The Chairman's Choice
Now that he had found his successor, Chairman Kwon Byung-do's desire to step down as quickly as possible was unwavering. Even as his body gradually recovered, the illness had been severe enough that only now could the muscles in his face form natural expressions. Roughly a week after he had expressed his intention to hand over the chairmanship during his long conversation with Ho-gyun, he summoned reporters to his hospital room.
The press conference proceeded with his limbs immobile and his breathing dependent on a ventilator, broadcast live across the nation. The journalists had already been informed that the next master of the QS Group chairman's office would be announced, and breaking news banners flashed repeatedly on television screens.
— [Breaking News] Chairman Kwon Byung-do's illness confirmed; press conference from hospital room imminent
— [Breaking News] QS Group succession finalized today
— [Break News] QS Group's next chairman to be revealed shortly
Though it was two in the afternoon—a time when viewership was typically low—countless people across the country were glued to their televisions because of the monumental news. Among them, in a corner of the closed ward lounge, sat a man staring at the large TV screen with murderous eyes.
He knew rationally that his name could never appear in that broadcast. Even so, he could not erase the nervous flutter in his chest—the faint, foolish hope that perhaps, just perhaps. Kwon Je-gyun, the second son, clung to the delusion that with three sons in the family, his chance of being named successor was at least one in three.
The tedious time filled with panelists discussing the current state of the QS Group and speculating on the next chairman was finally drawing to a close. The moment was fast approaching when Chairman Kwon Byung-do's face would appear on screen and the name of his successor would leave his lips.
Another patient in the closed ward picked up the remote and changed the channel. He did not seem to have any particular channel in mind; he simply kept flipping upward without thought.
Crack.
In Je-gyun's mind, a blade shot forth and sliced the man into dozens of pieces. Hoo, whoo, hoo, hoo. Only after drawing several deep breaths to calm himself did Je-gyun approach the remote-control villain and speak quietly.
"I'm sorry. Could I borrow the remote for a moment?"
By now, everyone in the ward knew that Je-gyun was Chairman Kwon Byung-do's son. His reputation for punching other patients without provocation during the early days of his hospitalization and threatening to kill anyone he met outside was also well known. Whether he swung his fists again or wielded influence once released into society, both were entirely within Je-gyun's capabilities.
The remote-control villain realized his mistake and hurriedly handed the device over.
"Of course. Go ahead."
Je-gyun's mind was filled with the desire to turn the remote into a knife and stab the man, but he did not act on it. He knew all too well that if he wanted to escape this prison, he could not afford any incidents. Switching the TV back to the news channel, Je-gyun returned to his corner seat and glared at the screen with venomous eyes.
Chairman Kwon Byung-do now appeared on his hospital bed. Beside him, the spacious VIP room was packed wall-to-wall with reporters. The person controlling the situation alongside the security team was none other than Han Seung-woo, the chief secretary—someone whose face Je-gyun knew all too well.
"There will be no questions during today's press conference. Filming and recording are permitted at the chairman's discretion, but given his poor health, I ask that all journalists exercise restraint to prevent unnecessary disturbances. Anyone causing trouble will be escorted out immediately."
At Han Seung-woo's warning, the reporters clutching notebooks and pens nodded, and the cameras began rolling. The frame zoomed in on Chairman Kwon Byung-do's face. Following Han Seung-woo's cue, the chairman's mouth opened.
"I believe the chairman may speak now."
"As you can see, my body is in very poor condition. I have concluded that I can no longer lead the group in this state. I am already too old to contribute to the QS Group's—and by extension, our nation's—economic development. I have long considered a suitable successor, and today I wish to announce that person's name to you all."
"Who is it?!"
One hot-blooded reporter shouted despite the warning. At a single glance from Han Seung-woo, the man was silenced and dragged out by security.
"Yes. That person is my third son, Kwon Ho-gyun."
Upon hearing those words through the television, Je-gyun plunged into a state of panic. Could the chairman have misspoken, saying "third" instead of "second"? Had he misheard "Kwon Je-gyun" as "Kwon Ho-gyun"? Je-gyun stared at the screen, entertaining every possible delusion, but within less than a minute, despair etched itself across his face.
"First, I am transferring all of my shares in QS Co., Ltd. to my third son, Kwon Ho-gyun. According to the articles of incorporation, the largest shareholder of QS Co., Ltd. assumes the position of chairman of the QS Group. Therefore, from this moment onward, the chairman of the QS Group is not Kwon Byung-do, but Kwon Ho-gyun. I will no longer involve myself in company affairs, so if you have any difficulties, please direct your questions to him."
When the chairman added a remark that dripped with his genuine desire to rest, Je-gyun, still gripping the remote, pressed the power button firmly. He could not accept that he had been eliminated from the QS Group succession race, and that the winner was not his elder brother Seong-gyun, but Ho-gyun—the very man who used to wander the streets at night.
