I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 131
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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131 – Constitutional Succession
131.
Breaking news has just come in.
President Melchor has reportedly suffered severe injuries in an accident.
According to the Presidential Palace, President Melchor lost consciousness due to the accident and has yet to regain it.
A Presidential Palace official stated that medical staff are taking all necessary measures, but the situation is not favorable.
The government has immediately convened an emergency response meeting.
Vice President Bayani is preparing emergency measures to prevent a governance vacuum and stated that if necessary, a temporary delegation of authority system will also be considered.
Political circles and various sectors continue to send messages wishing for the President’s swift recovery, and the public is also closely monitoring the situation.
Patrick and I were watching the news together.
The news was broadcasting breaking reports that President Melchor had suffered severe injuries in an accident.
An accident—that much is true.
Melchor fell down the stairs while fleeing.
To be honest, I had no intention of killing Melchor.
Murder isn’t my hobby.
As long as he stepped down from the presidency, I didn’t much care what happened to him.
But at minimum, I had to force him to relinquish the presidency.
If he remained president, it would be a problem.
He’s a greedy man.
There’s no telling when he might stab me in the back.
I couldn’t proceed with that uncertainty hanging over me.
So I only meant to scare him into resigning.
But Melchor, panicking prematurely, bolted and tumbled down the stairs.
Quite badly, too.
He hit his head and was admitted to the hospital.
Now the news is reporting it.
Funny—they’re not mentioning anything about him fleeing.
I turned to Patrick while watching the television.
“Patrick. Since things have come to this, want to take a shot at being president?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re popular, you know. I think you could actually pull it off.”
“Hahahaha. You’re joking.”
Patrick turned back to the television as if he’d heard something ridiculous.
“I’m serious. You have real potential. Mindanao and Bohol will vote for you anyway, and if we can just manage Luzon—we massage your accomplishments as Zamboanga’s mayor through the media and YouTube, your recognition and approval ratings will skyrocket, and then you’ve got it.”
As I spoke earnestly, Patrick looked at me strangely.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. One hundred percent serious.”
“Khahahahahaha.”
Patrick burst into loud laughter.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him laugh so hard.
“Khehehehe. How can I be president if there’s no election? Keke.”
Patrick continues speaking, still unable to suppress his laughter at how absurd it all is.
“No election? But there’s no president?”
“Kheh. Yes. The remaining term will just be handled by the Vice President. If there’s no Vice President either, it goes to the Senate, House of Representatives, and so on. We don’t hold a separate election.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Presidential elections in the Philippines are held every six years. The president serves a single six-year term.”
It was true.
Presidential elections in the Philippines are held every six years.
If an accident occurs during the term and the president cannot fulfill his duties, the Vice President assumes the remaining term in his stead.
“I see. I didn’t know that.”
“It’s understandable that you wouldn’t.”
“But the president really serves a single six-year term?”
“Yes.”
“Then the next presidential election will be held in three years. Until then, the current Vice President will serve as acting president?”
“That’s correct.”
As I listened to this explanation, a curiosity arose within me.
A pointless curiosity about whether the president really had to serve only six years.
I was about to make Patrick president, but six years seemed such a waste.
It would be better if he served longer.
Twelve years, eighteen years—that would be even better.
Six years was too short.
Barely enough time to accomplish anything before it all ended.
But the presidential election was three years away.
That meant we had sufficient time to change it.
We had enough time to convert the single-term system into a multi-term system.
“How would you go about changing that?”
“Change what?”
“Converting the single-term system into consecutive terms or multiple terms?”
“Hahaha. That would require amending the constitution, so it would be difficult, wouldn’t it?”
“Tell me anyway.”
Patrick explained the procedures for amending the constitution.
Listening to the process, it didn’t seem easy at all.
There were three methods, and all of them were difficult, complicated, and demanding.
The easiest and fastest method was to persuade the members of the Senate and House of Representatives.
Of course, even that was far from easy.
But the benefits were too great to abandon the idea.
