Crisis Strikes as Predicted
As expected, Hwang Sanggu wasn't a properly trained royal family bodyguard.
"Yakuza?"
"You saw it in the video you showed me, right? I've seen him around the shop."
According to Do Mingyu hyung, he was a well-known fist in a Gangnam-based organization.
"I was on the fence, so I asked Madam hyung. He knew all about it. Madam hyung has wide connections in that world."
"He didn't do anything shady? I heard he retired from pro fighting and came under the headquarters manager."
"He was a fighter, yeah. But he got kicked out for causing trouble, not retired. It's not even newsworthy, so civilians don't know."
"Chaebol third-gen and a gangster. Sounds like a movie."
"That's why I'm more worried."
"About what?"
"You. Off-the-books funds management—is that some ordinary position? You think the headquarters manager, who even has a gangster on payroll, will just say 'thanks for your hard work' and let you go when you submit your resignation?"
No way in hell.
"I know that much. That's why I'm gonna make him let me go quietly."
"How?"
The headquarters manager—Park Hyungpil—must have brought in gangster Hwang Sanggu to the company because he needed means beyond money and power. There are people in the world who don't bend to cash or authority, and that's when violence proves damn useful.
I've managed the slush funds for over two years, erasing every trace of illegality. They say I'm the first employee to handle the money this long without giving him any grief. But a guy like me just walking out? Forget the workload gap—he won't let someone who knows all his dirty secrets go free.
"This is the evidence of corruption I've gathered. The documents are just a fraction; I've scattered the files in several spots. From the investment firms and entertainment agencies he ran to a few personal companies—I've compiled every illegal act tied to the slush funds. If this drops, even a chaebol third-gen won't bury it easily."
"What the hell, this much slush fund? Isn't he chaebol third-gen?"
Do Mingyu hyung clicked his tongue at the scale.
"He has two competent older brothers who outclass him in management skills. He's in no position to dream of group succession. But he's too greedy to give up the seat. More money always helps in share battles."
"How you gonna use this evidence? You dropping it yourself?"
"Whistleblowers are at risk. Prosecutors won't protect you properly anyway."
A few years back, when the headquarters manager faced a prosecution probe for embezzlement, an internal whistleblower "suicided," and the investigation fizzled. Back then, I just thought it was one of those things, but now it reeks of foul play.
With money, power, and violent means at his disposal, staging a "suicide" would've been child's play for him.
"If that's true, you're not dealing with a boss—you're up against a yakuza or mafia crime syndicate. You sure you can get out unscathed?"
Mingyu hyung's worry wasn't empty fussing. No matter how useful I am, if the headquarters manager catches wind of my mindset, I'll be worrying about my life, not just my job.
"I'll time it and send it to his brothers."
"Wait, to Hyunsung Group?"
"Safer than leaking to prosecutors or media."
The Hyunsung Group brothers are infamous for bad blood. Side effect of cutthroat succession wars—and now the youngest is gearing up for a share fight with massive ammo.
"The eldest, top pick for next chairman, is hot-tempered with insane power lust. Chairman seat's almost vacant, and if he learns the baby bro's pulling this shit? He won't sit idle. This material lets him bury him legally—probably thrilled."
"Good plan, but will it go your way? Blood's still thicker than water."
"To them, the chairman seat trumps family ties. For Hyunsung Group's throne, they'll ditch brotherhood without blinking."
Of course, I had Plan B ready: a scoop-hungry reporter, or go full whistleblower if needed. But with Hyunsung's current mess, Plan B might not even be necessary.
"Not urgent yet, so I'll carve more escape routes. No one's around him to replace me right now anyway."
...That's what I thought—until my replacement showed up faster than expected.
"Kuh, fuck... you slut. So goddamn tight. Your pussy—why won't it loosen up, ngh."
—Slap slap, smack, thud
"Ngh, ngh, haat! H-headquarters manager! Harder... harder! Haaah... haaang...!"
The headquarters manager, with his office-wear fetish, was pistoning away in broad daylight. Fuck, at least lock the damn door properly. How many times now?
Bouncing tits spilling from a disheveled blouse, skirt half-off, high heels dangling from toes, garter belt loose and wild, crotchless panties ready for instant entry—this bitch armored in 200% headquarters manager-bait was Grace, hired as secretary a few months back.
Real name Lee Sinyoung, but he calls her by her English name from their overseas meet-cute. His "secretary" was really a fuck-on-demand role—usually burned through in a month or two.
Thought she'd be the same, but she lasted, satisfying him. Curious what her deal was, I checked her resume: Stanford MBA.
'What, she comes here to drain his dick after Stanford?'
Not doing it for fun—smelled like an agenda. Background check: U.S. college, investment firm gig, then JH Entertainment at his invite. Nothing special.
'Just a perfect fuck-buddy match?'
Fine if she eyed a marriage slot, but her pedigree and finance experience nagged. If she targeted his money pipeline, she could eye my spot. Hoped I was overthinking,
"Thanks to you, Miracle Planning runs itself now. Time to handle other companies. Got a few personal ones that suck. Wish they'd spin like Miracle."
"Miracle funds still need managing. Internal staff can't..."
"Don't worry. Hand it to Grace."
"Your secretary?"
"MBA, long investment firm stint. More experience than you. She'll adapt quick."
Couldn't say no to his "NO" phobia—nodded. Unexpected wildcard.
Knew he had more personal companies, but pocket-change compared to Miracle—ignored 'em.
Now tossing me hole-in-the-wall shops while giving the prime gig to crotchless-panty bitch? Years of your dirty work, and this is my payoff?
Her goal's clearly his vault. Slush funds ballooned under me—digit-shift bigger than years ago. Seducing him gets her plenty.
Miracle's just the start. Sideline me, then axe later. His whims could bring me back anytime. Her tight pussy grips him now, but won't last. Never seen anyone tire faster.
'Time to move. Hope no Plan B needed.'
Asked Mingyu hyung for more docs, started hunting Hyunsung Group contacts. Smooth sailing, and I'd ditch headquarters manager, go independent in months.
"Manager Song, hold up!"
Heading out, Hwang Sanggu chased to the parking lot. What the fuck does this prick want?
"Ha, fuck. You walk fast as hell. Wait a sec."
First meet, asked my age—switched to casual instantly. Does he know aging's the easiest shit in life? Nah, not the type to ponder.
"Yes, Manager Hwang. What's up?"
"This. Headquarters manager said give it to you."
Hands me a document envelope. Weird he'd send via Hwang, but can't refuse the boss.
"Open it, check contents. Gotta report back you confirmed."
Why check now? Ripped open—routine sales report, nothing special. Why sudden?
—Thud!
"Ugh!"
Solar plexus punch hit vicious. Exec spots are tucked away, out of sight. Timed it perfect, the bastard.
"I'm just following orders, so don't hate me. Shouldn't have fucked around."
Tanked first staggering, but second crushed. Pro fighter strength, no joke. Only headquarters manager orders this shit—did he sniff my plan? Gotta warn Mingyu hyung quick.
In the end, I crumpled to the floor and blacked out.