Cleaning House in the Debenzer Family (2)

Henry's jaw dropped the moment he opened the report Joshua handed him. The sheer thickness of the document bundle was ominous enough, but the numbers written inside were even more ridiculous. 'Does this even make sense for 1979? Nine hundred people living on this estate alone?'

This wasn't a family. It was a small city. Originally there had been over a thousand, but the younger generation had moved out to the cities, reducing the number to a mere nine hundred. Henry's mental calculator screamed as it spun. If there were this many people just inside the mansion grounds, adding in the networks and retainers operating on the outskirts would easily push the total into the thousands.

'Ah, I'm screwed. When the hell am I supposed to meet all these people?'

The interview plan he'd thought would take a day or two was already creaking before it even started. If he sat down for tea and conversation with each one, he'd spend the entire 1980s just saying hello instead of getting any actual business done.

But the cunning Henry quickly came up with a scheme.

'Right. I'll go out into the field myself. Stamp my face around the workplaces once each, then call in only the mid-level managers for separate meetings. That way I can wrap this up at light speed.'

The fact that Henry—a staunch safety-first advocate—had made such a bold decision to venture outside was because he had a reliable safety net. That safety net was Joshua, who might look like the head of the security team on the surface but was, deep down, Henry's 'precious spare life' and had zero intention of letting him step into danger.

Henry stood up and stretched.

'I'll find Bart and coordinate the schedule. While I'm at it, I should take a proper look around this massive fortress. It's my land, after all. I need to know what's where.'

The next morning, Henry finally tasted the true flavor of being possessed as a chaebol heir.

He enjoyed a refreshing morning swim in the indoor pool, then sweated out yesterday's fatigue in his private sauna. The highlight was the Roman-style bathhouse. After washing in a tub larger and more luxurious than most major public bathhouses from his previous life, a dedicated chef in the first-floor dining room immediately served dishes perfectly tailored to the original owner's palate.

'I'll have to talk about changing this later. It's too salty.' Even as he thought that, he ate with gusto.

'Wow... I should've come out of my room sooner. This is how people are supposed to live.'

It was such luxury that he regretted all the time he'd spent moldering away in his room wrestling with documents. Of course, all this leisure stemmed from the comfort of the Spare Life system that assured him he had a backup even if he died.

Henry cheered inwardly. Long live the spare bodies! Long live the system!

However, the mansion exploration that had begun at lunch yesterday had hit an unexpected snag and was temporarily suspended. Despite diligently trudging around until late at night, he still hadn't managed to see the entire house.

Yesterday, Henry had run into Bart in the hallway and used a sly excuse: "It's been six years since I returned, so the house feels unfamiliar. Now that I have an eye for things, I'd like to take a proper look around. Could you be my guide?"

But maintaining his expression throughout the tour had been pure torture. On the surface, he kept up the calm demeanor of a 'dignified family head,' but inside, screams of shock never stopped.

'Is this a house or a museum?'

As soon as he stepped inside, a ceiling that soared three stories high greeted Henry. A massive fresco depicted the eastern seaboard of America as it was in 1776. Above the family estate in northern Westchester, New York, the Debenzer family crest of crossed swords and shield was inlaid with exquisite gold leaf.

"This painting is a Renaissance still life, and over there is an Impressionist landscape. Madam particularly cherished..."

Bart enthusiastically explained the masterpieces lining the walls, but to Henry, who knew nothing about art, it all just sounded like 'expensive noise.'

'One of those frames probably costs as much as an entire building in Manhattan. Better not drool on them.'

In the most prominent spot hung a historical painting capturing the moment an ancestor signed the Declaration of Independence. Bart recited the family history with solemn reverence, but Henry simply stared blankly at the painting. He was far more curious about its auction value than any notion of honor.

In the center of the living room stretched a luxurious Y-shaped marble staircase straight out of a movie. From Henry's perspective, it was the most inefficient design possible for going up and down. Flanking the stairs were the golden Grand Ballroom—large enough for three hundred people to dance at once—and a massive dining room with a sixty-person long table.

On the second floor was the largest space in the mansion: the grand library. To Henry, it felt less like a study and more like a library combined with a museum. Behind bulletproof glass cases were displayed a first edition of Thomas Paine's Common Sense and a draft copy of the Constitution personally corrected by the Founding Fathers.

Bart's voice carried clear pride, but Henry's attention was elsewhere.

'Oh, this is interesting.'

When he pulled a specific book from the shelf, the wall opened to reveal a secret passage. Henry's eyes sparkled, but his excitement quickly died when he learned it only connected to the mansion security team's situation room.

'What the hell? I thought it'd lead to a vault or an escape route... Guess it got repurposed at some point?'

Elsewhere on the second floor were twenty guest rooms for state-level VIPs and the family head's exclusive Master Suite. The Master Suite was practically a house within a house, complete with a living room, office, dressing room, and enormous bathroom ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in addition to the bedroom.

"When would you like to move into the Master Suite?" Bart asked.

Henry nodded. The room he was currently using was luxurious enough, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but from a safety-first perspective, the family head's private quarters—with their thorough security and concentrated amenities—were far superior.

