The Return of the Ruined Chaebol's Third-Generation Heir - Chapter 51

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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 Heir — Episode 051
Spring had deepened without my noticing. My daily routine had become simple: attend morning lectures, eat lunch at Eommasson Restaurant, return to campus in the afternoon. And through it all, there was always one person beside me.
“Senior, here you go.”
I handed him the paper cup of coffee I’d pulled from the vending machine.
Seo Min-seung, sitting on the bench, looked up and took it with a smile.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t you ever go home these days?”
“Why, do I smell?”
Seo Min-seung said this while lifting his collar and sniffing his own clothes.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Good thing. I haven’t been home. Too busy with the thesis.”
“That stack you’re carrying?”
I pointed to the bundle of papers in his hand.
Seo Min-seung carried that small stack of papers everywhere—while eating, while walking. He’d pull it out whenever he had a spare moment, read it, make notes, tilt his head in puzzlement.
“This?”
“If you don’t mind, could I take a look at it sometime?”
“You?”
He wasn’t being dismissive.
His expression was more: you won’t understand it anyway.
Seo Min-seung hesitated for a moment, then handed me the bundle.
“It’s just a first draft anyway. Go ahead.”
I took it and looked at the cover.
[Research on Autonomous Motion Optimization of Multi-Joint Robots Based on Adaptive Reinforcement Learning]
As expected.
So he’d been researching robots from this point onward.
I inwardly cheered and turned the page.
Of course, I couldn’t understand the equations and algorithms on my own.
But one phrase caught my eye.
‘A robot that learns.’
A robot that finds optimal movements through trial and error on its own. Without humans coding every step, it learns the method once you give it the goal.
He was catching the direction artificial intelligence would evolve in the future, right now.
“Wow, that’s fascinating.”
“What is?”
“That robots can learn on their own. That they learn without needing to be taught.”
At my words, Seo Min-seung’s eyes lit up.
“Exactly. With conventional robots, humans have to code every single movement. From point A to point B, from B to C. But what happens if the environment changes even slightly? You have to recode.”
“But with this method, the robot adapts on its own even if the environment changes, right?”
“In theory, yes.”
Seo Min-seung leaned forward.
“Let me give you an example. Say there’s a robot in a factory picking up parts. With the old method, even if the part’s position shifts by one centimeter, it errors out. But if you apply my algorithm?”
“The robot would figure out the position and adjust its movement on its own?”
“Exactly right.”
Heat filled his voice.
“And it gets better—robots could share what they’ve learned with each other. What Robot A learns gets passed to Robot B. The learning time drops exponentially.”
“So if one factory had a hundred robots, the one robot’s learning could be used immediately by the other ninety-nine?”
“Hey, you’ve got good comprehension.”
Seo Min-seung looked at me in surprise.
“You’re a Business major, right? How do you know about this stuff?”
“Oh, well…”
I couldn’t very well tell him I’d lived through the future.
“I’m just interested. In robotics and automation.”
“Really?”
Seo Min-seung’s face brightened.
Someone showing interest in his research seemed to genuinely please him.
“If this works, it’ll reshape manufacturing entirely. Right now, to install a robot, you need engineers spending days setting it up. But once learning-based robots go commercial? You just put it down and it learns the job itself.”
“Labor costs drop, productivity rises.”
“Exactly. Especially for a country like ours with such a high concentration in manufacturing, this could be an enormous competitive advantage.”
Seo Min-seung continued, animated with excitement.
I nodded along, matching his energy. I’d never seen him speak with such passion before.
But then, mid-flow, his expression suddenly darkened.
“…The thing is, this got killed.”
“This got…killed?”
I knitted my brows.
Sure, the industry might consider it premature. In 2005, the technological infrastructure wasn’t ready for this kind of thinking.
But killed in academia?
When research like this ought to be nurtured and developed?
“They said it was insufficient. I couldn’t argue back, so I guess I’ll just have to start over.”
“Senior, I think you should develop this further.”
At my words, Seo Min-seung turned to look at me.
“I don’t think it’s as far-fetched as all that. From a business perspective, anyway.”
“…”
“If this technology becomes commercially viable in manufacturing, it’ll open an enormous market. Just like you said.”
Seo Min-seung looked at me for a moment, then shook his head.
“I want to, but I have to listen to my advisor. And I don’t have the room to push it.”
I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.
Scholarship issues, family circumstances, graduation pressure—multiple things were weighing on his shoulders.
