Chapter 159: Chairman

Daesung Group’s Chairman.

He was this era’s superhuman who had written a legendary myth, a hero of the peninsula.

“Kuuh, uuuuh…!”

Even such a chairman pissed and shat himself upon taking a blade, no different from any commoner.

No, even worse.

His lofty prestige had plummeted in an instant.

Grit!

Lee Taebaek twisted the blade free. The chairman’s back slammed hard against the wall.

Sluuuurp.

The chairman slid down the wall. A bloody trail streaked the white surface.

His cheek deeply gashed, the chairman was still alive. A grotesquely tenacious life force.

Even with the knife protruding from the nape of his neck. Even with his brain pierced through. He only writhed with shrill groans, a revolting sight for everyone in the room.

Not satisfied with a man who ought to be dead clinging to life.

Breathing the same air as one who had sold even his own child’s soul to the devil, like Sword Master Muyachi.

The security team’s eyes turned subtle.

They felt a tangle of emotions. Had the reality of the company they’d loyally served for over a decade truly been this ugly?

Facing that underbelly head-on left their guts churning in every way.

A sense that even the bare minimum of ethics had crumbled in the City.

Compounded by disappointment that their nation’s hero was such a hideous figure.

The chill in the air lifted. The ice crystals that had frozen them were gone.

“…”

Yet the Daesung people’s feet showed no sign of budging. Emotions colder than Lee Taebaek’s ice magic gripped their hearts.

And the chairman excelled at reading the room. After scanning his surroundings, he suddenly burst into guffaws.

“Ha, ha… hahaha…!”

Blood jetted from the hole in his cheek like a water gun.

“Did you think you were loyal to Daesung?”

The chairman bared his blood-red teeth.

“…”

“Tsk tsk, you fools. You weren’t loyal to Daesung—you were loyal to me. Because I am Daesung! I wrote Daesung’s myth! It’s all thanks to me that punks like you, who only know how to swing fists, get to lounge on silk bedding in the upper districts!”

The room fell silent.

The raving chairman and the security team both knew it deep down. It was his final deathbed spasm.

“You should be grateful to me! In this godforsaken filthy City, just working for Daesung Group let you strut around with some respect among the Megacorps! And now some piddly morals are holding you back?! Pathetic bastards!”

The chairman sighed.

“Ah, this is why egomaniacs are such a pain. When Siesta came asking for cooperation on human cultivation experiments, I should’ve shaken hands…”

“Siesta’s already gone that far, huh.”

Lee Taebaek muttered.

The chairman peered into his face before sneering.

“Come to think of it, you were a Siesta Watchdog, weren’t you? Spot on. Siesta’s adapting faster than anyone this era. Unlike top-dog Haragusa. Being second breeds sorrow that turns into fuel. Makes a man vigorous. That’s what I did—and that’s how Daesung rose to greatness.”

Human cultivation.

Artificially creating humans, plain and simple. A taboo even in the City’s end-times vibe.

Megacorps can’t ignore public eyes entirely.

Nominal as it was, the regime clung to a republican frame. Disgust for human cultivation was pure instinct. Upper-district folk swapped limbs for machines, but souls? Irreplaceable.

Creating personalities from scratch, though?

Only a scant few approved. Megacorp execs, probably.

Megacorp execs need utterly loyal appendages.

In that sense.

Nothing beat cultivated human homunculi.

Sss.

The chairman’s torn cheek knitted shut. Bizarre regenerative power.

Traded straight with gods, so no wonder his [Faith] stat’s sky-high.

Plus a full-body prosthetic forged from stuff pricier than gold by weight. Brain irreparably wrecked? Only then does he die. Had to be a ‘specter’.

“Chairman, your deeds. Siesta’s human cultivation. Both forbidden fruit.”

“Haha, preaching now?”

Lee Taebaek scowled fiercely.

“Know the price?”

“Listen, kid. I’m a merchant. What’s key in trades—getting, giving? Risk management. Opportunity cost.”

The chairman tapped his temple with an index finger.

“Quick math on gains and losses? That’s a dealer’s whole game. In the City, none match me there. Bet on it.”

“Arrogance.”

“Young friend. Times change. Can’t hide in old fogeys’ frames forever. ‘Ethics’? Hypocrisy cooked up by savage ancestors for self-preservation.”

Light drained from the chairman’s pupils mid-rant. Para Blade’s finisher had ravaged his brain. Flesh mends, but brain death? Lights out.

“…I never wanted to cling to my kid’s body to survive. But I’m that old fogey.”

