PHUW 114

If the coal meant him, then the rotten fruit that even poison could not cure meant the children of that side of the family.

The eldest son of the second branch, who believed without doubt that he would inherit the chairmanship of Hyeonsan simply because he was born male, had poured his warped self-love generously into his own children. The result was that their third generation, the cousins in the same line who were rivals to Choi Sangeon, were all without exception trash.

Even when taught by the best private tutors in the country, paying sums so great each session that people exclaimed, their grades were disastrous because they had no will of their own. Naturally their exam results were poor, and so they were sent en masse overseas to study, but there they only honed world-class skills in debauchery. Their parents recalled them, deciding to manage them directly, but it was already too late.

Though they put on a normal front, they gathered secretly with other rotten-headed heirs of chaebol families in entertainment circles, wasting their lives in extravagance. Money was no issue for a family overflowing with it, but drugs, illegal gambling, and premarital pregnancies plagued them. Even when placed in affiliate companies, where simply showing their faces and doing nothing would still guarantee them an executive position in time, their swollen egos drove them to meddle. Every project they touched ended in losses, large or small. Pretending they had foreign experience, they led new ventures to introduce “advanced systems,” only to fail spectacularly, draining capital and stock value over and over.

It was no wonder that not only employees of Hyeonsan affiliates but the entire public made them a laughingstock. By contrast, even though their personal scandals could rival a weekend soap opera, the Hyeonsan employees strongly supported the Sangeon–Jieon siblings, who outwardly appeared as the most diligent of elites. Famous as the crazy siblings, they were at least exceptional in business. Every project they took on they carried out faithfully, and when launching new ventures, they were meticulous. If it seemed likely to incur losses, they cut ties quickly. Even when the project belonged to another executive, if it looked promising, they backed it strongly. The prevailing assessment was that they had both the foresight and broad perspective necessary in a group head.

But now, with Choi Sangeon unilaterally declaring an indefinite paternity leave, and Choi Jieon also on maternity leave, there was concern that the seats they left empty would be filled by nominees from the second branch faction, who had built great influence within Hyeonsan through lobbying and cliques, regardless of their actual competence.

It was not easy to select proper professional managers. And even if chosen, those executives could hardly be free from the younger branch’s influence. Furthermore, professional managers, concerned above all with their own reputation and record, usually favored timid, conservative management rather than long-term bold decisions. Hyeonsan, which from the time of the former generation had preferred rapid, aggressive moves, such as passing the chairmanship to the eldest daughter in keeping with the times, did not favor such people.

Yet when they considered appointing one of the existing presidents they could trust, most refused. With Jieon’s return uncertain, anyone who sat in the Vice Chairman’s seat temporarily would inevitably be demoted or forced into early retirement later. The Chairwoman could have imposed her will, but she could not disregard the wishes of mid-level executives who had been with her for decades.

The alternative proposed by Choi Jieon, who knew the inner workings well, was Jeong Mok. The Chairwoman eventually accepted that, for an acting Vice Chairman, there was no better candidate.

Among the presidents and mid-level executives, some initially opposed because he had no experience. But they reasoned that if someone else were placed in the seat, it might stir up unnecessary waves in the succession structure they had worked so hard to stabilize. On the other hand, Jeong Mok had no interest in company management, and was of a temperament to quietly fill Sangeon’s seat and then withdraw. That seemed preferable.

Normally, new presidents or executives, appointed after a predecessor’s failure or poor performance, would shout about reform and innovation, re-examining old businesses from the ground up or launching new ones. In contrast, Jeong Mok truly slipped into the vacant seat like Sangeon’s twin. When a new group-level Vice Chairman was appointed, turbulence was inevitable whether intended or not. But Jeong Mok’s inauguration went no further than a group-wide email to the employees. In meetings with the presidents, executives, and outside figures, he only said he was filling in temporarily while Sangeon was away.

Thus, though it was a shocking appointment, there was little problem. In fact, the public’s attention turned to the only nephew of the Chairwoman, who, because of his tragic family history, had remained hidden, but who turned out to be far more presentable and handsome than expected.

