The Former Chaebol Heir Excels as President

Chapter 2: The Chaebol Returns (2)

The aunt brought the remaining dongchimi broth to my lips.

“I’ll drink it, Auntie.”

“Again ‘auntie’? Oppa has completely lost it. Mom, doesn’t he have amnesia?”

“Hyung‑ah, wake up. Hurry up and wake up.”

Why was this Ul‑tong‑bul‑tong even shedding tears?

Now I needed to pull myself together and face reality.

Lying on the cold floor and feeling the winter dawn breeze, my consciousness sharpened little by little.

My previously motionless muscles gained strength and I pulled my upper body up.

“All right, all right. That’s enough now.”

The aunt’s cheeks twitched as if she were about to cry.

I drank the remaining dongchimi broth.

My insides were refreshed and the stuffiness eased a bit.

“Cheonmyeong‑ah, are you okay?”

“But, who are you?”

“Mom, am I right? Oppa definitely lost his memory due to briquette gas poisoning. I once read about it in the newspaper.”

A girl around nine years old spoke clearly.

Her features were distinct and her eyes were bright—she looked intelligent.

“Kiddo, who are you?”

“Oppa, don’t you remember me? I told you I was born when you came home from school. You said you carried me and raised me, like a father!”

Reincarnation was certain.

But why had I returned not as Jung Chanseong, son of Chairman Jung Yongho, but into another body in a slum?

Was it punishment for many sins?

It was true I had committed corruption while growing the construction company and had oppressed workers. But that was solely with good intentions—to expand the company and create more jobs—and I ultimately succeeded.

I had provided tens of thousands of jobs.

That was not a sin.

When my thoughts reached this point, a rough curse popped out automatically.

“Damn it!”

The aunt and the kid’s eyes widened in surprise at my words.

“Cheonmyeong‑ah, what’s wrong? Why are you swearing when you never did before?”

“You didn’t know Oppa could say things like that? Have you been pretending to be good all this time?”

They reacted just to me saying “damn it”.

What on earth had the original owner of this body been like?

I examined my body.

About 170 cm tall with a lean build.

I ran my hand from the top of my head down to my neck.

My head was shaved, a high nose bridge, slender cheeks, soft skin.

“Yeonhwa‑ya, go into the room. I’m not sure if the smell is all gone.”

“Okay.”

I turned my head to look to the side.

A slate roof and a crumbling cement wall. And the open tin door was full of rust.

Ul‑tong‑bul‑tong squatted in front of me, stroking my head.

“Hyung‑ah, don’t be sulking. If you sulk, I’ll sulk with you.”

I really didn’t understand why this idiot was like this.

“Mom, is the smell all gone?”

The kid’s voice drifted outside the tin door.

“Oppa, come on in.”

Ul‑tong‑bul‑tong grabbed my hand and hauled me to my feet.

‘This brat is strong.’

His grip strength was immense—my body rose almost automatically.

With his support, I entered through the tin door.

A curse exited my mouth automatically.

“Shit, seriously!”

“Cheonmyeong‑ah, what’s wrong?”

“Oppa, pull yourself together! Mom, is it possible a crazy ghost entered his body? Why is he cursing?”

A small porch supported by wooden beams.

To the left was a tap, and a cupboard hung on the wall.

And the room was about three or four pyeong in size.

A big bookshelf, mold-covered wallpaper, a window covered with vinyl.

Depressing and impoverished.

How could anyone live here?

“Hyung‑ah, lie down.”

By Ul‑tong‑bul‑tong’s force, I was forced onto the porch floor.

“Hyung‑ah, don’t say bad words. Then I’ll be too sad.”

Now I felt resigned.

Living in this miserable house—better to die.

Jump into the Han River?

Take cyanide?

Or commit seppuku?

No matter how I thought, any of those would be better.

“Cheonmyeong barely survived death. Are you guys okay?”

“Oppa, you slept against the wall so you drank the most. At first you were dizzy, but you’re okay now. How about Mom?”

“I’m fine too.”

“Mom, shouldn’t we at least take him to the hospital? Oppa’s condition is too serious.”

“How can we go to a hospital at this hour? We’ll go tomorrow morning.”

A dim incandescent light hung from the ceiling.

And next to the cupboard hung a calendar.

February 1987.

I bolted upright.

“Is it 1987 now?”

“Oppa has lost his mind.”

Wait a moment!

If it was 1987, that was my third year of middle school in my previous life.

So was it the same now?

I needed to check.

“Kiddo! What grade am I in now?”

“You’re in first year of high school. You were happy because you said you’d go to the single high school in Mok-dong when the semester started.”

Single high school.

I knew that school well.

Director Park was from that high school, and through him I’d been introduced to politicians, journalists, celebrities.

They were all from that single high school.

If I was now in first year high school, I had reincarnated into someone younger.

“When is my birthday?”

“It’s Children’s Day, May 5th. Oppa, have you really become an idiot?”

The date matched my birthday.

Except I was born in 1972.

“Was I born in 1971?”

“No, since I’m ‘79-born, you’d be ‘72-born. You entered school at seven, and you were rumored a genius in the neighborhood. What should we do? Our family’s second dream Oppa can’t become like this.”

The kid who had seemed cunning so far blinked tears as if she might cry.

May 5, 1972.

Exactly the same date as my birth in my past life.

Why, of all times, had I reincarnated into this body rather than the one from the past?

The aunt came toward me.

