The Return of the Ruined Chaebol's Third-Generation Heir - Chapter 15

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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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Regression of a Ruined Chaebol Heir — Episode 15
A weekend afternoon.
The tea house in Seongbuk-dong, chosen as our meeting place, was quiet to the point of desolation.
Not just empty of customers—it felt as though the owner had rented out the entire space.
In a corner where only the faint aroma of tea lingered, a man sat motionless as a statue.
I took a deep breath and approached him.
“Hello.”
At the sound of my footsteps, he rose from his seat at once.
I’d worn civilian clothes instead of my school uniform, but anyone could see I was still just a high school student.
Most people would have shown surprise, but he didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow—only bowed formally.
“Jung Tae-sung.”
“Kang Seon-woo.”
I studied him carefully.
Neatly combed hair, a suit without a single wrinkle, and an expression so devoid of emotion that you couldn’t draw blood from him with a needle. He exuded the aura of someone who would be meticulous about every detail of his work.
‘Passes the first round.’
And he hadn’t so much as blinked upon seeing me. A man of few words with quick hands. Exactly the type I was looking for.
The moment I sat across from him, Jung Tae-sung opened his mouth quietly.
“This tea house is operated by my sister.”
“Ah, I see. It’s quiet and pleasant.”
“To allow you to speak freely, my sister has stepped away for the time being. There are no listening ears, so you may rest assured.”
His preparedness was another pass.
It meant he understood perfectly that confidentiality was the lifeblood of our arrangement.
I lifted my teacup and asked, “How much has Executive Director Kim Seok-jun told you about me?”
“Only that you are someone I will need to serve going forward.”
He’d answered with admirable restraint.
No embellishments—no mention of high school or third-generation chaebol heir. Just the essentials. That was pure Kim Seok-jun.
“Do you have any questions about this? As you can see, I’m a high school student.”
“None.”
Jung Tae-sung answered without hesitation.
“If Executive Director Kim selected you, there must be a reason. I will simply follow your instructions.”
No unnecessary talk. Just orders and obedience.
‘For now, this distance works well.’
Trust is built, not forced from the start.
I nodded.
“Good. Let’s make you an executive director, Jung Tae-sung. An official title will be useful for external activities.”
“Executive director?”
“Yes. Executive Director of Strategic Planning at SJ Holdings. Please have business cards prepared.”
“Understood.”
He made no objection, simply jotting a note in his notebook.
Now it was time to get to the main subject.
“There is one task you must undertake immediately.”
“Please tell me.”
“Find me a company that meets the conditions I will provide.”
I traced an imaginary map on the table with my finger.
“Check the Banwol Industrial Complex nearby, Sihwa, or the Ulsan area. Look into whether there are any fine chemical companies that have recently entered court receivership or are being put up for sale in those industrial parks.”
“Fine chemical industry?”
“Yes.”
I’d chosen fine chemicals as the industry to invest in.
From ultra-high-purity materials for semiconductor processing to specialized coating agents essential for automotive and heavy machinery painting.
A foundational materials industry—a high-tech domain that even China, with its massive capital and volume, cannot rapidly manufacture.
More importantly, it’s an indispensable commodity for my cousins’ automotive and heavy machinery businesses, but it’s the perfect place to hide where I’m sharpening my blade.
“There will likely be many struggling companies in that region.”
My assessment was accurate.
At this time, small and medium-sized chemical and materials companies across South Korea were on the brink of collapse.
The IMF Crisis had struck them directly; banks were calling in loans to companies, and high interest rates drove even profitable firms into bankruptcy.
Fine chemicals in particular—a sector that lives and dies by Research and Development—where technological innovation devours money like a hungry beast.
After the IMF passed, a semiconductor slump descended, and companies with cash-starved operations had to close their doors despite holding the technology.
“Now is the perfect time to pick through the wreckage. If you can distinguish the jade from the stone, that is.”
“Do you have conditions?”
“Yes. It can’t be just any small business. The company must possess all chemical-related licensing authorities—including hazardous material handling licenses. The larger the factory premises, the better.”
Jung Tae-sung’s eyes sharpened. He’d grasped my intent.
The real barrier to entry in fine chemicals wasn’t technology—it was licensing.
Because of explosion risks and environmental hazards, the government rarely grants new permits.
Building a factory from bare ground takes years just for permits.
But if you acquired a defunct company that already held them?
‘You buy time.’
That license itself was the weapon I needed most right now.
“And finally, the mindset of the executive running the company matters.”
“Mindset, you say?”
“A thorough reference check. I want you to investigate their reputation carefully.”
I touched the cup before me and continued explaining.
“The reason the company failed is crucial. Did they burn through their funds pursuing technological development, or did the owner line their own pockets? Were they more interested in golf than business?”
“So you want the former.”
“Yes. Or ideally, both were sincere in their pursuit of technology. Someone obsessed with innovation who neglected management would be even better. We can handle the management side.”
Jung Tae-sung nodded and noted everything meticulously.
“To summarize: a fine chemical company in an industrial park, currently under court receivership. It must hold all licensing authorities and possess ample factory grounds. And the representative should be a technology-focused individual.”
“Exactly.”
“I will find all companies meeting those three conditions and compile a list.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
At my question, Jung Tae-sung paused in thought, then looked directly at me and asked, “If you give me a deadline, I will meet it.”
Confident words.
I liked that.
I couldn’t stand dawdling—this man clearly understood the value of speed.
“Can you do it in two months?”
“I will have a report ready within two months.”
“If you need additional personnel, you may hire them.”
“Then I’ll recruit two people to assist me.”
“That’s left to your discretion.”
“Thank you. I will prepare a thorough report.”
“Good. I’ll be waiting.”
I raised my teacup and took a sip. Bitter, but with a sweet finish.
Now I had hands and feet to execute my will.

