The Former Chaebol Heir Excels as President

Chapter 23: Turning Point (3)

It wasn’t my first time drinking with friends.

Back in our senior year, we had soju with raw ramen behind the woodworking shop, and once drank makgeolli before evening self-study started. At that time, the Four Musketeers shouted, “Loyalty!”

Of course, now we could drink openly.

Ji Jeongseok had been accepted into Seojangdae's Department of Journalism and Broadcasting. Ahn Jin‑su got into Hangang University, one of the later-admission universities, for Sociology. Yang Seok‑gu had bought a motorcycle and was working hard on deliveries.

Because Yang Seok‑gu had been so busy, the four of us could only gather in mid-March.

“Fill up the glasses. We don’t have to hide to drink anymore.”

“Exactly. A day like this has finally come for us.”

“Let’s drink a lot today. I think it’ll be fun to see each other drunk.”

We were all excited, except for Ahn Jin‑su, who looked visibly nervous.

Yang Seok‑gu teased him.

“What’s wrong, gentleman? Can’t handle your booze? You must’ve had some at school.”

“I sobered up just this morning.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night before yesterday, there was a freshman welcome party at my club. A senior floated three Choco Pies in a washbasin full of soju and told me and another guy to drink it all. I came to my senses this morning.”

“You were out for over a day?”

Ahn Jin‑su nodded limply.

I asked him.

“You drank the whole thing?”

“The seniors were glaring at us. There was no way not to drink. Ten minutes after that, I blacked out.”

“You must hate even the sight of alcohol.”

“Just looking at it makes me gag.”

“You’re out for today. Just have soda.”

We drank without Ahn Jin‑su.

Chicken skewers and grilled chicken hearts were laid out on a plate.

The drinks went down well with good friends around.

Ji Jeongseok asked Yang Seok‑gu,

“Are you making good money?”

“Now that I have a motorcycle, I can go as far as Guro-dong and Garibong-dong. I’m earning a lot.”

“Take care of your body.”

“You have to row when the boat comes in.”

“The saying is, row when the tide comes in.”

“Same thing, whatever. Haha.”

Yang Seok‑gu laughed sheepishly.

I had always been curious about something when I met Ji Jeongseok.

He had been so critical of society, almost like a revolutionary, yet he chose to major in Journalism and Broadcasting.

Curious, I asked,

“Do you want to be a reporter? Or work at a broadcasting station?”

“I’d be fine being a PD at a station, or a reporter.”

“So you haven’t decided for sure yet?”

“Not yet. I want to see how it goes while I’m in school.”

After a sip of soju, Ji Jeongseok looked at me like he remembered something.

“Oh right, my dad wants to meet you.”

“Why?”

“He bought land around Omokgyo based on what you said. It’s already gone up 15%.”

“It’ll keep rising.”

“You should come by our house sometime.”

“Sure.”

Yang Seok‑gu, who had been listening, asked curiously,

“How’s college life? Fun?”

It had been fun, but none of us said that.

Knowing that Yang Seok‑gu alone was struggling at the front lines of working life, we kept our answers short.

“The only difference is that there are girls. But it’s still mostly guys.”

“Still, I’m jealous.”

I looked at the gloomy face of Ahn Jin‑su.

“Still not feeling well?”

“No, just... feeling a bit regretful.”

“About what?”

“I think it would’ve been fun if we had gone to the same school.”

Ahn Jin‑su had failed to get into the Department of Sociology at Gorim University. Hangang University, which he chose in the later round, was still a good school.

Yang Seok‑gu’s eyes widened.

“You two applied to the same school?”

“Well, I aimed a bit high. Cheonmyeong aimed a bit low.”

“I barely made the cut. I got lucky.”

“Making the cut is still a skill.”

Ahn Jin‑su raised his glass with a bitter smile.

“I should have a drink.”

“You said you weren’t feeling well?”

“One drink is fine.”

“I doubt it’ll stop at one, but go ahead.”

