I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 192

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

192 – APRC
192.
Taerim Insurance Conference Room.
The executives who had been kneeling moments before now returned to their designated seats, each marked with their name.
The hard chair in the conference room—one I’d never found comfortable—now felt more welcoming than any seat in the world.
Yet their posture remained impeccable.
Spines straight, minds focused.
Their eyes had changed too.
A fierce determination—as if they could accomplish anything—now burned within them.
‘Is this why we send people to Marine Corps camps? Just a brief moment of pressure, and the efficiency is incredible?’
I found myself genuinely impressed.
As I continued the meeting, I made a mental note: the executives needed regular doses of this kind of discipline.
“So. You understand the situation now?”
I briefed them on the current circumstances concisely.
“Yes, sir!!”
Their voices rang out sharply.
Military discipline had taken hold.
Good. Let’s proceed with this momentum.
“So, we need to create a new insurance product.”
Ana nodded at my words.
I pressed the remote, and the screen illuminated, filling with a PowerPoint presentation.
[APRC]
(Asia-Pacific Risk Consortium)
The letters displayed prominently in the center of the screen.
“This is the name of the consortium we’ll be creating. The Insurance Association of China (IAC) and the Philippine Insurance and Reinsurance Association (PIPA) will both be participating in APRC.”
The executives’ eyes widened simultaneously.
The Philippines was one thing, but the Insurance Association of China (IAC) was notorious for their arrogance.
Backed by China’s massive domestic market,
they didn’t even bother responding to most proposals.
Yet no one had expected them to participate in APRC.
“We don’t have much time. We need to develop the insurance products quickly.”
“We need two insurance products.”
“One is primary insurance we receive from shipping companies.”
“The other is reinsurance we receive from insurance companies.”
“You know how this works, right?”
One of the executives answered my question, his voice hesitant.
“Well, I understand the concept, but reinsurance isn’t really our area of expertise, so···”
His voice wavered slightly.
“It’s fine. Just work hard at it. Like I said before, we won’t pressure you even if you struggle. This is a lifetime commitment.”
At those words, a chill ran down their spines.
A thought surfaced naturally in my mind.
‘Death comes faster than resignation.’
‘I won’t even need a letter of apology.’
Suddenly, I felt driven to work hard.
Strangely, I found myself capable of excellence.
My words continued to flow.
“This is how insurance should be structured.”
“Premium rates reduced by 20% from current levels.”
“War, international sanctions, and port blockade risks covered conditionally.”
“Insurance approval timeline reduced from 72 hours to 12 hours.”
“Expanded coverage scope.”
“New fast-track clause enabling immediate payouts in case of claims.”
As I gestured toward the screen, listing the items that should be included in the insurance policy, one executive spoke up.
“At that level… the terms are far better than global insurers, aren’t they?”
“We’re the newcomer here. To land new contracts, naturally we need attractive terms.”
Another executive responded.
“Still, it seems excessive. I think we could eliminate a few items and still be competitive.”
“Adding a bit more won’t cause problems. Restaurants don’t fail because they give generous portions. Don’t worry.”
“There’s a risk that shipowners might exploit these terms.”
“Then find those loopholes and prepare countermeasures. That’s your job. Am I supposed to spoon-feed you everything?”
In an instant, the warm atmosphere of the conference room froze solid.
As the conversation continued, I realized my mistake.
I had misunderstood this as an ordinary meeting.
As always, they had focused only on highlighting flaws rather than building on ideas.
They had lived that way their entire lives.
But that wouldn’t work here.
The person sitting before us was no ordinary man.
We had to be careful.
Another executive spoke.
“Understood. Everything is good, but we should probably negotiate the coverage terms with the Insurance Association of China and the Philippine Insurance and Reinsurance Association. With those conditions, I don’t think they’ll accept it at all.”
“Doesn’t matter. Those organizations are just names on paper anyway. If we really need their approval, I can throw them tens of trillions, but it’s embarrassing to receive tens of trillions from them. We’re not begging. Think of this insurance as Taerim Group’s independent product. So include everything you want. I’ll take responsibility.”
The executives found this situation utterly surreal.
The moment they entered the conference room, they had dropped to their knees and struck their heads against the floor.
A man with a sword stood watching from one corner of the conference room.
It was violent.
Yet the meeting content was entirely different.
Though it moved quickly, it was professional.
Nothing was overlooked.
And the most critical issue—profitability.
The company was doing this to make money.
A company is not a charity.
