Free Web Novel“W-Who are you?”
When I spoke with a smile, the man kneeling on the ground looked up at me with tear-filled eyes.
I crouched so our eyes were level. I was smiling, but in his eyes, mine weren’t.
“Seonggi, I really wanted to see you.”
It was Manager Park, the one who had killed me.
And here, before me, was the young Park Seonggi.
“Who... who are you?”
“I’m someone who should thank you. Thanks to you, I managed to seize a great opportunity. So, thank you.”
“What are you talking about...?”
Park Seonggi looked confused, clearly not understanding a word.
“You wouldn’t get it anyway. Forget it. Where’s your boss? Did you think I’d fall for your sniveling act? You’re still too naive. Or maybe you haven’t grasped the situation yet?”
“My boss?”
“Mr. Pyo. The one you serve. He does exist, right?”
It had taken me this long to track down Manager Park because I didn’t know his exact details.
All I knew was that he’d grown up abandoned in an orphanage and had been taken in by Mr. Pyo at the age of eight.
Even so, it was impressive that I’d managed to find him.
“I never imagined you’d be living quietly in Seoul.”
Even now, as an adult, he wasn’t registered under his real name. Finding him had been tough.
As for Mr. Pyo, he was even more elusive—like chasing a ghost.
“W-What? Mr. Pyo? Who’s that?”
“The man who raised you. No, the man who turned you into a killing machine. Don’t bother denying it—I already know. Park Seonggi isn’t even your real name, is it?”
His expression didn’t change—he’d been trained since childhood—but his pupils twitched ever so slightly.
“Let’s make this simple. Tell me who Mr. Pyo is and where he is, and I’ll let you go without pain.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
I sighed and slowly stood.
“Manager Ma, you brought the drugs, right? He’s been trained since childhood. Torture won’t work. Just use the drugs right away. He’s no special forces soldier—they wouldn’t have trained him against this.”
Through Black Bear, I’d recently smuggled in several military-grade interrogation drugs.
Secretly used by the U.S. military, they were brutally effective.
“What? Why are you doing this to me? I told you—I don’t know! Who the hell is Mr. Pyo? I said I don’t know!”
His voice grew louder at the mention of drugs.
I sat back in the chair, unmoved. Manager Ma looked at me curiously.
“You’re going to watch this yourself, Boss?”
“I have to. This bastard ended my life once. I need to see this for myself to close the past.”
Manager Ma nodded.
“Understood.”
At his signal, a man stepped forward carrying a rectangular case. Inside were vials and syringes neatly arranged.
Manager Ma grabbed one vial and loaded a syringe.
“Starting now, Boss.”
I nodded, and Manager Ma approached. The men holding Seonggi yanked his arm.
“Don’t! Don’t do it!”
“Then talk. Just talk.”
“I told you! I don’t know that man! Don’t!”
No matter how much Park Seonggi struggled, he couldn’t break free.
Even after the drug was injected, he thrashed wildly for several minutes before his eyes finally glazed over.
“He’s ready.”
Manager Ma dragged the limp man in front of me.
“Name?”
Seonggi stared blankly, mouth half open, silent.
Manager Ma smacked him on the back of the head.
Park Seonggi slumped forward, then was yanked upright by his hair.
“Your name?”
“...Pyo Bongil.”
“Mr. Pyo’s name?”
“Don’t know.”
“Where is Mr. Pyo?”
“Don’t know.”
Whether he truly didn’t know or the drug hadn’t fully kicked in yet was unclear.
“Are you sure it’s working?”
“Yes.”
“What if we give him another dose?”
“It’s risky. Better to keep questioning. Two doses can be dangerous.”
I nodded and continued.
“You know Mr. Pyo, don’t you?”
“K-Know... him.”
“How do you meet him?”
“He... contacts me. Location changes every time.”
“You don’t meet him directly?”
“Usually... he sends someone else...”
“How many people like you are there?”
“Don’t know. I only know three others.”
Manager Ma muttered quietly, “The drug’s definitely working. Listen to how clear he sounds now.”
“Is this normal?”
“Yes. At first they get drowsy and their eyes glaze over, but eventually their speech clears, and they won’t remember any of this later.”
As he said, Seonggi’s gaze was gradually focusing again.
But despite the continued questioning, no details about Mr. Pyo’s location or real identity emerged.
“There’s nothing more to get.”
Even with the risk, we tried another dose, but the answers didn’t change.
It was disappointing.
I clicked my tongue, staring into Park Seonggi’s empty eyes.
“Clean it up.”
Just as he had done to me once, we put him in a car, rolled it toward the nearby lakeside, and released the handbrake.
Manager Ma shut the car door and came to stand beside me as I watched the vehicle slowly roll down the slope.
This time, fate had been reversed.
* * *
Meanwhile, Wall Street’s relentless assault on Japan continued. Murmurs of dissatisfaction with the U.S. began leaking from the Japanese government.
“What exactly does Washington want?”
Inside the Prime Minister’s office in Japan, Prime Minister Obata rubbed his forehead wearily.
The Finance Ministry’s Vice Minister spoke.
