The Chaebol Family's Youngest Grandson (2)
“Haa...”
“Huh.”
The moment Ha Taewoong’s figure vanished, the people left behind let out heavy breaths in near unison. A single high school student had left them gasping for air.
Damn it! Who the hell did she think she was trying to kill!
Principal Ahn Jonguk fixed a freezing stare on Jo Huijeong, the nouveau-riche wife thrashing about like a duck trying to swim with the true upper class. She had scattered bribes in every direction just to snatch a seat on the parent association board. The principal himself had accepted department-store gift certificates and several dinner invitations from her. As a real-estate magnate’s wife she spent freely, so he had expected something worthwhile. Instead he had grabbed a filthy, rotting rope.
“Teacher Park Donggeun.”
“Y-yes? Yes, Principal.”
Park Donggeun, half out of his mind, jumped at the summons.
“Was there any other incident before you came to the principal’s office?”
“Well... nothing particular...”
The recording of earlier events began to play through the lawyer’s phone, every word of Park’s abuse and the punches he had thrown ringing out with brutal clarity alongside Ha Taewoong’s calm replies.
“You worthless piece of shit. You dare treat a teacher’s words like dog shit?”
“I told you I was recording.”
“Recording? So what the hell can a little bastard like you do with that?”
“I’ll try everything I can.”
“A Sabaeja punk putting on airs!”
“Heh.”
“Did you just laugh?”
“It isn’t something to cry about, is it?”
“You little—!!”
Whoosh—
“Huh? You—y-you dodged?”
“I’m warning you. Throw one more punch and I will counter in self-defense.”
Park Donggeun’s face collapsed into something hideous the instant the playback ended.
“Teacher Park!!”
The principal’s roar—rarely heard from him—exploded across the room. Irrefutable evidence sat in the lawyer’s hand, transferred straight from Ha Taewoong. If this leaked to the press the way the boy had threatened, they were all finished.
The principal’s complexion turned ashen; his stomach churned violently. They had locked a lion cub they should never have touched inside a cage and tormented it.
“Principal, how do you intend to handle this?”
A chill rolled off Lee Gyeongja, the treasurer. She at least had been granted a second chance by Ha Taewoong; the matter had to be settled without further angering him.
“I will convene a faculty disciplinary committee.”
“If it were up to me...”
Her eyes slid toward Park Donggeun while her mind raced to dump every scrap of blame on him.
“He should be suspended for at least six months.”
“That will be arranged.”
“Ugh...”
A groan escaped Park. He squeezed his eyes shut. Ha Taewoong had been a Sabaeja—someone he could trample without consequence. That complacency had just ruined him. The promotion he had counted on was gone. Six months of unpaid suspension meant his entire salary would be docked.
“The real core is the criminal settlement. How do you all propose to resolve it?”
Kim Jeongryul settled onto the sofa, drew a business card from his wallet, and laid it in the center of the table. His gaze locked on Jo Huijeong.
She had been shrinking into herself; now she looked up.
“Today’s incident was spontaneous. It doesn’t need to become a criminal case, does it? Ha Taewoong struck my daughter’s cheek as well...”
“If this is how you respond even when given a chance, are you prepared for what follows?”
His voice was ice, utterly devoid of emotion.
“Mrs. Jo, what on earth are you doing? Because of you the principal and even I are getting splashed!”
Lee Gyeongja’s face flushed as her voice rose. Law Firm Jeongryul might be mid-sized, but it carried real weight in Seocho-dong. Nearly every attorney was a former criminal prosecutor; in criminal matters they rivaled the mega-firms. They also served as legal counsel for the foundation funded by Haryun Group. The instant Kim Jeongryul had addressed Ha Taewoong as “young master,” the entire game had ended. The matter needed to be buried at once—yet Jo Huijeong still failed to grasp her place and kept flapping her mouth.
“I-I’m sorry. But...”
“Shut up!!”
Lee Gyeongja barked at the woman still trying to excuse herself. There was no room left for dignity or refinement.
Jo Huijeong bit her lip until blood welled.
“Senior.”
“This is an official setting.”
“Yes... Attorney.”
Kim Jeongryul’s rigid principles had kicked in. Lee Gyeongja had slipped for a moment, but everyone in the profession knew him as a stickler. She had met him a few times privately; her own husband, a fellow Seoguk University law graduate who held both attorney and CPA licenses, always introduced Kim as “senior” and treated him with open caution. The man was the sort of fiery club senior who would swing a prosecutor’s sword even at a president’s son if justice demanded it. Word of today’s events must never reach her husband.
“We’re all busy. Let’s settle this simply.”
Kim Jeongryul spoke first, face as expressionless as ever. It looked like negotiation; it felt like a decree.
“The settlement for the assault on Young Master Ha Taewoong is five hundred million won.”
Jo Huijeong’s eyes flew wide. Not tens of millions—hundreds of millions.
“And another five hundred million for the continuous school violence your daughter has inflicted on other students.”
“Five hundred million?”
