The Former Chaebol Heir Excels as President

Chapter 16: Let’s Make Some Money (1)

Seeing my older brother through the acrylic panel was hard to face.

Only three or four months had passed, yet he looked so emaciated that I thought of the phrase “skin and bones.”

My mom was expressionless as she looked at him.

“Inseok, take care of your health. If you need anything, be sure to write a letter.”

“Don’t worry about me. Being caught actually gives me peace of mind.”

“As long as you’re healthy. Don’t think about anything else.”

“I’m doing that.”

It was a scene I couldn’t comprehend.

Even though my eldest brother was wearing prison garb and looked wasted, mom didn’t falter.

Likewise, even though he must have been scared and struggling in prison, he remained upright.

There was consideration and dignity in my mom and older brother.

Profound care for others and unbroken spirit.

My brother’s voice traveled through the perforated acrylic panel.

“How is everyone? Is Dad okay? He didn’t look well.”

“He’s just tired. Don’t think about anything else but your health. I sent a little allowance.”

“I don’t need that. They feed me well here.”

They feed him well, do they?

I know from eating in the holding cell.

All we got was radish soup without meat, kimchi or kkakdugi.

If we were lucky, they’d add beans.

“Keep your spirits strong.”

“I’m fine. I just feel bad for Mom.”

The visit was short.

My older brother made one last request to me.

“Cheonmyeong, take good care of Mom. And look after Daemyung, too.”

“Got it. And if anyone hits you inside, tell me. I know a reporter.”

“Okay.”

My older brother smiled softly and stood up.

Mom stared at him in his prison garb as he disappeared from view.

“Mom, let’s go.”

“Yes, let’s.”

The sky was a flawless blue.

Like a drop of paint would fall if you poked it with a needle.

Mom’s eyes looked as if tears could spill at any moment.

Descending the slope strewn with ginkgo leaves, I asked,

“Mom, are you really okay? You rushed when you heard about the body found, thinking it was him. You saw him like that—don’t you feel like crying?”

“Sigh.”

Mom let out a long exhale.

“My brother too—he was on the run, then got caught. He must have been beaten so much. They say he’s in solitary now? And even so, he’s trying to look so strong. Why do they all do that? Expressing emotions honestly is what soothes the heart.”

Mom stared blankly at me before saying,

“Cheonmyeong, you’re growing up. You even say things like that now.”

“I’ll be a sophomore in high school soon. I’d have already passed the civil service exam back then.”

“I see.”

Mom smiled, but the deep shadows of hardship on her face couldn’t be erased.

At the bus stop, Mom suddenly grabbed the ginkgo tree.

“Mom, what’s wrong? Dizzy?”

“Just a moment.”

Mom lowered her head and took several deep breaths.

“Is breathing hard?”

“No. I’m fine.”

Mom was doing her best not to collapse.

After holding the tree for a long time, she looked at me and said,

“Cheonmyeong.”

“Yeah? Mom, if you’re tired you can just sit down. You don’t have to stand strong. I understand you.”

Mom stroked my head and gave a gentle smile.

“If things get really hard, I’ll do that. You just study. One child devoted to the country is enough—Taemyung.”

“I will never join protests! I’ll just study hard, make lots of money, and make you live well.”

“That’s right. Mom believes in you, Cheonmyeong.”

A gust of autumn wind passed by us, scattering the ginkgo leaves at our feet far away.

I prayed earnestly that the obstacles before our family would vanish like those fallen leaves.

Saturday afternoon, on my way home after class.

I saw some adults drinking makgeolli on the bench in front of Daehwa Super.

I greeted them, then went into the store and bought a strawberry‑flavored caramel—Daemyung’s favorite.

The supermarket lady asked while taking the money,

“How’s Taemyung? Is he doing okay?”

“Yes.”

“When’s the trial?”

“I don’t know.”

“When the president changes, Taemyung will come out soon too, right? Is your mom okay?”

“Yes.”

The lady tapped my butt and raised her voice.

“You must never join protests! Think about your mom.”

“I won’t.”

“Then why did you do it back then?”

No one believed that I went to find my eldest brother.

Once something is imprinted in people's minds through the media, changing it becomes impossible.

As I left the store, I overheard the men chatting.

“They need to unify this time if they want to win.”

“One of them has to step down, but I guess that’s not happening.”

“They’re just trying to seize the momentum. In the end, only one will run.”

“Really? Otherwise, things will be a mess.”

“There’s a speech in Yeouido today—go if you’re bored.”

Would my eldest brother be released if the opposition wins, like the supermarket lady said?

But I already know the outcome.

In novels, those who regress sometimes change the future with their powers, but I don’t have that kind of ability now.

On the uphill path, I met Kang Daemyung.

“Where are you going?”

“Hyung came home. Going to Sanggu’s house to watch wrestling.”

Since the June 29 Democratic Declaration, AFKN had been airing pro wrestling.

It became incredibly popular, and I’d watched it once at a friend’s place.

The storyline was well-crafted, and the character setups were perfect, making it really fun.

“Share this with Sanggu.”

I handed him a strawberry-flavored caramel from my pocket.

“Yeah. Hehe.”

