The Dignity of the Chaebol

Chapter 1



“Far Eastern Construction, ranked 31st among conglomerates, has filed for court receivership today.”

“Samyang Foods announced plans to apply for court receivership for four of its subsidiaries.”

“Pasteur Dairy, known for sparking the premium milk trend in Korea, declared its first-stage default and filed for court receivership today.”

And then…

“Even Jaekyung Group, ranked 6th among domestic conglomerates, has started to falter.”

At last, I began to understand.

The worries and anxieties that had haunted me before I closed my eyes were manifesting now as these hallucinations.

“Today, Jaekyung Group announced plans to restructure, leaving only its airline, food, and textile divisions, while swiftly liquidating 11 subsidiaries, starting with its construction arm.”

What is this?

“Breaking news: Son Hongmyung, chairman of Jaekyung Group, was found deceased at 8 a.m. this morning, having hanged himself alone in his bedroom at home.”

Stop it!

I don’t know what this is, but enough with this nonsense!

“Son Hongmyung, chairman of Jaekyung Group, was the eldest son of the late Son Joonggil, founder of Jaekyung Group. Following his father’s passing in June 1993, he served as chairman for the past five years. With the country’s financial situation deteriorating rapidly after the government’s request for an IMF bailout, he was compelled to implement extensive restructuring. Ultimately, he took responsibility during the process of divesting and selling subsidiaries and made the tragic decision to end his life. Attention now turns to who will succeed him as chairman of Jaekyung Group.”

How much longer did I have to endure these absurd, amateurish, fictional tales?

When I heard about a terrorist attack involving two hijacked airplanes crashing into New York’s 110-story World Trade Center buildings, I nearly scoffed.

This endless brightness, this immeasurable space—how much longer I would remain here, I didn’t know, but I desperately wished for these ridiculous voices to stop.

Am I not going to the afterlife?

Or is this the afterlife?

Then, at that moment…

I noticed the voices of the news anchors, speaking from unknown directions, begin to accelerate.

They were definitely getting faster.

At the same time, the flow of this space—this dimension devoid of concepts like direction—was also accelerating.

I had already sensed earlier that I was being pushed forward by some unknown force, but now the resistance of this current was growing stronger.

Then, in the far distance, a tiny dot appeared.

A dot.

Finally, within this mysterious realm, a sense of direction emerged.

As expected, I was being pulled inexorably toward that dot, despite having no control over it, while the accelerated news voices narrated events from 2003, 2004, 2005… 2012, 2014, 2016… rushing past like a slideshow of my life before I closed my eyes.

The dot grew larger.

It was proof that I was being drawn closer to it by some unseen force.

What had started as a mere speck now looked like the gateway to another realm, a portal from this infinite brightness into a different world.

Is that… the afterlife?

Instinctively, I knew I would pass through that portal, whether I wanted to or not. At that moment, instead of fear, I felt a morbid curiosity—would my consciousness persist beyond that gate, or would it simply vanish?

Death, after all, is something everyone must experience once.

Though my death came earlier than I would have liked, and though regrets lingered, I had no desire to resist my fate.

And at that very moment!

The formless pressure that had been pushing me all this time was suddenly overwhelmed by an unimaginably powerful force, pulling me toward the gateway to the other world.

***

“Gasp! Gasp! Gasp!”

It happened in an instant.

A blinding light engulfed me, forcing me to close my eyes, and as soon as I did, I felt something—sensation returning to me.

And when I opened my eyes again, I was…

Lying alone in an unfamiliar room that resembled a luxurious hotel suite, as if I had come back to life.

***

Don’t you have any sense?

This is definitely a hotel room.

From one side of the room, obscured by a wall, I could hear the sound of a toilet flushing.

I wasn’t so much shocked as I was curious about what was going on.

Something felt off.

Very off.

I instinctively checked my body, running my hands over my arms and legs to make sure they were still attached.

My body… it wasn’t my body.

“…!”

The sound of someone moving came from the direction where the toilet had just flushed. Frantically, I ran my hands over my face and body.

This was definitely not my body.

The skin… it was too young.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

The voice of a young woman emerged from where the toilet sound had been.

“Just go ahead without me. I’ll leave separately.”

I could hear her unfamiliar voice as I climbed out of bed.

This was a hotel.

A high-end one at that—probably a suite in an upscale establishment.

But something felt out of place.

Very much so.

Was that… a television?

