big papers controlled their cash flow via sales dependency. Loosen that, and they'd bite our offer."
As the chairman pieced together Min-ho's strategy, his pulse quickened. He sipped water and probed gently.
"And if they said no? Contingencies?"
"Threatened to enter their market ourselves. Actual plans in place."
The chairman burst into booming laughter, pressing on.
"Join us, and we guard your neck—or else?"
"Exactly, Grandpa. No real choice. Didn't need to give one."
"A king doesn't haggle with vassals."
The chairman had lent Min-ho everything. Min-ho deployed just enough—not too much, not too little—sealing the deal cleanly. As chairman and grandfather, satisfaction was inevitable.
Suppressing a twitching smile, he continued.
"The factories are the issue. Cut off from papers, sales tank. Your fix?"
"More Times first. Met Athena's president today."
Min-ho dropped Athena casually. Moon Sang-oh and Choi flinched—they knew Min-ho owned it outright—but said nothing.
The chairman nodded with a smile.
"What'd that president say?"
"More Times circulation's exploding. Adding evening edition, weekly, econ paper."
"Keeps their revenue steady. With us backing, it's like ten thousand troops to them."
This alone pleased the chairman immensely. But Min-ho, sword drawn, wasn't stopping.
"That enough for you, Grandpa?"
"No need to belabor it. They'll be dead in the water, stomping around helpless—music to my eyes."
Min-ho's grin faded to solemnity.
"They rebelled, smeared the king's face. Don't they owe their heads? Fair's fair."
Min-ho laid out the next masterstroke in detail.
***
Min-ho always went one step further—even beyond what the chairman could dream. Unable to contain his joy, he let out a laugh that shook Seongbuk-dong.
"Thanks to you, grandson, Grandpa might not last much longer."
He gulped the water Moon Sang-oh offered, but the laughter lingered. Finally catching his breath, he spoke.
"You're saying acquire Seyoung Paper?"
"Uproot 'em now, or this repeats."
"Sages said it: half-measures breed fiercer revenge."
"Papers don't pay quick, but control them, and we steer wherever you want."
"The cash we already handed them? Makes it a bargain."
Nodding as he tallied it up, the chairman smiled in approval.
"Acquire Seyoung—fine. But the other two won't sit idle. Your counter?"
"Printing halts, sales plummet immediately. They cough up ad fees too."
"They'll suffer awhile."
"For Minguo and Dongyoung—can't acquire them, so double paper and ink prices. Barely enough to survive."
The chairman grinned at Min-ho's airtight plan.
"Swapping vassal and king, eh?"
"Eat mustard tears or build their own mills. Choice is obvious."
"Guest squat in the master room, even old houses lose their creed."
"No more IOUs. Grateful just for paper supply."
"No complaints possible. One wrong swing, and they get wrecked by my grandson."
Not done yet. Min-ho knew the media ecosystem inside out, predicting their countermove.
"They won't stay quiet."
"Fingering the hilt again?"
"No—scramble for survival post-assessment."
"Survival path..."
Min-ho smiled slyly.
"They'll realize they got nothing. Then..."
"You're killing me, boy."
"Kneel here, beg mercy. Only way out."
Min-ho had sealed every escape for the big three dailies. Surrender, assets and all, was their sole lifeline.
The intrigued chairman pressed.
"If they do? What then, Min-ho?"
"Split the hyena pack, and they never charge the lion."
"Another ace up your sleeve."
"Seyoung, Minguo, Dongyoung—tied by marriage and swaps. Exploit the shares."
The chairman set down his glass, rummaging memory.
"Minguo holds about 10% of Seyoung, Dongyoung 8%."
"Demand they hand over all Seyoung stakes."
"In exchange for paper and ink?"
"To survive, they spit 'em out. Alliance crumbles, dog-eat-dog."
A crystal-clear strike at the vitals. Money and blood bound the trio. Blood was fixed, but cash ties could fracture.
Snag Seyoung—the biggest paper—and kneecap the rest, and JK Group owns Korea's top media outlet overnight. With Min-ho's More Times in support, public opinion bends to their will.
No one could stop it—an unstoppable march.
Grasping the grand vision, the chairman nodded with a smile.