I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 184

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

184 – Donation
184.
It took less than a day for the news to spread that Seo Gwang-ho had donated his entire fortune to the Independence Merit Survivors Association.
Everyone was shocked.
What surprised people most was the staggering amount of the donation.
It was an astronomical sum beyond imagination.
And they were shocked once more to learn that the donor was Seo Gwang-ho.
It was almost unbelievable.
The man who stood in direct opposition to independence merit recipients.
The man who had mocked and sneered at them repeatedly.
The man who had minimized, distorted, and misrepresented related articles.
That same Seo Gwang-ho had surrendered his wealth—as precious to him as his own life—
entirely to the Independence Merit Survivors Association.
Naturally, people didn’t believe it.
They called it a false report, fake news.
Some speculated there was someone behind it, suggesting it was a donation under an assumed name.
It was absolutely impossible.
So they verified again and again.
They checked multiple times.
But there was Seo Gwang-ho’s own signature.
A donation contract cleanly organized according to legal procedures.
And most decisively,
there was even a video of him speaking directly while looking straight at the camera.
Seo Gwang-ho was unmistakable.
He apologized to the camera.
The Seo Gwang-ho in the video made no excuses.
He didn’t smile, and there was no sign of coercion.
He spoke as though this was a conclusion reached after long deliberation.
He said it was all his fault.
He said he wanted to apologize now, even if late.
Though meager, he wished to bear that responsibility with his own wealth.
Though he was performing a play to survive,
though it was a desperate struggle to beg for his life,
those watching the video could not know that.
To that extent, Seo Gwang-ho in the video appeared genuine.
Having lived a lifetime of lies,
Seo Gwang-ho was remarkably skilled at deception.
.
.
.
But these were not people who would let this pass.
The first to move were Seo Gwang-ho’s family members.
They immediately filed a lawsuit to invalidate the donation.
Coerced donation.
Psychological pressure.
They cited the possibility of kidnapping and extortion as grounds.
They also used the fact that Seo Gwang-ho’s whereabouts had not yet been confirmed as evidence.
The logic was clean, and the justification seemed sufficient.
But this time, the opponent was different.
The Independence Merit Survivors Association retained one of the nation’s top law firms as their representative.
This law firm was also famous.
Famous for defending anyone—pro-Japanese or pro-Chinese—as long as the money was right.
Sure enough, once the money came in, they defended the Independence Merit Survivors Association this time.
They were people without principles.
People who had always fought for the established powers,
now defending the Independence Merit Survivors Association.
It was ironic.
The moment Seo Gwang-ho’s family saw the law firm we had retained, they abandoned the lawsuit.
Seo Gwang-ho’s family knew all too well.
How that law firm fought.
They were one of that firm’s oldest VIP clients, so they couldn’t possibly not know.
How viciously they tormented people.
This law firm didn’t fight in court.
They dragged lawsuits outside the courtroom.
Who was justified in the lawsuit didn’t matter.
Instead, they exposed what kind of person had filed the lawsuit.
Suspicions of shell company real estate.
Suspicions of illegal gifting.
Tax delinquency records.
Drunk driving fines.
Even petty disputes.
They dug it all up and made it public.
Public attention shifted away from the lawsuit itself.
Does someone like that have the right to file a lawsuit?
Aren’t they just suing because greed has blinded them?
They created that kind of reaction.
Before the lawsuit even began, they were already reduced to tatters.
Moreover, a compelling narrative had already been crafted around Seo Gwang-ho.
A pro-Japanese collaborator who repented and donated all his wealth to the Independence Merit Survivors Association, then disappeared.
But now his family was suing because they didn’t want to lose the fortune.
They are such contemptible people.
It’s a story the masses absolutely devour.
The more they fight, the more Seo Gwang-ho’s family’s past will be exhumed,
and preserved in the media.
Seo Gwang-ho’s family members are people who have engaged in egregious abuse of power and tyranny.
Without even digging, an avalanche of scandals will pour out.
It’s the method Seo Gwang-ho’s family has always fought with.
The tactic they’ve used to silence countless mouths.
Attacking the messenger rather than the message.
But this time, that blade has turned against them.
Knowing how this would end, they abandoned the lawsuit early.
.
.
.
Ultimately, Seo Gwang-ho’s assets were transferred to the Independence Merit Survivors Association.
Cash, buildings, various funds, and bonds—all transferred.