“Patrick.”
“Yes.”
“What’s the Vice President’s name?”
“It’s Bayani.”
“Yes. Bayani. I need to see Bayani. And bring the Senate and House of Representatives speakers as well.”
“Understood.”
If it doesn’t work out, so be it—but we can at least have a conversation over a meal.
Right?
It seems like a rare opportunity has arisen where I’ll need to use both guns and money together.
Should I bring Sandro along?
******
Ana’s fingers flew across the keyboard—tap, tap, tap—before she clicked the mouse a few times and exclaimed.
“It’s done.”
“You finished organizing everything?”
“Yes. I’ve sorted through all of Melchor’s assets. Wow, it’s really incredible, isn’t it?”
“There’s that much?”
“It’s no joke.”
“Good work.”
I turned my head to look at Laksa, who was sitting quietly in the corner, and spoke.
“All set?”
The man who played the most crucial role in bringing down Melchor.
The man who brought Melchor’s secrets to light.
The man who betrayed his friend, blinded by greed.
That was Laksa.
For his sake, I had assigned Ana, one of our top-tier operatives, to organize Melchor’s assets held under false names.
Ana had executed the task flawlessly.
“Yes. Thank you so much.”
Laksa was as smooth as a traitor should be.
His manners were impeccable.
Ana handed Laksa a thick brown envelope.
“You absolutely cannot lose this. Since all of Melchor’s assets were registered under false names, I’ve transferred them to different false names. But if you lose this, you won’t have any proof. So no matter what happens, keep it safe. Understood?”
Ana emphasized this to Laksa with utmost seriousness.
“Yes, yes. I’ll keep it safe.”
Laksa’s face flushed slightly with excitement as he received the brown envelope.
Laksa gripped the brown envelope tightly in his hand.
Just how much money was inside this envelope?
An astronomical sum.
All of Melchor’s vast wealth had come to Laksa intact.
He wanted to scream with joy, but barely managed to restrain himself.
He could scream later once he stepped outside.
“Thank you for helping me organize the assets as well. I will never forget this kindness.”
“So now our transaction is complete, right? You brought Melchor’s secrets, and I organized his assets for you. Correct?”
“Precisely.”
“Then we’re done. That’s the end of it. I kept my promise.”
“Yes, that’s correct. Then I’ll be on my way. I hope you stay in good health.”
After exchanging pleasantries, Laksa walked straight out the door.
Once I confirmed Laksa had left, I called for Scott.
“Scott.”
“Yes, Chairman.”
At my call, Scott emerged from where he’d been sitting out of sight.
This bastard Scott.
When I was traveling through China because of Assand, I left Scott behind.
I wanted to move quietly, so I went alone.
He must have had an easy time while I was in China.
He’d gotten incredibly fat.
I nearly died in China, but this bodyguard apparently ate well the whole time I was gone.
I need to work him over again.
Tires and Scott—they’re best when they’re rolling.
“What are you doing?”
“Yes?”
“Go get it, quick.”
“Get what?”
“You want to keep acting like this?”
“I need to know what it is before I can get it.”
“You bastard, you’ve got no professional pride. If you’re a thug, act like one—steal other people’s stuff and all that.”
“Huh??”
I glanced at the brown envelope with my eyes.
Scott caught on to what I meant.
“Ah~ that one? Got it.”
After acknowledging my order, Scott bolted out with his bloated frame moving surprisingly fast.
Watching him go, Ana asks me a question.
“Did you just tell him to steal the envelope Laksa just took with him?”
“Huh? What? Isn’t it something like that?”
“Wow~ I didn’t think you were like this, CEO. You’re kind of a punk, aren’t you?”
“Yeah? Am I finally living my dream?”
“Your dream was to be a punk?”
“Yeah. It’s cool. I need to bleach my hair blonde, ride a motorcycle, and all that—I’m still missing a lot.”
“But if you were going to steal it anyway, why did you make the whole thing so complicated from the start?”
