I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 183

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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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183 – Seo Gwang-ho
183.
A bucket of ice-cold water crashed down upon Seo Gwang-ho.
I had been lying in a comfortable bed moments ago, and now I found myself bound to a cold metal chair.
A faint, fishy odor permeated the air.
An Indoor Fishing Spot?
Wait.
This couldn’t be right.
My security detail had been here just moments ago.
Bewildered by the sudden turn of events, I continued to look around frantically.
Still half-asleep,
unable to comprehend what was happening,
I kept turning my head in confusion, searching for answers.
“Stop looking around. You’re making me dizzy.”
I turned toward the voice.
Standing there was a man who seemed utterly out of place in this situation.
Young and handsome.
A man who looked incapable of anything violent stood before me.
“It’s time for your last words.”
“What?”
“Make your final statement. We’ll make sure it gets delivered.”
I still hadn’t grasped the situation.
I had no idea where I was or what was happening.
“What?”
I stared at him with a vacant expression.
“Is this some kind of joke? Am I dreaming?”
“No. I’m quite serious. I always give my best effort in everything.”
Only then did something click in my mind.
Reality was finally setting in.
“You… are you the Kidnapper?”
“I’m almost disappointed you took so long to figure it out.”
There was a reason I had been so slow to comprehend the situation.
I had been absolutely certain I could never be kidnapped.
My fortress-like home and security personnel trained by special forces.
I had been completely confident in my safety.
Yet here I was, captured.
Bound tightly.
“Do you understand what you’re doing?”
I immediately began shouting.
“I do.”
In contrast, my voice was remarkably calm and measured.
“Your security detail won’t just sit idle. They’re probably searching for me right now… Ah! There they are. Over here, you lot. This way.”
Seo Gwang-ho shouted from his seated position.
The security personnel came running.
And they saluted me.
“Obsidian Unit. Mission complete, sir.”
“Good work. Take a few days to rest.”
They saluted me again and vanished.
Seo Gwang-ho’s eyes turned glacial as he watched the scene unfold.
His faith that the security personnel would rescue him evaporated before his eyes.
These were the guards he had trusted.
Special forces veterans, he’d called them.
He’d hired them at premium wages precisely because of their exceptional security credentials.
Yet here he was, betrayed from behind.
It was bleak.
“Didn’t you even investigate who your personal security detail was?”
I pointed out Seo Gwang-ho’s carelessness.
“I did. We verified their IDs and résumés thoroughly. There were no red flags. They’re the ones who betrayed me.”
And Seo Gwang-ho scrambled to make excuses.
“That’s not true. They never betrayed you. From the beginning until now, they’ve always been on your side. They infiltrated as your security detail to capture you.”
He wanted to believe otherwise, but the circumstances spoke the truth.
Seo Gwang-ho’s shoulders sagged as the cruel reality sank in.
He seemed to grasp the situation at last.
That escape would be difficult.
He didn’t want to accept it, but he had to.
Seo Gwang-ho had never bowed his head to anyone.
Not to politicians, certainly.
Not even to the President—yet now circumstances were different.
He would have to bow to this man.
He’d lived his entire life that way.
Everything was a calculation.
He weighed what was profitable and acted accordingly.
He gravitated toward whatever offered greater advantage.
Conviction, justice, society, community—none of it factored in.
Only profit mattered.
“Let me go. I’ll give you whatever you need. Money? Women? Just name it. I’ll give you anything you want.”
Seo Gwang-ho seemed to have regained his composure.
He’d reverted to his persona as a boardroom businessman.
He was attempting to negotiate terms for a deal before me.
It was only proper that I oblige him.
“I want money. A lot of money.”
“Hahahaha. So it comes down to money after all. I’ll give it to you. Would 1 billion won do?”
Seo Gwang-ho laughed heartily.
His eyes gleamed with avarice as he looked at me.
Did he truly believe I was cut from the same cloth as himself?
“What am I supposed to do with 1 billion won? Buy candy?”
“Right, I figured 1 billion wouldn’t be enough. I’ll give you 3 billion instead.”
