Free Web NovelTime passed quickly, and autumn was already coming to an end.
A week after Cheon Suhan’s funeral, I received a call from Jiyoung.
— Oppa.
Her voice sounded hollow, drained of life. Feeling that showing concern would only make her feel worse, I answered as casually as I could, like before.
“Oh, Jiyoung.”
— I’m sorry.
“What for? What’s with that all of a sudden?”
— Just...
“Don’t say meaningless things.”
I knew exactly why Cheon Jiyoung was acting like this, and that only made my chest tighten more.
— Oppa... thank you.
I let out a quiet sigh so she wouldn’t hear and spoke softly.
“Jiyoung, you have nothing to be sorry about. You did nothing wrong. So don’t keep apologizing for something that isn’t your fault. If you do, I’ll just keep thinking about it, too. Let’s not do that. You’re my only sister and my family. That’s all that matters.”
— Oppa...
“I’m not going to dwell on the past anymore. I’m only looking ahead. So you should get out of the past, too. How long are you going to keep apologizing every time we meet?”
I could hear the tears trembling in her voice, but I continued calmly.
No matter how hard she tried to act cheerful, there was always guilt hidden in Jiyoung’s eyes.
Until now, I had pretended not to notice, and Jiyoung had never brought it up either.
“For now, take a break from work. Rest, take care of yourself, clear your head. Once you’ve sorted things out, call me again. Let’s grab a meal together.”
— ...Okay. Thank you for helping this time. {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} I’ll contact you later.
Jiyoung said thank you one last time before hanging up.
I pressed a hand against my eyes and let out a long sigh. Still, now that Cheon Suhan’s matter was settled, it felt both relieving and bitter.
I placed the phone on the desk and leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes for a moment.
Jiyoung might be fragile, but she was strong. She’d find her own way out of this.
After sorting through the jumble in my head, I opened my eyes again.
I straightened up and picked up the document lying on the desk.
It contained a summary of what Cheon Jiwon was currently plotting.
“This bastard still hasn’t learned a damn thing.”
Cheon Jiwon had squandered a fortune inherited from his grandfather on gambling and nightlife.
But in the process, something interesting came to light. Professional gamblers and con artists had been bleeding him dry.
“Wow, what an easy mark.”
Well, someone as sheltered and clueless as Cheon Jiwon was the perfect prey for scammers.
Perhaps to recover his losses, he was now preparing a new scheme.
He had joined hands with a major shareholder of Cheonseong Bio, a KOSDAQ-listed company, and was preparing a manipulation fund of one trillion won.
It wasn’t just Jiwon—other third-generation chaebol heirs and even officials in the Ministry of Finance were involved.
But something was off. This wasn’t the kind of case Jiwon should’ve been tangled up in.
No matter how I dug through my hazy memories, I was sure of only one thing—Jiwon hadn’t been part of this in the previous timeline. The amount of money was also far smaller.
Looks like the future’s changed because of me.
I set the document down and pondered. If I used this right, I could really put Jiwon in a difficult spot. How should I do it?
‘If I expose this to the media now, they’ll just call it another case of reckless chaebol brats rebelling against their elders. Should I blow it up bigger—ruin Jiwon completely and send him to prison?’
Might as well use this weakness to the fullest. I’ll have to intervene in the operation myself.
I pressed the call bell beside me and summoned Manager Ma.
“Find me one or two stock manipulation teams that can keep their mouths shut.”
“Do you mean operation teams, sir?”
“Yes. I’m going to throw a wrench into Cheon Jiwon’s plan, so find a proper team.”
“Finding one won’t be hard, but stock manipulation is risky. It could tarnish your name, Boss.”
I waved my hand lightly at his worried tone.
“I know what you’re worried about. I’m just planning to make the game a little bigger. I’m going to strip Jiwon down to nothing.”
“Understood. I’ll start making inquiries.”
“Do it discreetly. My name must never come up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And also...”
Lowering my gaze, I saw Jiwon’s name printed on the report.