“If I’d been drooling over it from the beginning, Laksa probably would’ve hidden more than half of Melchor’s assets.”
“Huh?!”
“We don’t know exactly how much Melchor’s wealth is. Laksa struggled with transferring it to shell companies. That’s why I said I’d help. When I told you, I just said to clean it up with shell companies and hand it over.”
“Yes, that’s what you said.”
“So once I helped him organize it that way, Laksa got excited and brought all his assets.”
“Right. It kept increasing.”
“I only said I’d keep my promise.”
“So now that all his assets have been completely transferred to dummy accounts, you’re taking them?”
“I kept my promise. Laksa will simply be robbed by street thugs on his way home.”
Ana shook her head, clearly unable to comprehend.
Click.
The door burst open and a masked Scott came rushing in.
“Huff~ huff~ I’m~ huff~ here~”
He’d gotten fat and couldn’t even run properly anymore.
“Anything unusual?”
“Huff~ There was a lot of screaming~”
I looked at the envelope Scott handed me and spoke.
“Give it to Ana. Ana, check if anything’s missing.”
“Yes.”
Ana, after examining the documents, gave me a signal that everything was in order.
With this, Melchor’s assets had become perfectly ours.
Even I have to admit it’s somewhat thuggish, but it’s not right for a traitor to live well and prosper, is it?
I always say it—betrayal is instinct.
Anyone can betray.
And that includes me.
Just as Laksa betrayed Melchor, I betrayed Laksa.
Betrayal is instinct, after all.
*******
A luxury hotel in Manila.
I was meeting with the Vice President in the conference room.
“How do you do? I’m Bayani.”
“I am…”
“I know. There’s no need for introductions.”
“Then our conversation will be efficient.”
In the Philippines, not only the President but also the Vice President is elected through popular vote.
It’s not an appointed position by the President.
So when the President and Vice President belong to different parties, they clash continuously throughout the term, and nothing gets accomplished before the term ends.
The term is exactly six years, same as the President’s.
However, the Vice President can serve one consecutive term.
Bayani was a politician of considerable age.
Before becoming Vice President, he was a seasoned politician with experience as both a congressman and a mayor.
Naturally, he knew many people and was sensitive to information and rumors.
I didn’t know the exact details, but I’d heard that the President’s accident was somehow connected to this man.
It was already a widespread rumor in Philippine political circles.
A heavyweight, a major player, they called him.
A man who could shake the Philippines in his grasp.
That’s why I came out.
Just to play along appropriately.
“I asked to meet with you, Vice President, because there’s a matter I’d like to discuss.”
“Let’s hear it.”
Bayani answered with indifference.
“I intend to amend Article 7, Section 4 of the Constitution.”
“Article 7, Section 4—what’s that?”
“That’s right. It’s the clause concerning presidential term limits.”
“Ah… that won’t work.”
Bayani found their words utterly absurd.
He wanted to leave right then.
No matter how powerful they were, this couldn’t happen.
Amending presidential term limits?
How did that constitution even come to be?
It was the result of resistance against dictatorship.
It was the fruit of struggle against twenty-two years of authoritarian rule.
To ensure such horrors would never occur again, it was codified into law and enshrined in the Constitution.
And now a madman had appeared wanting to change it.
“You can do it, though.”
“It won’t work. The law was only changed recently, and public opinion won’t be favorable.”
“Recently? It was changed in ’87, so it’s been nearly forty years.”
“Has it really been that long?”
“The Philippines has grown and developed considerably since then. The people’s consciousness has elevated, and there won’t be anyone ruling with the tyranny of the past.”
“Of course, we’d all like to believe that. But human nature changes once power is seized, doesn’t it? That’s precisely why we codified it into law to prevent such things. Amending this will likely be quite difficult. Public resistance will be formidable.”
“Wouldn’t it be enough to persuade the congressmen? I understand that three-fourths approval is all that’s needed?”
“There’s still a national referendum after that.”