It looked like a television, but it was thin, flat, and mounted on the wall—unlike anything I’d ever seen.

I stood there for a while, dazed, taking in the unfamiliar sights of the room. Eventually, I found myself standing in front of a full-length mirror near the entrance.

What on earth…

“What… what’s happening to me? Why is this happening?”

A face I’d never seen before stared back at me.

In the mirror was a man—too young, impossibly young. He mirrored my every expression.

And then, moments later:

“You’re awake?”

The voice of the woman I’d been hearing.

She approached me dressed in a strange outfit, as though deliberately trying to conceal her identity. She wore a black hat, sunglasses, and a black mask, a look that would make her seem like a thief if seen on the street at night.

“Don’t you have to go to work, oppa?”

“Work…?”

“While you were sleeping, you missed several calls on your phone. I didn’t wake you so you could rest.”

“Phone?”

Phone? What was she talking about?

“I left it over there. It probably needs charging. It’s been over an hour, so it should be ready now.”

She pointed to a black object connected to a cord, similar to the one she was holding.

Moments later, the device she was holding lit up with a loud noise. She pressed it to her ear and spoke with an air of irritation.

“I’m coming, okay? Twenty minutes. I just agreed to meet the manager at the shop in twenty minutes. Stop rushing me. Bye.”

A cell phone?

A walkie-talkie?

How could it be so thin, so small—like a child’s toy?

“I’m leaving, oppa.”

“…”

“What’s with you? I said I’m going. Call me later.”

As she reached for the door, I stopped her.

“Wait a second.”

I had to know what was happening. This entire situation was surreal, as if I’d been drugged.

Everything was clear and vivid, yet I didn’t understand any of it.

“What?”

“I…”

“I have a shoot tonight. I need to get my hair done at the shop and pick out outfits. If you have something to say, make it quick.”

“Who am I?”

At that, the woman let out a scoff.

“Oh, not this again. Not again. Please, Mr. Son Jeonghoon.”

Son Jeonghoon?

The woman suddenly removed her black mask and approached me.

Was this heaven?

Her appearance was so stunningly beautiful, it seemed unreal.

“I sometimes meet you like this, just as a little escape from my routine. That’s all it is—just an escape.”

“Escape?”

“Unlike other girls who see you as a sponsor and expect something in return, I meet you for nothing more than a light distraction. You get what I mean?”

No, I didn’t get it at all.

“I don’t care about you being the second son of Jaekyung Group or whatever. But those questions of yours, even if they’re a joke, can be pretty offensive. So maybe think twice before asking them, okay?”

Jaekyung Group?

What did this mean? Did it mean that I was… somehow reborn as someone’s grandson whom I didn’t even know about?

I quickly turned to look out the window.

I could see Namsan Tower in the distance, confirming that this was indeed Seoul.

But it wasn’t the Seoul I knew.

The buildings I remembered weren’t where they used to be. Instead, unfamiliar skyscrapers filled the skyline.

“Do you think too highly of yourself? You should know your audience before pulling something like that. Then again, sometimes your quirks are endearing, which is why I’ve put up with you this long. Anyway, I’m leaving now. Check your phone.”

“Wait, miss, hold on.”

“Miss?! Hey! I’m really busy, so are you going to keep joking around?”

“What year is it right now?”

“I told you to stop joking. It’s not funny, and it’s killing your charm.”

“That’s your opinion. Just tell me—what year is it right now?”

“What… what’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

“What year is it?”

“It’s 2022, obviously.”

“2022?”

“Ugh, move. You freaked me out for a second with that serious tone….”

The woman pushed past me, opened the door, and left. I was too overwhelmed to stop her as she walked out the door.

I simply stood there, staring blankly at the cityscape outside, a Seoul that looked so unfamiliar, as if it were mocking me.

Bzzz… bzzz… bzzz…

“What now?”

A faint vibration noise echoed from somewhere.

Startled, I looked around, searching for the source of the sound.

Bzzz… bzzz… bzzz…

The device the woman had called a “phone” was now glowing, emitting the vibration.

“….”

I hesitated.

Could I touch it?

It seemed strange and alien.

Too cautious to touch it, I carefully observed the device. Text was moving across what seemed to be its screen.

Slave 3.

The words “Slave 3” were displayed, and below that, two lights—one green and one red—were glowing. Beneath the green light were the words “Call”, and beneath the red, “End.”

A cell phone?


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