Seo Gwang-ho spoke as though he were performing an act of great generosity.
“Our Chairman’s scale is far too modest. Let’s aim higher.”
“Ahem… 3.5 billion. That’s my limit. It’s difficult. Moving that much cash around is no simple matter.”
He spoke in a patronizing tone, as though instructing someone beneath his station.
“You don’t necessarily need cash, do you?”
“Hmm?”
Seo Gwang-ho looked slightly taken aback.
“Land works fine. Buildings work fine. Put them on the table.”
“If I hand those over to you, you’ll be arrested immediately. You need laundered money, don’t you?”
“I’m not the one receiving it. You’re going to donate to the Independence Merit Survivors Association instead. So there’s no need for laundering. Buildings work, land works, goods work. Now show me your sincerity.”
Seo Gwang-ho looked flustered by this unexpected turn.
Money he could have given.
It would have pained him, certainly, but he could earn more.
But donating to the Independence Merit Survivors Association was an entirely different matter.
His superiors back in Japan would be deeply displeased.
Japan had long been working to eliminate such organizations.
Gwangbokwon, the Independence Merit Survivors Association, the Justice Memory Alliance, the Korean Atomic Bomb Victims Association—and more.
They had actually used the Cheongwha Society to reduce their funding and obstruct their projects.
They had blocked or scaled down their operations through every conceivable method.
And now he was being asked to donate to the very organizations he’d been trying to eliminate?
And Seo Gwang-ho himself?
None other than Seo Gwang-ho?
Everything he’d built with Japan would crumble in an instant.
This was unacceptable.
It was a deal that would erase his future.
This wasn’t merely about losing some money.
“That seems difficult. How about I raise it to 4 billion instead?”
“Our Chairman was raised too gently and doesn’t understand. You’re being kidnapped right now. You’re bound. You’re being coerced. So act like someone who’s been kidnapped. If you’re too confident, I’ll feel like using violence. So behave accordingly.”
I spoke to Seo Gwang-ho in a very low voice, meeting his gaze directly.
He seemed to feel some fear at those words.
Yet he still didn’t back down.
Greed conquered fear.
“What did I do wrong?! Huh? What did I do so wrong?!”
He started raising his voice even louder.
Did he think he’d reached a dead end?
Did he believe that losing momentum meant losing everything?
“You’ve made so many mistakes. How many people has the Chairman killed?”
“I killed them? They died on their own. Why are you blaming me for that?”
Seo Gwang-ho shouted in protest.
“You drove them to the cliff’s edge. You pushed them off. With that brilliant pen of yours, how many lives have you destroyed, how many careers have you ended, how many people have you forced to give up on life?”
“No. You’re mistaken. People must solve their own problems. Why is that my responsibility? We simply reported the facts as they were. That’s all we did.”
Seo Gwang-ho spoke with confidence.
“I see. Of course. You’re truly the Chairman. Then this problem is also yours, so you should be able to solve it on your own.”
“What?”
I looked at the bound Seo Gwang-ho.
“Since being tied up here is your problem, you should be able to solve it yourself, right? It’s your problem, after all. Ah! Just sitting here tied up isn’t very entertaining, so how about I throw you into the water, chair and all, while you’re still bound? Let’s see if the Chairman can solve the problem on his own. That sounds thrilling and fun.”
“What are you saying!! What? Throw me in the water? You disrespectful brat!! Untie me! Untie me right now. Unless you want to rot in a cell for the rest of your life, untie me immediately.”
“Sigh. Chairman. If you threaten me like that, I can’t untie you even if I wanted to. And if I was going to untie you, why would I have tied you up in the first place? Think before you speak.”
Seo Gwang-ho’s offers of money and threats of imprisonment didn’t change my resolve.
Finally, as Seo Gwang-ho grasped the reality of his situation, he shifted his approach.
“Fine. Damn it. I’ll give it. I’ll give you a building. Is that enough? Take it and leave.”
“In Gangnam?”
“Yes, Gangnam. I’ll process all the paperwork immediately.”
“Okay. But that’s a bit weak, don’t you think? Make a donation too.”
