Free Web NovelIn the previous life, I wasn’t named successor until after graduating college and crawling through the dirt for years.
“From now on, Muhyuk is my successor.”
Even if it wasn’t an official declaration back then, most people associated with my grandfather already thought of me that way.
But saying it out loud at a family gathering carried a completely different weight.
It meant skipping an entire generation and entrusting everything to a grandson—someone who didn’t even share the Cheon surname, but Kim.
“I’ll give the others a little something too, but don’t get greedy. If you do, I’ll take back even what I’ve given.”
Each of the three reacted differently. freēwebnovel.com
Cheon Jiwon, who had looked meek the entire time, now had a slightly twisted expression. Cheon Jisoo showed no change at all. Cheon Jiyoung looked genuinely pleased.
“Congratulations, Muhyuk-oppa.”
Jiyoung’s congratulation was sincere, while Jiwon and Jisoo echoed the sentiment only because they were wary of our grandfather’s gaze.
And with that, the family gathering for Grandpa’s birthday came to an end.
Grandpa left for Pyeongchang-dong with Secretary Ha, and Jiyoung went with them. Jiwon, face darkened, stormed out of the hotel.
But Cheon Jisoo stopped me—asking to talk for a moment.
“So, it’s come to this.”
I said nothing and just looked at her face.
“You’re going to keep your promise, right? You haven’t forgotten you said you’d help me take over Ilseong?”
A completely different attitude from Jiyoung.
That didn’t mean she was unaware of what Cheon Sooman had done.
“What my father did isn’t my responsibility. I hope that doesn’t interfere with our deal.”
Her brazen face left me speechless.
“You could at least fake it. Say something like, ‘Sorry about what my father did to your aunt,’ even if you don’t mean it.”
“I didn’t know anything about it. Why should I apologize? My father and I are different people. Besides, isn’t he already being punished? He can’t set foot in Korea as long as Grandpa’s alive. Isn’t that enough?”
Cheon Jisoo wasn’t a fox—if she had been, she would’ve at least faked an apology to smooth things over and get what she wanted.
“Is that not enough?”
“A promise is a promise. I trust you’ll keep it.”
She got up like the conversation was over, uncaring whether I scoffed or not.
Did she think acting shameless would somehow change anything?
As I watched her walk away, I fell into thought.
So she planned to stab me in the back after getting help...? Not anymore. I’ll make sure she gets nothing.
I sorted my thoughts and stood up.
Just then, my phone rang.
“This is Kim Muhyuk.”
― Hey. Let’s have a drink. The nightclub in the hotel.
It was Cheon Jiwon, who had left earlier.
What the hell is with this family?
I let out a sigh. Those two were exhausting.
I considered ignoring him—but I wanted to hear what he had to say.
I went down to the nightclub and gave Jiwon’s name to the waiter. He immediately recognized it and led me in.
Inside the room, Jiwon was drinking alone.
“Why’d you call me? We’re not exactly drinking buddies.”
“Just sit down. Don’t get all worked up.”
As soon as I sat, he poured me a drink and then silently kept drinking on his own.
He kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say something, then shutting it again and downing more booze.
He wasn’t acting like the arrogant, insufferable Cheon Jiwon I knew.
“I... I’m sorry. I really didn’t know about what happened to your aunt.”
He finally blurted it out after a long silence.
“What?”
“I said I’m sorry. Shit... Even if I’m a bastard, that’s too much.”
I didn’t expect Cheon Jiwon to apologize.
What was his angle?
“I’m not asking for forgiveness because I didn’t know. I just wanted to say it to your face.”
He said nothing else after that.
I simply watched him drink, then stood up without a word.
Cheon Jiwon and Cheon Jisoo...
Even by the time I returned to the house in Pyeongchang-dong, I hadn’t sorted out my thoughts.
“Jiwon and Jisoo won’t be your competition anymore. Don’t burn yourself out trying to get revenge on them too.”
Grandpa seemed to believe I might target them after his death.
Even though I was already practically the successor, his words at the gathering weren’t just for the others—they were mostly for me. A message saying, “They won’t be a threat. Just leave them be.”
“I understand.”
“Good. I’m counting on you.”
He sipped his tea, then changed the subject.
“You still seeing Chairman Song’s granddaughter?”
He smiled as he set down his teacup.
“You don’t like her?”
“No, it’s not that. We’ve met a few times.”
“Bring her over sometime.”
“We’re not quite at that stage yet.”
“I’d like to see her once. Wasn’t her name Song Hyeonji?”
“Yes.”
“If you’re saying ‘not yet,’ it must mean you’re starting to like her.”
Since our first meeting at Chairman Song’s place, I’d seen her a few more times.
The more we met, the more I liked her.
“If I ever decide to take things seriously, I’ll bring her to the house.”
“I don’t know when I’ll die... but I’d like to see you get married before I go.”
“Grandpa.”
He chuckled, pleased at how flustered I was.
“Just because I declared you my successor in front of the family doesn’t mean I’m handing everything over yet.”
That was exactly what I wanted.
During the IMF crisis, I needed to work behind the scenes, hidden in Grandpa’s shadow.
“Don’t give up the private lending business. If there’s light, there must also be shadow. Regimes change, eras shift, but that truth stays the same. Everyone must do their part in their domain for the country to function.”
“Yes, Grandpa.”
* * *
A large traditional house on the outskirts of Gyeonggi-do.
A quiet voice came from an elderly man inside.
He kept replying “Yes” in Japanese on the phone—clearly speaking to someone high-ranking.
After hanging up, the old man’s face was flushed red with anger.
He walked out of the room.
On the wide wooden floor, men knelt in silence on either side. The old man walked through them and sat at the head.
“What the hell is everyone doing?!”
His voice was shockingly loud for someone of his age.
No one answered.
Everyone kept their heads low, unmoving.
“Prime Minister Lee, is the president really not going to change his mind?”
The man addressed as Prime Minister looked up.
“Hoeju-nim, no matter how much we try to dissuade him, he won’t listen.”
This old man... was none other than Lee Yonghyeon, the head of Cheongpunghoe.
“What the hell does he gain by rejecting Japan’s offer and being so stubborn?”
“I apologize.”
“To think we backed him into the presidency, only for him to stab us in the back like this...”
“There was no other choice. If we hadn’t picked him, the opposition party would’ve taken power.”
The Hoeju massaged his brow, clearly agitated.
“Saying he’s going to demolish the Japanese Government-General Building on the anniversary of the war’s end...”
He called it the "anniversary of the war’s end," not liberation, but no one dared correct him.
“Stop him. I don’t care how—just stop him.”
“There’s nothing we can do. Those who oppose him are being pushed aside or forced to resign. He’s resisting our pressure with sheer public support.”
“Finding a way is your job.”
No one answered. Just cold sweat.
With the president’s approval rating above 80%, who could stop him?
The old man clicked his tongue in irritation.
“We should’ve acted when he started purging our side. That was our mistake.”
Hanahoe had been one of Cheongpunghoe’s pillars.
They could’ve used the military to pressure the president, but a sweeping military reshuffle had caught them off guard.
That was when the president began acting entirely on his own will.
The deeper the wrinkles on Lee Yonghyeon’s brow, the heavier the room felt.
Then, a man seated opposite the Prime Minister finally spoke.
“Uh... Hoeju-nim.”
Lee Yonghyeon looked at him with mild disinterest.
“So, Kim Doseong. Got nothing? Leak some scandal around the president through the prosecutors.”
“The Prosecutor General is his man. As a powerless deputy prosecutor, I can’t do anything unless the General resigns.”
“It’s been two years. Two years. And none of you have been able to sway the president on this. Japan even offered to pay for everything, and you can’t manage that?”
No one could reply. All lowered their heads in shame.
“What the hell are we supposed to do now?”
His tongue clicked again, echoing through the room.
As Muhyuk had predicted, Lee Yonghyeon, head of Cheongpunghoe, was too busy with the Government-General Building issue to pay attention to Muhyuk’s movements.
* * *
August arrived.
I flew to the U.S. to coincide with Netscape’s IPO.
Han Kyungyeong, waiting at the airport, looked like a different person.
“Hey~ Muhyuk!”
He ran up and pulled me into a hug.
“How long’s it been?”
“You’ve changed a lot too, hyung.”
“Let’s go.”
We climbed into the limo he had prepared.
“Like it? I got this just for your visit.”
The roomy interior made it easy to talk.
“How’s the IPO prep?”
“No problem. Initial offering was $14, but the hype pushed it to $28.”
Same as in the original timeline.
“If we sell at $40, what’s our projected profit?”
“Roughly $1 billion. Are we selling?”
Prices would hit a peak of $80 later, but I had no reason to hold.
Microsoft would win in the end anyway.
“No. You handle negotiations with Andreessen. Tell him we’ll sell our stake at $40 per share after listing. If he won’t buy, liquidate anyway.”
“Got it.”
Because of the driver, we couldn’t say much more.
Only after we arrived at Han’s place could we get into serious talk about the shell company setup.
“How far along is it?”
“About 30%? We’ll need until next year.”
Slower than I’d expected.
“You closed out the yen positions?”
“Yeah. Liquidated a few days ago. Over 300% profit.”
The more money at play, the harder it was to multiply it like before.
“Well done. What’s our total capital now?”
“Don’t freak out—$82 billion. Haha, you’re the richest man on earth.”
“Word hasn’t gotten out, right? With the peso, you had to step in, but the yen bets were made through existing products.”
“Probably not? Though I’m sure the U.S. government knows.”
$82 billion. Even at 800 won per dollar, that was nearly 70 trillion won.
But calling myself the richest? No way. Too many hidden billionaires in this world.
“Distribute all but $20 billion. How many splits and mergers did you plan?”
“The firm’s planning to split it into around 500 parts, then merge it back into 12 entities, each holding $5 billion.”
“Too small. Split it into thousands, then consolidate into 13 companies. One will be my slush fund.”
“Whoa, the fees are gonna be insane.”
“Better to pay fees than for you to rot in prison for life.”
Han Kyungyeong recoiled in mock horror.
“Don’t be so scary. And don’t complain later about how much I spent—‘cause I’m really gonna spend a lot.”
“Hahaha.”
When we finished talking, Han said he’d let me rest and stepped out.
Left alone in the room with Chief Ma, my face hardened.
“Chief, do you know someone trustworthy? A mercenary type—someone we can hire as both bodyguard and observer. Not Korean. An American citizen.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“Don’t worry about the cost. Just someone you trust—someone who won’t ever switch sides to Han Kyungyeong.”
I trusted Han Kyungyeong. Or rather—I wanted to trust him.
But if anyone knew the terror of money, it was me.
I didn’t need to look far. In South America and Southeast Asia, $1,000 could get someone killed. A human life sold for less than a million won.
If Han ever got devoured by money and betrayed my trust...
...I would discard him without hesitation.
* * *
At last, Netscape was listed on NASDAQ. ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) It started at $28, surged to $78, and closed at $57.
While Andreessen and the employees celebrated with champagne, Han Kyungyeong doused the moment.
“Mr. Andreessen, we’re selling our entire stake. Would you like to buy it? We’re offering at $60 per share.”
I had told him to sell at $40, but when it came to money, Han Kyungyeong was more ruthless than I was.
< From Now On, Muhyuk Is My Successor. > End.