“We’ll handle the referendum ourselves, so Vice President, please persuade the congressmen.”
“It won’t be easy.”
“I know. But you’re the only one who can do it, aren’t you, Vice President?”
“Hmm.”
“From what I understand, you’re the politician with the broadest connections, the best reputation, and the most trustworthy—am I mistaken?”
“No, that’s accurate, but…”
“Of course, I know it costs considerable money to meet people, bring them in, and persuade them. We’ll ensure you have no shortage of funds for that.”
At my words, the Vice President’s expression shifts.
His heart must be stirring at the thought of money.
“We’ve already concluded discussions with the Senate and House leadership. They’ve agreed to actively support us.”
“Still… it won’t be easy.”
As Bayani continued to hesitate despite my persuasion, Sandro stepped forward.
Sandro spoke a word to the Vice President.
“You’re not going to be president? For a long time too? You’re not getting the hint.”
“Pardon?”
At the mention of president, Bayani suddenly froze as if malfunctioning.
“You’re not going to be president?”
“Pardon? Of course I will.”
Bayani’s eyes shifted.
They gleamed with naked ambition.
His entire posture transformed.
So that’s what the position of president truly meant—what power really was.
It possessed an enchantment that awakened dormant instincts.
“Then we need to change the law. Are you not understanding me because I’m being too polite?”
“I understand.”
“To become president—and to remain president for a long time—we need to change the law.”
“That’s correct.”
“So let’s move quickly. I’ll give you one year until the referendum. Amend the constitution within that timeframe.”
“That timeline is far too tight.”
“Or are you planning to change it during the next presidential election? Nine years from now? Time isn’t on our side—there’s no vice president to wait for. If you want even one more term, you need to hurry.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
“Then let’s get moving. We don’t have time.”
“Yes, understood.”
With that, Bayani hastily left the room.
Clutching the briefcase of money we’d given him.
Sandro and I remained alone in the conference room.
“What? You’re actually making Bayani president?”
“Are you insane? How could you make someone so scatterbrained into a president?”
“But you said you’d make him president.”
“I gave him motivation. When people think it’s their own business rather than someone else’s, they work harder, don’t they? In restaurants, the owner works harder than the part-timer. Because it’s their own affair.”
“So what’s your plan later?”
“An old fool like that has plenty of dirt. We leak a few things to the media, then claim from our side that he has too many flaws to continue. Simple.”
“Wow, you really are… the best.”
“Don’t say that. I learned it all from you. Hehe.”
We proceeded to meet with government officials to request the constitutional amendment.
We met with the Vice President, the Senate President, the House Speaker, and several congressmen.
They all hesitated at first, but once we hinted—not with the briefcase, but with the possibility that they themselves could become the next president—their posture changed, their attitudes shifted.
That was all it took.
We had our own work to do.
We needed to prepare for the referendum.
The first priority was eliminating public resistance to term extension.
We needed to shatter the perception that term extension meant dictatorship and instead instill the belief that it was necessary for stable governance.
We had to mobilize the media.
By continuously using nations with term extension as role models, we could plant the idea firmly in people’s minds.
Fortunately, most countries—Europe, the United States, and others—have adopted the consecutive term system.
I simply extract the advantages while discarding the drawbacks, craft articles from them, produce documentaries, churn out shorts, and distribute them everywhere.
When people are exposed to something repeatedly, they begin to believe it as truth.
It has been a long time since dictatorship vanished from the Philippines.
More than half of the current voters have never experienced authoritarian rule.
For them, poverty is a far greater concern than dictatorship.
If they can simply live well—if the consecutive term system can make the Philippines prosperous—they will gladly vote for it.
If they can avoid witnessing the tiresome squabbles of politicians, they will support the consecutive term system.
I must focus on that angle and shape public opinion accordingly.
Here too, money solves everything.
How fortunate.
With the funds Melchor left behind, I can accomplish all of this without spending a single coin of my own.
And there is still a substantial amount remaining.
Thank you, Melchor.
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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