I tapped the irritating three syllables with my finger.
“Find and bring in the gambling ring that conned Jiwon. No matter how much he’s fallen, cheating a chaebol heir like that isn’t something they could pull off without backing.”
Someone had to be behind it. Even the boldest crooks wouldn’t dare target Jiwon unless someone handed them the bait.
“Understood. I’ll have them rounded up immediately.”
“Anything else to report?”
“Miss Cheon Jisoo contacted us.”
“Cheon Jisoo? Why?” fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
“She requested a meeting with you. She insisted on seeing you in person.”
That fox? Ah, it must be about that.
I’d already been informed that Seo Jaehun met with Jisoo and Jiwon privately after the funeral.
She must be desperate, coming to me herself.
“Set up a meeting. Not this week—tell her to come to the Myeongdong office next week. Check my schedule and give her a free slot.”
“Yes, sir.”
Manager Ma bowed and left the study. Once the door closed, I shut my eyes again and went over the next phase of my plans in my head.
The Fair Trade Commission had issued an objection to Ilseong Electronics’ physical division.
They found clear evidence that shareholder rights were infringed during the split.
They also canceled the approval of the new corporation and ordered a proper shareholder meeting to decide the matter.
At the same time, the Financial Supervisory Service and Financial Supervisory Commission began moving.
They ordered Ilseong Life, Ilseong Fire, Ilseong Card, and Ilseong Securities to sell their holdings in Ilseong Group’s non-financial subsidiaries.
But I wasn’t satisfied with just that.
I leaked the credit card company insolvency issue—something that would’ve gone public next year—to the media in advance.
— President Kim. You...
Kim Hakgwon himself called. Clearly, the front-page article in Koryeo Daily about the credit card crisis had ruffled him.
“Mr. President, calling this early in the morning—what an honor.”
— Are you mocking me?
“Not at all, sir. I mean it.”
— Why did you expose the card companies’ bad debts? Our economic advisors, including the senior secretary, said they could still handle it. Stirring public anxiety does no good, does it? Am I wrong?
Hiding behind concern for the people, are we? In truth, this entire mess began with the government.
To make up for the lost tax revenue from the foreign exchange crisis, they relaxed credit card regulations to collect more from ordinary citizens instead of corporations.
They even introduced small deduction policies so the more you used your card, the more tax benefits you received.
In the end, the government’s stimulus plan caused this disaster.
“The longer you hide insolvency, the greater the eventual damage to the people. If it’s going to explode, better sooner than later—for the nation’s sake.”
— ...
“When this blows up at the end of your term, it’ll benefit the next administration, not you. There’ll be no backlash on your part, Mr. President, so you don’t need to worry.”
I soothed Kim Hakgwon with logic. After a long silence, he finally muttered,
— I trust you.
And then hung up.
Always looking out for their own safety.
I put the phone down and turned to the monitor.
I clicked the headline article plastered across the front page of Koryeo Daily.
[The Dark Shadow of Credit Cards: Number of Defaulters Rises.]
A 30-year-old Seoul resident, Mr. Bae, earns about 1.5 million won a month.
But this month, the total payment due on his four credit cards reached nearly 5 million won.
After taking cash advances to pay off previous bills earlier this year, his debt snowballed uncontrollably.
If it keeps increasing, he’ll soon be branded a credit delinquent.
From college students in their twenties to office workers in their fifties, one in ten Korean adults is now labeled a credit delinquent.
(Excerpt omitted)
Professor Kim Hyunsik (Korea University, Business Administration) warned that if this continues, the number of credit delinquents will rise exponentially.
Unlike advanced nations with robust social safety nets, Korea has no relief system in place for those who fall into default.
He warned that the chaos could surpass even the 1997 foreign exchange crisis.
After reading the entire article, I scrolled down to check the comments.
— The government pushed credit cards with tax breaks and incentives, and now they tell us to be careful?
— What a clueless article. Stop fearmongering and suggest real solutions.