Turning off the television was the least he could do to resist. Of course, it was far from enough. The boiling rage within him stirred his intermittent explosive disorder. Just as he was about to hurl the remote to the floor, a woman's voice reached Kwon Je-gyun's ears.
"Mr. Kwon Je-gyun?"
Recognizing the voice, Je-gyun quickly looked at his own arm before meeting her eyes. Fortunately, he had only thought about throwing the remote; his elbow and shoulder had not moved. The woman who had just called him was his attending psychiatrist—the person who held the authority to decide his discharge. Je-gyun had sworn to himself tens of millions of times that he must never show anger in front of her.
Feeling the muscles in his arm, which had been tightly tensed and not yet relaxed, tremble, Je-gyun forced himself to answer the doctor as if nothing were wrong.
"Yes, Doctor."
The doctor sat in the chair beside him and asked in a gentle voice, "How have you been today?"
Honestly, today was a day when there were far too many people he wanted to kill—the remote-control villain, his father who had passed the chairmanship to his younger brother instead of him, Kwon Ho-gyun who had received it, and this doctor who kept refusing his discharge request. Even so, Je-gyun gathered every ounce of willpower in the universe, as if collecting a Spirit Bomb, and managed to produce a voice devoid of emotion.
"Every day here is the same. I ate breakfast and lunch well."
"That's good to hear. Have you been taking your medication properly?"
Je-gyun barely swallowed the words that he wished she would stop giving him the medication that made him feel like an idiot.
"Thanks to taking it consistently, I'm feeling much better. It's all thanks to you, Doctor. By the way, Doctor..."
"Yes, Mr. Kwon Je-gyun."
"I've been hospitalized for exactly three months today. I understand that involuntary hospitalization cannot legally exceed three months. Doesn't that mean I can be discharged now?"
A flicker of concern passed through the psychiatrist's eyes. What Je-gyun had just said was correct. There had been far too many cases in the past where involuntary psychiatric hospitalization had been used as a pretext for long-term human rights violations. As a result, the maximum consecutive period a person could be involuntarily hospitalized was limited to three months.
Just because the law set the hospitalization period at three months did not mean every illness would be cured in that time. The doctor knew that Je-gyun's condition was still far from good. She had seen countless patients put on an act to secure discharge, and it was not difficult to tell that Je-gyun was also performing with all his might.
If he is released like this, it will be dangerous.
That was the psychiatrist's honest professional judgment. However, she could not break the law, so different words left her mouth.
"That's right. I was planning to discuss your discharge today."
"That's the best news I've heard in a while."
"If you are discharged today, can you promise to follow my instructions?"
"Of course. What are they? Take my medication, live regularly, and... is there anything else?"
Medication and a regular lifestyle were merely supplementary measures. What Je-gyun needed now was a force that would prevent his outbursts of anger from escalating into extreme situations.
"I've already spoken with your guardian. You must never be separated from your wife. Do you understand?"
Preventing a psychiatric patient from having dangerous thoughts was extremely difficult, but simply having someone by their side significantly reduced the likelihood of those thoughts turning into actions. In the doctor's judgment, constant accompaniment by a guardian was the most necessary prescription for Je-gyun at this moment.
Je-gyun shrugged as if it were nothing and replied, "I'll do that. It looks like I'll finally get to spend some quality time with my wife after a long while."
"Yes. Congratulations on your discharge. If things ever become too difficult, please come back to the emergency room or outpatient clinic anytime. I'll give you my number, so you can call me directly if you need to."
It was extremely rare for a doctor to give a patient their personal contact information. That was how dangerous the doctor considered Je-gyun's condition to be. Even from the words he had just spoken, it was clear he was not engaging his own emotions at all—as if he were wearing another persona and having someone else speak for him. The thoughts he was forcibly suppressing behind that mask seemed far too likely to cause a major incident.
After finishing her consultation with Je-gyun and completing the paperwork for his discharge, the doctor handed him over to Kim Majin one final time before making a phone call somewhere.
"This is the first time I've contacted you after only receiving your number. I'm Oh Jin-young, the psychiatrist in charge of Mr. Kwon Je-gyun, your elder brother."
Ho-gyun's voice came through the phone.
"Hello. This is also my first time speaking with you after only saving your number. How is my brother doing?"
"He was doing well until just now, when he was discharged. As a lawyer, you would know better than I do, but there are legal limits to the period of involuntary hospitalization, so there was nothing I could do."
"The law must be followed. Thank you for everything."
"However, if it weren't for the legal issues, I truly believe Mr. Kwon Je-gyun should not have been discharged yet. His hostility toward you, Mr. Kwon Ho-gyun, did not seem to have diminished at all."
"I see. The law can be quite cruel in cases like this."
"In fact, it is also illegal for a doctor to share patient information with a third party like this, but I was too worried about the possibility of harm coming to you, Mr. Kwon Ho-gyun, so I decided to call. Please be careful on the streets, day or night, on main roads and in alleyways alike."
"Understood. Thank you."
After ending the call with Ho-gyun, the doctor sat down, rested her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands.