I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 163

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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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163 – A Blind Date
163.
The blue night of Jeju Island.
The wind was gentle, and the sound of waves echoed softly from afar.
We sat on the hotel terrace, talking without noticing the passage of time.
We spoke of so many things.
I’m not sure why.
That night, I felt an unusual urge to talk.
Stories I’d never told anyone,
stories that didn’t need to be shared at all.
Whether I wanted to speak because it was Kwon Ju-ah,
or whether I wanted to speak and she simply happened to be there—I couldn’t say.
But that night alone,
it felt like it would be alright to bare my soul to someone.
I started with my military service.
Stories of training at the boot camp.
Stories of deployment to Congo.
And even the story of losing my brothers there.
After that, the stories flowed naturally.
The Philippines trip I fled to.
Sandro, whom I met there.
How I started tourism with Emerald Canyon and Lumina Lake.
How I bought a hotel and came to operate a casino.
How I somehow became close with the Rebel Forces and the cartels.
And eventually how I started trading with China and made a fortune.
I told so many stories.
The words never stopped flowing.
It felt like I was setting down burdens I’d carried for so long, one by one.
Of course, I couldn’t tell her everything.
I didn’t mention the Inventory,
nor did I speak of delivering medicine or creating Assand.
And I certainly didn’t mention Marian or helping the Rebel Forces.
It wasn’t so much that I wanted to keep secrets, but rather that those things felt like they shouldn’t be spoken aloud.
The moment I said them, this night would shatter.
Kwon Ju-ah, listening to me late into the night, repeated “Really?” and “Are you serious?” countless times.
She seemed to find my words hard to believe.
Then again, even I found it hard to believe, so it must be even harder for her.
Even as Kwon Ju-ah expressed her amazement, she tried to understand the suffering and burden I had endured.
“You’ve been through so much.”
“It must have been incredibly difficult all this time.”
That single phrase lingered in my chest in an oddly persistent way.
It wasn’t pity, nor was it sympathy—it was comfort.
I liked Kwon Ju-ah for that.
Or to be honest, I found myself wanting more.
But it couldn’t be.
Kwon Ju-ah couldn’t be.
Kwon Ju-ah and I live in distinctly different worlds.
In high school and now, Kwon Ju-ah and I inhabit separate places.
Kwon Ju-ah lived in an apartment, while I lived in an illegal structure at the foot of a mountain.
Kwon Ju-ah became a doctor, while I dwell in darkness, committing wrongs.
For someone like me to approach Kwon Ju-ah is a mistake in itself.
It wouldn’t be comfort—it would be destruction.
It would be ruining Kwon Ju-ah.
This is the extent of happiness permitted to me.
Occasionally sharing meals, laughing over pointless conversations, catching my breath for a moment—that’s enough.
This much suffices.
I mustn’t desire anything more.
Without another word, I greeted the dawn breaking over Jeju Island.
There was no conversation, yet my heart felt at peace.
*******
Yun Tae-gyeom was absorbed in his tablet.
His fingers swiped across the screen as he examined each résumé one by one.
His pace wasn’t slow, but he never skimmed carelessly.
His finger stopped on a photograph of Kwon Ju-ah.
It was an official portrait taken in a doctor’s coat.
The woman in the photograph was neat and refined.
She was sufficiently beautiful, but not excessively so.
Not flashy, but possessing an organized impression.
Her face was clean and trustworthy, inspiring confidence.
The doctor’s coat she wore only heightened that sense of credibility.
Yet there was no emotion visible in Yun Tae-gyeom’s eyes.
No love, no curiosity, no desire, no anger.
His gaze was no different from that of someone evaluating a mere asset.
“Kwon Ju-ah…”
He reviewed her résumé once more.
Education.
Major.
Hospital of employment.
Family background.
Reputation.
Media exposure history.
Nothing stood out.
“Kwon Ju-ah is the best option?”
Yun Tae-gyeom kept his eyes fixed on the tablet as he posed the question to the Secretary General beside him.
The Secretary General nodded.
“By current standards, yes.”
“Isn’t she the weakest choice? There’s a bank president’s daughter, heirs to conglomerates, and she’s just a doctor.”
The Secretary General offered a prepared response.
“If we only consider short-term impact, a bank president’s daughter or conglomerate heir would have far greater influence. However, they carry proportional risks. Both families are already entangled in rumors. And the probability that those rumors are true approaches one hundred percent.”
Yun Tae-gyeom exhaled softly upon hearing the answer.
“Sigh… I never imagined I’d marry someone like this.”
“Marriage isn’t really the critical issue here, is it?”
The Secretary General spoke matter-of-factly.
“That’s true. It’s merely a contract, after all.”
“Precisely.”
“And Kwon Ju-ah possesses a clean image, along with the professionalism and credibility that comes with being a physician. Furthermore, she has no direct entanglement with finance, politics, or business circles.”
“That’s exactly why I dislike her. She’s bland. There’s no compelling angle to leverage.”
Yun Tae-gyeom set down the tablet he’d been holding.
His displeasure was unmistakable.
“Trust and professionalism are substantial assets, however.”
The Secretary General responded, but Yun Tae-gyeom wasn’t listening.
His mind was already performing different calculations.
Born as the second son of the Taelim Financial Group’s founding family, Yun Tae-gyeom had learned from childhood to view the world through numbers rather than emotion.
People were positions, not relationships; events were risks, not experiences; and choices were always matters of profit and loss.
To him, humans were assets—or entities with the potential to become assets.
From that perspective, Kwon Ju-ah was a remarkably unattractive asset.
She was replaceable.
She held no exclusivity.
And the immediate returns she offered were negligible.
An excessively safe choice that could be swapped for another card at any moment.
The tablet screen displayed several files besides Kwon Ju-ah’s.
These were candidates with whom marriage discussions could commence the moment he gave his approval.
A politician’s daughter.
A major financier’s granddaughter.
Even individuals connected to overseas conglomerate families.
In comparison, Kwon Ju-ah was far too ordinary.
A physician.
An unremarkable family background.
A person with neither special connections nor glaring vulnerabilities.
He picked up the tablet again.
I reviewed Kwon Ju-ah’s file once more.
After hearing the Secretary General’s assessment and examining the file, I sensed something intriguing.
It was pristine.
Too pristine.
I found myself thinking that perhaps this wasn’t a weakness at all, but rather a malleable state—easy to shape and mold.
She could become quite a valuable asset, I thought.
Taelim Financial Group wasn’t lacking in money.
The problem was image.
A group obsessed with profit.
Financial aristocrats devoid of compassion or humanity.
That image of a heartless money-grubbing demon clung to Taelim like a shadow.
But if a daughter-in-law with a medical degree, professional credentials, and trustworthiness entered the picture, such an image could be diluted considerably.
If she appeared on broadcasts offering medical opinions,
and presented herself as modest and unpretentious, it wouldn’t look bad at all.
Even subtle hints of a positive married life would suffice.
A few social contribution programs,
and talk of establishing medical support systems for vulnerable populations would be ideal.
Image-making with Kwon Ju-ah front and center.
If I could rebuild Taelim’s image that way, it would be a profitable venture indeed.
Creating that image might even earn me favorable points in the succession struggle that had grown somewhat distant.
Yun Tae-gyeom paused briefly in thought, then nodded.
“Yes. Let’s go this route.”
Yun Tae-gyeom had made his decision.
What he had ultimately chosen, after all his calculations,
was Kwon Ju-ah—the asset with the fewest variables, the most stability, and the most positive potential.
But Yun Tae-gyeom did not know.
That beside the asset he deemed most unremarkable, there existed a person so extraordinarily special that Yun Tae-gyeom’s calculations could never account for them.
.
.
.
A hotel in Namsan, Seoul.
Kwon Ju-ah sat in a corner of the lobby.
A blind date disguised as an introduction.
Was his name Yun Tae-gyeom?
The second son of Taelim Financial Group.
I’d never seen or met a chaebol heir before, and now I was here for a blind date with marriage as the premise.
This situation was simply astonishing and bewildering.
Not in a good way.
Just astonishing.
It felt utterly unreal.
Kwon Ju-ah had come to this meeting fully prepared to refuse.
She hadn’t wanted to come in the first place.