And there was something entirely unexpected as well:
stock shares in Conservative Media.
Those shares were transferred to the Independence Merit Survivors Association.
The ownership of Conservative Media had changed.
From pro-Japanese collaborators to descendants of independence fighters.
Those Conservative Media bastards.
They were quick-witted, as educated people tend to be.
The newspaper’s editorial stance shifted immediately.
They recognized who the new master was at once.
Articles that had once been sharply critical were rewritten and republished with a different tone.
Articles that had been killed for not fitting the newspaper’s line were resurrected.
In the process, several people left the company.
Those who departed because the new direction displeased them.
Those who no longer had a place to stand.
But the vast majority of these hack journalists remained at their posts.
Still dutifully transcribing whatever they were told, these hacks continued writing articles from the same desks.
To them, it didn’t matter who the master was.
They simply did as they were told.
They merely transcribed what they were ordered to transcribe.
Seo Gwang-ho had disappeared, but the system he created continued to function smoothly.
Only its direction had become the complete opposite of what Seo Gwang-ho had intended.
.
.
.
A detached house on the outskirts of Tokyo.
Even at first glance, it was an ancient traditional dwelling bearing the patina of decades.
The garden visible beyond the low fence was maintained with meticulous care.
At the center of the garden sat a modest pond, and beside it stood an Elderly Man in his seventies.
The koi rushed toward him at his appearance.
The Elderly Man scattered feed with quiet deliberation.
The koi surged forward, their mouths gaping to devour the food.
The Elderly Man watched the spectacle unfold.
His expression was blank, his emotions utterly concealed.
Behind him, a Middle-aged Woman in office attire approached without a sound, her footsteps careful and measured.
The Elderly Man did not turn to look, yet the woman bowed respectfully at the waist before speaking.
“Director. A problem has arisen with the Cheongwha Society in South Korea.”
The Elderly Man’s hand, which had been scattering feed, froze.
It was only a brief moment, but the woman tensed.
The Elderly Man turned slowly to face her.
Though his frame was diminutive, his gaze possessed a keenness that seemed far too sharp for a man of his years.
The woman flinched beneath that piercing stare.
“What problem?”
His voice was low and measured.
Yet it pierced the ear with crystalline clarity.
“Seo Gwang-ho has disappeared. Moreover, the core members of the Cheongwha Society have either vanished or scattered.”
The Elderly Man turned back toward the pond and its koi.
“Would you say the organization has been annihilated?”
“Yes. It has deteriorated to the point of complete dysfunction as an organization. Even the internal communication network has collapsed.”
The Elderly Man nodded.
Neither surprise nor anger crossed his features.
“A pity. We invested considerable money and time.”
Though he spoke of regret, the Elderly Man appeared utterly unmoved.
The woman continued with her remaining report.
“There have also been some issues with the media, and the overall situation is deteriorating.”
“Hmm…”
“Public sentiment in particular has turned decidedly negative toward Japan.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
The Elderly Man replied without conviction.
The woman asked cautiously.
“Shall we devise a plan to establish a new organization in South Korea? I can also develop strategies to shift public opinion.”
The Elderly Man shook his head.
“No, not now. Any action at this moment would be futile and wasteful. When the flames burn fiercest, we must wait until they subside.”
After a moment of contemplation, the Elderly Man finally spoke.
“Have Kuroda brought to me. I must send a gift to South Korea—something to sharpen their senses.”
“Understood.”
She turned to leave as quietly as she had arrived, making no sound.
Left alone, the Elderly Man scattered the silk carp food from his hand all at once and headed inside.
The old man’s mind seemed very complicated as he walked away.
********
“Wow~ it’s changed this much?”
I stood speechless for a moment, gazing at the Abandoned School.
It had transformed so much from the school in my memory.
The old Abandoned School wasn’t bad either.
It was a drab Industrial High School, but it had been well-maintained.
But now it looked completely different.
The exterior walls had been painted in fresh colors,
and accents reminiscent of traditional Korean dancheong patterns were strategically placed throughout.
It wasn’t excessive, yet you could clearly feel the intentional design.
Even someone like me, who knows nothing about design, thought it looked truly magnificent.
You could feel the touch of an expert.
Materials were neatly organized in the sports field,
and a sign reading “K-ORIGIN” hung at the entrance.
“Unrecognizable.”