I poured a drink for Ahn Jin‑su.

“Whew.”

Ahn Jin‑su let out a sigh and continued.

“It snowed a lot that day. The walk down from the Main Building felt endlessly long.”

“You cried, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t cry. I was just disappointed I didn’t make it. But I still felt good.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw your name on the List of Accepted Students. I was genuinely happy, like it was my own success.”

“You punk, thanks.”

“Let’s toast!”

Ji Jeongseok raised his glass.

“Alright! To our loyalty!”

“Cheers!”

“I need to have one more drink too. Loyalty comes first.”

It was a joyful gathering.

Yang Seok‑gu suggested we go for a second round, but I had to decline since I was meeting Woo Ah‑mi tomorrow.

“Cheonmyeong is always busy, huh. Can’t be helped. Let’s go on our own.”

“Yeah. It’s the Three Musketeers tonight.”

Even Ahn Jin‑su, who said he wouldn’t drink, ended up drunk.

After parting with them, I headed home.

Suddenly, I found myself missing Woo Ah‑mi.

A bright spring day.

The faces of people out for a stroll at Yeouido Han River riverside park were full of cheer.

Rows of blooming flowers lined the riverside, and Woo Ah‑mi and I walked alongside them.

“Congratulations.”

I had heard yesterday that Woo Ah‑mi got a job at the Commercial Bank.

“Did you hear?”

“I heard from Jin‑su.”

“Thank you. How’s college life? Is it fun?”

“Feels like it right now. But the studying’s hard.”

“It’s probably because you're learning major courses now. Economics isn’t an easy field.”

“I have to work hard.”

The Han River glistened with silver scales under the sunlight.

“By the way, did your Big Oppa finish his military service? I think you said it was around this time.”

“He’s finishing in June. He came out on his last leave last month.”

“Oh, I see. He’s attending Yeonje University, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Your family’s got good brains.”

I hadn’t kept the promise I made to Woo Ah‑mi.

She had said she would wear a uniform, and she did by joining the Commercial Bank. But I hadn’t kept my promise to enter Korean University.

That weighed a bit on my mind.

Whoosh—

The river breeze swept her hair back.

Her smooth forehead made her high nose look even more defined.

With her eyes closed, Woo Ah‑mi whispered softly,

“The wind gently washes my bare hair.”

“I shall go forth, like a distant bohemian.”

Woo Ah‑mi opened her eyes wide and looked at me.

“You know that?”

“It’s Rimbaud’s poem. I read it from a book at home.”

It was one of the books my Big Oppa used to read.

“So you don’t just study, huh.”

“There are lots of books he used to read. I read them whenever I have time.”

“You’re amazing.”

Woo Ah‑mi smiled brightly at me.

Her smile was so beautiful, I wanted to keep seeing it.

“I want to walk with my eyes closed. Hold my hand.”

“Okay.”

Woo Ah‑mi closed her eyes, and I took her hand and walked forward.

The soft touch sent a warm wave through my heart.

“My inn is the Big Dipper.”

“The stars of my sky gently swayed, kind and tender.”

She and I recited Rimbaud’s poetry as we walked by the river.

The ticklish feeling was pleasant.

Woo Ah‑mi let go of my hand and looked up.

“Let’s sit on that grassy field and eat. I brought gimbap.”

“Sure.”

I laid out the picnic mat I brought on the grass.

Everything was perfect that day.

The warm spring sunlight, the breeze from the river.

Most of all, being with Woo Ah‑mi made everything better.

Gimbap sprinkled with sesame seeds, and the colors of banana and pineapple looked beautiful.

“It’s delicious. You made this, right?”

“I’m surprisingly good at cooking.”

“You’re just plain good.”

There was no flattery in that.

It was really better than what you’d buy.

Woo Ah‑mi asked,

“Are you still working at the company?”

“Sometimes. I expanded into shopping deliveries, so I’m still needed.”

“You’re like a comic book character. Good at everything.”

