Sending Brother to His Grave (1)
Jung Ju-seong's face, which had erupted in a hearty laugh moments earlier, softened into a gentle smile. His tone grew calmer as the tension eased.
“My daughter will like that. Not because she’ll get pocket money, but because her suggestion was actually accepted.”
“You and your daughter have very different personalities, don’t you?”
“Haha, yes. She takes after her mother in both looks and personality. At school she’s always raising her hand during class meetings. This semester she even became class president.”
The way he beamed at the mere mention of his daughter confirmed I’d made the right call bringing the original handwritten letter from Jung Ji-eun.
“You don’t mind that she resembles her mother more than you?”
“Oh, not at all. It’s adorable watching her and imagining my wife must have been just like that as a child. She’s still young—she might show more of my traits as she grows.”
The tension that had stretched between us yesterday during our phone call about walking the dog had completely melted away. After a few more exchanges about Jung Ji-eun, I moved to the real purpose of the meeting.
“While investigating after receiving your daughter’s letter, I came across an unusual document. The title was ‘Ledger Regarding Transactions with Representative Director Kwon Je-gyun.’ Do you know anything about it?”
The moment I finished speaking, Jung Ju-seong’s smiling face snapped upward. His eyes locked onto mine, his expression hardening instantly. Had our earlier rapport over his daughter not existed, he looked ready to storm out on the spot. Fortunately, though he stammered, he didn’t shut the conversation down.
“H-how do you know about that, Team Leader?”
If I claimed it had appeared before my eyes while reading Jung Ji-eun’s letter, he obviously wouldn’t believe me. Sometimes a lie carries far more weight.
“When you work in the Audit Team, you end up learning all sorts of things. I only know the title, though, not the contents. That’s why I requested this meeting—to ask you directly.”
“It seems you already knew I was the one who created it.”
“Yes. That’s correct. I’d like you to share that document with me as well.”
At my blunt request, Jung Ju-seong shook his head.
“No. As I mentioned earlier, I have no desire to become a whistleblower. I don’t want to get on Representative Director Kwon Je-gyun’s bad side while he wields absolute power at QS FnB.”
“You’re mistaken about something.”
“Pardon?”
I was beginning to understand another aspect of Jung Ju-seong’s personality. The type who fixates on individual trees and misses the forest.
“QS FnB is still a subsidiary of the QS Group. Providing materials related to an affiliate at the request of the Central Management Headquarters isn’t whistleblowing. It would only become a problem if you leaked it to the press.”
“I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”
“There’s one more thing. Right now I’m meeting you as the Audit Team Leader of the Central Management Division, but in a few days I’ll officially be appointed as its Director. Between the Director of the Central Management Division—the second-highest position in the group—and Representative Director Kwon Je-gyun, who do you think holds more power?”
Jung Ju-seong drew a sharp breath, then nodded.
“Clearly the former.”
“Of course, I won’t abuse my authority just because you refused my request. Still, exchanging a small favor with me wouldn’t be a bad deal for you either.”
“A favor?”
Given that he was the kind of man who kept mental ledgers of every political exchange inside the company, I knew the word would land.
“Yes. In the long run we’ll maintain a relationship of mutual goodwill, and I believe I can offer you some immediate assistance as well.”
“What kind of assistance…?”
“While reading Jung Ji-eun’s letter, one part kept bothering me. At the very end she asked for help for her father and her family.”
At the mention of his daughter’s name once more, Jung Ju-seong’s expression melted—this time not with joy, but with sorrow.
“My daughter really said too much. Please don’t take the words of a child too seriously.”
“If she’s already worrying about family matters, it sounds like a remarkably mature thought. From the context of the letter, it seems to be a financial issue. Am I right?”
Jung Ju-seong let out a long sigh, as though setting something down.
“The truth is, my mother-in-law has been diagnosed with a serious illness. She’s currently hospitalized at Myeongnyun University Hospital. Surgery isn’t even an option, and the various chemotherapy drugs haven’t worked. The doctors mentioned that clinical trial results show there’s a drug that matches her cancer type exactly.”
“Is the medication expensive?”
“Yes. It’s an anticancer drug not yet covered by national health insurance, so the patient has to pay the full cost. The initial treatment costs around twenty million won, and if we go through the entire course, it’ll exceed one hundred million. For a salaried employee like me, that’s no small amount.”
One hundred million. Such a deceptively simple number. In corporate warfare it was merely the cost of a single bullet, yet for someone else it could mean the difference between life and death for a family member. Back when I lived as Kang Min-chan, the thought that having one hundred million won in my account would solve every problem had become a permanent fixture in my mind. Still, I was now fighting a corporate war, and that sum was truly nothing. It was a bargain price for the silver bullet that would annihilate the Kwon Je-gyun zombie in one shot.
“What if I covered your mother-in-law’s treatment costs?”
“Excuse me?”
