Free Web NovelIn front of the Koryo Hotel, reporters from newspapers and major broadcast stations had gathered.
“What’s going on here, anyway?”
“I don’t know. The desk was in a frenzy telling me to get here right away, so here I am. Does anyone know?”
Reporters from various outlets exchanged New Year’s greetings as they began sharing whatever scraps of information they had.
But not a single one of them actually knew the details.
“First press conference of the year... it’s either going to be huge or a total flop.”
“Yeah, I’m curious too. Judging by how the desk is breathing down our necks, it must be something big.”
In contrast, the few reporters who already knew about the incident stayed apart from the chattering crowd, quietly checking their cameras and waiting for the main act to arrive.
The noisy lobby of the Koryo Hotel fell silent the moment the star of the show appeared.
Lee Myungsoo strode confidently to the podium that had been prepared in advance.
‘Hoo... No matter how many times I do this, press conferences always make me nervous.’
His face looked calm, but in truth, standing in front of so many people had him so tense that sweat was gathering in his palms.
“What the—? Isn’t that Prosecutor Lee Myungsoo?”
“Why is he holding a press conference? And here at the Koryo Hotel, not the Prosecutors’ Office?”
The once-quiet room was soon buzzing again with the voices of puzzled reporters.
Ignoring their murmurs, Myungsoo took a deep breath.
“Ah, can you hear me clearly?”
After tapping the microphone to check it, he continued.
“I am Prosecutor Lee Myungsoo of the Republic of Korea.”
The simple self-introduction set off a flurry of camera flashes, shutters clattering across the lobby.
“I thought long and hard before deciding to stand here today.”
He closed his eyes slowly, then opened them again. In that moment, he looked like a man weighed down by sorrow.
“When I passed the bar exam and became a prosecutor, I felt like I had the whole world in my hands. I thought I could finally become the fair and upright prosecutor I had dreamed of being since childhood.”
From there, he began to speak slowly about his career from the time of his appointment.
“...But reality was different. The title of ‘prosecutor’ should strike fear in the guilty and inspire trust in the innocent. Yet I couldn’t do that. Under orders from above, I had no choice but to carry out selective investigations.”
His words had weight.
It was a subtle but pointed critique of a prosecution that pandered to the powerful rather than pursuing lawful investigations.
It set the tone for the conference as one that would, at least indirectly, criticize the institution.
“In the recent bribery case involving Kim Junggeun, I conducted the investigation quietly and alone without reporting to my superiors. I knew that if I did report it, I’d be pulled off the case immediately.”
The voice that had been steady began to tremble slightly.
It was the human side of a prosecutor who had seemed steadfast enough to ignore pressure from above.
“The evidence of bribery was solid, and there was plenty of it. But the wall of reality was too high. I felt, down to my bones, just how hard it is for a mere prosecutor to investigate the living powers that be.”
He paused there, slowly sweeping his gaze over the room as if to engrave the faces of the gathered reporters in his memory.
“From the moment I sent Kim Junggeun the summons, I was put under surveillance. Calls came in one after another from people pressuring me, to the point I could no longer live normally. When I refused to halt the investigation, I was reassigned to a dead-end post.”
Myungsoo pulled out a voice recorder and pressed play.
— Hey, Lee Myungsoo! Do you have a death wish? Drop the case!
— But, Deputy Chief Prosecutor, the circumstances and evidence are clear.
— I’m telling you for your own good. Drop it.
— I can’t. No, I won’t.
— The Prosecutor General and the Senior Presidential Secretary have all called in, ordering that you be sent to Jeju. They’re dead set on ruining your career. You were on a perfect elite track—why trip yourself up now?
— Deputy Chief Prosecutor—no, sunbae. Once prosecutors start conducting selective investigations, who will the people trust? How will they get justice? We should hold those in power to an even stricter standard.
— ...Your reassignment order will come soon. Hand the case over to Chief Prosecutor So and lay low. It’s the Prosecutor General’s decision. I’m sorry.
— Deputy Chief Prosecutor!
The recording ended with Myungsoo’s desperate shout.
Lowering the recorder so the photographers could get a clear shot, he went on with another bombshell.
“There was a barrage of pressure from the top. ‘You do not investigate the living powers. Wrap it up quietly.’ That’s what every single one of them told me...”
Letting his voice trail off, he looked around at the reporters again before making his final statement.
“As a prosecutor, I cannot tolerate the prosecution failing to maintain political neutrality and becoming the handmaiden of power, conducting selective investigations. If all I’m going ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) to do is pander to those in power, then I’d rather take off my prosecutor’s badge and return to civilian life.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than a group of prosecutors from the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office’s Central Investigation Department, led by Oh Hyunwoo, burst into the room.
