Free Web NovelI sipped my tea, watching Oh Jungseok as he spoke on the phone with Yoon Changho.
“Haha, I never imagined you’d become President. Yes, yes. Ah, I’m here with President Kim Muhyuk right now. Hmm? Mm. All right, then. See you then.”
After the short call, Oh Jungseok set his phone down, a smile resting on his face.
“He sounds full of confidence.”
“Does he?”
“Yes. His voice has strength and composure. But isn’t that to be expected? He’s the President now. Who would dare look down on him? Everyone will be flattering him to his face.”
The presidency in South Korea was imperial in nature. The Prime Minister was little more than a rubber stamp, and the President’s authority was overwhelming.
Though limited to a single term, for those five years the President could do anything he wished.
“Now then, let’s get to the real reason you’re here. You didn’t come just to see my face.”
“If someone overheard, they’d think I only visit you when I have business. Don’t say that. I never forget to send my greetings every holiday.”
As I joked, Oh Jungseok lifted the teapot and refilled my empty cup. The faint smile on his lips deepened.
“This is about Ilseong Group, isn’t it?”
As expected of him—he’d already guessed why I came without a word from me.
“Yes, that’s right. I’m planning to end the Seo family once and for all. Ilseong Group will be torn apart and handed over to other conglomerates.”
Without realizing it, I smirked slightly.
“Seo Yonggeon is as good as dead already... and I’ll see to it that Seo Jaehun is buried socially.”
“Hmm...”
“The prosecution will move soon. Please help ensure that the arrest warrant is issued.”
“Haven’t you already got a number of judges who listen to you? If you assign it to one of them, I don’t see any problem.”
I shrugged at his comment. He knew better than anyone why I was saying this.
“You know how it is. Even a rotten fish still has bones. Seo Yonggeon spent decades planting his people throughout society—courts included. If I make a move myself, there’ll be a bloodbath. And you wouldn’t want that, would you, Chief Justice?”
Oh Jungseok filled his own cup and lifted it.
“True enough. If you step in directly, everyone even remotely connected will either resign or be investigated.”
“Yes. If that happens, it could turn into a massive scandal. I only want to bury Seo Jaehun, not plunge the country into chaos.”
Oh Jungseok traced the rim of his teacup thoughtfully, but his hesitation didn’t last long.
“So you’re saying you won’t expand the conflict?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
At my firm reply, Oh Jungseok nodded slowly.
“All right. I’ll see to it that things proceed smoothly. I’ll speak to the judges who’ve benefited from Ilseong’s backing. If anyone tries to interfere, I’ll tell them to be ready to hang up their robes.”
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. If you were truly determined, those so-called Ilseong scholars wouldn’t stay untouched anyway. But still—they’re all my former students, you know.”
Smiling easily, he took another sip of tea before speaking again.
“By the way, you really don’t plan on getting married?”
“You ask that every time we meet.”
“I only ask because it’s a pity.”
“I don’t have any plans right now. I heard Hyunwoo has set a date, though.”
“Heh. Even a straw sandal finds its mate, I suppose.”
Though he spoke bluntly, the corners of his mouth twitched the moment Oh Hyunwoo’s name was mentioned.
“Han Minkyeong is a good woman. They’re well matched.”
“I heard you supported her since her university days?”
“How did you know that?”
I looked mildly surprised.
“Minkyeong told me herself. Said Hyunwoo doesn’t know.”
“Yes. I helped her financially. I made sure to leave no trace, so I didn’t expect her to say anything.”
It seemed Oh Jungseok had already accepted Han Minkyeong as his future daughter-in-law.
His expression softened at the mention of her name.
“So, what did you see in that girl to help her so much?”
“I had the means, and she had the talent. It bothered me to see someone capable fall behind just because she lacked money. That’s all. While her friends were studying, she was working. It was an investment, in a sense. You know me, Chief Justice—I don’t make bad investments.”
