I Became a Scoundrel of a Chaebol Family-Chapter 375
June 1st, 2077—today—is the day of the very first executive board meeting of the Koryo Credit Incheon Branch.
Which meant I had to forcibly muster up some focus, finish what needed to be done, and make it onto the AV shuttle according to schedule.
The plan was to construct a new branch building at the Namdong Industrial Complex and move in, but since we didn’t have a proper office space yet, they’d apparently put up a modular structure for temporary use.
Technically, it was too expensive to be called “temporary,” but in this neighborhood, money was hardly an issue. After all, ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) the company that owns Koryo Credit is Koryo Financial Holdings, which, if I’m not mistaken, is the single largest capital-handler in all of Asia.
“Will I even be able to keep up with the content?”
...
It’s not like I spend every day just screwing around and having sex.
Sure, I still have sex and do business as usual—but I’ve been steadily keeping up with my studies and workouts too.
Even so, there are limits.
Part of it is just that I don’t know enough, but it’s also the fact that no matter how intensely you cram for a couple months, this isn’t the kind of field you can just wing in practice.
They say with the info-implantation tech Go Min-young regularly uses, I could instantly get up to speed...
‘But that requires a full brain scan, right? Not happening.’
What was it again?
They have to process the information in a format optimized to my neural profile to avoid errors?
Anyway, the point is they’d have to scan my mind—which would blow my entire cover. That’s a no-go. So I said no.
Thankfully, I’m just a humble(?) executive director. As long as I handle the credit-related tasks, it should be fine.
If things get dicey, I’ll just toss it all to the vice president.
‘Honestly, that’s the right call.’
— “Respected citizens of Incheon, I stand before you today to plant the seed of new hope on this land.”
The voice of Kim Eun-ji, currently holding a press conference, spilled from the radio.
She was officially announcing the formation of a new political party.
‘Let’s see... usually there’s a few weeks between the announcement and the actual founding ceremony, right?’
Given the extreme political vacuum in Incheon, they might just rush it and get everything done in a matter of days.
“Seunghee, the special prosecutor office announcement’s next week, right?”
“Yes. A committee to establish the Special Prosecution Office is set to launch on June 9th.”
“Then let’s hold the Peace-Nuri Incheon Party founding ceremony next week. On the 9th, same day.”
“Understood. I’ll relay the message.”
At this point, public backlash wouldn’t mean much, but it was still best to let things slide with minimal resistance.
We couldn’t skip media coverage entirely, so we’d release a brief report on the Special Prosecutor’s Office—then drop a bombshell of a story at the same time.
“Got anything else? Sandwich-style coverage works best.”
“The ‘Ganghwa Sex Bribery Scandal’ documentary is scheduled to air.”
“Oh. That’s good. Yeah, perfect.”
The scandal where Lee Na-eun, appointed special prosecutor, went wild on the entertainment conglomerates.
The whole Incheon entertainment sector was reduced to ash, and the funds that fled during the collapse flocked to Real Production, which was riding the momentum to sky-high stock valuations. I shorted that thing like it was a buffet and cleaned house.
Anyway, it was an enormous scandal that rocked not just Incheon, but all of South Korea—hell, all of Asia.
A documentary reexamination should easily redirect the public’s attention.
“The political world is also planning a rally demanding investigations into the recent ‘Massacre of District Chiefs’ and the ‘Massacre of the Equality & Liberty Constitution Party.’
Of course, it’ll be all noise and no actual results.”
As expected.
The district chiefs massacre was my doing, and the Equality & Liberty Constitution Party leader’s head exploding was probably my aunt’s or grandfather’s work.
It’s all just for show—to drown out the sheer scale of the “Special Prosecutor Office Establishment.”
“Also, the ‘One-Out Law’ you proposed will be submitted this coming Monday, led by Assemblywoman Joo Hyun-ah.”
The One-Out Law bans any person with a criminal record from participating in politics.
For now, it targets city/district council members and mayors, stripping them of eligibility to run—but the long-term goal is a full expansion to the general population.
“That should do it. We’ve got the sex scandal doc, the massacre investigation rally, the party founding, and the One-Out Law.
With all that, the Special Prosecutor Office will get, what, one line in the papers at most?”
You might ask why we don’t just skip coverage entirely, but that would raise questions about institutional legitimacy later.
