The Return of the Ruined Chaebol's Third-Generation Heir - Chapter 24

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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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The Regression of a Fallen Chaebol’s Third Generation – Episode 024
An hour after Kang Seon-woo left.
The tightly closed door of the Reception Room opened, and Choi Dong-su entered.
His face had turned ashen.
“I have a report.”
Kim Jong-su, his gaze still fixed on the window, asked in a low, measured voice.
“Well. Did you confirm it?”
“…Yes. Kang Seon-woo was right. It’s been confirmed that Jo Hee-chul has been moving around with Park Nam-gyu.”
Kim Jong-su’s brow twisted briefly. The suspicion he’d pushed down, calling it mere caution, had returned as fact in the worst possible form.
“When we put pressure on Park Nam-gyu, he talked readily. He says that in a collusive trading scheme he and Jo Hee-chul dabbled in before, they made quite a tidy sum. Unable to forget that taste, he took additional funds borrowed from you and this time expanded the operation considerably.”
“Hah.”
Kim Jong-su let out a hollow laugh of exasperation.
“Jo Hee-chul’s always had poor instincts, but until now he was the kind who did nothing but lend money and pocket the interest—like a snake, keeping his head down. Why would he suddenly wade into something so risky?”
“It appears… he took a significant loss on Futures and Options trading personally.”
“A loss?”
“Yes. It seems he recklessly colluded with operational forces in an attempt to recoup that loss.”
Kim Jong-su clicked his tongue.
“Worthless bastard.”
He lost his own money and got greedy—now he’s gambling with someone else’s money? My money?
That uneasiness he’d felt about Jo Hee-chul from the start had been justified.
A man who chased only immediate profit. A vessel no bigger than a soy sauce dish.
But what infuriated Kim Jong-su more than Jo Hee-chul’s betrayal wasn’t his betrayal itself.
“So.”
Kim Jong-su slowly turned his head and fixed Choi Dong-su with a piercing stare.
“My money’s been thrown into a ditch, and we didn’t find out until some brat came to tell us about it?”
“…I’m sorry. I have no excuse, even if I had ten mouths.”
Choi Dong-su could not lift his head and bowed deeply. Cold sweat poured down his spine like rain.
“I’ll need to completely overhaul your information network.”
“I’ll fix it. I’ll deploy the men right away and—”
“No.”
Kim Jong-su cut him off coldly.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
“Go to Jo Hee-chul and recover every last won of my principal and interest. Tell him there are no further dealings.”
Kim Jong-su’s eyes gleamed with a chill.
“After you handle that, step down from your post.”
“C-Chairman!”
“My eyes and ears have gone blind. There’s no reason for you to sit in that chair. Step aside.”
“…”
It was a dismissal as sharp and final as frost falling. Choi Dong-su bit his lip, unable to lift his head. In a world where information is life, there was no room for excuses once you’ve blinded your master’s vision.
“…I understand, sir. I will handle this final task without fail and step down.”
Choi Dong-su bowed and left.
Silence once more filled the Reception Room.
Kim Jong-su lay deep in the sofa, gazing at the ceiling, and naturally the face of one person came to mind.
‘Kang Seon-woo.’
A different gleam in his eyes from small-time players like Jo Hee-chul. A man who showed no intimidation before him—who even dared offer unsolicited advice.
-The political circles will become quite turbulent in the first half of this year.
And the information he’d tossed out as if it were nothing.
“In the Seonjin family’s third generation… there’s at least one proper specimen.”
The caliber was different.
He had a premonition that they might be conducting some quite interesting dealings for quite some time to come.
Kim Jong-su picked up the telephone on the table. The moment he pressed a speed-dial number, the other party answered immediately.
“It’s me.”
He gave a brief instruction.
“Prepare a clean account and bring it to me.”
-I’ll have it ready right away.
After hanging up, a subtle smile played at Kim Jong-su’s lips.
“Let’s see if he’s worth the investment.”