Seo Min-seung stood up from the bench and said, “Let’s head in. You have class soon, right?”
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Don’t you have any friends? Why do you eat with me every day?”
“I don’t have any friends.”
“Ha, the straightforward type, I see. Alright, let’s meet at Eommasson tomorrow.”
Seo Min-seung waved and walked back toward campus.
I watched his retreating figure for a long time.
‘His advisor killed the thesis…’
How could you kill a paper with ideas like that? There might be methodological gaps, but those are things you can address, not reasons to make someone start from scratch.
‘The advisor really is the problem.’
I stood up and pulled my phone from my pocket.
“Director Jung, it’s Kang. I need a favor.”
—Yes, go ahead.
“Please look into Seo Min-seung’s doctoral advisor. His name is Cho Seong-sik.”
—Understood. How deeply should I investigate?
“As thoroughly as possible. His research record, outside activities, everything.”

“Professor, you called for me?”
A few days later.
Seo Min-seung knocked on the door to Professor Cho Seong-sik’s research lab.
“Ah, Min-seung. Come sit over there.”
Seo Min-seung entered the professor’s office and settled onto the sofa. Professor Cho removed his glasses, set them on the desk, and sat across from him.
“So, how’s the new thesis coming?”
“It’s not easy, starting fresh, but as I mentioned before, I’m working on a new concept using Sensor Fusion.”
“I was worried, but I’m glad to hear it.”
Professor Cho nodded.
“I’ve restarted my own doctoral thesis once too. The results came out better. Yours will too.”
“Thank you. I’ll work hard at it.”
As Seo Min-seung bowed his head, Professor Cho smiled and nodded, then suddenly opened his mouth as if he’d remembered something.
“Right, that’s not why I called you in. Remember that thesis I killed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I kept thinking it was too much of a waste, so I reached out to a few places.”
“Sir?”
Seo Min-seung’s expression turned surprised, but Professor Cho continued undeterred.
“A company showed interest in your paper and wants to fund the research.”
Seo Min-seung’s eyes widened. Then, regaining himself, he stood and bowed deeply.
“Thank you so much, Professor.”
“Ah, wait, I’m not finished.”
Professor Cho raised his hand.
“The company will provide the funding, but they want me to lead the research.”
“…Sir?”
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but they want to reduce the risk on their investment. Apparently…”
Professor Cho looked at Seo Min-seung and said,
“Because it’s a thesis from a researcher who hasn’t earned his doctorate yet.”
Seo Min-seung couldn’t say a word.
He understood what the professor was really saying.
“If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to revise the paper properly with me as first author and you as co-author. What do you think?”
“…”
“Min-seung, you’re still living in the lab these days, aren’t you?”
Professor Cho spoke with a show of concern.
“Your family situation is difficult, and you’re living without even a rental room. How long can you keep that up? With research funding, you can research properly like a human being, have some breathing room, and do better work. Your problem right now is that you’re too desperate.”
“…May I ask which company this is?”
“Seonjin Motors.”
Seo Min-seung’s face went rigid.
“As you know, Seonjin Motors doesn’t usually do research funding like this. Plus they’re the industry leader. If this research goes well, you…”
“Let me think about it.”
He wanted to refuse.
No, Seonjin Motors was…
But Professor Cho was the one overseeing his thesis, and would remain important to him going forward, no matter what he did.
He couldn’t refuse outright.
“…Yes, take some time. Think positively about it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Seo Min-seung rose, bowed, and left the professor’s office. Back in the lab, he collapsed into his chair.
His mind was chaotic.
‘Seonjin Motors?’
The company that destroyed his father’s business.
The place that threw hundreds of employees onto the street in a single day.
Just hearing that name made his teeth clench.
‘I am desperate, but…’
He did need the funding. The scholarship was ending this semester, and his living expenses were tight.
But taking money from Seonjin Motors? And giving up first authorship to the professor?
His pride wouldn’t allow it.
Seo Min-seung sat for a long time, swallowing his anger and gathering his thoughts.
Then the lab door opened, and his junior came in.
“Senior, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just thinking something through.”
“You look really angry about something.”
The junior set his bag down at his desk and spoke.
“By the way, I’ve noticed lately you seem to be friends with a third-generation chaebol heir. I saw you two in front of the lawn earlier.”
“A third-generation chaebol heir?”
“Yeah, Kang Seon-woo.”
“You know Seon-woo?”
Seo Min-seung looked at his junior in surprise.
“Wait, that guy’s a chaebol heir?”
