Chaebol Games: Hanging Out with the Bad Friend
A while back, I mentioned having two friends. One is Lee Tae-min, who fell into gambling addiction and denial after his family went bankrupt—he's the rice-munching son of Seong Yu-ra, who used to be a middle-class housewife but now wears a collar stamped with my name as my housekeeper. The other guy's the total opposite. A fellow chaebol heir, but way more of a hopeless fuckup than me, and as an only son, his family covers for whatever insane shit he pulls. An Dong-gyu, heir to the 19th-ranked chaebol group, Cheongsong Holdings.
Clink!
"Yo! Drink up, drink up! Let's pound 'em till our guts flip inside out tonight!"
"Have you ever not gotten blackout drunk when I invite you...?"
He neatly ignores my jab and pours booze like it's going out of style. High-end whiskey sloshed into any old glass, gulped-gulp like it's rice porridge. On a good day, anyone else would sip that pricey stuff delicately, but with two girls flanking him, he's spilling it everywhere as he chugs.
In the pitch-black room where you can't even see the clock ticking on your wrist. This lounge caters to top lawyers and doctors at minimum—push further, and even hot celebrities drop by. But their VIPs are the corporate fat cats holding the cash flow. And the guy who's rented out the whole place? An Dong-gyu.
Judging by looks, his face is average at best—below average, really. Short and scrawny compared to most, yet girls never stop buzzing around him.
"Oppa, you're so strong with your liquor♡"
"Feels like we're going hard tonight—should I order another bottle?"
The reason's obvious. Money. Pretty bitches zeroing in on a guy's wallet like heat-seeking missiles. Honeybees swarming for that sweet drip of cash, dreaming of hitting the jackpot.
Damn, how many bills did he stuff between those tits for her to not even glance my way?
I smirked as I watched. Sure, I'm a chaebol son too, but my position's different now. Word's out that inheritance wrapped up ages ago, and all I got was one puny affiliate—a total nothing burger. Not chump change by any means, but next to An Dong-gyu, the confirmed lotto winner inheriting a multi-trillion-won empire, the gap's glaring. A true fuckup heir.
"Long time no see, so you're sticking around to party all night, right?"
That's why they lose their shit over him. Spot an empty spot next to the future chairman, and the lounge girls start fantasizing.
What a delusional pipe dream.
Pathetic sight. And no, I wasn't jealous of the treatment. I'd leapfrog him soon enough anyway. Plus, his family's in pharma—drug peddlers, not competitors. I see him purely as a friend. Doesn't give a damn about business himself.
"Hey, why aren't you drinking?"
"Huh?"
I'd just been holding my glass without touching it, so he calls me out. Under the club's sleazy pink mood lighting, I stare at the booze—color indiscernible anyway—and shove it aside. No appeal.
"Nah. Cutting back on alcohol. Quit smoking too."
"...You lost your mind? Wait, you starting drugs or what?"
"Fuck off, you wanna say that, coming from the pharma heir slinging supplements?"
I hit him with a curseball, then he strokes my side playfully.
"Fatty liver. Doc said it's bad on the last checkup."
"Pfft!"
He bursts out with a weird snort, spilling booze from his mouth. Pricey whiskey dripping? The two lounge girls whip out handkerchiefs and dab him clean.
Ever since possessing this body, Cha Do-yeon's flesh was a walking disaster. So indulgent in every vice, it was a portable hospital—had to ditch a few bad habits. Felt like hitting the lotto, sure, but what a restricted meat suit.
Who the hell finds another guy's chronic illness funny? My buddy's giggling like an idiot.
"Dude, you've been weird lately. Dragging your ass to the office every damn day."
"Owner showing up to his own company weird?"
"Your character's changed! No way you were this diligent before. Got some goal or shit?"
"......"
An Dong-gyu tosses the half-assed question and downs his drink. If it's a goal, no brainer—family. And those cute sisters from her belly. Especially Cha Hwa-ryeon, who stabbed me in the back. I'm sharpening my blade for her. If things go to plan, her lifeline's mine soon.
"Anyway, no booze for me."
"Hey, if you're not drinking, why'd you even come?"
"You called me. ...Or is there some other reason?"
His eyes sharpen seriously at my question. But he steels himself, holds his breath—then deflates with a mocking grin my way.