Some defended credit cards—
— I’m a credit delinquent. Ask me anything.
⤷Is life inconvenient? I’m drowning in card debt too.
⤷⤷It’s hell. I want to die. Don’t end up like me.
Others, realizing reality, only amplified the public’s anxiety.
I closed the browser and stood up.
Starting with Koryeo Daily, countless media outlets would now begin covering the credit card crisis.
Once the Financial Supervisory Service launched audits in response, the overall debt exposure of credit card companies would skyrocket.
The problem lay with the issuers themselves. They had been sustaining themselves through “card bonds”—securities issued to raise funds.
But as the number of people defaulting on payments grew, they could no longer bear the interest on those bonds.
The government knew this, which was why the Industrial Bank had been injecting emergency loans into the card companies.
But patching a leaking dam with bare hands never works—you only end up being swallowed by the flood.
Soon, the small cracks would grow into a full-scale collapse.
No one could stop this incoming wave.
If they blocked cash advances, a flood of new delinquents would appear. The card companies knew this.
But if they didn’t, the firms themselves would collapse.
Either way, they had to choose—and I had merely pushed that decision forward a little.
“I didn’t realize the card companies’ insolvency was this bad. Banks with parent institutions will survive, but the corporate ones will struggle,” Manager Ma said.
I nodded. Ilseong had been my target, but other companies were getting dragged down too.
“Ilseong Card at least had the sense to cut down on cash advance exposure, so their losses will be smaller, though still significant. The only one who’ll come out clean is Taesan Card.”
Since last year, I’d advised Ha Myeonghun, and he had listened.
He tightened card issuance screenings, reduced cash services, and lowered credit limits. That caused many customers to leave, but Ha was resilient under pressure.
When profits dropped, he created an exclusive VIP line—partnering first with American Express.
He secured Korea’s sole rights to the Centurion Card and promoted it to the wealthy elite.
The so-called “Black Card” wasn’t something you could apply for with money alone.
Customers didn’t apply for it—the company chose its clients and sent them invitations.
After Hong Kong and Japan, Korea became the third country in Asia to secure that partnership.
“Taesan Finance will turn this crisis into an opportunity. Myeonghun can handle that part himself... Now it’s time to begin.”
I picked up my phone again.
After a few rings, Eva’s voice came through.
“Eva. It’s time.”
— Okay, Boss! I’ve been waiting for this moment.
“Make it official that it’s a public tender offer for management rights.”
— Of course!
Her voice was full of energy and confidence.
If Chairman Seo Yonggeon were still in command, he would’ve stopped this by any means necessary.
But now that he was in a coma, Seo Jaehun couldn’t block it.
“I’ll personally meet with the other chaebol chairmen to settle things, so you don’t have to worry about that. Just hold the friendly shares tight.”
After ending the call with Eva, I headed to my meeting place.
A high-end Japanese restaurant in Myeongdong.
As I stepped out of the car and passed the front gate, I saw a man arguing with the manager.
“No! I told you, I have a reservation here!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t allow entry in that attire.” ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com
“Ha...”
“My apologies.”
The manager’s tone was polite, but the contempt in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Tch. People always judge by rank wherever you go.”
I followed another manager’s guidance inside.
Then I heard someone behind me call out—
“M-Muhyuk!”
That familiar voice made me stop and turn around.
I sighed softly as I recognized the man arguing with the manager—Hong Jinpyo.
“Jinpyo?”
“Y-Yeah, it’s me. Jinpyo.”
I signaled to Manager Ma, who immediately understood and stepped forward.
“He’s with us.”
“But, sir—”
“I said, he’s our guest.”
“My apologies, sir.”
The once-arrogant manager bowed deeply, over and over.
Ma approached Jinpyo.
“Mr. Hong Jinpyo, please come with us.”
As Jinpyo followed, I greeted him casually.
“Came straight from work?”
“Huh? Oh... yeah.”
“Alright. Good to see you. Let’s head inside.”
With that, I led Hong Jinpyo into the private room I had reserved.