Mentioning Executive Director Ryu brought his daughter, Director Ryu, lifting her head. A single hair strand clung to her tear-streaked cheek.

“Barefaced greed, no lies. True enough. But I wanted these eyes to witness the era’s storms. Watch Daesung adapt on the fly. Money? Honor? Got plenty overflowing.”

“…”

“I crave immortality.”

“…”

“Not just me. Every Megacorp.”

“Not lifespan immortality.”

Lee Taebaek sheathed Para Blade, retorting. No more filthy blood on his sword.

“The tyrant who coined ‘profligate’—Yeonsangun—feared history most. He lives immortal here, but us Megacorps? Different flavor of eternity.”

The chairman tugged bluish lips into a grin. Lee Taebaek fired back.

“Too bad. Your legacy’s trash-tier. See the stares? One friendly face?”

“…Can’t be helped.”

The chairman tilted his head back faintly. Wall chill seeped into his crown. Shoulders slumping, he murmured.

“Man errs, man pays.”

“Fair enough there.”

“Self-aware, see?”

The chairman shut his eyelids. Self-healing kept his body steady, skin gone ashen-blue.

That instant.

“Chairman—no, Grandfather.”

Director Ryu crawled beast-like toward him. Her slender hands clamped his shoulders vise-tight.

“Did you… ever see Dad and me as family?”

“…”

The chairman flicked eyes at Director Ryu’s wretched form, then resealed lids.

“Never.”

Shook his head firm.

“Don’t take it personal. Never saw my wife’s kids as kids either. Daesung was my everything.”

“…”

Director Ryu’s eyes glazed vacant, soul fled. A beat, then her swollen lips twitched.

“I see…”

Director Ryu yanked hair from her face. Staggered up, propping on the wall.

“Watch your ‘everything’ burn from hell.”

Director Ryu spat over her shoulder. The chairman said nothing. Faint breaths snuffed out.

The chairman was dead.

Three months or so passed since that day.

Eventful days blurred by like arrows.

Daesung announced the chairman’s death. As the group’s symbol, stocks predictably tsunamied.

Plus, the chairman had way too many kids. Shareholders braced for bloody succession wars and admin vacuums.

But nope.

It wrapped anticlimactically, against all odds.

Reasons aplenty, but the will’s discovery clinched it.

『If aught befalls me, Daesung passes to Executive Director Ryu. End.』

The self-serving chairman’s parting gift.

That brutally terse line cowed half the heirs. To the kids, he was god-tier.

Anyway.

The rest rejected it.

Daesung’s legal eagles certified it, so no head-on clash. They twisted wording to suit.

-Successor Executive Director Ryu’s vanished too!

Solid point.

Chairman’s demise plus Executive Director Ryu’s MIA handed heirs a rallying cry.

But it fizzled. Enter third-party wildcard—utterly unforeseen— who snuffed group drama flat.

‘That one’ pulled every dirty trick, naturally.

Matched the chairman’s grasp of internal power plays. Poked sore spots like a pro masseuse. And the group’s blade—the security team—backed him wholesale. Led by Team Leader Seong Hayun.

Rumors swirled on Seong Hayun’s shift. Her and ‘that one’ getting cozy… juicy dopamine fodder on every tongue.

Three months post-chairman, the ‘new chairman’ locked down the group. Wooed shareholders handily.

Choppy Daesung stocks stabilized over weeks. Patriots piled sympathy buys.

Daesung shed its Megacorp tail-ender tag at last. Folks hailed the new chairman’s luck—rushed to claim shares.

“Haa…”

A sigh rippled through Daesung’s chairman suite.

Interior overhauled. Spacious yet sparse: simple desk, chair, crisp achromatic sofa. That’s it.

Sun-and-moon mega screen—era-mismatch eyesore—tossed. New chairman’s day-one mandate: purge all ex-chairman traces. No delays, ops be damned.

Meant surrendering nights to days. Chairman ditched specs, massaged nose bridge.

World swam blurry.

But Chairman Ryu—glasses reset—a man materialized ghost-like, plopped on the sofa.

“Rough gig?”

“Yeah… sorta…”

Chairman Ryu mumbled, then huffed a laugh.

“Gotta bump security team’s pay across the board.”

“Shouldn’t it drop? Me waltzing in here unchecked.”

“That’s why the raise. Face gets you clearance.”

“…Loaded phrasing.”

He scratched his nape, peeled off the sofa. Chairman Ryu eyed his back vacantly, blurted.

“Today’s the day, right?”

Chairman Ryu lip-curved a grin.

“Safe travels to the Ten Wings meet.”

Doorknob in hand, he glanced back.

“Lee Taebaek.”