As things stood, the second branch, who had been happily playing the media under the table with claims that the Chairwoman had bent rules to seat an unqualified nephew as Vice Chairman, were now simply waiting for Jeong Mok to make a mistake. But Jeong Mok, neither too much nor too little, filled Sangeon’s absence exactly, without showing any personal moves, giving them no opening to strike.

“That seems to be the only flaw they could dig up.”

The Chairwoman tapped a report from Solsoop. Inside, two violent incidents involving Jeong Mok were described in detail.

“One was a molester, the other a robber.”

She paused, and let’s out a low sigh.

“If only the child had been a girl. For a company rooted in construction and heavy industry, this kind of macho response is, surprisingly, a plus. We can’t officially support it, but these days there’s such a thing as viral.”

It was unexpected.

“I thought you were greatly concerned about my violent tendencies.”

“I am.”

“……”

He could not understand. When he frowned, the Chairwoman scoffed.

“No matter how much I dislike you, you are my father’s grandson, my nephew. If you are to be taken down, it will be within our house, not by the younger branch.”

Her voice was cold enough to make her carefully applied makeup meaningless. The bearing of a commanding figure who had overcome gender discrimination to stand at the pinnacle of a chaebol leaked out of her without effort.

“I didn’t know you considered me family, Chairwoman. I thought your standard was that family matters only bring shame on oneself.”

“So it seems.”

It was an unexpected answer. Jeong wryly smiled, he didn’t believe it but he also was resigned. The Chairwoman was the same, her expression caught between faint anger, thin derision, and deep absurdity as she gazed at her only nephew.

“I must thank the second branch for one thing. I thought my insides would be restless until the day I died, but thanks to those shameless fools, I came to feel that you are indeed of my blood. That brought me peace.”

It did not seem like a lie. In truth, she looked relieved. Thinking carefully, the fact that they were able to sit face-to-face in the study and have a calm conversation at all was evidence of a great change in her mind. But Jeong Mok was not sure whether being acknowledged as kin was something he ought to be grateful for.

“Should I be thankful too?”

“Heh.”

Caught off guard, the Chairwoman’s eyes widened, then she laughed helplessly. It was not a mocking laugh but a pure one, something he had not seen in a very long time. Before the Jeong Yeongil incident, she had sometimes laughed that way in front of him, calling him “our Mok.”

“That is for you to decide. But you should pass on my gratitude to the second branch.”

“How so?”

“Chief Ahn’s investigation was thorough. This small company, riddled with problems. Two of the second branch’s hooligans are involved as well.”

“Yes.”

“Fan the spark into a blaze. Make it hot enough for the second branch.”

At that, Jeong Mok lifted his head.

“Didn’t you read the report?”

“I did.”

“Then you know. It’s too small.”

“That’s why you must make it big.”

The Chairwoman took a security USB out of the drawer and held it out. On the old paulownia desk, stained with ink, the object looked out of place. Much like he himself did in her study.

“It is the blade to strike the second branch. I have honed it for a long time, so it will cut well.”

But even with the sharpest blade, clashing head-on with the second branch’s faction, which had entrenched itself in Hyeonsan for decades, would not be ordinary. The fight would be dirty. Legal and social attacks were certain. Physical threats might even come.

It was a stratagem, using one threat to quell another. And there was no guarantee he would not be discarded like a hunting dog once the hunt was over.

“You acknowledge me as family, and then treat me like a hound. I’m glad I didn’t thank you blindly.”

“A hound? What a hurtful thing to say.”

The Chairwoman’s expression hardened.

“If not a hound, then what am I?”

“If anything, I’d rather call you Hwarang Gwanchang¹ than a hunting dog.”

At the unexpected comparison, Jeong Mok let out a hollow laugh. At the same time he was certain. His unusual disposition, and the madness of the Choi siblings, were clearly inherited from the maternal side.

1. He’s a teenage Hwarang warrior of Silla who, during the Battle of Hwangsanbeol (660), rode out against Baekje forces, was captured, and executed. His bravery was so remarkable that even his enemies honored him by returning his body. His death became a symbol of absolute loyalty, sacrifice, and fearless devotion. Noh Songjae means “You’re not some lowly tool to be used and discarded. You’re like Gwanchang, someone who embodies loyalty, courage, and noble sacrifice for the family. ↩︎