CH65 | MCT

A Toast with a New Colleague (3)

Han Cheong-ho’s Study.

Han Cheong-ho sat in his chair, gazing out the window.

Knock, knock.

"Come in."

"Father, you called for me?"

A tall and handsome young man entered.

His pale complexion, cold and sinister eyes, and thin lips gave him an air of cruelty.

He was Han Il-kwon, Han Cheong-ho’s son.

"Why are you still out at this hour instead of staying home?"

"Father, I’m in my prime."

"It’s the middle of the night. Do you even know how long past curfew it is?"

"Father, I’m an adult. It’s not like I stayed out until sunrise. Why are you nitpicking?"

His eyes gleamed.

A murderer’s eyes.

"What were you doing until now?"

"Eating, meeting some friends, having fun with some girls—just the usual."

"With Kim Bong-nam’s son?"

"Why do you keep asking questions when you already know the answers?"

The two worked in sync, carrying out malicious deeds with calculated precision.

Most of the time, Il-kwon was the mastermind, while Kim Bong-nam’s son handled the dirty work.

"I heard you caused quite a mess this time."

"A mess? We were just having some clean fun. Clean fun."

"That’s not what Secretary Song said. Care to explain yourself properly?"

"What did Secretary Song say?"

"He said you and Kim Bong-nam’s son turned a girl into a complete wreck."

"Our Secretary Song sure does his job well."

Standing in the corner, Secretary Song flinched.

"I took care of everything—silencing mouths, throwing money around, even cleaning up the aftermath—but somehow, you still found out. How interesting."

"I-I… I…"

Secretary Song swallowed dryly, his face pale with fear.

He was the one who had taken the abandoned girl to the emergency room, arranged for her treatment, apologized on their behalf, and even provided a generous sum to silence the matter.

"Aww, why so scared? It’s not like I said I’d toss you into the Han River right this second."

Despite the casual tone, his eyes were icy cold.

He couldn’t do it now—but someday, he would.

And Secretary Song knew it.

"Father, you have plenty of money. Why not use it when it's needed? It’s not like you can take it to the grave with you. How much does it really cost to shut up a few little pests?"

He was the only son.

The heir to everything.

"How many times has this happened now?!"

Han Il-kwon remained unfazed.

"Father, you see, I simply can’t stand vermin pretending to be human."

He lifted his hand and mimicked a crawling insect with his fingers.

"A cockroach scurries across my body. A mosquito keeps buzzing in my ear. Annoying, right? Infuriating, even. And what do we do? We squash them."

He chuckled.

"People are no different. I find these little pests disgusting. The ones who hover around me always seem to forget their place. And without fail, they always do something to deserve what’s coming to them. Ugh."

"Shut up, you bastard! Do you even hear yourself?!"

Han Cheong-ho grabbed whatever was within reach and hurled it.

A book flew through the air, slammed into the wall, and fell to the floor.

A thin cut appeared on Il-kwon’s cheek, a trickle of blood running down his face.

"You little shit, you don’t even have the decency to look ashamed? You wanna get smacked around, too?!"

Seething, Han Cheong-ho grabbed a golf club and swung it.

Crash!

The porcelain Joseon whiteware beside Il-kwon shattered into pieces.

"On your knees, you miserable brat!"

He swung the golf club again—this time, aiming for Il-kwon’s head.

Il-kwon dropped to his knees just in time.

Whoosh—

The club narrowly missed his hair.

Had he been a second slower, his skull would have been split open.

"I’ve had it with you! Keep pulling this kind of crap, and I swear I’ll be the one to kill you! Do you hear me? Enough is enough!"

"Alright, alright. Father, you sure are strong for your age."

Il-kwon grinned.

"So, what’s really got you so worked up today?"

“Do you know Kang Tae-soo or not?”

“Kang Tae-soo?”

So, was Father angry because of him?

“I don’t.”

“You really don’t? Swear you don’t know him?”

“I swear. I’ve never even heard the name before.”

“Get out! Get out and think it over again! If you remember anything, come back in!”

Crash!

Han Cheong began tearing apart the study.

***

Stepping out, he saw Secretary Song standing there, pale as a sheet.

Il-kwon’s eyes gleamed.

“Secretary Song, is there something you want to tell me?”

Song shuddered slightly.

“I think I need to learn everything there is to know about Kang Tae-soo—properly.”

***

Pohang Steel CEO’s Office.

Park Tae-jong set the phone down.

“Hm. So, Kang Tae-soo pulled off something big this time.”

“Our CEO did?”

His son, Park Cheol-wan—who had been waiting with him to leave work—perked up.

“He’s handling the road construction in the Middle East well, right? That highway is supposed to be the lifeline of the western region. And I heard he’s done a major overhaul of Yanbu Port, making it larger and deeper.”

Cheol-wan clenched his fists.

“I really wanted to follow him to the Middle East. Imagine laying the foundation for oil distribution, tracing the Red Sea down through the desert with my own hands.”

Park Tae-jong chuckled at his son’s enthusiasm.

“You’re something else. But apparently, Kang Tae-soo was in real danger this time.”

“Danger? Did he run into bandits in the desert or something?”

“Not bandits—an assassin.”

“What?!”

And not just any assassin—one sent by Han Cheong-ho.

A masked intruder had broken into Kang Tae-soo’s lodging in the dead of night and fired a gun at him.

“This won’t do. Kang Tae-soo’s safety is clearly at risk.”

Park Tae-jong picked up the phone again.

The moment the call connected, he got straight to the point.

“It’s me, Park Tae-jong. I need to hire someone.”

Someone reliable.

A man who keeps his mouth shut, values loyalty, and possesses exceptional skills.

“That guy… hasn’t been discharged yet? I’d like to offer him a good job.”

