Chapter 10: Chaebol (1)
What happens to the chaebols when the world ends?
It's a subject that any Korean would be curious about.
Recently, a highly active community user, 'Mr. Reporter', shared an update on one chaebol family.
gijayangban: Discovered the hideout of Seokju Group Chairman Park Chul-ju! Chul-ju hyung is so badass~ Damn~
The update on the chaebol posted by Mr. Reporter was enough to plunge us doomsday preppers into despair all at once.
On a gentle slope, they had built a concrete fortress capable of easily housing dozens of people, and established a self-sustaining ecosystem within it that could handle everything from agriculture to manufacturing and entertainment.
The moment I saw the miniature golf course inside the fortress captured by a drone, an exclamation burst out of me involuntarily.
"...Wow."
As expected of a chaebol.
So if your assets are in the trillions, you can build something like that.
I wasn't particularly envious.
Because I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I could never imitate it.
Aside from Park Chul-ju, whom Mr. Reporter posted about, South Korea's leading chaebols prepared for the disaster by building fortresses similar to or slightly lesser than his.
Few chaebols left Korea; not only was it just as unsafe abroad, but the bigger reason was likely that the clout that worked for them in Korea wouldn't work overseas.
Most of them abandoned their corporate groups.
They demoted themselves from modern monarchs commanding thousands or tens of thousands of employees to the heads of single families to ensure their survival.
That might have been the rational choice in this doomed world, but there were those who chose a different path.
After my first visit, I tried to visit Seoul at least once every two months.
Every time I went, the surrounding scenery became drearier, more miserable, and above all, more dangerous.
Whenever I entered Seoul, I passed through Gangnam. Gangnam, once one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in South Korea, had now decayed into a refugee camp filled with all sorts of tents and crude makeshift buildings.
Every time I entered the refugee camp, where the number of tents seemed to shrink with each visit, there was a makeshift building that caught my eye.
The crumbling makeshift building bore a signboard that was in better condition than the building itself.
[Papung]
One of the chaebols that once had the South Korean economy in the palm of its hand.
The time this makeshift building was erected was about a year and four months ago from now, which was three months after the war broke out.
While passing through the bustling refugee camp, I saw countless people gathered like a cloud, and when I went over to check, a delicious smell was indeed permeating the air.
After asking around, I found out it was a free soup kitchen set up by the Papung Group using their own private funds.
Operating a soup kitchen when the economy is functioning properly and operating one when trade is paralyzed are on completely different levels.
Papung established and operated several of these soup kitchens at key points in Seoul.
Even if Papung was a leading chaebol, wouldn't this be a bit overwhelming?
Since I had nothing else to do anyway, I waited in line for a full two hours. For some reason, they served sliced boiled pork and beef soup with rice—a menu you'd typically see at a funeral home—but it was quite tasty, and they even provided half a paper cup of soju to adults.
When I'm in my bunker, I don't even smoke, let alone drink, but here, I gladly accepted and drank it.
"Khh~!"
I, Bak Gyu, was such a lightweight man that I transformed into a Papung fanboy over a bowl of beef soup and a shot of soju!
However, while eating, dark and insidious rumors quite different from my own thoughts were circulating around me.
"That Chairman bastard. Looks like he's trying to get into politics."
"It's obvious just by looking."
"Spending money like this in times like these means he has ulterior motives, right? Comforting the citizens, my ass."
Honestly, it was grating to hear.
If you ate well in these difficult times, you should at least be thankful; why keep doubting someone else's intentions?
It's not like they live their lives purely out of goodwill either.
Having received the grace of Papung, even if it was just a shot of soju, I wanted to say a word to them, but thinking it over, I realized I didn't have that level of loyalty, so I suppressed the urge and held back.
After roughly cooling my anger and leaving the dining area, something caught my eye.
"I am Je Pung-ho."
An older man wearing a well-ironed suit trouser under an active jumper, accompanied by people forcing smiles, was continuously greeting and shaking hands with the people who came to eat the soup, making his name known.
"Did you enjoy your meal? I am Je Pung-ho."
Je Pung-ho.
The owner of the Papung Group.
Behind him stood dignified men with similar physiognomy to his, along with neat young men and pretty young ladies—presumably his children—standing in order of hierarchy with awkward expressions.
As if possessed by a ghost, I headed in that direction.
My intention was to shake hands with a chaebol family's young lady.
But when I actually got there, the young ladies had stepped back, and the one who actually grasped my hand was Je Pung-ho with his energetic physiognomy.
"I am Je Pung-ho."
It was my first time seeing an actual chaebol head this close and even shaking hands.
When I first saw him, I learned for the first time that a non-Hunter's eyes could shine so brightly.
Moreover, his hands were rough and hard, and I felt an unknown power beyond mere grip strength in his hand itself.
According to what I heard later, it seemed a National Assembly election was coming up soon.
Not because all the assembly members were dead, but because their terms had already expired.
However, the fact that the mortality rate of South Korean National Assembly members was a mere 1% in a war where 18% of the South Korean population evaporated foreshadowed significant consequences in a way.