“What?”
“What good is just a building? I need cash right now. Make a donation as well. And I’d like you to film a video for me.”
“What kind of video?”
“You admit to your inappropriate collusion with Japan in the past, and you apologize to all those who were hurt by it. As a gesture of atonement, you donate your entire fortune to the Independence Merit Survivors Association. Something like that.”
“I can’t do that. If I film that, I’m truly finished.”
“If you don’t film it, aren’t you finished right now?”
Seo Gwang-ho looked at me with eyes filled with fear.
“Are you really planning to kill me?”
“No? I’m planning to erase you.”
Seo Gwang-ho’s voice trembled.
“Erase? What’s the difference?”
“There’s a difference. I won’t grant you the noble dignity of death. You’ll simply vanish. You’ll be nothing. No life, no death, no fortune, no grave. You’ll just disappear.”
Seo Gwang-ho’s face turned pale.
He seemed to realize that my words were not a lie.
“Please, spare my life. I’ll do anything. I mean it. I’ll give you everything I have. Just let me live.”
The final moments of those from Cheongwha Society always end with hearing these words.
They bluster and boast, then at the end they say they’ll do anything.
And if you release them, they naturally start plotting to stab you in the back.
“I’m really useful. I have many connections, I know a lot of information, and I have leverage on everyone from politicians to celebrities. I can truly be valuable to you.”
“Kekeke. If I let you go, you’ll come after my head first. Do you really think I’m that naive?”
“No. Really, no. I won’t report this to anyone. Please, just let me live.”
Seo Gwang-ho’s eyes were brimming with tears.
Mucus dripped from his nose.
He seemed to sense that death was truly approaching.
“Please, I’m begging you. Let me live.”
“Write in your will that you’re donating your entire fortune to the Independence Merit Survivors Association. Show me how sincere your apology truly is.”
“Please, anything but that..”
Bound as he was, Seo Gwang-ho bowed his head in submission.
“Let’s start with the paperwork first.”
Seo Gwang-ho didn’t want to, but he had no choice.
He believed this was the only way to survive.
He had to do something—anything.
We had already catalogued every asset Seo Gwang-ho possessed.
We had prepared everything so that a few signatures would transfer his entire fortune.
The Legal Team moved into action.
This wasn’t a transaction.
It was a donation.
Much faster and simpler to execute.
Of course, someone would inevitably try to obstruct the donation.
They would seize upon legal procedures, formalities, and suspicions to block what we were attempting.
But it didn’t matter.
We’d simply summon them here as well.
Everyone becomes cooperative when they meet at this fishing spot.
The paperwork was complete.
Seo Gwang-ho looked at me with hopeful eyes.
And I shattered that hope in an instant.
“Now, solve your own problem yourself.”
I pushed the chair Seo Gwang-ho was bound to directly into the fishing spot.
His mouth moved as if trying to say something, but I didn’t wait to hear it.
Now I could simply observe whether Seo Gwang-ho could resolve his own situation as he’d claimed.
********
The Cheongwha Society was a peculiar organization indeed.
It was a collective of all manner of people,
yet there was one distinguishing characteristic that stood out.
It was the sheer number of career civil servants.
Civil servants are broadly divided into two categories.
Those who pass the civil service exam and sit in their position for years are called “career civil servants”—or “neulgong” for short.
Those who become civil servants after working as scholars, social activists, entrepreneurs, or lawyers—experts in their respective fields—are said to have “accidentally” become civil servants, or “eogong” for short.
Which means eogong rise and fall with regime changes, market shifts, and local government leadership transitions.
Newly appointed officials and those who wanted to work with them, along with those who shared their policy direction, entered the temporary positions.
Temporary positions changed easily.
They shifted with public opinion, changed based on policy, and varied depending on elections.
That’s why their tenures were extremely short.
At minimum, a few months.
At most, five years.
To the permanent staff who sat in the same positions for decades, temporary officials were like passing winds.
Regardless of their high rank, they were people who would eventually leave.
It was always the permanent staff organization that led institutions and organizations forward.