* * *
One day in December. The school was in disarray as the closing ceremony marking the start of winter break concluded.
But our club room on the third floor of the annex was filled with warmth.

I looked around the space.
The dusty desks and yellowed wallpaper were completely gone.
Fresh, clean wallpaper had been applied to the walls, and atop the desks sat three brand-new LCD monitors and towers awarded as competition prizes, gleaming with pride.
After winning the competition, the school’s treatment of us had done a complete 180.
With heating working properly, the club room finally felt like a proper place to be. We were throwing a modest celebration there.
“Han Jae-yi, I’m really congratulating you on getting into Yeonhui University’s Business Administration program!”
Pop!
When a first-year junior threw confetti, Han Jae-yi laughed bashfully, brushing paper scraps from her hair.
“Thanks, everyone.”
They all applauded sincerely.
Han Jae-yi had been accepted early admission to Yeonhui University’s Business Administration program, one of Korea’s most prestigious private universities.
There was no worry about tuition. She’d been selected as the first scholarship recipient from the scholarship foundation created by—well, by SJ Holdings.
“It’s all thanks to you guys. I never could have done this alone. Especially…”
Han Jae-yi’s eyes lingered on me. Even without words, I understood. Her gaze held profound gratitude.
“Thank you for trusting in your incompetent president and following me, and I’ll come visit often after I start university. I’ll buy you all dinner.”
“Really? You have to keep that promise!”
“Of course I will.”
The warm atmosphere continued, when one of the first-year members asked thoughtlessly, “So, um… when Jae-yi graduates… we’ll go back down to four members?”
Suddenly, a chill fell over the club room like cold water had been thrown on it. We’d bring in new first-years, sure, but it also meant losing a leader to guide the club forward.
‘Ugh, I can’t get used to this vibe.’
At this age, being around high schoolers, I’d learned they all had way too much emotional sensitivity. The saying about tears falling at the sight of fallen leaves suddenly made sense.
“Don’t worry about it. Next year we’ll have a new, even more capable president to lead you. And we’ll get plenty of new members. Our club’s famous now.”
“A new president?”
“Yeah.”
“Who?”
All four pairs of eyes suddenly fixed on me—Min-jae and the other members.
‘…What?’
I frowned.
Why are they looking at me? It’s not me.
They must have been scheming to dump this on me.
“If you’re all okay with it, would it be alright if I nominated the next president?”
At Han Jae-yi’s words, the kids nodded. I also nodded, arms folded.
Truth is, Han Jae-yi had proposed the idea to me first, but I’d flatly refused, saying I was too busy.
I got some remarks about what a high school student could possibly be busy with, but she accepted my answer.
“I’d like Min-jae to be the next president.”
Han Jae-yi’s finger pointed to Min-jae sitting beside me. Suddenly, a palpable sigh of relief filled the room.
“Phew…”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
‘…Huh?’
A laugh escaped me despite myself.
So they hadn’t been looking to me at all?
They’d been praying desperately that I wouldn’t become president, afraid the club would become too rigid under my rule.
‘Ha. Am I really that scary?’
But I couldn’t entirely disagree with them. For a position like this, someone steady and sincere like Min-jae was far better suited than me.
“M-me?”
Min-jae’s eyes went wide with shock.
“But… Seon-woo is here too, and I still don’t know much about stocks…”
“No, you’re doing it.”
I cut off Min-jae’s protest and raised my hand to second the motion.
“Lee Min-jae, if it’s not you, there’s nobody else. Don’t try to wiggle out of this.”
The other members nodded vigorously in agreement.
“That’s right, Min-jae is perfect!”
“Seon-woo is… well, just too busy.”
Busy was an excuse; they thought it would be hard.
Min-jae seemed to struggle for a moment, then bit his lip as if he’d made a decision.
“…Okay. I’ll do my best, even if I’m not enough.”
“That’s it, Min-jae—you’ll do great. Congratulations, future president!”
Han Jae-yi began applauding, and the club room filled with celebratory energy once more.
I leaned back deep into my chair, watching the bustling group around me.
‘A whole year has already passed.’
Having rushed through everything since the regression, I’d somehow become a third-year high school student. The cruelest and most critical crossroads for a Korean teen.
‘I’ll need to be busy during winter break.’
Between company matters and everything else, I still had to get into university.
The personal networks you built on a college campus would be essential. To catch both the study and business rabbits, this winter break would leave me with no room to rest.
‘But… it’s not so bad.’
Having a goal makes you feel alive.
Just as the year-end celebration was winding down, my pocket vibrated.
Buzz—
My folder phone hummed softly. I discreetly pulled it out and flipped it open. The caller was unknown, but I knew who it was.
[It’s Jung Tae-sung. I’m ready.]
A short, concise message—but its weight was anything but light.
Two months. In that time, Executive Director Jung Tae-sung had completed my assignment flawlessly.
‘Good.’
A smile crept unbidden to my lips.
‘Let’s go see.’
I closed the phone and stood. With the start of winter break came the beginning of SJ Holdings’ first venture.

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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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