"I'll move in as soon as it's ready."

The third floor, which Bart called the 'amenity floor,' Henry considered the 'entertainment floor.' After passing a fifty-seat private movie theater decorated in 1920s Art Deco style, there was a vintage cigar lounge and a private bar. The crowning glory was the indoor pool and spa facilities where one could swim beneath a glass dome ceiling bathed in sunlight. There was also an observatory near the bell tower, a trophy room displaying the family's glory, and an endless prop warehouse.

Henry was gradually starting to feel that this mansion was less a house and more like an entire city.

"This is the wine cellar. In addition to wines produced at the estate's own winery, it stores several thousand bottles of vintage wine mainly imported from Europe."

At Bart's nonchalant explanation, Henry was at a loss for words.

'They have a separate winery, and they're still buying this much on top of that? These people must have spent their lives worrying about where to spend all their money...'

The atmosphere in the deepest part of the basement was completely different. There was a dedicated corridor leading to living quarters for dozens of staff, along with the security team's situation room boasting ironclad protection.

But what instantly captured Henry's attention was the space beyond the massive steel door.

A huge underground bunker built in preparation for nuclear war with the Soviet Union. In 1979, it was a place where the tension of the Cold War could be felt on the skin.

'For a safety-first guy like me, there's no more perfect option. There's no way a nuke will actually fall, but you never know with people, right? If something crazy like a zombie outbreak or a gate opening happens like in those novels, this will be my final stronghold.'

The environment was so perfect that he even had an ominous premonition that this wouldn't end as a simple American conglomerate story—there would probably be at least one unrealistic event mixed in.

It took a full day just to make one complete circuit of the mansion interior. By the time he finished, darkness had settled thickly outside the windows.

Henry massaged his aching legs and gave Bart his instructions.

"Bart, adjust the interview schedule. Having people come to the office is inefficient. Starting tomorrow, I'll go out into the field myself. I'll inspect the sites and see with my own eyes how they work."

"A wise decision, Henry."

Henry threw himself onto the bed and sketched out tomorrow's route in his mind. A 6,000-acre estate and the nine hundred family members living within it. Though the family was like a vintage wine bottle—shiny on the outside but slightly hollow inside—the thought of everything he now possessed made a grin creep across his face.

All morning, Henry was buried in the mountain of documents Bart had prepared. Four hours was nowhere near enough time to grasp the family's current state and draw up a massive blueprint.

Indirect management through the board, like the 69% stake in The Time, was troublesome enough. But the real headache was the wholly-owned private subsidiaries.

Leading the pack was Debenzer Resources, with a history spanning over two hundred years and approaching three hundred. Then there was the estate winery, the brandy distillery, Debenzer General Construction, and Debenzer Hospitality which managed the hotels.

Henry worked hard to thoroughly investigate their revenue structures, fixed expenses, and the debts cleverly hidden within the ledgers.

It was an intensity of labor incomparable to his previous life's company work, yet Henry tackled it with even greater passion. Because now, all of it was his!

Under the creed of safety first, Henry never trusted a single report. Even for the same company, he had reports come in through at least three channels: the financial director, the family office accountant, and Debenzer Resources' secret informants. This was his so-called triangular verification.

'Chairman's reports are always prettied up. You have to dig from the bottom yourself. I might not be familiar with it all yet, but if I hammer this information into my head now, later I'll be able to instantly catch any rats trying to siphon off money.'

His body was exhausted, but his mind was clear. There was only one thing bothering him.

'I was prepared, but there's just too much work. By the way, how the hell do I earn points? If I had a few more spare bodies, things would be so much easier.'

Even after leaving his room, starting real work, and exercising intensely, his points remained stubbornly unchanged. Because he'd poured every last bit of his soul into creating Joshua, his current points stood at zero.

If his system level rose, the stat cap and number of spare bodies he could create would increase, but without knowing how to obtain points, it was all just pie in the sky.

'When I checked yesterday, it seemed points change based on shifts in perception or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠historical revisions... For the next spare body, instead of making it for insurance, I should create a talent-heavy one that can help with practical work.'

Henry's hand paused for a moment as he flipped through the documents. His twenty-two-year-old, massive physique was sending instinctive signals.

'Speaking of which, has this body been starving lately? The call girls in my memories had some really nice sizes...'

Memories from his previous life and current life overlapped. Just what had been so dissatisfying about this perfect environment that the original owner had wandered outside?

Long-haired hippie fashion, drugs, and a black history of debauchery without limits.

'Marijuana and hard drugs—he really sampled everything. Threesomes that went to foursomes? You lucky bastard. No, you crazy bastard. You've made it so I can never attend a high school reunion for the rest of my life.'

The fragmented memories of debauchery that surfaced instead stimulated Henry's desires.

'Ugh, for the next spare body, I want to pour all my sexual fantasies into a secretary! That would make me truly happy.'

He sipped his coffee, lost in happy fantasies of being surrounded by four women, only to sigh again when he saw the deficit reports from the subsidiaries.

And so Henry's glamorous yet grueling morning passed by.