"Nah? Without booze, what else do I got? Just called to drink together."
"Sigh..."
Idiot stuck in a loop. Hanging with this fuckup makes me feel dumber by the minute, so I get up to bounce. He called while I was passing by—thought maybe something was up. Nope, just girls and booze as expected. No point lingering. As I lift my ass,
"Hey, wanna have fun with girls then?"
My ears perk up. Frozen mid-stand, I mull it for three seconds, then rewind to the sofa.
I clear my throat awkwardly and ask,
"What... you got something new?"
Awkward question, and he flashes yellowed teeth under the lights.
"Dude, quit everything but you ain't quit fucking, huh."
For a guy, giving that up ends the game. I vibe agreement, and he shoos the girls pouring his drinks. They'd already milked plenty of booze money, but losing their spot? They pout in regret and bail.
Now alone in the VVIP room, he chugs again, tongue lolling sloppily.
"Strip game with girls—whaddya think?"
"...Strip game?"
Expected some fresh fun, instant letdown. I glare at An Dong-gyu—my buddy Dong-gyu—like he's nuts.
"Those chicks glued to you earlier? They were properly dressed?"
Skirts so short you see panties clear as day. Call 'em hookers. Any halfway pretty lounge girl sheds undies and spreads for decent cash.
Dong-gyu winces at the point.
"Heh! Can't compare to basic lounge sluts."
"Then what's different?"
"Handpicked the hottest ones today. All young, fuckable kids, obviously."
Pharma heir through and through, hawking pills—but the more he spills, the more it sounds like scam bait. Hooking fresh grads for fucks was daily routine for us anyway. But he's not done, scooting his ass closer,
"You watch any hot YouTubers lately?"
"No time."
Post-possession, news if anything—zero SNS or vids. Haven't even opened apps. Too busy living real life.
"Dude, everything's going viral these days. Anyway, kids nowadays? Flooding this scene, overflowing."
"So?"
"Sigh... still clueless? Cute faces thinking they'll blow up—or clawing to make it but bombing out. Bad endings everywhere, crashing into reality."
He cackles. What's so fun about others' fails?
"Saw those lounge bitches earlier? Stuff their wallets fat, and they don't even say thanks. Sneak water in drinks to milk more."
"......"
A bit surprised. Thought he was just a cash-dumping mark, but he's got some monkey-level math.
"So this time, rounded up dream-chasers who crashed hard. Cash-starved ones. Stuff 'em generous for one night, they'll do anything."
Sounds mildly tempting. Cutting booze and girls meant spare cash burning a hole anyway.
"Where are these girls now?"
"Why'd I call you? Got 'em waiting. Yo, come in!"
He hollers outside. Moments later, six tense girls file in one by one.
......
Hands clasped demurely, standing prim—kids who scream out of place here, eyeing us nervously in a row. Mood lighting's dim, but faces hold up fine. Makeup all over the map, outfits too: modded school uniforms, safe hot pants with crop tops, black boots and barely-there knit skirt, flashy idol stage gear, Dongtan dress, even a maid costume.
"Ah, hello! It's an honor to serve the chairmen!"
The first in the school uniform steps up awkwardly with a bow.
They introduce one by one—jobs and sob stories all over: BJ in debt doing cam shows, once-famous influencer who tanked investments, college kid needing tuition, etc.
"Th-this is weird! B-but... whatever you say, I'll work hard!"
"""We'll work hard!"""
Different plights, same goal. No hiding their cash desperation. Dreams on glittering stages, harsh reality backstage after the curtain falls.
Hmm...
Setting aside the rest, the sincerity in their eyes was intriguing. Girls fidgeting desperately? I sink back into the sofa.
Accomplished some work lately— this kinda indulgence sounds good.
Reading my intent on my face, Dong-gyu drains his glass.
Watching, he tosses out a bet to rile the bitches.
"Gotta see real cash for the vibe—how 'bout a hundred million won each in bills?"
!!!
They snap to attention on cue.
"Dude, working hard means you're flush? Okay, hundred mil each tonight!"
We order a hundred million won fetched ASAP. Meanwhile, the toys before us strike prime pussy-attention stance for the big-spending studs.
......♥
Expectant eyes glowing bright. Hands clasped sweet, bodies squirming—like begging to be toyed with already.