Back then, I hadn’t attached much meaning to it.
I only hoped that Han Minkyeong could study alongside her peers and pass the bar exam.
And she hadn’t disappointed me—her results were excellent.
Of course, I hadn’t expected her to marry Oh Hyunwoo, but that wasn’t a bad outcome either.
“I see. After meeting her myself, I found her to be a good girl.”
“Yes, she’s capable. She’ll get along well with Hyunwoo and succeed in whatever she does.”
“She has a good reputation in the courts too.”
I nodded slightly.
In the previous timeline, because of her family’s circumstances, Han Minkyeong had started out as a human rights lawyer.
In her thirties, she entered politics, and by forty she’d risen to floor leader.
This time, she might leave her name in the judiciary instead.
That was the end of our talk about her. I spent another hour conversing with Oh Jungseok before leaving his house.
A few days later—
Instead of the spokesperson, it was Lee Myungsoo who entered the press room at party headquarters.
Since word had gone out beforehand that the transition committee appointments would be announced today, reporters from major broadcasters and newspapers were already waiting.
Lee Myungsoo scanned the room and cracked a light joke to ease the tension, then opened a document envelope and drew out a sheet of paper.
“First, I’ll announce who will lead the Presidential Transition Committee. Former Chief Justice Oh Jungseok has agreed to serve as the committee’s chairman. I believe everyone here knows who he is—one of the most respected figures in our judiciary and the perfect fit for this role.”
No sooner had he finished than a reporter raised a hand.
“Are you saying Chief Justice Oh has officially accepted?”
“Yes. After President-elect Yoon personally visited him three times, he finally agreed.”
As reporters typed furiously, Lee Myungsoo continued after a pause.
“The vice-chairman will be former Conservative Party leader Han Jiho. He’s a veteran lawmaker with extensive political experience and a good relationship with the Progressive Party. We expect him to serve as a strong bridge between the Blue House and the committee.”
The press room buzzed again.
“Assemblyman Han Jiho, you mean?”
Smiling, Lee replied,
“Yes. President Han had initially declared he would serve humbly with no post, but the President-elect personally offered him the position, and after repeated persuasion, he accepted.”
“The President-elect and Assemblyman Han have completely different political styles. Their legislative priorities are also worlds apart.”
“Yes, that’s true. But as our party’s name makes clear, we stand beyond the outdated divide of conservative versus progressive, left versus right. We’re forming a team of people suited to their roles, for the people alone. Please have faith in President-elect Yoon and the Centrist Party.”
He went on to announce the rest of the committee members one by one.
Contrary to expectations—since Yoon Changho was a former Prosecutor General—the list was not packed with prosecutors but featured many external appointees.
“The first and second priorities of our transition committee are the economy. We’ll reform the conglomerates and overhaul their distorted governance structures. As we speak, the President-elect is meeting with the heads of major conglomerates.”
A voice called out from among the reporters.
“Secretary-General! Is this related to the statement recently released by the Federation of Korean Industries and the business elders?”
“We’ll hold a separate press conference about that later.”
Lee bowed slightly to the press.
“This is just the beginning for our transition committee. The people have placed their trust in us, and we will deliver policies for the nation and its citizens. We will fight corruption. We will fight entrenched privilege. Thank you.”
Then he left the room.
“Impressive.”
Watching the TV, I let out a small exclamation.
“Myungsoo’s become quite the politician. Knows how to put on a show too.”
A satisfied smile spread across my face.
Turning off the TV, I picked up a document on the table.
It was the list of transition committee members.
Less than half were Yoon Changho’s people—the rest were filled with my own and Myungsoo’s. Seeing it made the corners of my mouth lift.
“Didn’t they say Yoon Changho’s meeting the conglomerate heads right now?”
“Yes. He’s gathered them all at the Myeongdong Hotel.”
“At least he’s doing his job properly. Not like Kim Hakgwon, who only ever tested the waters.”