Even when administrations changed, ministers changed, and superiors changed, the permanent staff remained.
They were the ones who held the actual operations.
Remarkably, many of these permanent staff members belonged to the Cheongwha Society.
The reason was simple.
The Cheongwha Society provided them with solid guarantees.
It wasn’t outright bribery.
They simply provided allowances and transportation fees under the pretext of attending various academic conferences and research meetings,
and distributed gift certificates, usage vouchers, and accommodation coupons.
It was too ambiguous to punish under regulations.
Conversely, the Cheongwha Society didn’t demand anything from its members.
Whenever proposals favorable to Japan came up, they provided corresponding rewards.
Japan visits under the guise of overseas training.
Business trips named ‘advanced administrative exploration.’
Exchange programs with Japanese academic circles.
International seminars where families could accompany.
Connections to private research institutes in preparation for post-retirement.
That much was sufficient.
True to their nature as permanent staff who had passed the difficult civil service exam, they learned quickly.
How to receive rewards,
and exactly where the line was that wouldn’t cause problems.
It was a tremendous help to their meager civil service salaries.
They came to enjoy luxuries they had never experienced before.
And they competed to draft proposals favorable to Japan.
The language was neutral, the sentences dry.
If the operations team had reviewed three or four options, only two made it into the final proposal.
Options favorable to South Korea were deleted, and only those favorable to Japan were submitted.
Option 1: favorable to Japan.
Option 2: less favorable to Japan.
The newly appointed temporary official didn’t know this.
They didn’t know that options favorable to South Korea existed.
I didn’t know there was an option favorable to South Korea.
When I expressed dissatisfaction with both options and asked if there was another way, they dismissed me outright.
“You haven’t actually done the work, so you wouldn’t understand—this is the standard approach.”
“Realistically, friction with Japan is a significant burden.”
“We must consider international opinion.”
“By convention, this is the safest route.”
I reluctantly approved, swallowing my bitter pill.
The old guard pressured me and claimed victory.
When word spread, I faced public backlash and resigned.
The old guard’s era dawned anew.
Seo Gwang-ho had orchestrated public opinion brilliantly.
He transformed trivial matters into scandals, forcing resignations.
Anyone who displeased him was eliminated without mercy.
Those who cooperated adequately were spared.
This was where the Cheongwha Society’s true power lay.
Operating without visibility, without noise,
ensuring no one bore responsibility for anything.
The Cheongwha Society didn’t need vast numbers.
A handful of people capable of rejecting proposals from the working-level staff and issuing directives could control an entire bureaucracy.
But then a new wind swept through the old guard’s world.
Or rather, a crack appeared.
Cheongwha Society members vanished.
The organization’s core—its leaders—disappeared.
The perpetrator remained unidentified.
No traces were left behind.
The investigation stalled.
Online, whispers of “purging pro-Japanese collaborators” began to circulate.
Those cheering for the perpetrator multiplied.
The old guard panicked.
They had never considered themselves pro-Japanese collaborators.
They had simply made pragmatic choices.
They had weighed international circumstances and made the best judgment for their organization.
Of course, in the process, they had gained a small—a very small—personal benefit.
But they believed their choices served everyone.
Still, this storm had to pass.
One must avoid the downpour.
The perpetrator seemed to know the Cheongwha Society intimately.
So they had to be even more careful.
Extremely, extremely careful.
The old guard learned quickly once more.
They abandoned pro-Japanese sentiment and wrapped themselves in the shield of South Korea.
Eighty years ago, when Japanese colonial rule ended,
the pro-Japanese collaborators who had championed the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere
maintained their positions by cooperating with America,
living well and prospering as if nothing had changed.
Whether the Cheongwha Society truly transformed, I cannot say.
But the atmosphere shifted.
A cautious air became unmistakable.
At least, no proposals to sell the nation to Japan reached the surface.
Everyone exercised restraint.
The Cheongwha Society merely bowed its head to survive.
But it waited for the moment when it could rise again.
It waited for the day when people’s attention would fade.
Through the Inventory, I became a magnate of the black market.
183 – Seo Gwang-ho
E-book Publication
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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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