The cameras caught every moment as they led away Myungsoo—who still seemed to have more to say—while he glanced back at the podium.
It was the climax of the press conference.
Everything that had happened there was broadcast nationwide, exactly according to Kim Muhyuk’s scenario.
* * *
I smiled as I watched Myungsoo on TV being led away by the CID prosecutors, his face one of resigned defiance.
“Both of you act well.”
Even after Myungsoo was gone, the press conference remained noisy, and the footage continued to air live.
I signaled to Chief Ma, who was watching with me.
“Yes, Boss?”
“What’s the situation with Chairman Lee’s side?”
“The presidents of the construction, cement, and security companies have already been arrested, and a full-scale investigation is underway.”
“The damage must be significant. I imagine it’s chaotic inside too.”
“Quite so.”
No matter how much they dressed it up as legitimate business, at their core they were gangsters.
Men who relied more on fists than the law, for whom illegal business came easier than legal work. Without political protection, they could be dismantled at any moment.
“For now, don’t get involved—just watch.”
“Yes.”
“And the matter I gave separate instructions on?”
“I’ve been informed it’s been handled.”
“Then all attention should shift to Kim Junggeun now. Let’s use this opportunity to settle as many matters as we can.”
“Understood.”
Inside political circles and the prosecution, backlash against selective investigations began to stir.
Starting with Koryeo Daily, the media fired off a storm of reports.
Even pro-Japanese–leaning outlets had no choice but to cover the press conference.
As expected, Myungsoo’s statement swallowed up every other news item.
— The Kim Hakgwon administration’s corruption must be thoroughly investigated. If the CID won’t do it, then appoint a special prosecutor and punish every person involved, no matter who they are.
Centrist Party leader Yoon Changho gathered reporters almost immediately after the conference to denounce the affair.
As a former Prosecutor General, his words carried even more weight.
Thanks to his quick move to seize the narrative, the media kept replaying and revisiting his statement.
The Conservative Party also issued strong criticism, but having been too slow, their comments drew little attention.
As planned, Myungsoo took off his prosecutor’s robe and went down to Busan.
Both the Centrist Party and the Conservatives sent love calls to the now “tragic prosecutor.”
But stepping into politics right away would only risk the perception of it being political theater.
“Take a good month or two off.”
— I’ll do that. But aren’t these reporters going too far?
“Aseong Daily?”
— Yeah. Those bastards are digging into my father, who hasn’t done anything, and running negative stories.
“The public sentiment isn’t bad, so just let it go. I already spoke to your father.”
— Ha...
Aseong Daily kept publishing articles targeting Myungsoo’s father, who ran nightclubs and entertainment venues in Busan.
They seemed intent on painting him with images of gang ties, tax evasion, and other dirt, but public opinion was actually turning against those reports.
A prosecutor who resigned while standing up to power.
A prosecutor who investigated the living powers for the sake of justice.
Once an image like that was imprinted in the public’s mind, it was hard to erase.
“Stay out of trouble in Busan and take it easy. Assume every single thing you do is being watched.”
— Yeah... I get it. I’ll just spend my time hiking or something.
“Good. The nomination season’s coming soon, so get ready to join the party.”
— Got it.
The media began hammering away at the Kim Hakgwon administration day after day, and internal strife broke out within the Progressive Party ahead of candidate nominations.
In the end, President Kim Hakgwon abandoned his own son.
Centered around the Central Investigation Department Chief, elite CID prosecutors like Oh Hyunwoo threw themselves into the Kim Junggeun case.
Those in the CID aligned with Ilseong’s scholarship beneficiaries tried to minimize the case as much as possible, but Oh Hyunwoo kept leaking details to the press.
And in the current situation, no one could lay a hand on Oh Hyunwoo, who was the golden boy of the legal world. The prosecution’s top brass had no choice but to arrest Kim Junggeun.
From there, time flew by—about two months passed.
Having taken ample rest, Myungsoo held a press conference announcing he would run in the upcoming National Assembly election and joined the Centrist Party.
The Progressive Party fiercely criticized Myungsoo’s move, but the public welcomed him.
And at that moment, the IT bubble that had swept across the world reached its peak.
It was finally time to put my long-considered plan into action.
“Eva.”
“Yeah.”
“Starting tomorrow, travel around Japan and Hong Kong and put together a new product.”
“Boss, are you really going to do what we talked about before?”
I nodded at her question.
There was a flicker of unease in Eva’s expression as she looked at me.
“You know about the Tiger Fund liquidation mess, right, Boss?” free𝑤ebnovel.com
Julian Robertson, founder of the Tiger Fund.
Since 1999, Robertson had been warning about the abnormal dot-com bubble.