That’s why insurance is typically designed to collect high premiums
while avoiding payouts.
All manner of toxic clauses are buried in the fine print.
But this is the opposite.
The premiums are lower,
and the payouts are higher.
There are provisions making it easy to receive insurance benefits.
And he casually mentions tens of trillions won as if nothing.
As if that amount doesn’t even matter.
Not hundreds of millions or billions—tens of trillions.
Normally, companies restructure over mere hundreds of millions, changing employment rules.
They strip workers of rest, deny them safety equipment.
Yet this man says to give everything.
Saying no restaurant has ever failed from giving too much food.
I couldn’t imagine this happening in reality.
So I wondered—could this be a dream?
Yet somehow, I found myself believing.
No—I wanted to believe and trust.
In that man before me.
I made eye contact slowly with each executive as I spoke.
“You heard what I said earlier, right? Who are the ones playing games right now?”
“Japan.”
“Those Japanese bastards are creeping in again, trying to devour our country. Should we just watch? Or should we stop them?”
“We must stop them!!”
“We called those who resisted foreign invasion independence fighters.”
“??!!”
The executives’ expressions shifted.
Their eyes grew moist.
“From now on, you are independence fighters. Not mere insurance brokers—independence fighters!”
“Wooooooo~~~~~”
A noble sense of mission settled upon the executives’ shoulders.
A surge of momentum rose, as if they could accomplish anything.
“With the heart of saving the nation, create the insurance. Analyze the market, design the product, complete the risk analysis, and deliver it as a finished product—all within 24 hours. Can you do it?”
“We can!!”
“Your voice is too small. Can you do it one more time?”
“WE CAN!!!!!”
A roar louder than any military training ground echoed through the Taerim Insurance Conference Room.
.
.
.
The executives practically sprinted back to their desks.
When I returned to my seat, the Team Leader and team members were already gathered.
They’d already scheduled a meeting by phone.
After confirming the team members were present, the executive took a deep breath and spoke with a solemn expression.
“First, there’s no leaving the office today. Actually, I don’t know when you’ll be leaving.”
Bewildered by these cryptic words, the team members exchanged glances.
“I really need to leave today no matter what happens. Seriously.”
In that instant, the office froze.
But the executive didn’t seem to be joking.
His tone was far too grave,
and his movements were unnecessarily rigid.
This could never be a joke.
Of course, I wanted to leave.
But I couldn’t raise my hand.
“If you want to leave, write your resignation letter before you go.”
A resignation letter?
The word “resignation” was so frightening that no one dared raise their hand.
Unlike the panicked team members, the executive’s expression was deeply satisfied.
“Congratulations. You’re all independence fighters now.”
“Pardon? What? Independence fighters?”
What on earth did he mean by independence fighters all of a sudden?
Was that even an appropriate thing to say in this situation?
“Now I’ll issue orders.”
“From this moment, we design a new insurance product.”
“Within twelve hours, design the new insurance and run simulations.”
“Excuse me? Does that even make sense?”
The Team Leader instinctively tried to protest, but couldn’t.
The executive’s eyes weren’t normal.
They were half-crazed, seized by madness.
I instinctively realized that no amount of argument would sway those eyes.
“Bring me a draft within the hour.”
“Thirty minutes for risk case analysis.”
“Reinsurance structure gets attached simultaneously with design.”
The orders continued relentlessly.
Yet oddly enough, this was precisely the roadmap needed to create an insurance product.
Frustrated, I glanced at the other departments and found they were in the same situation.
Taerim Insurance itself had been seized by madness.
Under normal circumstances,
“This?”
“Right now?”
The Team Leaders who normally opened with “This won’t work” were different today.
These perceptive Team Leaders, sensing the gravity of the situation, quietly began their work.
Everyone started typing furiously and making calls across the office.
Foreign languages erupted from every corner of the office,
and the printer spewed paper like a madman.
It was chaotic, yet strangely, everything clicked into place like gears in a machine.
In the midst of this, one Team Leader cautiously asked,
“Director, even if we create insurance this way, it’ll take months just to pass through the Financial Supervisory Service. There’s no point in rushing like this.”
The Director, reviewing the draft on his monitor, answered without taking his eyes off the screen.
“Don’t worry. It’ll pass within an hour.”
“Pardon?”
Only then did the Director tear his gaze from the monitor and look at the Team Leader.
“Manager Kim. I’m proud that I’m a descendant of independence fighters. I will never dishonor that legacy through my actions. So show me the resolve of an independence fighter as well, Manager Kim.”
