The Regressed Chaebol Grandson Finds It Hard to Forgive - Chapter 5

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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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Episode 5. The Returner Pierces the Heart of the Moon!

—What? Grandfather?

Mother asks.

“Oh, no, that’s not it.”
—Did you go through military service, Tae-woong? Your speech pattern’s different now?
“The seniors in my club weren’t joking around with their discipline.”

I changed the subject.

In our house, the word “grandfather” is forbidden.

The world knows him as the kind-faced chairman with a hahoe mask—my grandfather.

But I remember his true nature.

I was a child back then.
It was before I started elementary school.

When we learned that Grandmother was gravely ill, we went with our parents to find Grandfather’s house.

Young as I was, I was thrilled.

I’d only heard about Grandfather and Grandmother through my friends’ stories.
Until then, they’d been other people’s business to me.

The fact that I had a grandfather and grandmother seemed miraculous.

And that wasn’t all.
Other kids didn’t have so many uncles—and I even had aunts!

I understood later, once I was grown.

My father, who worked as a sales associate at a small company and traveled across the country every day.
He was my direct senior at university.

A graduate of the business school at Yeon Guk University, back when getting into large corporations was easy.

Moreover, he was the youngest son of the current chairman of Ha Ryun Group.

Yet Father chose to work at a small company.

It was the consequence of marrying Mother despite his family’s opposition.

As a group heir, Father was stripped of every privilege he could have enjoyed.

The mother he chose had lost both her parents early and lived alone like an orphan.

The two of them met by chance on the beach in Sokcho and fell into passionate love.

First love—the most beautiful emotion permitted to humans.

The tragedy began from then.
Father’s marriage had already been arranged during his university days.

It was an obligation of chaebol bloodline.

The youngest of four sons and two daughters.
He was already contracted to marry the daughter of one of Korea’s three largest media families.

Yet Father chose love.

For that, the Ha family even resorted to absurd threats of killing him.

Father remained unshaken and chose Mother.

Naturally, Grandfather cast Father out.

He needed stepping stones for the empire he envisioned.
A child who resisted was coldly discarded.

Father’s siblings, knowing their share would increase, welcomed Grandfather’s decision.

Father never once regretted it.

The love with which he chose Mother conquered a world of prejudice.

Looking back on my childhood, our home was happy.
Parents who were honey to each other’s eyes, and me, their only son.

I have many memories.

On Father’s days off, whenever the sun shone bright, we went to the Han River.
The three of us rented bicycles and devoured chicken together.

When it rained, we ate Mother’s delicious pancakes at home.

Zucchini, leek, sweet potato, cabbage—so many.
The memory of Mother’s pancakes made from humble ingredients makes my mouth water.

The side dishes changed with the seasons, made from inexpensive ingredients.

My parents were happy even with just a cup of makgeolli, with no fine wine in sight.

I grew up in their shelter, free from the world’s worries.

If only that day hadn’t been an eternal nightmare I can never forget—

Pitter-patter.

It was a rainy day.

A neighborhood the three of us visited, in the small business car Father drove.
Seongbuk-dong, an upscale district.

Grand mansions stretched endlessly before us.

My heart raced.
I couldn’t believe such a wealthy grandfather existed for me.

My parents got out in front of the mansion.

I can still see clearly how restless they looked.

Mother was nervous.
I could feel her emotional state through her small hand.
I squeezed Mother’s hand tightly.

The subtle tremor transmitted through her warm palm.

I didn’t truly understand then.

Mother was genuinely frightened.

Father pressed the doorbell.
There was no answer from inside.

Father rang the bell several times more.

After a long while, two large men opened the gate.

They said that on the chairman’s orders, we should leave.

Father pleaded, “Please, just let me see Mother’s face once.”

That was when I saw Father cry for the first time.

The two men were security guards.
With stubborn resolve, they blocked the way and said absolutely not.

A struggle broke out between the three.