“Right? It’s completely different.”
Dae-hun responded to my words with a voice tinged with admiration.
Then I heard a familiar voice from behind.
“Welcome.”
I turned around to see Kwon Sang-yeol standing there.
Kwon Ju-ah’s father and the person overseeing the entire K-ORIGIN Project.
When we first started this project, Kwon Sang-yeol was merely a consultant.
We had asked him to consult on a system for teaching K-culture and educational institutions.
But Kwon Sang-yeol crossed that line immediately.
Instead of consulting, he redesigned our plan into a massive project.
He declared his ambition to make it more than just an educational institution—a platform.
Not a school that teaches and ends,
but a structure that gathers talent, connects it, and creates circulation.
He said he would build a system that considered career paths and industries beyond education.
We made our decision right then and there.
We appointed Kwon Sang-yeol as the project’s chief executive.
He was the only one who understood this project best and could execute it.
More than that, there was no one more suited to do this work well.
And the results Kwon Sang-yeol brought far exceeded our expectations.
He was responsible for every step from planning to execution.
Construction progress, student recruitment, securing lecturers, purchasing supplies, hiring staff, and even coordinating collaboration with the government.
I was managing everything and taking responsibility for it all.
As if shaking off the sorrow of not being able to work all this time, I was working with tremendous momentum.
Despite the enormous workload that should have been exhausting, I seemed to overflow with even greater vitality.
We entered the School, which was in the midst of construction.
The hallway was filled with the sound of tools and equipment scattered about.
What had once been classrooms were being reborn as practice rooms and lecture halls.
“How much progress has the construction made?”
Kwon Sang-yeol answered my question immediately.
“In terms of the overall process, we’re at about 70%. Structural reinforcement, electrical work, and communications are complete. We’re currently proceeding simultaneously with interior finishing and equipment installation.”
“That’s faster than I expected?”
“Time is crucial. Isn’t the ‘hurry-hurry’ culture the pinnacle of Korean culture?”
We all laughed together at Kwon Sang-yeol’s words.
There was no denying it.
South Korea’s greatest culture is the hurry-hurry mentality.
It was both our greatest strength and our weapon.
It was the driving force that created modern South Korea.
“How are the students? Are we getting good enrollment?”
“The response has been far better than expected.”
Kwon Sang-yeol pulled out a tablet and showed us the situation.
Applicant statistics appeared.
Countries of origin and age groups were visible at a glance.
Far more applicants had applied than anticipated.
Philippines applicants were particularly numerous.
Probably many applied from Unity Town.
After all, we created this with Unity Town in mind from the beginning.
“The fact that it’s a program directly promoted by the government is significant, and because it’s field-focused and practice-oriented rather than mere theoretical education, we’re receiving many applicants. Of course, the numerous scholarship programs are also helping considerably.”
Kwon Sang-yeol summarized the key points in his answer.
“So there’s no problem with student recruitment?”
“We may actually need to raise the admission standards.”
We nodded in agreement.
This was successful enough.
“Is that so? That’s fortunate. It’s good to have many excellent students coming.”
“We’re not just developing students. In three years, I believe the name K-ORIGIN will resound across the world.”
Dae-hun and I continued touring the School while listening to Kwon Sang-yeol’s words.
The K-ORIGIN Project was moving much faster than we had anticipated,
and on a much grander scale.
I gazed at the School once more.
Not an abandoned school, but a newly transformed one came into view.
It seemed as though it had just begun to breathe.
Everything here would be new.
People, buildings, education, culture.
When they blend together, they will create new stories and content.
My heart raced with anticipation.
It felt like I had finally reached the starting line after years of preparation.
Well then.
Let’s go.
Into the world of K-ORIGIN.
I had become a magnate of the black market through my inventory.
184 – Donation
E-book Publication
/ January 29, 2026
Author
/ Black Card
Publisher
/ Son Je-ho
Published by
/ Munpia
Address
/ Doosan Landmark Tower 12F, 308 Gangnam-daero, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
List Price
/ 100 Won
https://munpia.com
[email protected]
© Black Card, 2026
This e-book is
Munpia
published in accordance with a contract with the copyright holder, and
Munpia
‘s written permission is required to use this e-book or its contents in any form or by any means.
This e-book is a work protected by copyright law, and unauthorized reproduction or copying may result in legal liability.
979-11-11-99634-4

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————