“You didn’t know?”
The junior’s eyes widened.
“He got a perfect score on the College Entrance Exam. Plus he’s the grandson of the Seonjin Group main branch. It was a huge deal when he enrolled.”
Seonjin.
At that name from his junior, Seo Min-seung’s expression slowly froze.
“…Seonjin Group?”
“Yeah, the grandson of the main Seonjin Group branch. Though the family split up and things are a bit messy now, he’s still chaebol blood.”
Seo Min-seung couldn’t speak.
A month’s worth of memories flashed through his mind.
The junior who’d eaten lunch with him every day.
The one who’d listened intently to his research, showing genuine interest.
The way he’d smiled so naturally and handed over coffee.
‘Kang Seon-woo…Seonjin Group? Then did he deliberately…to me?’
His fists clenched on their own.

* * *
“He seems like an ambitious man.”
I read through the documents on Cho Seong-sik that Jung Tae-sung had brought me, listening to his briefing.
“He obtained his Full Professor credentials in his late thirties, and it looks like he entered a Tenure Track position just this year.”
A tenure track.
Simply put, it’s the process of securing permanent employment. If you pass research output and teaching evaluations over a set period, after that you can’t be fired until retirement, barring special circumstances.
For university professors, it was a sort of dream position.
Considering his age—now in his early forties—it was quite early in the academic world.
“Looking at his outside activities, he seems quite close with various companies.”
“That makes sense for an engineering school professor in industrial engineering, doesn’t it?”
“It would be nice if that were all, but there’s more.”
“More?”
At my question, Jung Tae-sung nodded and continued.
“His rapid rise to Full Professor and Tenure Track at that age came because he’s been receiving substantial research funding from companies. And he’s been…”
“Ah, yes. I understand.”
I raised my hand to cut him off.
“A parrot for whatever the company wants, right?”
“Yes. In industry circles, he has a reputation as a professor who ensures the conclusions the company wants come out when they’re bidding on government contracts.”
There were people like that sometimes. They’d design variables or evaluation metrics to produce the conclusions companies wanted, or process data to favor them against competitors. They were scarcely more than lobbyists in scholar’s clothing.
“Moreover, there are several cases where he’s transferred research technology developed at the university to companies at throwaway prices.”
“And the school just watched and did nothing?”
“Because he brings in research funding.”
At Jung Tae-sung’s matter-of-fact answer, I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.
Even at Korea University, a state school, this kind of person operated freely.
Truth be told, the reason I’d had Jung investigate Cho Seong-sik was because I knew from my previous life what happened to Seo Min-seung later. Days ago, when I saw that thesis, I already knew that Seo Min-seung would eventually lose it to the professor. I’d seen his interview afterward.
I still remembered how he’d belittled himself, saying it was a youthful mistake, that he’d been too naive.
“He seems to have met with Seonjin Motors recently. I’ve attached photos below.”
Jung Tae-sung pointed to the back of the document.
“The man entering the upscale bar with him is Kim Min-sang, executive director of the Seonjin Motors Research Institute.”
In the photo, two men were entering an expensive bar together, very much at ease with each other.
“Your sources have good work.”
I set down the photo and looked at Jung Tae-sung.
“It looks like he’s trying to steal his student’s thesis again. What would be the best approach?”
At my question, Jung Tae-sung opened his mouth without hesitation.
“Should we approach this through SJ Holdings?”
“You mean speak to Cho Seong-sik?”
“Yes. I think it would be best to offer Seo Min-seung a scholarship and help him develop that thesis further.”
“It’s a straightforward approach, but…”
I tilted my head doubtfully.
I wasn’t sure it would work.
Cho Seong-sik was probably already wild-eyed right now. He’d be trying every way to steal Seo Min-seung’s technology.
But if a company suddenly appeared offering Seo Min-seung a scholarship?
Given Cho Seong-sik’s temperament, at best he’d merely be jealous. At worst, he might even make things harder for him.
It risked putting only Seo Min-seung in a worse position.
Buzz—
While I was deliberating, my phone vibrated.
I checked the screen: it was Seo Min-seung.
[Let’s meet. I’ll wait in front of the Academic Building.]
It was the first time he’d asked to see me in the evening.
We always just met for lunch and went our separate ways.
‘What’s going on?’
I checked the text and put the documents in my bag.
“I’ll think it over a bit more and let you know. Seo Min-seung just asked to meet.”
“Yes, understood.”
“You can head home for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I slung my bag over my shoulder and left the office.

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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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