After getting a free meal of beef soup, I arrived at the base of a building.
This building belonged to the National Crisis Overcome Committee. Abbreviated as NCOC.
This extra-legal organization, called the modern equivalent of the Border Defense Council, was the most powerful and influential institution in South Korea since the outbreak of the war.
My main reason for visiting Seoul was because I had many acquaintances positioned in the NCOC.
In fact, I had gained a lot of benefits from it.
Not to mention the most crucial information, I got walkie-talkies, military frequencies, Spam, cooking oil holiday gift sets, and so on.
There were unusually few people that day.
In particular, the female employee I usually asked for favors was absent.
While I was exchanging nods with a guard whose face I knew and wandering around, a person I had never seen before in my life spoke to me.
"Do you have a moment?"
An expressionless face and dead eyes, with an extremely businesslike tone and posture.
My first impression was cold.
"What is it?"
"You must be aware of the recent situation on the front lines. Due to increasingly intensifying battles, we are currently short on troops, especially competent troops capable of enduring the war..."
Sure enough, he seemed to be a recruiter.
Due to the nature of the war, the quality of the troops became more important than the quantity, so instead of drafting just anyone, they reportedly approached physically fit and promising-looking people and randomly pitched to them.
I seemed to have caught this man's eye, but I had absolutely no intention of going to the front lines.
"It's a bit awkward to say this with my own mouth, but if I had the capability, would I be coming here to sell my connections and beg?"
I tried to counter rather confidently.
"I see you used to be a Hunter back in the day."
Well, it didn't work at all.
Sighing, I asked.
"Who sent you? Is it Director Lee Sang-hun?"
If it was Lee Sang-hun, I planned to go find him and give him a piece of my mind.
"No. It's Commissioner Kim Da-ram."
"Kim Da-ram?"
It was a name I hadn't heard in a long time.
A junior of mine.
She was someone who particularly followed me well.
I think she might have even liked me.
In my memory, I only recall her being unnecessarily overly motivated while being naive, constantly messing things up and relying on me. But thinking that way would be too dismissive of the passage of time.
"Senior Bak."
Could a person change this much in just 5 years?
She wasn't exactly young back then either, but she retained a somewhat girlish heart. Now, she had transformed into a haggard-looking administrator who looked so hopelessly cold-blooded that not a drop of water, let alone blood, would come out if you pricked her.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
I could tell just by hearing her voice.
This person was an entirely different creature from the kind junior I used to know.
On her desk, a picture taken with her husband and child was prominently displayed.
She had become a mother.
That Kim Da-ram.
"I know your personality, Senior, so I'll keep it short. Help me just this once."
"I want to say 'Why should I help?', but I probably shouldn't, right?"
"Do you want to be dragged away by the state? Or do you want to live freely like you do now?"
"Didn't we make a deal that I wouldn't serve again?"
"Do you think such a promise holds up in today's world?"
The difference between my deadpan face and my junior's incredulous face seemed to represent the gap between the reality I had in mind and actual reality.
Wearing a bitter smile, I avoided her gaze.
"...I have to live freely."
"Then help me just this once. I made a deal with Lee Sang-hun to call it even with this."
"Lee Sang-hun did?"
"Don't hold any grudges, he doesn't care about you personally. He's someone who looks at numbers now, not individuals."
"It seems the world changes when you become a high-ranking official."
"You know perfectly well that we are short on people, don't you, Senior? And what's happening on the front lines?"
Having maintained an expressionless face for the most part, she now glared straight at me with a mix of slight reproach.
"..."
A bitter taste flowed into my mouth.
I know it too.
What's happening at the borders.
And that I am not entirely honorable.
In the desolate silence, Kim Da-ram shifted her gaze back to the documents.
"Je Pung-ho."
"Je Pung-ho?"
The face of the man with exceptionally sparkling eyes and a strange grip strength amidst the aroma of beef soup flashed vividly before my eyes like a painting.
"That man says he's going to hunt monsters with his own people."
She handed over a document.
"This is."
If the contents of the report were true, it was an absurd operation.
No, it was mass suicide disguised as an operation.
Even before I could speak, my quick-witted junior said coldly without looking at me.
"Just go through the motions."
I knew my junior had changed, but the change in a junior who used to be so affectionate and sweet seeped rather bitterly into my heart.
"This is the last time."
"As long as I'm alive, I'll stop you from being dragged to the front lines."
"...Thanks."
Still, it seemed her true nature hadn't changed.
Just as I was about to turn around, harboring both the bitterness of life and the rare emotion blooming within it simultaneously.
"Senior."
Kim Da-ram called me.
"How come you don't look like you've aged a day?"
I didn't reply to those words.
It was a month later that I met Je Pung-ho again.
The meeting place was the Papung Group headquarters building, allegedly designed by a world-renowned British architect.
Papung's headquarters survived the nuclear attack, but due to issues with the power system and elevators, I had to ride a temporary construction elevator installed outdoors, ascending at a sluggish speed to the formidable height of the 55th floor, instead of the grand high-speed elevators inside.
"Ugh."