“Don’t come home late.”

“Okay. Thanks, Hyung.”

Kang Daemyung waved his arms excitedly as he ran down the hill.

When I passed through the narrow alley and got home, I heard Mom’s voice.

Even though the tin door creaked, she didn’t notice me coming in, focusing instead on her call.

“Two hundred thousand won is enough. They say having a lawyer gets you out faster. …Yes. I’ll pay it back within two months.”

We had installed the phone after my brother went missing.

Now that he was back, that same phone was being used to save him again.

Mom made another call.

“Sook-ae’s mom. …Taemyung is doing fine. …That’s why. As a parent, I can’t just do nothing. Can’t I borrow even a hundred thousand won? …No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Is there anywhere else I could borrow money?”

It was painful to see Mom flipping through her notebook.

I left my bag on the floor and stepped back outside.

Seeing Mom looking so lonely and distressed unsettled me.

What we needed now was money.

But there was no way I could get money right away.

As I passed by Ddoli Stationery, I ran into Seo Inha.

Already in a bad mood—why did I have to run into her of all people?

“Where are you going?”

“Why?”

“So cold, even though it’s been a while. I was just asking.”

“Wherever my feet take me.”

“Are you a poet?”

“I’m busy, so get to the point.”

Seo Inha crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

I always wondered why she had to make that kind of face.

“They say you haven’t missed first place in the whole school? Doing milk deliveries, odd jobs here and there—how is that possible? Must be that kids at Single High School aren’t that smart.”

She’s seriously the top of my least-favorite list.

Even rudeness is a talent for her.

“Why are you picking a fight?”

“I’m not. Your brother went to prison, right? A college student should study—why protest? Does an egg crack a rock? Only the egg breaks.”

“I’ve even hit a girl before.”

When I glared at her fiercely, Seo Inha gulped.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It’s scary. I’m just curious about how you study.”

“Stick to textbooks.”

“How do you study English? They say you talk to foreigners—is that true?”

Thanks to my study-abroad experience in my previous life, I spoke English like a native.

Seo Inha’s real interest was English.

She looked down on me at first for a sense of superiority, but now she was revealing her actual desire.

“I studied English through AFKN.”

“Really?”

“They’re probably showing wrestling now.

If you just watch that, you’ll speak like me.”

“Is that so? I see.”

Without even saying goodbye, Seo Inha walked past me.

She was beyond saving.

Someone like her becoming a Head of News Division at a media company—no wonder the country’s future looked bleak.

I wandered aimlessly, unsure of where to go.

Though I had accepted being Kang Cheonmyeong and adapted to my circumstances, on days like this, my mind became crowded.

What would happen to my eldest brother, the pillar of our family?

If something went wrong with him, would the weight of being the eldest shift to me?

How should I make money?

If I make money, I’ll lose time to study.

By the time I snapped out of the web-like tangle of thoughts, I realized I was crossing Yeoui Bridge.

In the middle of a crowd.

‘Huh? This isn’t right.’

It wasn’t my intention.

The place I ended up, pushed by the crowd, was Yeouido Plaza.

An endless sea of people.

Only then did I recall what the man said in front of Daehwa Super’s bench.

‘There’s a speech in Yeouido today—go if you’re bored.’

It was the presidential candidate’s speech.

The voices of the crowd chanting the candidate’s name rang in my ears.

I stood on tiptoe to look behind me. A massive wave of people surged in like a tidal wave.

There was no turning back—I was completely trapped.

“Hey? Student! Aren’t you that student from the news? From Yeonje University, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“No? You look just like him.”

“I said I’m not!”

A strong denial is often a strong affirmation.

The man next to me stared at me for quite a while.

The crowd was so packed that there was nowhere to escape, not even a patch of ground to stick an awl into.

I kept insisting it wasn’t me.

Maybe an hour passed?

Finally, the candidate stepped up to the podium and began his speech.

His voice thundered from the massive speakers, but it was too far to hear clearly.

The only thing that reached my ears clearly was this:

“We will release all 1,300 prisoners of conscience imprisoned for fighting for democracy. I will implement it immediately through the powers of the presidency upon taking office.”

But unfortunately, that was impossible.

Even so, I was captivated by his speech and joined the cheers, shouting “Wow!” along with others.

Over a million people were in the audience.

The cheers and chants rang like sharp bells in my ears, as if giant speakers were right next to me.

It was either crowd psychology or mass hysteria.

As dopamine flooded my system, I became completely immersed in the candidate and exhilarated by his resonant speech.

“Man, what a fantastic speech.”

“That’s the kind of person who should be a leader.”

I agreed with the conversation among the men beside me.

Of course, this candidate wouldn’t become president this year—he would be elected later.

The waves of fluttering Taegeukgi flags and the chants.

I became one with the crowd and felt my chest swell with emotion.

With this kind of atmosphere, he should have become president.

But in the end, the unification would fail, and on the day before the election, a female spy who bombed an airplane would be captured and flood the media.

If they had unified, they would have easily won with a majority vote.

‘A great world for ordinary people.’

That was the ruling party candidate’s catchphrase.

But such a world does not exist.

I made up my mind.

From now on, I will make money.