The Return of the Ruined Chaebol's Third-Generation Heir - Chapter 8

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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 Fallen Chaebol Heir’s Regression, Episode 8
“Don’t insult me with such a transparent lie, boy.”
Pyeongchang-dong. The study of Kang Byeong-chul’s residence — Chairman of Seonjin Aluminum. Kang Byeong-chul fixed his gaze on the nephew seated across from him.
Kang Tae-yong set down his teacup and studied the old man across the table. This was his great-uncle — Kang Byeong-chul, younger brother of Seonjin Group founder Kang Man-ho. A man who had built Seonjin Aluminum from nothing but aluminum smelting, and who had earned a reputation in business circles as shrewder and more ruthless than his elder brother.
“So — Chuseok is coming up and you stopped by to pay your respects?”
Kang Byeong-chul let out a low chuckle and raised the teacup to his lips.
“You grew up on my knee, boy. I changed your diapers. Did you honestly think you could fool these eyes?”
“Ha-ha……”
Kang Tae-yong offered a sheepish smile.
“You’re right, as always. I can’t hide anything from you. Is it that obvious?”
“That face of yours is the exact same one you had as a kid — when you’d come crawling back after making a mess and needed someone to clean it up. Stop stalling and spit it out. What’s going on?”
Kang Byeong-chul set down his teacup and leaned back against his chair. Kang Tae-yong steadied himself with a quiet breath.
“With Tae-jin gone so suddenly… I think it’s time the family put things in order. And you are still the most senior figure in this household.”
Kang Byeong-chul’s eyes narrowed.
He already knew exactly what his nephew had come to say.
“Put things in order……”
Kang Byeong-chul clicked his tongue.
“Why bring that to me? You’re the head of this family now. The eldest son handles his own affairs — what business does an old man have sticking his nose in?”
A glint sharpened in Kang Tae-yong’s eyes.
That was approval.
A silent endorsement: since he — a collateral branch — had no legitimate grounds to act, the true heir should be the one to pick up the blade and wield it.
“So I’ve been trying to put things in order.”
“And?”
“I sent someone to my sister-in-law. Suggested it might be wise to install a professional manager — the children are still young, and she has no experience running a company.”
“She turned you down.”
“……Yes. She was more stubborn than I expected. Said she’d handle everything herself.”
Kang Byeong-chul let out a short, dry laugh.
“She’s got a spine, that woman. Tae-jin chose his wife well. But why should that be a problem for you?”
“……”
“A housewife playing at business shouldn’t be enough to rattle you. So if that’s not all, then you must have a real reason to come knocking on my door.”
Kang Byeong-chul’s gaze bored into Kang Tae-yong as though reading straight through him.
“The fault is mine for being insufficient, Uncle.”
“Useless wretch.”
Kang Byeong-chul clucked his tongue twice.
“So you’ve come to borrow this old man’s hand? Too dignified to grab your sister-in-law by the throat right after the funeral, is that it — out of respect for your brother’s memory?”
“……I won’t deny it.”
“All right. Say I help. What exactly do you need me to do?”
Kang Tae-yong straightened in his seat, his voice taking on a harder edge.
“I need you to help me take the Seonjin Group name. Just the name.”
At that, Kang Byeong-chul’s expression shifted into something unreadable.
“The name?”
“Yes. The Seonjin banner.”
Seonjin Motors.
One of the top five conglomerates in Korea by market standing.
Kang Tae-yong was its owner. In revenue, in scale, it dwarfed the Seonjin Group his younger brother had inherited — there was no comparison.
Yet Kang Tae-yong had always carried a thirst that nothing could quench.
‘A shell.’
That was what the world said.
That however much money Kang Tae-yong made, the true heir to their father’s spirit was the youngest — Kang Tae-jin.
Because it was his brother who had inherited those two characters — Seonjin — the mother company the founder had cherished most in his lifetime.
A gnawing sense of inadequacy: that he was nothing more than a money-making machine, a baseborn son with an oversized frame and nothing more.
That inferiority had strangled Kang Tae-yong his entire life.
“Good God. You’re something else. You earn more than anyone in this family, and you’re still hung up on that hollow excuse of a name?”
