The Chaebol Heir Wants to Live Quietly
Choi Minhyuk, the illegitimate son of Choi Byungmoon, the youngest of the KM Group, entered the main family house with his mother Jung Miseon after his father's death.
But this was actually preemptive groundwork laid by his eldest uncle, Choi Moonkyung, to cover up KM Group's management failures.
Chairman Choi Yongwook was satisfied with Choi Moonkyung's handling of the situation.
Naively thinking everything was fine, Choi Minhyuk eventually became the scapegoat for Choi Moonkyung, ending up in prison twice.
By the time he was released, KM Group had already collapsed and disappeared.
There was no one to care for him, and in the end, he died in loneliness.
But his death vanished as if it were a dream.
He wanted nothing to do with the endless greed of the chaebol family, and resolved to live quietly by using his knowledge of the future.
⸻
I was what people call the illegitimate son of a chaebol family, but it wasn't like I worked hard to figure out my identity.
To be precise, it was Chief Secretary Kwon Jae-hong of my eldest uncle, Choi Moonkyung, who came directly to our home.
My always-cold mother, Jung Miseon, was very surprised, but instead she readily accepted when Secretary Kwon said he would take me.
A former celebrity who had once been famous and was preparing for a return to the entertainment industry, Jung Miseon never liked me. After my father's death, she even considered me a burden.
At the time, I was only seventeen, and I couldn't understand what was going on at all.
Still, I rejoiced at the thought of living in a palace-like mansion.
My grandfather, Chairman Choi Yongwook, along with the rest of the family, gave me a grand welcome.
Only later did I realize how absurd that was, considering the inheritance worth hundreds of billions at stake.
And eventually, I realized that Choi Moonkyung had only dragged me into the family to use me. It was nothing more than following the proverb, "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."
During the IMF crisis, something even Choi Moonkyung hadn't expected, he chose me as the scapegoat to bear responsibility for the astronomical debt required to keep KM Group alive.
The empty shell of a stock inheritance was a flawless justification for the plan.
In the end, I was imprisoned on charges of embezzlement and breach of trust, while the rest of the family skillfully slipped through the prosecutor's investigation net.
Choi Moonkyung even used laundered slush funds to spin off the U.S. branch and expand it, eventually listing it on NASDAQ.
Naturally, the prosecutors took notice, and I was arrested again, this time accused of embezzling the astronomical slush funds inside the company.
This time, the sentence was eight years.
By the time I was released, KM Group, which had barely survived post-IMF, had completely disintegrated.
The rest of the family scattered, but each managed to secure at least a mid-sized company.
Choi Moonkyung thrived in the U.S. with the embezzled funds, becoming so famous he even made the cover of Time magazine.
It was only then that I realized:
First, why my eldest uncle Choi Moonkyung had used me, and second, why my second uncle Choi Hoonyeol's maternal side had deliberately pressured prosecutors through their connections.
In my early fifties, there was nothing left around me.
Only Kim Myungjun and Lee Jisoo, whom my father had left behind for me, stayed at my deathbed.
The bitter irony was that I had cast Kim Myungjun aside, fooled by Choi Moonkyung's schemes.
Yet, Kim Myungjun looked at me with complicated eyes, as if he had long forgotten the past.
From my father's letter, I belatedly realized the truth in his words: "People are the greatest asset."
I finally understood why my father had left someone like Kim Myungjun for me.
The same was true for Lee Jisoo. A Harvard graduate known as a genius, she too silently stayed with me until the end.
Was I not truly a fool?
I didn't even die by an assassin's hand, but from lung cancer.
To think I'd die like this.
⸻
Even the slightest touch to my uvula triggered vomiting. The contents of my stomach rushed up my throat and poured out. This was vomiting—regurgitating the food I had eaten.
The foul-smelling stomach contents spewed out like a waterfall, covering everything in front of me.
As my body twisted from the recoil, the target of the vomit shifted sideways.
Two people, suddenly drenched in food scraps, stood there in shock.
In particular, Deputy Chief Prosecutor Park Dooyoung of the Seoul Central District Prosecutor's Office's Violent Crimes Division ground his teeth. He shot up from his seat and swung his fist toward me.
"You little bastard, have you lost your mind?"
Prosecutor Choi Haejin, who had also been vomited on, hurriedly tried to stop him.
"W, wait, D, Deputy Chief..."
"?"
Blinking, I tilted my head in confusion.
But… I died.
A strange sense of déjà vu.
My confusion didn't last long. I soon recognized this familiar office. This was the Violent Crimes Division of the Seoul Central District Prosecutor's Office.
The very turning point of my life.
I was investigated here because of the club drug case.
All I had done was accept an invitation from Kim Kibum, the son of my second uncle's brother-in-law, Kim Yongman. Kibum said it was natural for a chaebol heir to enjoy clubbing, and introduced me to some women.
In that secret club, there were not only aspiring entertainers but also plenty of models.
Naturally, drinks laced with drugs circulated.
Trusting my family, I believed in Kibum's hospitality. But after he disappeared with one of the models he had his eye on, the police suddenly raided the club.
In the end, I was arrested at the scene. Kibum, through a lawyer, told me to keep our connection secret and not mention the acquaintance he had introduced me to.
The dozens of chaebol heirs arrested at the scene vanished from the police station as if they'd never been there.
They even told me to admit to supplying the drugs, reassuring me that since it was my first offense, I'd be let off with probation.
I actually believed them.
But instead, I was sentenced to prison.
True, on appeal the sentence was reduced, and in the Supreme Court I was given probation.
But it was the first time I had ever been in a detention center, living among criminals, and the psychological shock was devastating.
Only later did I realize this was a kind of "breaking in."
I quietly studied the two furious men before me, then walked to the water dispenser, poured myself some cold water, and drank it down. Even now, I could not fully grasp the situation.
What the hell is going on?