“I’m just doing my best.”

“What’s your dream?”

My dream was clear.

But it wasn’t completely decided either.

Because it’s hard to say whether a dream is a short-term or long-term goal.

Right now, I wanted to earn a lot of money and make my family happy.

To support Yeonhwa’s dream of attending an arts high school, to help treat Kang Dae‑myeong’s intellectual disability, and to let Mom rest comfortably.

But after that?

That part was still undecided.

“Cheonmyeong, what are you thinking?”

“Sorry. Right now, I just want to make a lot of money. That’s why I entered the Department of Economics.”

“If you get too obsessed with money, you might lose your humanity. I hope you don’t change like that.”

“I’m not obsessed with money, so you don’t have to worry.”

Maybe Woo Ah‑mi’s concern was right.

With past-life experience and the advantage of regression, I could make as much money as I wanted. But what I needed to worry about now was whether my obsession with money had been shaped by the harsh, cold experiences of the shantytown.

People who were assaulted by the blade of the world without any defense.

My dad and Hyungmin’s dad, who died unfair deaths. The old lady who sold scrubbers and got chased away from her street stall because of the Olympics. The neighborhood Unni who couldn’t escape her one-room life even while selling alcohol and her body.

“Cheonmyeong.”

“Yeah.”

“I hope you don’t change.”

“What do you mean?”

“I vividly remember you riding a bicycle at dawn delivering newspapers, and running around at night with flyers in your hands.”

I didn’t understand what she meant and stared blankly at her face.

“Rather than living just for money, I’d like to see you doing something you really want. You have more freedom now than back then, don’t you?”

She was a wise woman.

“Yeah. And I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I broke the promise I made to you. I didn’t get into Korean University. You got a job at a good bank, but I…”

“It was a promise with me. If getting into Korean University had been your own promise to yourself, you would’ve studied harder.”

How could she hit the mark so precisely?

She was right.

For me, earning money had been the top priority.

Woo Ah‑mi continued.

“I think you’re amazing.”

“Not really.”

“I heard from Jin‑su. You studied really hard since summer, right? Jin‑su didn’t get into Gorim University, but you did.”

It was true I had studied hard, even with the power of regression.

Starting in June, I barely slept more than three hours a night and kept reading.

Receiving praise felt awkward, so I changed the topic.

“Jin‑su is really kind.”

“He’s someone we can all learn from. He donated a thousand coal briquettes with the money he earned from a delivery part-time job. He even delivered them himself.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m amazed when I see Jin‑su. I think he’s been kind since he was born.”

When Ahn Jin‑su asked me to let him work part-time, I thought he just needed allowance money. I didn’t know there was this behind it.

He had kept his donation a secret.

“He’s a model student at school too. A really unique guy.”

“You should come to our church too. Even if you're busy, just once a month.”

“I’ll think about it.”

I wasn’t interested in religion.

To be precise, I didn’t believe in god at all.

If there really was a god, then the villains of my past life wouldn’t have lived so well, and good people wouldn’t be struggling at the bottom now.

Not that I needed spiritual comfort, either.

More than anything, I didn’t have time.

“Cheonmyeong.”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s make a different promise.”

She held out her pinky finger.

“What kind of promise?”

“A promise to become someone who is respected.”

“That’s out of the blue.”

“You’re going to earn a lot of money in the future. I just hope you don’t become a nouveau riche. I think it would be amazing if you became a businessman that everyone respects.”

It felt like a scalpel had carved into my heart.

Because it was like she was targeting my past self.

But my thoughts had changed now, so I agreed without hesitation.

“I promise.”

“This time, keep your promise.”

“Got it.”

Woo Ah‑mi said with a bright smile.

“I believe in you.”

The second promise I made with Woo Ah‑mi.

I couldn’t guarantee the future, but I didn’t want to disappoint her.

A person who constantly gave me courage and support.

So different from the wife in my past life, I wanted to hold onto her tightly.