“Exactly as I said. I can easily provide that amount as a gesture of goodwill. Since you said you won’t accept money from a colleague, how about we call it a loan? You don’t need to worry about repayment deadlines or interest.”
Perhaps Jung Ju-seong’s answer had already been decided the moment he first mentioned his hospitalized mother-in-law.
“…Thank you. I’ll repay it by working myself to the bone—not just for our company, but for the entire QS Group. And the ledger file you mentioned earlier… I’ll send it to you right now.”
“I’m grateful as well.”
Watching Jung Ju-seong wipe away the tears that had finally welled up and then pull out his tablet to transfer the file, I felt a sudden pang of envy. Family. Something I had never possessed in either of the lives I’d lived. As Kang Min-chan I had none at all, and even in Kwon Ho-gyun’s life they existed only on paper. Jung Ju-seong, who smiled automatically at the mention of his daughter and shed tears of gratitude when his mother-in-law could finally receive treatment, was probably living a far happier life than I was—regardless of power or money.
* * *
Back in the Director’s office, I opened the ledger file Jung Ju-seong had sent. The document that had appeared only in fragments yesterday now displayed in full on the screen.
Hah. That bastard Kwon Je-gyun had been skimming quite a lot. Thirty million won a year—nearly the annual salary of a new employee—over five years, he’d devoured a hundred and fifty million won of company funds. And that was only from the straw he’d stuck into Jung Ju-seong alone. Considering there were nearly a hundred executives across the fourteen subsidiaries under Je-gyun’s presidency, the total amount embezzled could easily reach the billions—or even tens of billions.
Once the full picture of the incident took shape through Jung Ju-seong’s ledger, the previously blurry sentencing section in the previewed verdict document became crystal clear.
Order. The defendant is sentenced to three years in prison.
Heh. A clean, actual prison term. The moment I revealed this evidence, Kwon Je-gyun’s life would plummet into the abyss.
* * *
A few days later, accompanied by Chief Secretary Han Seung-woo carrying an armful of documents, I headed toward the grand conference hall in QS Tower. Today marked the first board meeting I would chair as Director. It was also the day Kwon Je-gyun would fall by my hand.
Despite my protests that such formalities weren’t necessary, Han Seung-woo had insisted on proper protocol and deliberately arrived five minutes later than the scheduled time. When we entered the conference hall, the presidents of all fifty-one QS Group subsidiaries stood at attention instead of sitting, waiting to greet us. I didn’t particularly enjoy this sort of thing, yet the sheer authority of the QS Group Chairman pressed down on the room with tangible weight. Each person here would receive royal treatment anywhere in Korea—yet here they stood beneath an emperor.
Only after I took my seat at the center of the conference table did the other presidents follow suit. As per the prearranged order, Han Seung-woo spoke first before I officially opened the meeting.
“As previously announced, Chairman Kwon Byung-do’s health has temporarily declined, so effective today, Representative Attorney Kwon Ho-gyun of Law Firm Seungbaek will chair the board meeting. Also as announced, there must be no external disclosure regarding Chairman Kwon Byung-do’s temporary withdrawal from frontline duties.”
At that moment, Je-gyun abruptly cut in.
“Hold on. Law Firm Seungbaek or Seungbok or whatever it’s called—hasn’t it even been fully acquired by our subsidiaries yet? It’s already strange for its representative to attend a board meeting, let alone chair it.”
Hah. Even after seeing Father’s will that explicitly appointed me as chair, this was the nonsense he spewed. Han Seung-woo’s rebuttal followed.
“Since there were no objections to the notice, we intend to proceed as planned.”
“I didn’t voice an objection because I was speechless!”
“Representative Director Kwon Je-gyun!”
Unwilling to waste time on pointless arguments, I stepped in to mediate.
“Representative Director Kwon Je-gyun? Yes. The acquisition process for Law Firm Seungbaek’s shares by QS Co., Ltd. is still ongoing. However, I am not sitting here solely as Seungbaek’s representative attorney—I am also here as Director of the Central Management Division.”
“Since when has the Central Management Division attended board meetings?”
This was the moment the legal interpretation of the QS Group bylaws I had separately requested from Oh Il-mu would shine.
“Article 12, Paragraph 2 of the QS Group Bylaws states that team leaders and above from the Central Management Division may attend board meetings when necessary. Chairman Kwon Byung-do has always attended in his capacity as both Chairman and Director of the Central Management Division. It seems Representative Director Kwon Je-gyun was unaware of this fact.”
For an instant, Kwon Je-gyun, now exposed as someone ignorant of the group’s own bylaws, fell silent. Han Seung-woo continued with the procedural remarks.
“It appears there are no further objections to Director Kwon Ho-gyun chairing today’s meeting and all subsequent board meetings until Chairman Kwon Byung-do returns. From this point forward, Director Kwon Ho-gyun will preside over the agenda items scheduled for today’s meeting.”
With those words, Han Seung-woo—who had no official seat at the board meeting—distributed the materials he had brought and exited the conference hall. From here on, it was my time.