The Return of the Ruined Chaebol's Third-Generation Heir - Chapter 23

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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 Fallen Chaebol’s Third Generation — Episode 23
Four days later.
Inside the moving car, Jung Tae-sung passed a thick document envelope to the back seat.
“This is the information you requested on Cho Hee-chul.”
“You’ve finished the investigation already?”
In response to my question, Jung Tae-sung met my eyes through the rearview mirror instead of answering.
Silent affirmation.
Confidence.
“You said this was your specialty, didn’t you? Well then, let’s see what you can do.”
I pulled out the documents. The moment I turned the first page, Jung Tae-sung began his briefing.
“Over the past month, Cho Hee-chul’s time spent at his Myeongdong office has increased roughly 30% above average.”
“Thirty percent, hm…”
“In previous years, he made client rounds every afternoon, but this year most of his external appointments have been pushed to evening. During the day, he stays holed up in the office on the pretext of organizing records, and his real activity is concentrated at night.”
I nodded and continued reading the documents. Hide during the day, move at night.
Yet the busiest time in the loan shark market would be daytime.
Amateurs always show their tells in places like this.
“I also looked into the connections you mentioned — the Yeouido and prosecution-police lines.”
“Did anything surface?”
“He’s been meeting with brokers who hang around Yeouido. Former political aides, not current officials. Unofficial channels, not formal government relations work.”
I let out a hollow laugh.
Yeouido harbors such creatures.
Former aides whose badges have been stripped away, now brokers.
Companies typically hire men like this for government relations — to block regulations or bills unfavorable to them. They know how to deal with officials better than anyone else, after all.
‘But the type Cho Hee-chul is meeting is a different breed altogether.’
Not helping corporations, but hyenas who connect unsavory people and pocket commissions.
It was clear that Cho Hee-chul had been hunting down such intermediaries to conduct illegal lobbying in the National Assembly.
“What about the prosecution and police?”
“There too, his contact frequency has increased dramatically. Two former senior criminal investigators and one former official who served in a special prosecution division have had drinks with Cho Hee-chul three times over the past two months.”
As expected.
He was already laying groundwork there as well.
Building defensive shields in preparation for any unforeseen trouble.
Typical operatives’ playbook.
“There’s also something odd about the cash flow.”
“The cash flow?”
“According to the loan sharks in Myeongdong, the money is always supposed to be channeled into high-risk short-term loans. It’s faster to recover and easier to play with interest that way.”
That would make sense.
If they lose his money, it’s as though their lifeline is severed.
So the practice in the loan shark market was to circulate it through the most trustworthy, fastest-turning outlets and pay interest cleanly.
“Usually it rotates within three to five days, but apparently Cho Hee-chul’s movements have changed recently. Once money goes in, it doesn’t come back out.”
“Do you have any more information beyond that?”
“Without looking directly at the ledgers… I apologize. That’s as far as we can determine from outside.”
“No, this is excellent. You’ve nailed the essentials in such a short time.”
I meant it sincerely. The fact that he’d uncovered this much without stealing the books — using only circumstantial evidence — was a remarkable ability.
“One last thing… this isn’t confirmed, but it appears Cho Hee-chul has recently been funding money into the stock market through Yeouido.”
Bingo.
The final puzzle piece had fallen into place.
“The stock market?”
“Yes. And not as legitimate investment either — it seems he’s gotten involved with a Cleanup Team that systematically strips and leaves, so to speak.”
When the market rises, what they call an Ant Trap unfolds.
Recently, with the China Supercycle gaining momentum, the stock market had been booming.
Where there’s light, there’s shadow.
In times like this, stock manipulation rings move systematically.
‘The pattern is always the same.’
The method is simple. They buy a crumbling KOSDAQ-listed company with borrowed money from loan sharks like Cho Hee-chul. They package it as a merger and acquisition, then spread false rumors claiming the shell company is connected to China’s economic growth.
[China expansion confirmed!]
[Rare earth mining development rights secured!]
When sensational headlines like these run, the stock skyrockets. The ants, like moths to a flame, come swarming.
Then they dump all their holdings at the peak and abandon the company as a hollow shell.
The ending is predictable. The company gets delisted, and the retail investors who came in late are left holding worthless paper.
“What’s your source?”
“One of our information sources seemed to be hanging around such people recently, so I asked around. They said money has been coming in from Myeongdong. But I can’t be certain it’s Cho Hee-chul.”
“But you have reason to suspect it’s him?”
“Yes, because among the Myeongdong bosses, only Cho Hee-chul’s movements are different.”
This director has good instincts. Information specialists must possess a certain sense for weaving disparate details together.
That’s right. This period would be when Cho Hee-chul first tasted profit from that side of things.
So five years later, he’d try to cash in big and get completely busted instead.
“So Cho Hee-chul is funding the stock manipulators. He’s playing with fire in a very dangerous way.”
I closed the documents and nodded.
“You’ve done excellent work, Director Jung.”
“Not at all. So what comes next?”
“Let’s wait. It should be about time for the call to come in now…”
Buzz—
Before I could finish speaking, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
The number on the screen was unlisted.
“This is Kang Seon-woo.”
—Bukchon here.
A dry, clipped voice came through the receiver. The man who’d been guarding the gate last time.
—The chairman is asking for you.
“I’ll head over now.”
I answered curtly and hung up.
“The call came through.”
I said, looking at Jung Tae-sung.
“Let’s head to Bukchon. Time to meet the chairman.”