Father pushed them aside, trying to force his way through the gate.
The guards grabbed him firmly, refusing to let go.

Father’s voice tore as he cried out.

“Mother! Mother!”

His face streaked with tears and snot, he struggled to get through the gate.

The iron gate, unusually tall and sturdy, blocked the way.
The door the guards held fast did not open.

Mother pleaded with the guards who were treating Father roughly.

As the struggle went on, the umbrella we’d been carrying got thrown aside.

Pitter-patter.
Father, Mother, and I—soaked like drowned rats in the rain.

Then, like a miracle, the gate opened.

A kind-faced grandfather appeared.

“Father.”

Father called to Grandfather with a trembling voice.

He resembled a funny mask from a fairytale.

The gold buttons caught my eye.
Yellow gold buttons dangling from his Korean vest.

“…….”

The commotion subsided, and a heavy silence fell.

It was brief but felt interminably long.

The thick presence radiating outward was terror to my young self.

I was afraid.
I couldn’t breathe.

I hid behind Mother and peeked at Grandfather.

His lips pressed firmly together.
He looked stubborn and cruel.
His eyes held no warmth—a tiger’s gaze.

My first impression of Grandfather, etched in sharp memory.
It remains vivid in my mind even now.

Different from how Mother and Father looked at me.
Absolutely not the gaze of a father toward his child.

That was the cold, hostile stare of an enemy.

Our eyes met for a moment.
Those eyes held no emotion.

Not a shred of warmth for blood kin.

He didn’t even look at Mother as she bowed in greeting.

Behind Grandfather stood his children, lined up in a row.

They stood like a folding screen.

Their eyes were no different.
The gaze they turned on Mother, Father, and me—drenched and shabby—was arrogant.

I still vividly remember some of the faces that sneered at the young me.

And the words spoken then.

“Get out! How dare you filthy wretches set foot here!”

A roar exploded.

One of the women standing behind Grandfather shouted it at Mother.

“You bastard erased from the family register—what business do you have crawling here!”

One of the men spat the words.

He was speaking to Father.

Father begged, “Please, just let me see Mother once.”

In the rain, he knelt before the gate.

Even seeing that, Grandfather said nothing.
His children, like a folding screen, only raised their voices louder.

There is no such wretch as you in the Ha family.

Warnings followed.

If you ever dare show your face again, you’ll never enjoy even your meager job and livelihood!

With those words, they all went back through the gate.

Without a single word, Grandfather turned his back and disappeared.

He was a man without blood or tears.

Even young as I was, I could see that clearly.

Father, wailing, searched for Grandmother.
On his knees, he pounded the wet ground with his fists again and again.

He choked back his sobs as if he might collapse backward.

He wept that way for a long time, heaving with grief.
Mother wrapped her arms around Father’s shoulders.

That was when I learned that Father could cry just like me.

After that day, Father spoke less.
His body grew visibly thinner.

Soon after, the scary hahoe mask grandfather appeared on TV.

It was a funeral.

An interview with the group chairman seeing off his wife of many years.

Throughout the interview, Grandfather shed tears and expressed his sorrow.

Watching that vile mask, nausea rose in my throat.

I remember running to the bathroom and vomiting everything I’d eaten that day.

When Father passed away, no one from Grandfather’s side came.

I spent days comforting Mother in her grief.

Looking back, I think I erased all memories of Father’s relatives from my mind after that.

Only anger filled the void.
I wanted to take revenge whenever I thought of them.

But reality was cold.

After entering university, I understood it clearly.

Ha Ryun Group was not my opponent.
It was a colossal monster I could do nothing against, even if I died and came back.

A monster no prosecutor or judge could tackle.

A major chaebol supporting Korea’s economy!

Petty revenge was all I could manage.

Boycotting Ha Ryun Group products.
Never even a stick stood toward Seongbuk-dong.

The advertisement changed.