It was freezing cold.
In the group conference room, where once only those who wielded considerable power in South Korea could enter, a group of people dressed in suits, besides me, were keeping to their respective seats.
Seeing them wearing employee ID cards, they appeared to be employees within the group; it seems the corporate group maintained some semblance of structure even though export routes were blocked.
Suddenly, I became curious.
Are they getting paid? Are they getting those performance bonuses their employees used to brag about?
Je Pung-ho, who had been shaking hands with everyone with a good-natured expression at the free soup kitchen, was sitting with his back turned in the center seat furthest away in the conference room.
He showed no reaction even when I entered.
Instead, the one who dealt with me was an intellectual-looking man in his mid-50s who appeared to be a secretary.
"You are Mr. Bak Gyu, right? I heard you used to be a Hunter."
He briefly interviewed me.
Career, combat experience, rank, and so on.
Most of my records were expunged anyway.
I said whatever came to mind.
"I'm D-rank. I've stood in front of a gate before and have some combat experience, but I was never the main force."
Je Pung-ho let out a dry cough filled with clear signs of discomfort.
I didn't particularly care.
What I was curious about was the reason.
Why a person serving as the head of a chaebol would suddenly set out on a monster hunt.
No matter if it's a world where trade is cut off and business operations are impossible, isn't this too drastic a change of industry?
Unfortunately, none of the suits answered my question.
From the moment I revealed my meager resume, to them, I, Bak Gyu, was stamped as something akin to office equipment.
A moment later.
"You may leave."
Without ever getting a chance to speak, I was politely dismissed from the conference room.
Well, I didn't really have anything to say anyway.
But I did have one question.
In the hallway, another group of people with a different atmosphere from the conference room had gathered in small clusters. When I grabbed the most approachable-looking person and asked, he just smirked and nodded, saying nothing as if he were a foreigner.
Realizing roughly how I was being treated, I kept my mouth shut. Then, someone unexpectedly approached me.
"What's the matter?"
A young lady of delicate age.
A face I remembered.
She was one of the contingent of youths who had stood like bridesmaids behind Je Pung-ho when he was shaking hands at the soup kitchen.
I remembered her because she was quite a beauty.
"I have a question to ask. Would that be okay?"
When I first saw her in the hallway, she had a cold impression that made her seem unapproachable, but when I actually spoke to her, she quickly put on a trained smile and responded kindly.
"You're asking why the Chairman is doing something like hunting monsters?"
Unfortunately, unlike the others, she wasn't wearing an ID card, so I couldn't know her name, but based on her appearance, she seemed to be around the Chairman's granddaughter or niece.
She thought for a moment, looked around to confirm no one was there, and then explained the inside story with a sigh.
"You know the Chairman was planning to run for the National Assembly election a while ago, right?"
"Yes."
"That fell through."
"Why?"
"Because the incumbent lawmakers extended their terms essentially indefinitely."
"Oh my."
I found out later that it was practically unanimous.
They say there were two abstentions, but in my view, those guys are even more disgusting scumbags.
"The Chairman's plans went awry. He had been providing no small amount of support to both the ruling and opposition parties. From providing conveniences to individual lawmakers to repairing the damaged parliament building. So when the group protested, the National Assembly replied that if we reclaimed one currently vacant electoral district, they would secure a seat for him. That's how things turned out."
"Is that 'electoral district' the place we are going to?"
"I'm not going. The Chairman and his loyal subjects will go."
Unlike my first impression, she didn't seem like a Papung person.
While I was at it, I asked.
"Me? I'm not from the Papung family. To be precise, I'm someone beneath them. My father is the CEO of a primary subcontractor."
She sighed and glared at the conference room door with resentful eyes.
"...What lingering attachment is there to an already ruined group."
Only then did I understand.
That this woman had no lingering attachment to Papung whatsoever.
On the contrary, she even harbored a clear hostility toward Papung.
Once the floodgates opened, she poured out the words she had been holding in her heart as if she had been waiting.
"They are all out of their minds. It's not a blood relation but merely an employment transaction, so why is everyone acting like it's before the war?"
"Well..."
"Excuse me."
The woman's eyes suddenly sparkled.
"You're a Hunter, right?"
"Not anymore."
"I have a favor to ask."
She took a long stride forward.
The subtle scent of perfume that had only faintly drifted over now pierced the tip of my nose.
"Could you please stop my father?"
She pressed her father's business card into my hand.
"Please tell him to stop this crazy act."
At that moment, the door to the conference room opened.
The one leading the way was Je Pung-ho.
With a serious and stern face, wide eyes ready to gleam at any moment staring straight ahead, he walked down the hallway with unhesitating, large strides.
Behind him, over a dozen suits followed silently, each wearing their own expressions.
The company executive who had dealt with me earlier saw me and spoke bluntly.
"Hunter Bak, let's go."
"Do I have to go too?"
"Yes."
I looked back toward the woman who had conversed with me.
Countless people passed between me and her, but her gaze was directed solely at me.
I hesitated for a moment, but that time wasn't long.
"It might not work out well."
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