Yoon Changho was moving exactly as I wanted.
Setting the document down, I asked,
“What about Seo Jaehun’s movements?”
“Quiet.”
“No other contact?” fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
I wasn’t asking about Seo Jaehun himself but about someone else—one of the key Ilseong Group figures who had switched to our side.
“No. He seems to be lying low. There aren’t many who could have produced the materials handed to the Fair Trade Commission, so he’s being cautious.”
“Hmm... Then it’s time we make our declaration of defection official. Let’s reveal our mole at the upcoming Ilseong Electronics shareholders’ meeting.”
“I’ll make the preparations.”
I rose from my seat and stood by the study window. Outside, thick snowflakes were falling.
Before long, the world beyond turned white. Watching the accumulating snow, I fell into thought.
* * *
The top suite of the Myeongdong Hotel.
In the adjoining conference room, the heads of the nation’s top ten conglomerates—excluding Ilseong Group—had all gathered.
A moment later, the door opened, and Yoon Changho entered. Everyone stood.
“My apologies for being late. Let’s skip the useless formalities and get straight to the point. Please, everyone, take your seats.”
As he sat, the other chairmen followed.
“The reason I’ve gathered you all here today is to hear your opinions on several matters. First, Ilseong Group will be dismantled.”
At those words from the President-elect, faces stiffened.
Those who remembered the Fifth Republic’s dismantling of Kukje Group by presidential order frowned deeply.
“I understand from President Kim Muhyuk that each of you will receive one or two affiliates. So why the grim looks? Aren’t you all accomplices?”
“......”
“Let’s not pretend innocence. What good will hypocrisy do us here? If you’re planning to hide behind masks and act, then you may as well leave now.”
At Yoon’s cold warning, no one dared respond.
The atmosphere in the room grew heavy, but Yoon calmly surveyed them again.
“I don’t like conglomerates.”
Having established control, he spoke candidly. The chairmen’s faces hardened.
“That said, I can’t investigate you all. So I’ll need your cooperation.”
Ye Seungjin, the eldest among them and chairman of Geumseong Group, spoke up.
“By cooperation, you mean...?”
“I mean don’t oppose the reforms I’m about to carry out. Continue to cooperate as you’ve been doing.”
“What kind of reforms are you referring to?”
“Restructuring the governance of the conglomerates. I’ll see it done within my term.”
“But... we already agreed to implement that gradually, with a grace period.”
Geumseong Group had already transitioned into a holding company, but others ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) hadn’t.
Jungwoo Group and Hyeonhwa Group—both effectively under Kim Muhyuk’s control—had already completed their transitions.
“So you’re saying you won’t comply?”
“......”
At Yoon’s chilly tone, Ye Seungjin fell silent.
“I’m saying this for your own good. You all know that your current structure leaves your control vulnerable to massive capital shifts, don’t you?”
Looking around the room, Yoon continued,
“I’m not someone who only takes. If you resolve that issue, I’ll see to it that the long-demanded ‘Corporate City Act’ passes.”
All eyes widened. Shocked, Ye Seungjin asked,
“You’ll pass the Corporate City Act?”
“Yes. It’s what the Federation of Korean Industries has been advocating, isn’t it?”
The Corporate City Act.
It contained various provisions, but the most controversial was that it granted private companies the right to expropriate land when establishing designated corporate cities.
“I’ll make Ilseong Group a public example, and if you all demonstrate your commitment to reform, the public will understand.”
Yoon’s proposal was not only reasonable—it was tempting.
As the gathered chairmen whispered among themselves, Ye Seungjin fell into thought.
‘This must all be Kim Muhyuk’s design.’
When the room finally quieted again, Yoon smiled.
“Then I’ll take that as agreement. Prepare a joint statement declaring your support for all economic policies announced by the transition committee.”
“Yes, President-elect.”
His tone was mild, but the meaning within was an order.
The conglomerate heads had no other choice.