—Though the amount is modest, I’m grateful to contribute even a little to this struggling world.

Beautiful words continued.

Ugh!

I choked back the bile rising in my throat.

Now I’ve grown strong enough to endure this much.

“Mom.”
—Yes, son.

Confidence bloomed in me.
The independence fund Grandmother left behind!

Snort.

I laughed at the strange sense of victory.

“Can I try being a chaebol, Mom?”
—A chaebol? Suddenly?

It was a lifelong regret.
Living as a working person made me understand even more clearly.

This damned world!
It was a paradise for the rich!

Especially the chaebols!

Especially that Grandfather!
Before the regression, exactly at this moment.
That Grandfather should be entering prison on embezzlement and breach of fiduciary duty charges.

Money was scattered to bury the scandal.

Media contacts linked through marriage and personal networks gave comprehensive protection.

Entangled with politics in various ways, even grave crimes were buried quietly.

Of course, the 300 billion announced publicly never reached society.

It flowed into a foundation controlled by the group.

Naturally, the foundation belonged to Grandfather.

The public, knowing well this theatrical generosity.
Yet their affection for the hahoe mask Grandfather remained fervent.

I want to expose the true nature behind that smile!

That vile, bestial Grandfather and his kin.

Ha Ryun Group, called the textbook example of virtuous chaebols in Korea.

I want to smash those money-obsessed wretches with money itself!

—Good, son! Be a chaebol. Do everything you want to do!

Mother seemed to think I was joking.

—But do it with humanity. Be that kind of chaebol.

I felt Mother’s regret, born from having suffered the cruelty of chaebols.

A chance at a reversal of fortune.
Heaven had given me this chance.
No—Grandmother had brought this chance to me!

“A chaebol…… Mom, I’ll boldly seize this opportunity!”

* * *

“1 Billion Won…….”

Thump-thump.
My heart raced fiercely.
1 Billion Won is such a massive sum that ordinary people can barely touch it.

In Seoul, you could buy a small apartment with this.

For me, it’s the first time holding such money.

“But…… it’s nowhere near enough!”

The problem is that 1 Billion is merely pocket change against a chaebol.
I can’t even compete with them.

I need to grow it to at least dozens of trillions in liquid assets.

“Real estate is done…… If I invest in US stocks now…… I could multiply it several times over…….”

I steadied my breathing and recalled my past experiences.
I organized my memories by period.

Countless memories began arranging themselves sequentially.

“…….”

Thump! Thump!

Future phenomena I’ve lived through but can’t know at this current moment.
My heart pounded madly.

1 Billion.
Small, yet absolutely not a negligible sum.

“Right now is…….”

I pieced together fragments of memory.
May 2022.

The great catastrophe that struck the crypto market!

Whoosh.

The curves of those algorithms filled my mind, riding the waves.

If the future flow doesn’t change from what I know, I…….

Tap.

I picked up my smartphone.

It was a site I’d registered on out of curiosity as a coming-of-age gift.

Back then, I’d played investor with a measly 100,000 Won in allowance.

Now, looking at it again, mixed emotions flooded through me.

“Now is different from then.”

The clumsy Ha Tae-woong of my college days, buried in club activities dreaming of a life reversal, was gone.

I’d recklessly thrown myself into the crypto market without background knowledge and lost everything.

I wasn’t alone in this.

I remember the exact number of my holdings the moment I quit crypto.

1,880 KRW.

Crumbs of cash at the bottom, impossible even to transfer.

I was liquidated several times before graduation.

Scraps remaining after I’d ground away my soul through part-time work, only for them to dissolve in various fees.

“The ultimate form of speculation.”

After crypto became active, quite a few casinos went bankrupt.

May 18, 2010.

A pizza was traded for 10,000 Bitcoin.

I couldn’t believe I’d regressed.

It’s stunning.

Information shared with investment club seniors, juniors, and peers through thick and thin.

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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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