* * *
“Looks like you’ve done some digging into what Cho Hee-chul has been up to.”
I asked with deliberate ease, and Kim Jong-su set down his teacup and fixed me with a sharp gaze.
“How much do I need to borrow?”
Direct to the point.
I stifled a cheer inside.
‘Straight to business the moment he sits down.’
This meant one of two things.
Either he’d confirmed what I said was true, or he’d dug extensively but found no definitive evidence and needed me to fill in the blanks.
Looking at the subtle crease between Kim Jong-su’s brows, it seemed closer to the latter.
Strong suspicion but no hard proof.
“How much legally clean money can you provide?”
“All my money is legally clean. The amount depends on how valuable the information you have is.”
Kim Jong-su leaned forward and asked in a low voice.
“What is Cho Hee-chul up to? My people dug for days, but all they found were lowlifes he meets. Nothing conclusive.”
Exactly.
Cho Hee-chul was a snake. He’d hidden his ledgers in layers and layers, so there was no way his tail would show after a few days of digging.
“He’s been selling the name of the Bukchon Ant King.”
At my words, Kim Jong-su’s eyebrows twitched. He stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.
“He’s been throwing money around to people in high positions in the political world, the prosecution, and the police — all while selling your name, claiming it’s on your orders.”
“…Is that all?”
Kim Jong-su’s reaction was lukewarm.
“There are plenty of guys using my name. Hanger-ons exist everywhere.”
Right, I’d expected this much.
“But why would he do that? Just to impress people? No. He’s laying groundwork because he’s involved in dirty business.”
“Dirty business?”
“As you well know, Yeouido’s financial world has cleaners. Since it’s your area of expertise, I needn’t explain.”
Kim Jong-su, who sees through the stock market’s inner workings, needed no lengthy explanation.
“Cho Hee-chul is the money man backing them. But he’s not just lending the money — he’s in on the scheme itself.”
“…!”
“The architect of this operation is someone named Park Nam-gyu. You know him, don’t you?”
When that name came up, Kim Jong-su’s expression changed noticeably.
Park Nam-gyu.
A vicious stock manipulation technician who’d already fleeced multiple KOSDAQ companies and sent countless ants to the Han River.
Anyone who knew the industry recognized him as a dangerous figure.
“Cho Hee-chul has been funding Park Nam-gyu. With your money, in fact.”
By now, Cho Hee-chul would be turning a profit from backing Park Nam-gyu.
He’d taste those gains and then try to cash in big. Five years later, when Park Nam-gyu gets caught, the scandal would cascade and everything would unravel.
Kim Jong-su’s money would become the seed capital for criminal proceeds — there was no way he could come out of it unscathed.
Kim Jong-su drew in a dry breath. He’d grasped the seriousness of the situation.
Hearing Park Nam-gyu’s name probably connected the dots for him too, linking it to his own suspicions.
“…How much do you want?”
“One billion won.”
I answered shortly.
“I’ll lend it. Three percent monthly interest.”
‘Look at this man’s audacity.’
Three percent monthly was thirty-six percent annually. While that was standard loan shark market rates, it was absurd given the value of the information I’d just provided.
“Don’t joke. At that rate, I’d just go to any shop in Myeongdong and borrow from them. No need to come all the way to Bukchon.”
The legal maximum interest rate for registered loan brokers at this time was sixty-six percent annually, but considering my creditworthiness and Myeongdong market rates, three percent monthly offered no real advantage.
“One percent monthly.”
“What?”
“Payment for saving my life. I think that much is only fair.”
Kim Jong-su studied me quietly.
Our eyes locked. But it wasn’t me who was at a disadvantage.
“…Fine. One percent monthly.”
He nodded. But true to form, he wasn’t about to back down entirely.
“There is one condition, though.”
“A condition?”
“The information you have — share it with me as well.”
I let out a quiet laugh.
Kim Jong-su was a man for whom information flowed naturally from the chaebol world even while he sat quietly in Bukchon.
For the first time in his life, he was in the position of not having information that someone else held first.
Of course he was tempted.
“Information sharing, hm…”
I did a quick calculation.
Not bad. In fact, it was an opportunity to make him part of my information network.
“All right. I’ll share it. But on one condition.”
“…?”
“The twenty percent revenue share I proposed last time — consider it waived. Just straight principal of one billion won plus one percent monthly interest.”
“You…”
Kim Jong-su clicked his tongue.
I was proposing to forgo the twenty percent of profits I’d originally offered, treating the information sharing as adequate compensation instead.
Financially, I came out massively ahead.
Kim Jong-su studied me for a long moment, then gave a reluctant nod.
“…Fine. Let’s do it that way. You’re not playing small.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The deal was struck.
I stood to leave and threw in a little extra sweetener.
“By the first half of this year, the political world is going to get very turbulent.”
“The political world?”
“Yes. A historic storm is coming. You’ll want to be on the right side of things.”
The 2004 Impeachment Political Crisis.
An unprecedented event in Korean constitutional history was bearing down.
For a first deal, this was premium-grade information — almost too generous.
Kim Jong-su’s expression was confused as he tried to gauge the weight of what I’d just handed him.
“I’ll make good use of that one billion won and return it as soon as possible. Please arrange the funds as quickly as you can.”
“I’ll send a trusted person. Given your position, I’ll process it as an investment rather than a loan.”
“Thank you.”
I bowed respectfully and left the reception room without hesitation.

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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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