“Money can always be made. But legitimacy — the right of succession — that’s not something money can buy.”
“So you want me to shake the board a little?”
“Yes. If I move directly, people will talk. But if you step forward — that becomes a family elder setting the household in order, doesn’t it?”
Kang Byeong-chul stroked his chin slowly.
A cunning old fox — he’s running the numbers right now, Kang Tae-yong thought.
“Helping you wouldn’t be difficult, exactly.”
“……”
“But when merchants deal, accounts must be settled cleanly. This old man doesn’t move for free.”
Kang Tae-yong opened his mouth as though he’d been waiting for precisely this.
“If you help me, I’ll give you what Seonjin Aluminum needs most.”
“What we need? And what would that be?”
“I’ll hand over the trading company.”
Kang Byeong-chul’s eyebrows twitched.
“……”
“More precisely, the cargo shipping lines underneath it.”
Kang Tae-yong had read the man perfectly.
The lifeblood of aluminum smelting is raw material imports and processed goods exports.
Until now, Seonjin Aluminum had been outsourcing that logistics to the group’s trading arm, bleeding commission fees on every shipment.
“I hear you’ve been struggling every time you bring in Bauxite — no ships of your own. The shipping line comes with five vessels. Cut your logistics costs alone and you’re looking at tens of billions added to your operating profit.”
Something undisguisable — greed — spread across the corners of Kang Byeong-chul’s mouth.
Vertical integration.
Every manufacturer dreams of it.
“Hmm……”
Kang Byeong-chul made a show of deliberating, drawing it out. But the calculation had already been made.
Carve off the trading company — the very root of Seonjin Group — and swallow it whole.
His nephew takes the honor; he takes the profit.
A winning trade.
“I won’t say it’s unappealing.”
“Just… handle her a little roughly. Make her fold completely and come crawling to me herself.”
Kang Byeong-chul lifted his teacup and took a slow sip.
“Mobilizing cash takes time on our end too. Accumulating bonds, working the equity stake… at earliest, that’s next year. Will that do?”
“That’s fine. I can’t move immediately either. Just do it slowly — and thoroughly.”
“Good. Then we’ll proceed on that understanding.”
The moment Kang Byeong-chul gave his assent, the air in the study seemed to soften.
“Ha-ha-ha! You never disappoint. I won’t forget this kindness.”
“Kindness — nonsense. We’re doing this for the good of the family.”
The two men smiled at each other across the table.
On the surface, a warm and pleasant family reunion — but behind those smiles, each man concealed a different blade.
One after honor, the other after money.
The conspiracy to tear apart and consume Seonjin was sealed.

* * *
The following morning.
The only sound at the table was the quiet clinking of spoons and chopsticks, until their mother broke the silence with careful words.
“Kids, I’ve decided we won’t be going to your uncle’s for Chuseok this year.”
My chopsticks and Seon-ah’s stopped moving at exactly the same moment.
“We’re not going?”
“That’s right. With your father’s funeral so recent, and everything still unsettled — your Uncle Tae-yong said it’d be better to spend a quiet holiday at home.”
She spoke evenly, without complaint, but my grip tightened around my rice bowl.
‘Slip quietly away, will he.’
What a load of garbage.
The funeral was nothing but a pretext.
If my memory held, this was the day — and after this, our family was never invited to the main house again. Not once.
Not for Chuseok, not for Lunar New Year, not even for our grandfather’s memorial rites.
‘He’s cutting us out.’
Kang Tae-yong. That man was in the process of erasing our family from the family tree.
Systematic indifference and exclusion — that was the first strike the relatives had chosen.
But I kept it off my face. Revealing that cold truth to my mother now would only wound her.
“That works out, honestly. I wasn’t looking forward to going anyway.”
My breezy reply seemed to loosen something in my mother — her shoulders dropped with quiet relief.
She glanced over at Seon-ah, clearly angling for a change of subject.
“Seon-ah, how’s school lately? Keeping up with your studies?”
“……Same as always, I guess.”
Seon-ah answered with a shrug.
Not that there was much to ask — she was a top student who consistently ranked among the best in her year.
The moment Seon-ah finished speaking, both pairs of eyes swung toward me.
‘Right. I’m the problem one.’