“Secretary Rubin refuses to give details—only harsh criticism. All he does is feed negative comments to the press. Prime Minister, you should contact the White House directly.”
Obata frowned.
“With no clear countermeasures?”
“Our policies have no fundamental problems. This seems heavily political. Only you can resolve it.”
While they passed blame around, the yen plunged to 147 per dollar.
Japan tried to stabilize it by pouring foreign reserves into the market, but Wall Street’s hyenas pressed harder.
For Wall Street, it was a feast; for Japan, hell.
Days later, unable to endure any longer, Obata called President Clinton at the White House.
If the White House intervened, Wall Street would have to stop the attacks.
Clinton agreed and summoned Secretary Rubin.
“Rubin, that’s enough.”
“Mr. President, without reforms in Japan, Asia’s crisis won’t end.”
“I spoke to the Prime Minister. He’ll agree to any conditions—just stop the investors in New York.”
“Then I’ll handle negotiations. If they commit to financial reforms, we’ll help.”
“Fine, but keep it reasonable.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
But Rubin had no intention of being “reasonable.”
Like during the Plaza Accord, Rubin believed Japan had to be pressured hard when it didn’t cooperate.
Leaving the White House, he called Han Kyungyeong.
“James, it’s Rubin.”
— Yes, Secretary.
“The President wants us to stop.”
— I see.
“Pass along the message: it’s better to end it here. Politics, you know.”
— Understood. We’ll keep that in mind.
“No need to stop immediately. We’ll intervene only after Japan accepts our demands. Tell them to be grateful—we’re teaching Japan some manners.”
— Haha, understood.
Rubin hung up, smiling.
“Heh, getting what we want without lifting a finger.”
* * *
— Just as you predicted, Japan’s about to give in. Rubin called me himself.
“Of course.”
— He even told me to thank you. Said you helped teach Japan a lesson. We do all the work, and someone else takes the credit. It’s annoying.
I chuckled at Han Kyungyeong’s grumbling. freeweɓnøvel.com
“We didn’t lose anything, did we? This was necessary anyway. I had to keep Japan out of Korea’s affairs while I cleaned house here.”
— We’ve got time. Rubin said we can keep going until Japan formally accepts the demands.
I smirked, picturing Rubin’s smug face.
“Obviously. Japan’s reserves are too large for IMF intervention, but since they’ve waved the white flag, Rubin will demand brutal reforms. Let him. It only helps me.”
As expected, Rubin’s demands were harsh—massive financial reforms and bad debt cleanups, all to be presented before the U.S.-Japan summit next month.
But that wasn’t my only plan.
It was time to trigger a coup inside the Yamaguchi-gumi.
“They agreed to the proposal, right?”
“Yes. As soon as they learned we were involved in the attack on Japan, they said they’d act.”
“Hah. Typical opportunists. Not my ideal pawns, but we don’t have better options. Proceed immediately.”
“Understood.”
Once internal strife tore through the Yamaguchi-gumi, Cheongpunghoe would be next.
I’d need Black Bear for that.
Their elite teams were already deployed in Kosovo under a U.S. government contract.
Hiring those generals to secure influence in Washington had been worth every penny.
“All the elite teams are in Kosovo, correct?”
“Yes, except for the one stationed in Korea. Another team is on standby at HQ.”
“Bring them in. We’re going to cut off Cheongpunghoe’s limbs and storm their base. I’ll take Lee Yonghyeon’s head myself. I won’t allow any surprises.”
“Will the government just sit by?”
“We’ll see soon enough.”
Kim Hakgwon wasn’t stupid—he’d already dug up plenty about me.
He’d have to choose.
Since I’d already chosen to swing the blade, I’d take the head and leave the rest for the law. Kim Hakgwon would have to make his decision, too.
“What about Mr. Pyo?”
“Almost no one even knows if he’s real. Probably only Lee Yonghyeon knows his true identity.”
Rumors of the professional assassin, Lee Yonghyeon’s hidden blade, had spread quietly, but no one knew anything concrete.
“He’ll appear when we move against Lee Yonghyeon. No hunting dog stays hidden when its master’s about to die.”
“I’ll keep eyes on him.”
Outside, dusk had fallen.
Sitting on the bed, I looked at Manager Ma standing silently in the shadows.
“Before my grandfather’s health worsens any further, I need to show him Lee Yonghyeon’s end. I need to ease his regrets.”
Recently, my grandfather had grown weaker, barely moving around.
The hospital visits always gave the same answer—it was just age. Exactly like my previous life.
“And Chairman Cheon Sooman?”
“He’s quietly living in Australia, right?”
Manager Ma nodded.
A twisted smile tugged at my lips.
“Well, Australia’s a big country. Car accidents aren’t that unusual there. There’s no rush. Once Grandfather passes... then.”
“Understood.”
As for Cheon Suhan, he’d likely spend the rest of his life locked in a psychiatric hospital. I’d considered killing him, but every time, Cheon Jiyoung’s face came to mind, and I couldn’t be that cruel.
Cheon Sooman, though, would die the moment my grandfather was gone.
It was time to cut every last tie that had bound me since my previous life.
< I Really Wanted to See You > End.
