Chapter 28

Crackle. Pop.

In one corner of the yard, dry firewood burned inside an open-air firebox, its cheerful crackling carrying through the stillness. Whenever a cool sea breeze swept in, the red flames danced wildly, sending the smoky yet strangely comforting scent of burning wood drifting across the island.

“Ah, it’s burning my eyes. I’m tearing up…”

Jeong Iwon repeatedly wiped at the corners of his eyes with his sleeve, coughing through the smoke. Even so, his hands never stopped moving. He fanned the flames higher, then quickly flipped the lid of the iron pot upside down and drizzled a generous amount of oil over it.

The moment he spread the thick potato batter he had painstakingly grated onto the heated lid, it erupted with a loud sizzle that nearly swallowed the sound of the crashing waves.

The potato pancakes cooked slowly, crisp and golden on the outside while remaining pleasantly chewy inside.

Alongside them, he had tossed together sweet-and-sour shredded radish freshly pulled from the vegetable patch and simmered a hearty soybean paste stew made with a rich anchovy broth.

It made for a surprisingly respectable spread.

“Let’s see…”

Jeong Iwon wiped the sweat from his brow as he stared at the basket piled high with potato pancakes on the old wooden platform.

He glanced between the enormous pot of bubbling stew and the bowl of rice he had heaped nearly to overflowing.

Then he let out a hollow laugh.

“Fucking idiot. I did it again. I made way too much.”

Even if he were starving, there was no way one person could finish all of this in a single meal.

Back when he had lived in the blue-roofed house, Kwon Heeseong would complain about his supposedly picky palate while still devouring everything Iwon put in front of him. Yoon Mujin, meanwhile, would silently empty several overflowing bowls of rice without so much as a word.

The unconscious habit of cooking to satisfy those enormous appetites still hadn’t faded.

“Iwon, this is really delicious. The crispiness is exactly how I like it.”

“Hey, Jeong Iwon. You got any more radish salad? This is all you made? Why are your hands so damn small?”

Their voices seemed to linger like hallucinations beneath the sound of the waves.

Holding his chopsticks, Jeong Iwon stared blankly at the mountain of potato pancakes.

If those bastards were here right now, they would have devoured this entire spread in the blink of an eye.

“…I wonder if they’re eating properly.”

The self-mocking murmur slipped quietly from his lips before he could stop it.

Iwon forced down the complicated emotions rising inside him and began eating alone.

He took a large bite of a potato pancake, its edges browned to a perfect crisp.

But today, even its savory flavor felt strangely gritty in his mouth, almost like he was chewing sand.

The empty yard held nothing but the sound of the sea breeze and the cries of animals begging for more feed.

The loneliness gnawing at Jeong Iwon was far more vicious than hunger.

While Jeong Iwon sat alone on the remote island, swallowing a meal by himself—

In the heart of a city where the lights never went out, the chairman’s office at the towering headquarters of Ilseong Group had frozen into an atmosphere as cold as thin ice.

Chairman Kwon, head of Ilseong Group and Kwon Heeseong’s grandfather, stared down coldly at the grandson kneeling before his desk.

The grandson who had spent his entire life avoiding responsibility and drifting aimlessly had come to him of his own accord and lowered his head.

“You spent your whole life saying you’d rather chase after entertainers than do anything useful, and now you come crawling to me asking for a position? Do you honestly expect that to make sense?”

Still, it wasn’t entirely a bad thing.

Chairman Kwon had thought Heeseong was weak, perhaps because he took after his father. But there was a sharpness in the young man’s eyes now.

He simply couldn’t afford to say so.

Chairman Kwon wanted Kwon Heeseong to become stronger.

Only then would he have some use for him.

At his grandfather’s cutting voice, Heeseong slowly raised his head.

There wasn’t a trace of his former laziness left in his dry eyes.

“All the dirty blood Ilseong needs spilled from now on—I’ll take it all onto myself.”

His voice was steady.

“Use me as Ilseong’s sharpest blade.”

“There is a vacancy in M&A. But why?”

Chairman Kwon narrowed his eyes.

“Why the sudden desire for power?”

“Kang Taeon.”

Heeseong’s expression hardened.

“I’m going to tear that bastard’s throat out. I’ll strip him of everything he has and make him crawl at my feet.”

Kang Taeon, heir to Taekyung Group, had recently been swallowing up one sector after another with increasingly aggressive strategies, becoming a thorn in Ilseong’s side and a threat that was creeping dangerously close to its position.

A flicker of interest passed through Chairman Kwon’s wrinkled eyes.