That worried gaze itched in a strangely warm way. I ladled some soup and spoke without looking up.
“I’m fine too. I mentioned it before — I joined the Stock Investment Club.”
“……”
“There’s even a high school investment competition coming up. I’m entering with a team.”
At that, Seon-ah’s eyes went wide.
“What? You?”
“Why the shock? I can——”
“Didn’t you literally sleep through every day at school? A club? Really……”
Seon-ah looked unconvinced, but our mother’s reaction was entirely different. Color bloomed across her face.
Grades, competition results — none of that mattered to her. What mattered was that her son was adjusting to school life, that he was motivated about something.
“Goodness — our Seon-woo, entering a competition. Thank God. I really mean it……”
Seeing her expression, I felt a pang of regret that I hadn’t tried harder in my previous life.
“Now tell us about you, Mom.”
“Hm? About me?”
“Yeah, Mom. How’s the company?”
When Seon-ah chimed in, our mother smiled and answered.
“It’s all right. I have someone helping me.”
“That’s a relief. And the company itself… it’s okay, right?”
My mother paused at my question, searching for an answer.
It couldn’t be okay — I knew the situation too well for that.
And Choi Dong-su was not a man who devised strategy from scratch; his strength was in optimizing a strategy once it was laid out for him.
Which meant someone needed to give him something to work with……
[The IMF has released its growth projections for China for the coming year. Unprecedented expansion is anticipated……]
Right on cue, the news drifted in from the television — and that was it.
“Wow, China’s growth is terrifying. They joined the WTO the year before last, and they were saying the effects would start showing this year.”
My mother and Seon-ah both looked at me with curiosity, waiting to see where I was going with this.
“We actually saw a similar news piece at the club, and one of the seniors brought up Seonjin Trading Company.”
“Seonjin Trading Company?”
“Yeah. The point was, as China starts hoovering up raw materials from around the world, they won’t have enough ships to move it all. And Seonjin Trading has ships. Expand the fleet further, the senior said, and it could be enormous.”
“……High school students are having conversations like that?”
Hardly. But as a cover story right now, it was perfect.
“Of course. It’s useful for university entrance essays too. And when I heard it, I knew I had to tell you.”
“Thank you, Seon-woo. That you’re thinking about the company like this. Come on, everyone eat up.”
She said the words, but her eyes had already drifted to the news still playing on the television.
That would be enough.
I settled back into being a teenage son and returned to my meal.

* * *
Whirrrr. The computer tower groaned like an old tractor engine, and the hourglass icon on the screen showed no sign of disappearing.
“Well, it’s slow, but we can work with it.”
The day before the competition.
The three of us huddled in hushed silence in front of a CRT monitor.
Han Jae-yi spoke in a tone meant to put Min-jae and me at ease — when she herself, the one actually operating the thing, must have been screaming inside.
Han Jae-yi sat at the keyboard and began to type, while Min-jae and I stood behind her like a pair of decorative folding screens.
“Take your time, Jae-yi.”
Han Jae-yi nodded at Min-jae’s words and said,
“Everyone’s clear on the rules, right? Since this is a high school competition, no trading during market hours. The organizers locked it down so we can’t mess around during class.”
“Then how do we place orders?”
“Advance orders the night before. They execute at the next day’s opening price. After the market closes we check results, adjust the portfolio, and put in the next day’s orders.”
Han Jae-yi pointed to the calendar on the wall.
“Chuseok’s just around the corner. The stocks we set up today are going to sit for at least a week — we need to account for that.”
“So getting the first step right really matters.”
“Exactly. Alright — let’s start shopping.”
The screen finally changed, and the order window opened.
Han Jae-yi’s eyes sharpened. Without hesitation, her fingers found the keys.
Click-clack. Click.
“First — Zenith Games at a 20% weighting, per Seon-woo’s call.”
Two hundred thousand won flew out of the virtual seed money of one million, locked into a buy order in an instant.
“That’s our flagship. Biggest allocation. Next — Min-jae’s pick, Hyunbo Computers at 15%.”
Another one hundred fifty thousand was added.
“The rest are my defensive picks. Korea Electric Power, Mirae Telecom… four stocks, 10% each.”