But her father, Kwon Sang-yeol, would move heaven and earth to get her seated at this table.
He would subject her to relentless gaslighting every single day until she agreed to show up.
Just meet him once.
It’s a good opportunity for you too.
Even if it doesn’t lead to marriage, you could make a wonderful friend.
Is it really so difficult to meet one person for your father’s sake?
It’ll be a good experience.
If she refused, he would undoubtedly brand her an ungrateful daughter.
He would criticize her relentlessly, asking how meeting someone once for her father and family could be so hard.
Given that, it was better to just go and get it over with quickly.
She had met him, and the other party didn’t seem interested in her.
This was the cleanest and most effective way to resolve the situation.
With the mindset of getting through this as fast as possible, she had shown up.
She had simply sacrificed two hours of her time for the sake of family peace.
She hadn’t mentioned it separately to In-bae.
There was no need to tell him.
This was nothing at all.
I had In-bae.
When I was with In-bae, I was happy.
I felt at ease, and I could smile.
I could breathe.
I didn’t understand why In-bae hadn’t confessed to me yet,
but taking things slowly like this wasn’t so bad.
After sitting for a while, a man wearing glasses approached the table.
“Kwon Ju-ah?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
The man flashed an artificial smile.
“I’m Yun Tae-gyeom. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m Kwon Ju-ah. Pleasure to meet you too.”
The moment Yun Tae-gyeom sat down, he scrutinized me thoroughly.
It wasn’t the gaze of someone looking at a person—it was the eye of someone inspecting merchandise.
“You look even better in person than in photographs.”
Receiving such a look left me feeling deeply uncomfortable.
I felt like an object on display.
Like I was being evaluated as a commodity rather than a human being.
Indifferent to my feelings, the man continued speaking.
“This will do. Let’s proceed with the marriage.”
“I’m sorry?”
Kwon Ju-ah could only manage a single word in response to such an astonishing statement.
“You came out to get married anyway. I’m satisfied with you. So we should just go ahead and marry.”
“But···”
Yun Tae-gyeom spoke as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Then I’ll proceed with it that way. I’ll send the Legal Team. We’ll need to draw up a contract.”
“But···”
As Kwon Ju-ah’s expression grew increasingly flustered, Yun Tae-gyeom explained as if bestowing a kindness upon her.
“Marriage is a role. If you simply perform your part well from your position, you’ll be able to live comfortably as a daughter-in-law of a conglomerate family for the rest of your life.”
Yun Tae-gyeom didn’t wait for Kwon Ju-ah’s response.
He rose from his seat before the ordered coffee even arrived.
Yun Tae-gyeom walked straight out of the lobby.
Kwon Ju-ah stared blankly after him, her grip tightening on the handbag in her hands.
Her heart was pounding with an unpleasant rhythm.
*******
Du Man-sik, who had crossed over to Hong Kong, met with Huk-hyang first.
The sharpest and darkest organization within the Triad Society.
The Chairman’s direct subordinate and shadow.
“Is it you? The one who eliminated the Chairman?”
Huk-hyang’s Commander stared at Du Man-sik with eyes brimming with murderous intent and asked.
Yet there was also caution mixed into that gaze.
He was gauging whether this man was an enemy or someone to be eliminated.
Before those eyes, Du Man-sik remained composed.
Du Man-sik had tasted both bitterness and sweetness in this world.
He wouldn’t be intimidated by such things.
“Haha. Zhang Tian alone would be enough for me to handle. But this time, the Chairman did it himself.”
“The Chairman? Who else is there? Didn’t you betray the Chairman and become the new one yourself?”
Huk-hyang’s Commander’s voice carried overt distrust.
Huk-hyang’s Commander didn’t personally like or respect Zhang Tian either.
Yet the organization called Huk-hyang itself was a direct organization under the Chairman.
Regardless of preference, loyalty to the Chairman remained unchanged.
But this man who had toppled Chairman Zhang Tian and appeared before him.
No matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t approve.
“No. I am merely a servant of that person who came to completely transform the Triad Society.”
“Then···”
“Alex from the Philippines.”
“I’m aware.”
At the mention of Alex’s name, Huk-hyang’s Commander’s expression hardened.
