The Return of the Ruined Chaebol's Third-Generation Heir - Chapter 50

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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 50
“Min-seung, you won’t earn your doctorate with this thesis.”
Korea University Industrial Engineering Research Building.
The desk was spread with a draft thesis densely covered in equations and diagrams, and a youthful-looking professor pushed his glasses up and opened his mouth.
“The concept is good. A robot learning optimal movements on its own? If that works, you’d have a shot at anything.”
The professor tapped his finger against the thesis.
“But here’s the thing—I think your research methodology is flawed.”
The man sitting across from him flinched slightly.
“Professor, what do you mean? I’ve attached the simulation results, and the experimental data from applying it to an actual robot arm…….”
“Yeah, I saw. It ran beautifully in the simulation.”
The professor leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly.
“The problem is real-world conditions. Your algorithm is vulnerable to noise. It works fine in a controlled lab environment, but put it on an actual factory line? Vibration, temperature fluctuations, component tolerances—the moment these variables come in, your learning results could diverge.”
“That part can be handled by adding correction coefficients…….”
“Correction coefficients?”
The professor let out a soft laugh.
“That’s a band-aid, not a fundamental solution. Your thesis’s core is a universal adaptive learning algorithm, but if you slap correction coefficients all over it just to make it work in specific environments—is that universal?”
“…….”
“The committee members aren’t stupid. If they dig into this, you won’t have an answer.”
The young man’s lips pressed shut. He wanted to argue back, but the professor was right on every count. Stability across diverse environments—he knew better than anyone that his research on that front was incomplete. The only problem was time. He’d had to produce results before his scholarship ran out.
“And there’s also this.”
Professor Jo Seong-sik pointed to a page in the thesis.
“There’s an issue with the learning convergence speed. Your algorithm takes too long to find optimal solutions. If a robot on an actual production line needs days just to learn, who’s going to use it? Companies would rather stick with people coding it the old way.”
“Convergence speed can be optimized by setting initial parameters better…….”
“That’s the same problem. Your optimization is just tuning for specific environments again. That kills universality.”
The man’s fist trembled on his lap.
He ground his teeth, but no more counterarguments came.
The professor’s critique was sharp. It had pinpointed exactly the weakness he’d been avoiding.
“…….”
A long silence stretched out.
The professor removed his glasses and set them down, his voice turning softer.
“Min-seung, your idea itself is brilliant. The concept of a robot learning on its own—in ten, twenty years, that’ll absolutely be the mainstream. You’re ahead of your time.”
The man looked up.
“But right now, this thesis is unripe fruit. Pluck it too early and it’s only bitter.”
The professor closed the thesis draft as he spoke.
“Try a different direction. Start from the beginning again.”
From the beginning.
Those words drove straight into his chest. It meant two years of research would vanish into thin air.
“Professor, I…….”
“I know you don’t have room to breathe.”
The professor’s eyes flickered for a moment.
“I know about your scholarship situation. I’ve heard about your family circumstances. But Min-seung, no committee would pass a thesis like this. Even if you pushed it through, you’d fail. And that’ll make things harder, won’t it?”
“…….”
“Better to change course now and rewrite with a realistically provable topic. It’ll take more time, but that’s the sure path.”
The man remained silent for a long while, then slowly nodded.
“……Yes, I understand.”
There was no strength in his voice.
The professor watched his student with pity and waved his hand.
“Let’s stop here for today. Go and rest a while. We’ll talk again next week with a new topic.”
“Yes, Professor. Then…….”
The man rose from his seat, bowed deeply, and left. His departing figure seemed unusually forlorn.
Click.
As the door shut, silence settled over the office.
The professor gazed quietly at the thesis draft left on his desk. His critique just now had been harsh, but reading it again, it was undoubtedly remarkable work.
The concept itself was a decade ahead of its time.
“He’s definitely got something special.”
The professor muttered to himself.
If this idea were ever properly completed, it would create a seismic shift in academia.
No, not just academia. Industry would go wild for it too.
‘The problem is…….’
The professor’s expression changed subtly.
He slowly pulled a cell phone from his desk drawer. After a brief hesitation, he dialed a stored number.
Beep, beep, click.
“Hello, this is Jo Seong-sik from Korea University.”
As the professor greeted the person on the other end politely, an enigmatic smile played at the corner of his mouth.