So we’ll run the report, and if anyone complains afterward, we can go: “It was in the news, why didn’t you complain then?”
“Nice. Everything’s running smoothly.”
****
The Koryo Credit Incheon Branch “temporary” building was absurdly flashy.
It stood out even more in the Namdong Industrial Complex, which barely had any fully built structures yet.
“Did we really need to make a temporary building this fancy?”
I muttered as I stepped in.
Not as a Koryo Credit executive, but as the heir apparent of Koryo Group, I was escorted straight to the meeting room with top-tier treatment.
“Whoa...!”
The hallway near the meeting room was already bustling.
Staff who looked like secretaries to the execs were scrambling through documents—until they saw me.
They froze, then lined up on either side and bowed deeply.
A scene I was plenty used to by now. I gave a slight nod in return.
“Handle the usual stuff while I’m in the meeting. Only hold onto what really needs my decision.”
“Yes, Master. I’ll take care of it.”
I left Seunghee at the door and walked into the meeting room.
“Ah—uh—Go... Go Muyeol Director has arrived...!”
Jesus.
I’m just a damn executive director. No need for all this formality from the other execs.
“Do-Don’t... I mean, Director, it’s an honor to see you... haha....”
“Ah, yes. Hello.”
They all gathered around in a hurry, nervously fumbling through greetings.
They were the executives dispatched to the Incheon branch—more women than men, but still a decent mix.
I casually kept one hand in my pocket while shaking with the other.
No one said a word about my posture. If anything, they gripped my hand with both of theirs and bowed even lower.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Kang Hanbyeol, newly appointed director of Koryo Credit’s Incheon Branch.”
Last to greet me was the branch director—the top dog here.
A woman with a neat bob cut exposing one ear, wearing small, round pearl earrings and violet lipstick that caught the eye.
A sexy figure contrasted sharply with her elegant clothing and beautiful face.
Even for someone like me, surrounded by beauties daily, she was worthy of praise.
I openly scanned her face and curves, savoring the view, and extended my hand.
“Oh... it’s a pleasure. Branch Director, I’m Go Muyeol.”
She clasped both hands around mine and bowed her head.
‘She used to be a secretary, right?’
Originally, I was supposed to take the position of Incheon Branch Director.
But I declined and took a step down as executive director. I’d heard they’d slotted in a former secretary instead.
Got chewed out by Go Minji for that one—asking how I could let some secretary sit above me.
But whatever. It’s not like rank matters to people like us. We own everything anyway.
“There’s still so much I don’t know. I hope you’ll guide me well, Director.”
“Of course, Director Go. Just say the word whenever you need anything.”
“I feel like I’ll need a few private lessons. You okay with that?”
I said this while suggestively caressing the back of her hand.
Kang Hanbyeol lightly bit her violet lips before replying, her lips gleaming with saliva.
“...Of course. Anytime.”
“Good.”
I patted her back and shoulder, then gave her arm a light massage.
The way her skin clung softly to my hand felt nice.
I wanted to take it further—maybe down to her waist or ass—but there were too many people around.
Especially the men...
‘If it were just women here, I’d already be on it. Damn shame.’
I’ll need to ship the men off to Ganghwa or somewhere remote, soon.
“It’s a lot to ask, but thank you for accepting it. You’re kind, Director. In more ways than one.”
“...Thank you.”
“Now then, where’s my seat...?”
“Ah, right this way.”
She personally guided me to my seat.
It was the highest seat—originally meant for the branch director—but I’d declined.
Someone’s got to run the meeting. There’s a reason for her to sit there. No need to take it from her.
“Please, this way....”
So I took the seat assigned to an executive director instead.
Kang Hanbyeol pulled the chair out for me.
“Thanks. Nameplate looks legit too.”
I looked up.
Everyone was still standing, watching me.
Apparently, they were waiting for me to give the signal.
“Let’s all sit, shall we? Let’s start the meeting.”
At my word, everyone finally took their seats, and the meeting began.
Branch Director Kang Hanbyeol opened with the introduction.
“...As you all know, the goal of our branch is to establish Incheon’s own independent credit rating system and use it as the official standard for all evaluations.
Institutions, corporations, organizations, and individuals will essentially be assigned a new form of status based on our ratings.
It’s a mission of enormous weight, so we must proceed with the utmost caution.”