Four hundred thousand in total.
A solid wall of shields, now in place.
“And the remaining 25% stays in cash. Just in case.”
The order window showed two hundred fifty thousand in remaining balance.
I stood with my arms folded, looking down at the screen.
‘Clean.’
Thirty-five percent offense, forty percent defense, and twenty-five percent in cash as a goalkeeper.
It was a near-perfect allocation — one that didn’t seem possible coming from a high school student.
Of course, I had no intention of holding to that kind of portfolio myself.
The truth was, the night before, I’d moved five hundred thousand from my personal savings into my brokerage account.
And then.
‘I went all-in on Zenith Games.’
Knowing the future made it possible.
“And we are going to hold these weightings like iron until the competition is over.”
I was still turning that over in my mind when Han Jae-yi said something that stopped me cold.
“Hold them?”
“Right. Say Zenith Games hits the upper limit price tomorrow and its share of the account climbs to 30%. We sell off the extra 10% immediately, no mercy.”
“……”
“And if it drops and the weighting shrinks? We buy more to bring it back up to 20%.”
I let out a slow, silent exhale.
‘This person is ruthless.’
It was mechanical trading in its purest form — sell when it rises, buy when it falls. Simple to say, impossible to follow in practice when greed takes hold. This was an asset allocation strategy that fund managers ran, and here was a high school student rattling it off like it was obvious.
“So you’re going to rebalance on a rolling basis?”
At my words, the hand resting on the mouse went still.
Han Jae-yi turned and looked straight up at me.
“……You know what rebalancing is?”
“Of course. Adjusting asset weightings — selling what’s risen too much to lock in gains, buying what’s lagged to restore the balance.”
Han Jae-yi let out a short, hollow laugh of disbelief.
For a moment I thought, what’s so surprising about that — but then it hit me: there was no YouTube in this era. If you wanted to learn, you went to books or formal instruction.
Thinking about it that way, Han Jae-yi’s willingness to do this was impressive in its own right — and, if I was being fair, so was the fact that a high school student apparently knew what rebalancing was.
“Seon-woo, you’re something else. You seem to know more than the teachers do.”
“I think you’re the more impressive one here.”
“Me? Why?”
“That you’re willing to do something that tedious every single day for a one-month competition. Most people would just leave things alone out of sheer laziness.”
The greatest drawback of rebalancing is the hassle — and the transaction fees.
But Han Jae-yi didn’t waver.
“That’s exactly why I do it.”
“Sorry?”
“We can’t react during market hours. If things crater while we’re sitting in class, we’re helpless. So mechanically rebalancing after the close is the only way we can control our risk.”
Her eyes were full of certainty.
“A windfall? That’s luck. And I refuse to let luck decide my money — our team’s win.”
I nodded.
‘Fair enough.’
She’s the real thing.
Someone armored not in luck, but in disciplined skill.
To think she was already like this in high school.
“All in. Setup done.”
Han Jae-yi hit enter with a sharp tap and pushed herself out of the chair.
“This is our format until Chuseok. No objections?”
“None.”
“Works for me!”
Min-jae beamed his answer with a grin.
Han Jae-yi leaned on the desk and looked between the two of us in turn.
There was a solemn gravity to her expression.
“So… shall we do the thing?”
“Sorry?”
“You know — that thing.”
She cleared her throat, clearly a little embarrassed, and held out her hand.
“We need a cheer.”
“Ah……”
Min-jae slapped his hand on top of hers with obvious delight.
Both pairs of eyes landed on me, standing there like a statue.
I swallowed a long-suffering sigh.
‘Good grief. How old am I, doing something like this……’
Inside I was a man in his forties, stacking hands with a bunch of high schoolers for a group cheer.
My fingers practically curled in on themselves from the cringe.
But what could I do.
I couldn’t disappoint these bright-eyed kids.
“……All right. Fine.”
Feigning reluctant surrender, I stepped forward and placed my hand on top of theirs.
Their warmth came through immediately.
“Okay — I’ll lead.”
Han Jae-yi drew a breath.
“By the book — returns on three! Fighting!”
“Fighting!”
Three voices rang out through the old club room.
And so, in September of 2003,
our war began.

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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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