* * *
“Seo Min-seung. This man here.”
I didn’t lift my eyes from the document as I spoke.
Jung Tae-sung tilted his head quizzically.
“You found him, sir?”
“Yes.”
I rose from my seat and walked to the sofa set aside in one corner of the office. Jung Tae-sung gathered the documents and sat across from me.
“Not an undergraduate, but a graduate student—you managed to dig him up.”
“Ah, you told me to cast as wide a net as possible, sir. Do you know him?”
Know him well.
In my previous life, Seo Min-seung reached the pinnacle of robotics engineering.
He founded a domestic robot startup and grew it into a world-class technology company—a legendary figure.
When everyone else saw LLM as the future of AI, Min-seung bet on hardware AI.
In a manufacturing-based country like ours, it worked. Actually, it worked worldwide.
Every major corporation in the world wanted to acquire his company, but he refused them all.
A man who held firm to his philosophy that technology should never be enslaved by capital.
And right now, that man was pursuing his doctorate at Korea University.
“No, sir. I included him because the history here is interesting.”
But I couldn’t tell Jung Tae-sung that.
“Ah, I also added some to the list because of their history.”
“His family used to be wealthy?”
“Yes, they operated a fairly large mid-sized company in the Yeongnam Region. Dae-kyung Metal—perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
I shook my head.
Of course I knew. But it seemed better not to know right now.
“They were a Tier-1 Supplier for Seonjin Motors. They supplied essential metal parts for automobiles—suspension brackets.”
“According to this, they went under four years ago.”
“Yes, Seonjin Motors suddenly changed their subcontractors.”
It made no sense. The automotive industry operated as a kind of value chain structure where beneath the complete vehicle manufacturer sat Tier-1, Tier-2, and sometimes Tier-3 or Tier-4 subcontractors supplying materials, parts, and equipment.
That relationship had to be built over years or decades before a Tier-1 Supplier position was created. Quality control, delivery reliability, technical cooperation—all of it had to accumulate gradually to make that position possible.
And yet someone had suddenly replaced that Tier-1 Supplier from the very top?
As always, such nonsensical decisions required an owner’s direct order, and such orders only came when financial interests aligned.
“Turned out she was looking after her brother.”
Seonjin Motors Chairman Kang Tae-yong’s brother-in-law had taken that Tier-1 Supplier position.
“Right, so Dae-kyung Metal lost any place to go. For automotive subcontractors, everything depends on Seonjin Motors—all their production lines and business operations.”
Moreover, though called a subcontractor, a Tier-1 Supplier generates nearly mid-sized company revenue.
That company’s entire revenue stream disappeared overnight.
Hundreds of employees lost their jobs in a single day, and thousands of lives—counting their families—were thrown into chaos.
“I’m part of this family myself, but sometimes these chaebols make me feel sick.”
I meant it.
It was the power to destroy a company pulling in hundreds of billions in annual revenue in a single day, the authority to strip away jobs for thousands of workers in an instant. If I’d understood the weight of that power, I wouldn’t have made such an easy decision, and far too many people had paid the price just to benefit one brother-in-law.
“Min-seung probably harbors ill feelings toward the Kang family.”
“Ill feelings would be lucky. I’m worried he’ll slap me the moment I show up.”
At my words, Jung Tae-sung cautiously nodded.
“Perhaps it would be better to pass on Min-seung…….”
“No. My gut tells me to go for it.”
“Just based on the history alone?”
“Just a feeling. Like he’s going to succeed somehow.”
Even at my naïve words, Jung Tae-sung had no real objection. He simply watched me in silence. That look in his eyes—trusting me to prove myself right again, as I’d done so far.
“Then how should we approach him…….”
“No need to scheme or hide our true intentions.”
I set the documents down on the table and smiled.
“I think it’s time to meet person to person. That feels like the right answer for now.”

* * *
“It should be here.”
I stood quietly in front of the restaurant, gazing up at the sign.
Eomma-son Restaurant
A shabby sign with peeling paint in places.
In fact, this was Seo Min-seung’s favorite restaurant.
How did I know about this place?
I recalled a heartwarming article: when the owner faced rising rent and had to close after forty-odd years, Min-seung bought the entire building and rented it to them for free. Throughout his undergraduate and graduate years, Min-seung ate lunch here, and in interviews he’d called the owner like a parent to him.
“If he’s not here, I’ll come tomorrow. Or every day, for that matter.”
I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Ding.
“Welcome. Sit anywhere you like.”
A warm-faced woman greeted me cheerfully as I entered.
It was a very small restaurant with only a few seats. Just four or five tables in all.
Looking around, I spotted a man in the corner eating rice.
He held a book in one hand, reading with his head down while moving his spoon.
Bingo.
I walked toward that table without hesitation.
“May I share your table?”
The man reading and eating looked up.
Sharp eyes. A thin face with prominent cheekbones.
He looked at me, then glanced around.
“There are open seats elsewhere, you know?”
“Eating alone makes the food tasteless.”
I smiled and brazenly sat across from him.
The man gave me a look that said, ‘Where does this guy come from?’
“That’s right! Min-seung, you should put the book down when you eat, and it’s nice to have company.”
Just then, a voice came from beside me. I turned to see the woman who’d greeted me approaching.
“What would you like?”
“What’s best here?”
“Everything here is delicious.”
“Then I’ll have the braised beef in the stone pot.”
“Good choice.”
As the woman returned to the kitchen, I looked back across the table.
Seo Min-seung had set down his book and was staring at me intently.
“You attend Korea University?”
At my question, the man paused briefly before nodding.
“I’m a graduate student. I graduated from the undergraduate program here too.”
“Ah, senior. Hello.”
I bowed slightly in greeting.
“I’m Kang Seon-woo, class of 2005.”
At my greeting, Seo Min-seung looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.
Then he chuckled softly and spoke to me.
“I’m Seo Min-seung, class of 1997. Nice to meet you.”

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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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