His flaws were evident, but so were his strengths.

***

We will take down Cheong-il.

We will secure the Jubail industrial port project.

The moment Tae-soo spoke, Jang Jun-yong slapped his knee.

“That’s exactly it! I knew you’d give me the answer I wanted!”

His delight was obvious.

And Tae-soo felt the same.

He now had an ally in his battle against Han Cheong-ho of Cheong-il.

Standing before him was someone ready to fight alongside him—how could he not be pleased?

But there was one thing Han Cheong-ho had overlooked.

“Connections alone don’t get things done. They’re just one of many means.”

Relying on them too much would be a mistake.

“Ah, so you understand. Han Cheong-ho’s favorite tactic is just that—using connections. It’s been an effective strategy throughout history, both in the East and the West.”

School ties, regional ties, blood ties.

Bribery and lobbying.

In the end, everything came down to people—people who could be bought and made to act in his favor.

That was how Han Cheong-ho operated.

“Chairman Jang, there’s something I need you to do.”

“Something I need to do?”

Jang Jun-yong’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

It seemed he still regretted not being able to win over the King of Saudi Arabia directly.

“Draw Han Cheong-ho’s attention.”

“To where?”

“The Jubail industrial port project.”

Jang Jun-yong smirked.

“Is that really necessary? Han Cheong-ho is already fixated on Jubail.”

“We need to push him further—fuel his greed until it consumes him completely.”

Tae-soo picked up a piece of fruit and held it high.

“He’s confident because the odds are in his favor.”

After all, he had secured both the Minister of Finance and the Minister of Construction.

Tae-soo let the fruit drop from his hand.

“But the higher the expectations, the greater the disappointment. The harder the fall, the bigger the impact. And if you crash onto dirt, you’ll be covered in dust.”

He relished the thought.

Just how devastating would Han Cheong-ho’s failure be?

Jang Jun-yong quickly caught on.

“You want to stoke his greed—to push him higher and higher, filling him with hope and confidence, until he can’t see anything else. Like a moth flying straight into the flame.”

“Exactly. And I hope that moth burns to death.”

“Which part should I exploit?”

“His competitiveness, his inferiority complex, his fear, his paranoia, his anxieties—shake them all.”

Tae-soo was clear.

“I want a desperate Han Cheong-ho to throw money around like water in an attempt to win this project.”

If he got too caught up in the fight against Geumsan’s Jang Jun-yong, he’d panic and start throwing even more money at more people—desperately trying to secure his victory.

‘I want Han Cheong-ho to be utterly ruined. I want him to lose both his money and this project.’

And he would take him down—alongside Geumsan’s Jang Jun-yong.

“I’ll meet with the King of Saudi Arabia and try to win him over.”

“Can you do it? It won’t be easy.”

“If there’s no path, I’ll find one. And if I can’t find one, I’ll carve my own.”

Tae-soo grinned.

"I, too, enjoy rewriting history—just like you, Chairman."

History is rewritten when the impossible is achieved.

But this wasn’t reckless ambition.

Tae-soo had his reasons to be confident.

‘The bid for the Jubail industrial port project is in 1975. Construction begins in 1976.’

That was why he was so sure.

Han Cheong-ho’s lifeline was nothing more than a rotten rope.

‘Khalid ascends as the next king in March 1975. The decision for the Jubail industrial port project will be his.’

The current king would be assassinated in 1975—meeting a tragic and untimely end.

And after that, it would be Khalid who took the throne.

The powerful Minister of Defense, who had solidified his influence through the Middle Eastern wars, would eliminate his rivals and seize power.

‘Rahman is Khalid’s son. And the connection Jang Jun-yong holds—Abdullah—is Khalid’s right-hand man.’

Tae-soo understood now.

In his past life, it wasn’t Han Cheong-ho but Jang Jun-yong who had secured the Jubail industrial port project.

Han Cheong-ho had been outmatched—even in terms of connections.

‘Han Cheong-ho, you will taste bitter defeat once again.’

And this time, Jang Jun-yong had asked Tae-soo for a favor.

‘But he didn’t ask me to win over the current king.’

The man Jang Jun-yong needed to secure wasn’t just some minister or official.

It was none other than the future King of Saudi Arabia.

‘The one who will decide the Jubail industrial port project is Khalid—Rahman’s father.’

What once seemed impossible had now become feasible.

And that feasibility was quickly turning into a near certainty.

‘I suppose I’ll have to pester my good friend Rahman to introduce me to his father.’

If you visit a friend’s house, it’s only natural to meet his father.

Jang Jun-yong extended his hand.

“We must win the Jubail industrial port project—at all costs.”

Tae-soo firmly shook his hand.

“Then we shall share in the glory of victory.”

Jang Jun-yong raised his other hand, holding a glass of liquor.

“A toast—to our alliance.”

Tae-soo raised his glass and clinked it against Jang Jun-yong’s.

“A toast—to welcoming a comrade who will walk this difficult path with me.”

Clink.

A crisp, clear sound rang out.

***

Han Cheong-ho's Study

A telegram had arrived from Saudi Arabia.

- The planning process for the Jubail industrial port project is accelerating.

- At this pace, the bidding announcement could be made as early as two years from now, or at the latest, three.

- We've identified a local company willing to sponsor Cheong-il.

- The Saudi Ministers of Finance and Construction are both backing this project.

- Who do you think the winner will be? Perhaps the one reading this telegram with a smile on his face right now?

Upon reading it, Han Cheong-ho burst into rare laughter.

“Hahaha! The Jubail industrial port project is as good as mine!”

A massive $1 billion undertaking.

The oil industry’s new mecca—Jubail, on Saudi Arabia’s eastern coast.

And that grand project would be accomplished by none other than Han Cheong-ho and Cheong-il Construction.