Chapter 22
Chapter 22
“Casino?”
Andong Kim Clan Main House.
Kim Hyun-woo was straightening his robes in the mirror when the servant's report made his voice rise.
“Is that true?”
“Yes. The land's designated for a welfare facility, but it's definite. The building under construction in the central commercial district has that structure, and the shipments arriving at the surrounding warehouses...”
“Hah.”
Kim Hyun-woo cut the comm without needing to hear more. He recalled Kim Chang-un brushing past him earlier and twisted his lips in a sneer.
“I wondered what scheme that charity bullshit was hiding, and it turns out he's running a goddamn gambling den?”
Crawling in the dirt for pocket change like some beggar. Vulgar didn't even begin to cover it.
He shoved Chang-un from his mind.
“With enough power and authority, that kind of money's a dime a dozen anywhere.”
And he was living proof. Top-tier corporations lined up to sponsor him, yangban nobles begging to ally. He'd spent the reception ceremony weighing the entrepreneurs who'd sought him out, deciding whose backing to take. He mulled over the notable figures from noble houses he'd met at the face-to-face assembly, pondering who to weave into his plans.
It was all thanks to the aura he'd displayed there.
“Young master.”
Just as he sneered at Chang-un, his bodyguard Ho-cheol approached at the perfect moment.
“The guests you invited have all arrived. They're waiting at the reserved venue.”
“Any no-shows?”
“Young master Jo Seong-hwan of the Pungyang Jo Clan, and a few other noble sons. They cited 'prior engagements'... ”
“Hmm.”
People hedging their bets elsewhere. Jo Seong-hwan was likely the linchpin.
He held out the longest against me at the face-to-face assembly, so he figures he's got a shot.
And the root of that insolence? Probably that bitch who'd laid him low at the banquet. A lowly commoner wench humiliating him on the roadside—they'd think they could pull it off too. That must be their delusion.
“Pathetic worms.”
As he muttered, the auto-door sensed him and slid open with a low hum.
Whirr—!
Beyond the parting doors lay a banquet hall brimming with lavish decorations and food. Corporate execs and yangban who recognized him bowed their heads in respect.
“Thanks for coming, everyone.”
Kim Hyun-woo replied with a casual greeting and strode inside.
He'd summoned them not as the Andong Kim Clan, but as Kim Hyun-woo himself. He hadn't even told Great Lord Kim Jung-heon—it was a purely personal affair.
In other words, everyone here had come with full awareness of that fact.
They invested in my power and potential, not the clan prestige or Father's shadow.
Not Father's men, but his own—pure and simple.
As he scanned the gathered faces, a satisfied smile curved Kim Hyun-woo's lips.
Now it begins.
A secret he couldn't share with anyone yet.
But a mission he'd one day fulfill no matter what.
For his ambition.
Urgh!
The empty Pyeongun Inn, bereft of customers. I polished off a steaming bowl of seolleongtang and let out a groan of pure bliss.
Slurp—ahhh.
This is why we're Joseon folk!
“That Moo-young kid really trashed his mechanical arm, huh. How much to fix it? I've got a guy in the underlevels who knows his stuff—want an intro?”
“Oh, no! It's not expensive! Don't worry about it...”
“Nah, come on. We're in this big thing together—letting it slide would bum me out.”
Once I revealed my yangban status, Dol-soe—the guy guarding the door—got noticeably more deferential.
But he'd be wondering by now. After I smashed his arm, wrecked the surveillance cams, and barged in looking like trouble incarnate... why was I suddenly hunkered down in his inn, pounding seolleongtang?
Simple reason.
After hearing my pitch, the innkeeper had insisted, “Have a meal first, young master.”
Big score drops out of nowhere—she needed time to mull it over.
After a bit:
“You show up outta the blue with a deal this huge—it's like lightning from a clear sky.”
The innkeeper plunked down across from me, tray heaped with Korean melons.
“Some makgeolli for your bodyguard?”
“No, thank you.”
“Why not? Can't hold your liquor?”
“I don't drink on duty.”
“Well, aren't you the proper gentleman.”
A quick back-and-forth with Tae-woong beside me, then:
“So, what our young master means is...”
She filled a bowl to the brim with makgeolli from the jug she'd brought and dove into the real talk.
“You're gonna build a gambling house... for those high-and-mighty yangban up top?”