While everyone else was buying IT-related stocks, he kept betting on the bubble’s collapse.
But no matter how much he shorted, he couldn’t withstand the soaring Nasdaq, and his assets dwindled from $22 billion to $6.5 billion.
In the end, the legendary Tiger Fund disappeared into history.
“I know. Many people laughed at him, but I know Robertson wasn’t wrong.”
Investors who judged it to be a bubble and held short positions eventually had to buy back stocks to close their positions, pushing the market even higher.
But this time, things are different.
“Get as many contracts as you can—take whatever they’re willing to give.”
“They’ll take it. Even though it’s an absurd deal.”
“Especially don’t go easy on the Japanese securities firms.”
When I added that coldly, Eva let out a small laugh and quickly summarized the situation.
“In Hong Kong, Peregrine will handle it directly... so I’ll take Japan. James will handle the U.S. and Europe, right?”
“Yeah. I’ll take care of Korea myself, so just focus on that for now.”
“Okay, Boss.”
The exact timing of the market’s crash was impossible to know.
But from early 2000, the Nasdaq began to fall sharply, eventually hitting its peak drop after the September 11 attacks in 2001—nearly 70% off its highs, a record-breaking plunge.
No one on Wall Street, nor any economic expert, had predicted such a steep drop of over 50% in such a short period.
Some people thought the market was overheated, but the prevailing opinion on Wall Street at the time was that after a correction, prices would keep rising steadily.
The question was whether there were securities firms or investors willing to take on options and futures contracts with the terms I wanted.
“Push the investment banks and securities firms for as much as they’ll give. Even if you have to throw in a higher premium.”
“I’ll do it because you’re telling me to, Boss... but if it doesn’t go the way you expect, the losses will be massive.”
“It’s fine, Eva. I’m certain.”
Some options and futures were traded only on organized exchanges, but the bigger market was the over-the-counter forward contract market.
Forward contracts were privately negotiated agreements in which the parties set their own terms without registering them on an exchange.
If the two sides could find common ground, the profits could be enormous—far beyond anything traded on the exchanges.
But in the opposite case, the losses could be just as extreme. It was a double-edged sword.
“All right. If that’s what you want, Boss.”
Eva finally nodded at my firm tone.
I could be this confident partly because I knew the future, but also because I trusted that Han Kyungyeong and Eva would bring back as many contracts as possible.
“When you get back, let’s have a drink.”
“It’s a promise, Boss!”
Eva smiled, waved, and walked out of the office.
* * *
After a relentless investigation, Kim Junggeun was arrested.
Unsurprisingly, the approval ratings after that told a tale of winners and losers.
The Centrist Party had 42%, the Progressive Party 32%, and the Conservative Party 26%.
Among them, the Centrist Party was strong in Seoul, the capital region, Chungcheong-do, and Gangwon-do.
From the Centrist Party leader’s office came the constant sound of Yoon’s laughter.
“Myungsoo, this is all thanks to you.”
“No, President.”
“Don’t say that. Our approval ratings had been stagnant, but thanks to you, we’ve finally beaten the Progressive Party. And we’re a party that’s only a year old.”
Myungsoo simply gave an awkward smile instead of replying.
Yoon Changho liked him all the more for it.
“You’re going to need to be bolder if you want to be a politician. Every emotion shows on your face.”
“Sorry.”
Yoon shook his head at Myungsoo’s immediate apology.
“No, that could be one of your strengths. Don’t try too hard to change it. But are you sure you want to run in a district race? You could run nationwide—or even take the first spot on the proportional representation list.”
For a party with decent approval ratings, a top proportional representation spot was a guaranteed ticket into the National Assembly.
“Yes, President. I don’t want to enter Parliament without a fight.”
“If that’s how you feel, I can’t stop you... I’m just saying it’s a shame. I’d love to have you out giving campaign speeches.”
Yoon had promised Myungsoo the number one proportional spot to capitalize on his popularity, but Myungsoo firmly insisted on running in a district race.
With some regret, Yoon smacked his lips.
Myungsoo added with an embarrassed smile,
“I discussed it with Muhyuk. He said to take down a heavyweight while I’m popular to grow my profile.”
“So you chose Gangnam?”
“Yes, President.”
It was a challenge to the Conservatives in their own backyard.
“Well now, choosing the thorny road over the easy one...”
“At the end of the thorny road, there’s sweet nectar, President.”
Even after hearing Myungsoo’s resolve, Yoon’s expression still held some regret, but he quickly changed his mind.
The tragic prosecutor, the hero representing the people.
Once again, he decided to trust Kim Muhyuk’s arrangements.
At that very moment, while Yoon and Myungsoo were talking, Kim Muhyuk was boarding his private jet bound for China.