* * *
The next morning.
A call came from Jung Tae-sung.
-Representative, the fund transfer for Bukchon has been completed.
“It went into the Paper Company account?”
-Yes, we borrowed through the Ribbon Capital account.
The work was handled cleanly, as expected.
I’d used a Paper Company registered in a Cayman Islands jurisdiction—created for the establishment of SJ Holdings—for this loan.
If ten billion won suddenly entered my account all at once,
the National Tax Service and my household would inevitably catch wind of it.
I wanted money that left no traces, and I believed this was the best move.
Besides, I held a hundred percent equity stake in Ribbon Capital, so it was virtually my money anyway.
I briefly expressed my thanks and immediately gave the next instruction.
“By the way, Jung. Please activate an Information Gathering line for the time being to investigate movements at Seonjin Aluminum.”
-Seonjin Aluminum… you say?
“Yes. Particularly whether there’s any contact with the Yeouido securities district, or any internal changes on that side.”
Within the first half of the year, my uncle Kang Byeong-chul will make his move. He’ll definitely begin an assault while accumulating shares in the company.
Since he’d already be making moves, I couldn’t miss even the slightest activity.
“Even the smallest movement would be helpful. Please report to me immediately if anything unusual appears.”
-Yes, understood. I’ll watch carefully.
“I’ll be in touch.”
The moment I hung up, a short alert tone chimed as if it had been waiting.
Ding-
[Deposit] 10,000,000,000 won (Bukchon Investment Partnership)
A matrix of zeros filling the LCD screen.
One billion won.
‘Good. Let me make this grow properly.’
The rush was brief, and a cool chill ran down my spine. One percent monthly interest. Breathing alone meant a hundred million won disappearing each month.
So I had to generate returns that exceeded this, or rather, overwhelmingly surpassed it.
I sat down at the computer and opened the Home Trading System.
The first stock I pulled up in the purchase window was Seokyung Information & Communications.
‘If my memory is correct, within a month the government will designate Satellite DMB as an IT new growth engine.’
The moment standard-selection and operator-selection issues break, related stocks will soar without a ceiling.
Seokyung Information & Communications was the core leader stock among them.
I placed the order without hesitation.
‘5 billion in purchases.’
If I’d had my way, I would’ve burned all 10 billion. Then the profits would double.
But I restrained my desire.
If I’d concentrated all 10 billion in one stock, the price would spike significantly right now.
Later, it could invite scandal—that a chaebol third-generation heir was using undisclosed information.
A portfolio should be diversified. With very plausible reasoning, too.
‘Let me think. Early 2004… what shook South Korea back then?’
I rolled the mouse and began searching for news articles from that time.
Rather than main news, I skimmed small, out-of-the-way stories people would casually overlook.
Think about it. A small hint is all I need.
Then, one headline caught my eye.
[International Brief – Suspected Avian Influenza Death in Hanoi, Vietnam… WHO Launches Investigation]
“Wait, this?”
I checked the news date. It was from yesterday.
The domestic press was still quiet. Avian Influenza—AI—was an unfamiliar term, treated as merely a tropical disease of Southeast Asia.
But the 2004 in my memory was different.
‘Chickens are going to die en masse soon.’
Around the Lunar New Year holiday, avian influenza will reach domestic poultry farms.
Chicken consumption will plummet, and the entire nation will be gripped by fear.
And what rises as the counterbalance?
‘Quarantine measures and alternatives.’
I immediately sifted through related stocks.
ParmaBio, which manufactures animal vaccines and quarantine equipment for livestock.
A neglected stock with almost no trading volume.
‘3 billion here.’
Now 2 billion remained.
‘Well-being.’
The keyword threading through the mid-2000s.
A trend of eating well and living well was spreading, and people began spending freely on health.
As Chinese factories churned, the Korean Peninsula’s sky grew murky.
What if Yellow Dust and Fine Dust issues from China were added?
‘Air purifiers.’
The intersection of both the Yellow Dust theme and the Well-being theme.
I searched for CleanAir, which held the number-one market share in household air purifiers.
Its performance was solid, but it was undervalued, not yet drawing market attention.
‘I’ll put the remaining 2 billion here.’
I placed the remaining funds in CleanAir through staged purchases.
Seokyung Information & Communications 50%.
ParmaBio 30%.
CleanAir 20%.
The portfolio was complete.
IT, biotech, environment.
To anyone’s eye, it looked like future-oriented and rational diversified investing—but in reality, it was little different from inserting a straw into a pre-determined future.
“Phew…”
Transaction confirmation alerts chimed in succession.
All 10 billion won invested in stocks without a single won left over.
“The future better not change.”
So far, the future hadn’t changed, but after betting such a massive sum, worry crept in.
“Calm down and wait. That’s all I can do now.”

* * *
A few days later.
Only the desk lamp’s glow quietly illuminated the room.
I sat with a math workbook open, twirling my pen.
‘I can’t focus.’
My eyes were on the equations, but my mind was entirely tracking the stock market on Yeouido and the money flows in Myeongdong.
With a billion won thrown into the mix, it would be a lie to say I wasn’t anxious.
But I didn’t set the pen down.
‘I can’t neglect my studies either.’
For a chaebol third-generation heir, academic credentials carry meaning beyond mere credentials—
they are proof of diligence and the most foundational data establishing capability.
Fortunately, in my previous life, I was a rather good student—what you’d call a model pupil.
That docile nature, dutifully following orders, had served me well in academics.
“…”
I dredged up formulas buried deep in memory and worked through the problems.
High school-level problems were unfamiliar at first, but my touch quickly returned.
‘Korea University’s business program is the baseline.’
My aim is higher.
Not just to pass, but to score an overwhelmingly high College Entrance Examination result, nearly at the top.
Only then will everyone’s eyes on me change.
Not as some kid lucky enough to dabble in stocks, but as a successor polished from head to toe—perfect.
I was deep in the throes of a calculus problem when—
Buzz-
The Flip Phone tucked in the corner of my desk vibrated briefly.
I set down my pen and picked it up.
Flipping it open, a text message lit the screen.
The sender was Han Jae-yi.
[Hey, what’s this? Is this for real? News just broke—the government right now is….]
The message trailed off urgently mid-sentence.
But what would come next, I already knew without seeing it.
‘It’s here.’
My heart lurched with a heavy thud.
Without delay, I shut the workbook and turned on the computer monitor.
The screen brightened from standby, and I double-clicked the familiar Home Trading System icon.
Those few seconds of loading felt like an eternity.
At last, the favorites window opened, and my eyes shot straight to the top—Seokyung Information & Communications.
“…Ha.”
A short exclamation escaped me.
[Seokyung Information & Communications: 12,450 ▲ 1,600 (+14.75%)]
A red bar.
The chart was shooting straight up. Buy orders stacked by the millions on the bid window, while the ask side was nearly empty.
“It’ll hit Upper Limit Price soon.”
The government had apparently just officially designated Satellite DMB as a ‘next-generation growth industry’ and announced they would push for early implementation.
At the word of the Minister of Information & Communication, related stocks were all blazing upward.
Five billion won invested had made 750 million won in a single day.
And this was only the beginning.
I gazed at the red-tinted screen and murmured softly.
“It worked.”
The future hadn’t changed, and my prediction was sound.
Now the wave had begun.

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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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