It was a name he couldn’t pretend not to know.
“That person reorganized the Triad Society.”
“Why would that person···”
“I heard the Triad Society got caught trying to slip drugs into his territory.”
“···.”
Commander Huk-hyang fell silent.
If that was the reason Zhang Tian had been handed over to the Ministry of State Security, it was practically saving his life.
Alex had done the Triad Society an enormous favor.
It wouldn’t have been strange to wipe out the entire Triad Society.
If it had been the Triad Society, they would have handled it in an entirely different manner.
A far more brutal and vicious one.
“Anyway, that’s why I’ve come to rebuild the Triad Society. And I’m here seeking help from Huk-hyang, the heart of the organization.”
“What if I refuse?”
Commander Huk-hyang asked in return.
“Then you refuse. There’s nothing I can do about it by force.”
“It sounds as though you don’t need our help.”
Du Man-sik’s words struck a nerve with Commander Huk-hyang.
“It would be nice to have it. But I can manage without it. With Huk-hyang, things would be far easier, but I won’t fail without you.”
“You don’t need us?”
Commander Huk-hyang’s face hardened.
It was neither a threat nor coercion.
He wasn’t clinging to them out of desperation.
“If that’s how it sounded, then that’s what it is. For example, imagine we’re heading toward Beijing. To me, Huk-hyang could be an airplane. Taking a plane would get us there quickly and accurately. But without an airplane, I won’t fail to reach Beijing. I can take a train, drive a car, or even walk.”
“Then wouldn’t the loss be enormous?”
“I can’t force people who say they don’t want to suffer losses to come along and work.”
“··· Hmm···”
Commander Huk-hyang seemed to be thinking about something.
“Of course, I could suppress you with force or threaten you. But if we’re going to work face-to-face in the same organization, would that produce real results? We need a sense of belonging as a team.”
Commander Huk-hyang felt that something about him was different.
Until now, Huk-hyang had been an existence that carried out the Triad Society chairman’s orders without any doubt.
There was no need to question the reasons or worry about the consequences.
Kill when ordered, disappear when necessary.
That was Huk-hyang’s role, his reason for existing.
But Du Man-sik was different.
He was offering a choice, not a command.
A team.
He was speaking of belonging.
“We must rebuild the organization now. In an entirely different way.”
“An entirely different way?”
“The Triad Society will be reborn as an intelligence organization.”
“An intelligence organization?”
Commander Huk-hyang regarded Du Man-sik silently.
It meant they would become an organization that gathered information rather than took lives.
“So what should we do going forward? How do you intend to use us?”
Du Man-sik smiled faintly upon hearing his question.
“I’m not using you. We’re going together.”
“Together?”
“Rebuilding together. Of course, if Huk-hyang helps, we’ll move more smoothly. Faster.”
A flicker of bewilderment crossed Commander Huk-hyang’s face.
This wasn’t what he’d come for.
Huk-hyang was accustomed to following orders.
With the Chairman changing, he’d wanted to voice his opinions a little, but instead he was being asked to help.
Being asked for his input.
His opinions were being solicited.
Du Man-sik placed a large bag on the table.
“What is this?”
“Open it.”
When Commander Huk-hyang opened the bag, it was filled with money.
It was a sum far greater than anything he’d ever handled during his long years as Huk-hyang.
“What am I supposed to do with this money?”
“That’s for you to decide, Commander. You can distribute it among your members, use it for meals, or spend it as you see fit. To fulfill your role as Commander, you need something like this.”
“Then I’ll use this to repair some of our facilities.”
“Ah, the facilities will be handled separately. Get quotes for any construction work and report them to me. I’ll proceed immediately.”
In that moment, Commander Huk-hyang understood.
This man wasn’t demanding loyalty.
He wasn’t pressuring him, saying this is how it must be for Huk-hyang.
He was quietly building trust.
The Triad Society, which had been crumbling away, was reborn overnight.
It began to breathe again.
And for the first time, Huk-hyang pledged his loyalty not through command, but through choice.
Through the Inventory, he had become a magnate of the black market.
163 – The Blind Date
E-book Publication
/ January 5, 2026
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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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