“Cheonmyeong‑ah, do you really not remember anything? When you were born, the doctor said you wouldn’t live long, so we didn’t even register your birth. It was only after a hundred days that we did, so your birthday is listed as September 9th in the resident registry.”

“Oppa, you lived, so we named you Cheonmyeong. It means your life was saved by the heavens.”

The aunt and the kid threw out keywords to help me regain my memory.

Wonju in Gangwon Province, a countryside house with a wooden floor, a village school, a cowshed, a mutt.

The village teacher once said I was a genius and insisted on sending me to school a year early.

Now that I thought about it, four-character idioms I didn’t know in my past life flashed by like a film reel.

Then why weren’t the rest of the memories coming back?

“In second year of middle school, remember when a classmate lost money? The homeroom teacher said if the thief didn’t confess, he’d hit everyone, so you raised your hand even though you didn’t steal it. Don’t you remember?”

Hearing that, the memory came vividly.

After PE class, the class president said 5,000 won was missing.

The homeroom teacher glared at us, holding a wooden stick as if ready to kill.

‘Close your eyes. If the one who stole it raises their hand, I’ll forgive them. If no one confesses, everyone gets ten hits.’

I, no—this guy, I didn’t know why he raised his hand.

I only remembered how horribly my thigh had been beaten.

I stared blankly at the aunt.

Now, as if a book had opened and I could read the content, I remembered her.

Oh Sukja.

Mother of the body I had reincarnated into. She worked as a cleaner.

I looked at Ul‑tong‑bul‑tong beside her.

Kang Daemyung.

Two years older than me. He had an intellectual disability and called me “Hyung‑ah”.

Not long ago, I’d gathered neighborhood kids who were teasing him for being dumb and scolded them.

‘Hyung‑ah, thank you.’

His voice echoed in my ears like tinnitus.

Lastly, the kid.

Kang Yeonhwa.

Second grade in elementary school.

When she came home from school and saw a baby in the room, she had been shocked.

Because Mom had to work, I carried Yeonhwa around on my back after morning classes.

It was amazing.

How could I remember someone else’s life this clearly?

My memories came back as I listened to what had happened and looked at their faces.

So I didn’t remember who the father was, or other people.

“Oppa, do you remember now?”

“No.”

If I said I remembered, my behavior could be questioned. I had lived over fifty years in my past life.

My habits were deeply ingrained, so I had to be careful with my actions.

“My baby, don’t worry. With time, it’ll get better.”

The aunt forced a smile and patted me reassuringly.

I needed more confirmation.

“I’ll go lie down in the room.”

“Oppa, why are you speaking so formally?”

Ah, a mistake.

This body’s owner spoke informally to the aunt.

“It’s because I don’t remember. I’ll go to the room.”

I went into the room.

And looked in the mirror.

A short crew cut, slightly tanned but clean skin, straight eyebrows and bright eyes, a sharp nose bridge, and thin lips.

“Handsome.”

“Oppa, didn’t you know you were handsome? My friends even came to our house just to see your face.”

How could they invite friends to a house like this?

Weren’t they embarrassed?

Anyway, I liked the face.

If I was a year younger and a high school freshman, I’d still grow taller.

In my past life, people said I looked sharp. That’s why Ban Hyeongpil, Senior Managing Director of Jongseon Ilbo’s political division, suggested plastic surgery—to soften my image for the public.

My thoughts were getting complicated.

English, French, German—they were all still in my brain. I had inherited all of Jung Chanseong’s past experiences.

If I could just get out of this pigsty house, I could succeed in anything.

If I got into the best university in Korea, Hanguk University, I could change my destiny.

‘Shit! A dragon can rise from a mud puddle!’

Even rolling in a pile of dung was better than the afterlife. Especially since I had the advantage of regression!

I looked at the family photo hanging on the wall.

A photo taken in front of the Yeonje University monument.

A man with thick hair covering his ears and wearing glasses.

I remembered immediately.

Kang Taemyung.

The eldest son of this household.

He entered Yeonje University’s Department of Korean Literature, and the neighborhood even put up a banner.

【Congratulations on your acceptance to Yeonje University.】

After getting into university, Kang Taemyung lived in Ahyeon-dong with a friend.

He was always holding a book.

When everyone else was asleep, he’d light a candle and sit on the porch reading.

I vaguely remembered that scene.

A self-made man.

And on the far right, a middle-aged man smiling with a tired face.

Kang Junsik.

The head of this household.

He worked at some factory in the Guro Industrial Complex and came home once a month.

I remembered how he doted on me.

On days he came home, I’d wait endlessly at the bus stop.

Bus after bus passed.

When the darkness reached my neck, Kang Junsik would get off the bus.

He’d be holding fried chicken, and I’d jump around in excitement.

‘Dad!’

‘Cheonmyeong‑ah, you’re studying hard, right? Dad is grateful to you, and proud. Thank you for enduring.’

His gentle expression came vividly to mind.

Ah, I hated this ticklish feeling.

“Hyung‑ah, are you really okay?”

Kang Daemyung pronounced ‘j’ as ‘d’.

A factory laborer father, a cleaner mother, a mentally disabled second son, and a young daughter.

The only consolation was the eldest son attending Yeonje University who could guide me.

A beggar-like neighborhood and a trashy house, but the family was harmonious.

More importantly, because of this rare ability, I remembered everything I’d learned in the past. If I just suffered for a few years, a golden path would open.

Thinking that gave me hope.

‘Yeah. I’ve decided! Once I get past this sewer road, a silk road will open!’

I looked at Kang Daemyung and grinned.

“Hyung‑ah is fine.”