But the old fox had no intention of handing over valuable power so easily.

“Ilseong’s hunting dog isn’t a position just anyone can fill.”

His voice was cold.

“If a dog can do nothing but bark without ever managing to tear out its target’s throat, I have no reason to put my blade in its hands.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a thick file, tossing it onto the desk.

“Daehan Logistics. They have a virtual monopoly on transporting the steel and cement Taekyung Construction pours into construction sites across the country.”

He tapped the file.

“If we get our hands around their throat, we can cause serious trouble for Taekyung Construction’s projects. The company’s CEO is currently cooking the books twice over and siphoning off an enormous slush fund.”

“Does Taekyung know?”

“Not yet. But they will soon.”

Chairman Kwon’s eyes gleamed.

“Before Taekyung can fully absorb the company, you will obtain those double ledgers and force Daehan Logistics to kneel before Ilseong.”

Kwon Heeseong silently picked up the file.

Chairman Kwon continued coldly.

“But they aren’t fools either. They don’t keep important records at headquarters. They’ve hidden them in a safe inside a shell company office on the outskirts of Seoul.”

His gaze sharpened.

“Right now, hired thugs are guarding that office like a fortress. If you use official power recklessly, you’ll only hand the prosecutors and press something to feast on.”

He leaned back.

“Bring me the ledgers without leaving a trace.”

“This is your first test.”

“……I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kwon Heeseong gathered the documents and rose.

He opened the chairman’s office door and walked out without a moment’s hesitation.

At the far end of the corridor, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

Yoon Mujin.

Unlike usual, Mujin was dressed in a suit. Clearly uncomfortable in unfamiliar formalwear, he kept rubbing at the collar around his neck.

Heeseong approached him and handed over the documents.

“My grandfather’s test.”

His voice dropped.

“We need to get Daehan Logistics’ double ledgers. The problem is that the secret office where they’re stored is guarded by hired thugs.”

Mujin casually skimmed through the documents.

“If we mobilize Ilseong’s security personnel or lawyers, they’ll leave a trail and give them an opportunity to strike back.”

In other words, there would be no official support from the group.

“I’ll go.”

Mujin slid the documents into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“You prepare to crush Taekyung tomorrow morning with those ledgers.”

His expression was eerily calm.

“There’ll be at least twenty or thirty men. And they’ll probably be armed with weapons. Can you really handle that alone?”

“If it’s for finding Iwon.”

Crack.

Yoon Mujin slowly curled his enormous fists.

The pride of the boxer who had always fought fairly inside the ring, clinging to sportsmanship and rules, had been abandoned long ago.

“This is nothing.”

His eyes were cold.

“I’ll do my job as the hunting dog’s teeth.”

“Still, I’m uneasy. I’ll have a few men go with you.”

Running an entertainment company had its advantages. You inevitably came to know people who dealt with things like this.

“I won’t refuse.”

“They probably won’t be the most obedient bunch. That’s just the kind of men they are.”

“That’s fine.”

With that brief, decisive answer, Yoon Mujin gave a short bow and turned away.

Kwon Heeseong watched his unyielding back for a moment before clicking his tongue and making a call.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’ll send you the address of the office on the outskirts. Get the guys fully geared up and waiting.”

His voice hardened.

“I’m sending someone to lead tonight. Don’t argue. Do exactly what he tells you.”

The moment Kwon Heeseong’s orders went out, the dark underbelly of the chaebol world began moving with frightening efficiency.

Not long afterward, Yoon Mujin arrived in front of an old five-story commercial building on the outskirts of Seoul.

All the signboards were dark.

In the empty lot outside the gloomy building, around ten hired fixers summoned by Kwon Heeseong were gathered around a van.

Mujin stepped out of the vehicle and walked toward them, calmly wrapping familiar bandages around both hands.

“Well, well.”

A man with a cigarette hanging crookedly from his mouth looked Mujin up and down before letting out a derisive snort.

“So the CEO said he was sending someone to take command, and this is what we get? Some gym prince?”

He looked at Mujin’s enormous frame.

“Big guy, I’ll give you that. But what’s someone who spent his life fighting by the rules in a ring supposed to do in a mud fight like this?”

The man blew out smoke.

“Wouldn’t want you freaking out the moment you see some blood and making things troublesome. Once we go up, stay quietly behind us.”

He grinned.

“Just try not to get knocked out.”

The others burst into laughter.

Mujin ignored their mocking gazes without saying a word.

Instead, he silently looked up at the darkened third-floor window.

Then he slowly clenched his fists.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.

“Let’s go.”