She doubted her ears. Even as a real-estate magnate’s wife, her husband did not keep that kind of cash on hand.
“That figure is after tax.”
“Tax as well? Attorney, this kind of settlement...”
“Shall I report it to the chairman?”
Kim Jeongryul regarded her over his glasses.
“Hic—”
A startled hiccup burst from her. No matter how high she put on airs, her true level was still that of a commoner.
“Trial is fine if you prefer. But once the media gets involved, money will be the least of your problems.”
The threat landed with crushing weight. Her husband’s borderline-legal business could be exposed. In an age when YouTubers prowled for scandals, the upper class already walked carefully; a public flaying now would bring the full weight of public opinion down on their heads.
“You know Chairman Ha’s temperament. Once he decides someone is an enemy, he leaves no room.”
Kim delivered the final blow.
“I-I’ll do it! I’ll settle!!”
Jo Huijeong waved her hands frantically. On second thought it was cheap—the price of striking the youngest grandson of a chaebol house. One billion won was a bargain.
“Then I will draft the settlement agreement at once. Everyone present will sign as witnesses.”
He produced papers already prepared.
Those who had been watching in stunned silence finally came back to themselves. They had clearly been bewitched by a goblin. Scratch, scratch—the attorney filled out a one-billion-won settlement form right before their eyes.
A tiger cub, is he...
As he wrote, Kim Jeongryul thought of his client—the youngest grandson of Han Okja, the woman to whom he owed everything. Her youngest son had defied the match arranged by the Ha family and been cast out penniless. Among the cutthroat people of Haryun Group she had been the only one who still seemed human. The scholarship foundation she inherited early from her father-in-law she had built into something solid, fully supporting gifted students whose poverty would otherwise have barred them from higher education. With her help Kim had entered Seoguk University’s law department and risen all the way to prosecutor. He had lived as a true prosecutor, swinging the sword for justice—though that had limited how far he could climb. Even with Haryun’s support he could never become Prosecutor General. It did not matter. He and a group of like-minded juniors had founded their own firm and continued, in their small way, to serve the world.
Han Okja had passed away recently—a second mother who had opened the next chapter of his life. He had calmly executed her will. In the process he had once again confirmed the nature of the Ha clan: utterly ruthless. A chaebol group had interfered even with the execution of a modest bequest and resorted to methods no human being should ever use. The deliberate traffic accident that nearly killed him had almost certainly been arranged by the group’s secretarial team—punishment for refusing to obey. There was no hard evidence, only the certainty of long experience. He had survived, but with a permanent disability. Had he died, this moment would never have existed. Fear had gripped him, yet he had recovered enough to finish the will. That had been only yesterday.
He had never expected to see Ha Taewoong again so soon. From what he had known, the boy was timid. Face-to-face, the rumors proved completely wrong. The young man understood how things worked. His handling of matters was meticulous and refined far beyond his years; he read people, knew exactly how hard to push and when to yield. He carried the scent of a veteran who had spent more than a decade rolling through society and had mastered the art of the push-and-pull. He was especially skilled at flipping disadvantageous situations. He had cleverly dragged both Haryun Group and his grandfather—with whom he had had no contact—into the fray. Around noon he had sent a video, requested representation, and appointed Kim as counsel with a single polite request: Please come to the school at once if I call. The firm was not far from Cheonghwa High. The settlement figures themselves had been set by Ha Taewoong.
Kim found himself intrigued. The boy had not flinched when Kim used an unagreed title; he had simply accepted it. And he had extracted one billion won with almost casual ease. Korea’s upper class, no matter how much money they already held, always lusted for more—and were stingy with human feeling in equal measure. Ha Taewoong had lawfully terrified them into paying.
This is going to be interesting.
A thrill ran through Kim. The people sitting demurely before him were not people even he could casually offend. Yet Ha Taewoong had placed them on the board he himself had designed and moved them exactly as he pleased with words alone.
“Read the settlement, write your names in clear block letters, and sign.”
He pushed the completed form across.
“The settlement money is to be deposited immediately.”
“I-immediately?”
“Surely you have that much capacity.”
“...”
“You don’t? And yet you laid hands on the young master?”
Jo Huijeong was thoroughly flustered. How many people in Korea kept a billion won in cash, and how many could liquidate that sum overnight?
“If it’s short... I’ll make up the difference.”
Lee Gyeongja wanted the matter closed just as badly.
“One more thing.”
Kim’s gaze swept over the principal and the teachers.
“If a single word of today’s unsavory incident leaves this room... you will all bear the consequences of whatever follows.”
He did not forget the final threat disguised as a request—the one condition Ha Taewoong had insisted be confirmed. Clever. The boy’s field of vision was impossibly wide for a high-school student. If word spread, the old scandal of the Ha family’s cast-out youngest son would surface again: the son of the discarded son, every buried story dragged into the light. Silencing them was simply thorough workmanship.
Kim found himself looking forward, with genuine anticipation, to whatever came next with Ha Taewoong.