The moment Manager Kim heard those words, he understood.
That the Director had lost his mind.
And that this wasn’t an insurance company.
This was a command headquarters of independence fighters,
a place that would block enemies with insurance and achieve independence.
Manager Kim’s eyes grew resolute.
He quickly rushed to his desk and opened his laptop.
Manager Kim was determined to contribute to independence in his own way.
.
.
.
Busan.
Asin Shipping Company.
Lee Sung-chul, the CEO of Asin Shipping Company, sat in his office smoking cigarettes.
The ashtray was already full, but smoking was all he could do now.
Lee Sung-chul was on the verge of madness.
The company could collapse over something trivial.
Asin Shipping Company was a container carrier based in Busan, specializing in Japanese routes.
Busan-Shimonoseki, Busan-Osaka, Busan-Fukuoka.
Short, fast, and highly profitable routes.
But everything changed once the insurance was held up.
With no insurance, work dried up completely.
Or rather, there was work, but the ships couldn’t leave port.
You can’t operate a ship without insurance.
But you can’t leave the ships idle either.
Even sitting still, ships consume money.
Payroll, port entry and exit fees, berthing charges, mooring fees, and maintenance costs.
Money hemorrhages away even when nothing is being done.
The crew still needs to be paid even if the ship isn’t moving.
A ship is only a ship when it’s moving.
We’re not even asking for a discount on premiums—why won’t they just cover us?
Every time we say something, it’s ‘risk holding’.
That damned risk holding.
I’m sick of it.
That’s when it happened.
An alert popped up on the monitor.
[Taerim Insurance – Taerim Independent Insurance Notice (War, Sanctions, Port Blockade Conditional Coverage)]
Lee Sung-chul’s brow furrowed as he read the subject line.
Spam mail.
With rumors circulating that marine insurance had dried up, it was obvious this was a phishing attempt using the subject line as bait.
I knew about Taerim Insurance, of course.
They didn’t handle marine insurance, so I’d never paid them any attention.
Marine insurance from a company like that?
It was predictable without even looking.
It would be a mess.
These bastards were just trying to profit off the situation,
there’s no way they’d actually created a legitimate insurance product.
Scumbags.
Lee Sung-chul clicked on the email.
My mood was already bad, and I had nothing better to do anyway.
I’d read through it carefully, analyze it point by point, and tear it apart.
I’d post my criticism in the shipowners’ group chat.
Warning them not to fall for it under any circumstances.
– 20% reduction in premiums compared to existing rates
– War, sanctions, blockade, conditional coverage
– Immediate first payment upon claim occurrence.
– 24-hour consultation service.
What?
What is this?
The email contained content completely different from what I’d expected.
Lee Sung-chul read the email from the beginning again.
Even on the second read, the content hadn’t changed.
Is this actually real? I wondered.
The terms were substantially better than the insurance Asin Shipping Company had previously carried.
If they’re exploiting our desperation to make money, they’ve succeeded.
My resolve wavered.
Even knowing it’s spam, my heart wavers.
When someone offers to give everything away like this… you can’t help but want to believe them once.
“Manager Kim.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I forwarded you an email. Look into it. Make sure to verify with headquarters directly, and cross-check it two or three times. It’s important.”
“Understood.”
“Get the terms and conditions and consult with a lawyer. You know there are insurance specialists.”
“Understood.”
How much time had passed?
Manager Kim came rushing over, breathless and flushed with excitement.
“S-sir, I’ve confirmed it. This is real.”
“What?”
“I verified with Taerim Insurance, the Insurance Association of China (IAC), and the Philippine Insurance and Reinsurance Association (PIPA). They really do provide reinsurance coverage when accidents occur. They’ve formed a consortium called APRC, apparently. It’s a promotional event for the launch of their marine insurance.”
“Really?”
“The lawyers say it’s a generous policy without any toxic clauses.”
“Truly?”
In that moment, the two men embraced.
They quickly came to their senses and pulled apart, but the excitement still lingered.
“Get the insurance policy right away and prepare to launch the ship.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll prepare immediately.”
After Manager Kim left, Lee Sung-chul picked up a cigarette again.
It was the same cigarette, but it tasted completely different than before.
It was sweet.
Looking at the countless ships standing in Busan Port, I spoke.
“That’s right—a ship must move to be a ship.”
Through inventory, I had become a magnate of the black market.
192-APRC
E-book Publication
/ February 6, 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
without written permission, this e-book and its contents may not be used 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
—————