“Exactly.”
“In other words, you need my help with their money games?”
I bit into a melon slice from the tray.
“Can't run Joseon's biggest casino taking just anyone off the street. And I can't vet every single employee myself.”
“Even if you did hire 'em, who'd guarantee they're decent folk?”
“Bingo. That's why I want you running the new casino.”
Money buys people, sure. But anyone who's run even a corner shop knows: starting a business in unfamiliar turf with just cash? Possible, yeah. But the cost-benefit sucks.
Like any venture, people are the real headache.
Childhood friends you've known forever. Uncles you trust. Local bigwigs with pull. Networks built over years of vetting—that's 'connections.'
Park Bok-ja sitting across from me? She filled that gap perfectly.
Scattered across Hanseong were small-time gambling dens, and this 'innkeeper' controlled over half of them. A heavyweight.
“Don't wanna?”
“If I said no, you think my head stays on my shoulders?”
Her polite tone dripped with insolence. Not outright refusing, but clearly unenthused.
Fair enough. Name a commoner in Hanseong without a grudge against yangban.
Urgh—!
Park Bok-ja downed a full bowl of makgeolli in one go. Her complicated expression shifted, eyes gleaming as she stared me down.
“Just one question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why me?”
She pressed on.
“I run a decent gambling racket, sure, but plenty do business better than me.”
With my intel network, I could've gone to bigger outfits for an easier alliance—and raked in cash faster.
“Yet you drag your ass to this dive and hassle a nobody like me.”
Why this place, not somewhere else?
Simple.
I grabbed another melon slice.
“The orphanage right above us.”
“...!”
“You're the one footing the bill, right?”
My words hit, and the innkeeper's and Dol-soe's faces changed.
“Why bring up some random orphanage?”
Pure hostility. Confirming that eased my mind.
Just to poke once more:
“Just worried, is all. I know you're big in this scene, but... middleman fees and your buddies' gigs can't cover it alone, right?”
“Young master.”
I prodded just enough to irk, tying in the kids, and she snapped.
“If you're thinking of threatening that orphanage or the children as some kinda leverage...”
Unlike my casual tone, her voice addressing me was ice-cold.
“Sedao or not, I won't sit idle.”
Her face screamed murder beyond mere enmity.
Seeing it, I couldn't help but grin.
Yes. That's the reaction I wanted.
She knew charging me meant death, yet she bristled anyway.
Exactly the 'innkeeper' I'd met in my past life.
A lifetime in the underworld, knowing Joseon's dark underbelly better than most—yet clinging to her humanity.
The righteous soul butchered by yangban hands for protecting it.
Perfect for my venture.
“That's it exactly.”
“...Pardon?”
“That reaction you just showed? That's why.”
Some news outlet once reported a hundred thousand kids starving in Hanseong. The court's response after palace deliberations?
“New births this year number two hundred thousand, so no statistical issue.”
“Overheated birth rates resolving naturally.”
“No need to alter existing budgets.”
Truly heartwarming, right? And no one batted an eye—peak 22nd-century advanced Joseon.
With great officials personally tending to the masses like this, no wonder welfare and aid programs are a joke.
Yet in this hellhole Joseon, she's bankrolling an orphanage out of pocket? No support?
Only two kinds pull that off: lunatics, or suckers so naively kind it's insane.
And those naive suckers? Essential for my plans.
Park Bok-ja blinked in confusion. I handed her a data chip.
As her ocular scanner read the embedded code, her expression flickered wildly.
“This is...?”
“The real deal on the 'casino' you'll run.”
Operations plan, projected revenue. Salaries for her and her crew. Breakdown of where casino profits go, plus follow-up ventures.
She scanned it all, eyes twitching at the corners.
She'll clock it's no ordinary gig right away.
Before entering, I'd fried every cam and recorder in this place.
Why? Face too pretty to show? Nah, I wouldn't be munching melon otherwise.
The plan I'd handed over was way past "big score" territory.
Me casually savoring melon, flanked by two bodyguards.
She'd realize quick: I never planned to let her walk.
“If this plan pans out, young master, you're...”
She forced the words out.
“...plotting treason?”
“Treason? Don't throw around scary words like that.”
Yu Sang-hyun, this woman—why'd everyone paint me like the villain?
“I'm prepping a revolution.”