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CH60 | MCT
🕑 Added 2025-04-21 13:51:43 +0000 UTCPreparing to Hunt Cheongil (2)
Tae-soo looked into Han-soo’s eyes with earnest desperation.
He hoped Han-soo would change his mind.
"If he still refuses to yield… there’s nothing I can do. That must be his fate."
Jininsa Daecheonmyeong (盡人事待天命).
"Do your best and leave the rest to fate."
This was the extent of Tae-soo’s persuasion.
The final decision lay with Han-soo.
After a long silence, Han-soo nodded.
"Alright. I’ll do it. This is the hand I’ve been dealt—there’s no use fighting it."
His gaze was firm, filled with resolve.
"If I must be a blade, I’ll wield it for my family. For you, Hyung."
"Thank you."
"Better to save a company than to take lives."
"That’s right."
Tae-soo was genuinely relieved.
"Keeping Han-soo on a short leash would be a waste of talent—and unfair to him."
Tae-soo patted Han-soo’s shoulder.
"But Hyung, this work is too dull for me. The same repetitive cycle every day—it doesn’t suit me."
"I know. Actually, I have just the thing for you."
Han-soo’s eyes lit up.
"What is it?"
"A machete."
Tae-soo smirked.
"This time, you’ll be cutting a path through the jungle."
This job—he would leave to Han-soo.
"Go to America and start a company."
"A company? What kind of company?"
"An investment firm."
Tae-soo planned to move the inflated wealth from the oil shock.
"If I suddenly show up with an enormous amount of money, I’ll become an easy target."
Everyone knew the cost of the highway construction project.
But if Tae-soo funneled even more money into apartment construction?
He would draw too much suspicion.
"I need to launder the funds."
Through this investment firm, he would repackage his money.
From the outside, it would look like borrowed capital rather than his own.
"And one more thing… It’s time to prepare for the hunt."
Tae-soo would erase his tracks and move quietly, unseen.
Like a predator stalking its prey.
His next target—Cheongil Refinery.
Tae-soo’s goal was clear—
Use the oil shock to bring down Cheongil Refinery.
"Something interesting is bound to happen."
He and Han-soo spent a long time strategizing.
***
Outside Han Cheong-ho’s study, Secretary Song waited patiently.
CRASH!
The sound of something shattering echoed from inside.
"It’s taking longer than usual today."
Which meant Han Cheong-ho’s fury was even greater than expected.
And for good reason.
The men he had sent to bury Kang Tae-soo in the Middle Eastern desert had all returned empty-handed.
But that alone wouldn’t have made him this enraged.
"The spies Chairman Han spent years carefully planting… wiped out in one sweep."
A devastating loss.
How much money had been funneled into them?
"He lost informants who had been feeding him intel from the president’s inner circle."
His eyes and ears—gone.
Rebuilding them would take time. And a fortune.
"Where did it all go wrong?"
There was no clear answer.
After a long silence, the study grew quiet.
"Come in."
At Han Cheong-ho’s command, Secretary Song stepped inside.
As expected, the study was in complete disarray.
"They were all driven out, weren’t they?"
"Yes."
He was referring to the spies that had been exposed.
Being expelled was the inevitable consequence.
Strictly speaking, though, they hadn’t simply been “driven out.”
"They were taken to the Central Intelligence Agency’s interrogation room."
Song’s voice was calm but heavy.
"No doubt they’ll point the finger at us. What should we do?"
"Cut off the tail."
The "tail" referred to was not Han Cheong-ho himself, but the Cheongil employees who had recruited the special agents.
Han Cheong-ho chuckled.
"The dead don’t talk. If the ones who took the money are dead, who would dare accuse me? I know nothing."
A chill ran down Secretary Song’s spine.
"A ruthless man. One day, that could be me."
Han Cheong-ho’s anger soon turned elsewhere.
"Cha Ki-beom played it smart."
It had to be his doing.
He had used the Middle Eastern situation as an excuse to purge unwanted elements.
"That’s why he insisted on personally selecting the special agents to be sent there."
It was likely Park Tae-jong had been involved as well.
Cha Ki-beom had made his move early, planning the purge in advance.
"I may have lost this round, but next time, I won’t."
Spies could always be planted again.
Who in this world would refuse money?
Loyalty? Honor? Brotherhood?
Those things faded in the face of wealth.
"Find the right people. We’ll need to drug them if necessary."
"Understood."
This operation had already cost a fortune, and now it was going to cost several times more.
Secretary Song spoke up.
"On Friday, May 11th, His Excellency has invited you to a luncheon at the Blue House."
"Three days from now?"
"Yes."
Han Cheong-ho nodded.
"Prepare a gift box of apples and have it loaded into the trunk."
"Understood."
***
Tae-soo’s plan had Han-soo’s full support.
"This sounds like it'll be really fun."
"It won’t be easy settling down in the U.S."
"That’s fine. It’s a challenge worth taking."
"I’d like to send someone reliable and capable with you."
But no one came to mind.
Who would be the right choice?
"Hyung, don’t worry so much. I can take my guys with me."
"They’ve never been to the U.S. either. You need someone who knows the place."
"We’ll find trustworthy people once we’re there."
"That’s exactly what makes it difficult."
Tae-soo sighed.
But thinking too much wouldn’t solve the problem.
In the end, he had to trust Han-soo.
"Han-soo, come with me to Myeong-dong tomorrow. We’ll meet Elder Jang Mal-dong. I’ll formally introduce you."
Han-soo frowned in confusion.
"Why? I’ve already met him before."
"That was different. This time, you’ll have a new business card, and you’ll be working with him."
"Working with Elder Jang?"
"We’re starting an investment firm in the U.S., but the real reason aligns with something bigger. I plan to team up with him to take down a certain someone."
Before dealing with Han Cheong-il, there was another target to eliminate first.
If he proposed taking this man down together, Jang Mal-dong would surely agree.
"Alright, let’s go."
"Thanks. We’re leaving tomorrow morning, so be ready."
Tae-soo playfully tapped Han-soo’s shoulder.
Han-soo’s eyebrows shot up.
"Are you getting stronger or something?"
"It’s just your imagination."
"No, I swear you’re hitting bone now."
"Imagination."
"Ow! The collarbone is off-limits!"
For the first time in a while, the brothers wrestled like they used to.
After a bit of roughhousing, they both broke into laughter.
"You sure have a way with words, Hyung. You talk so fancy, I ended up getting swept along."
Han-soo shook his head with a smirk.
"At the end of the day, I guess I’m meant to be a blade no matter what."
"You said it yourself—this is just who you are, what you're good at, what you were born for. Right?"
"First, I was a scalpel, then a machete. What’s next? A kitchen knife?"
"If you want, sure. Want to shout it out? 'I’m going to be the King of Cooking!'"
Han-soo's brow twitched.
"Nope. Not today. Today, I’m a butcher’s knife. Time to get some blood on my hands."
"Ack! A cheap shot to the ribs?"
And just like that, the brothers were at each other’s throats again.
What started as playful banter quickly turned intense.
Yet, somehow, they still found themselves laughing.
"Han-soo, let me ask you something. Answer me honestly."
"Go ahead."
"Who put the idea of joining the Central Intelligence Agency in your head?"
Han-soo’s expression hardened.
As expected.
No ordinary person would casually mention "Central Intelligence Agency" by name.
"Who was it?"
"The accountant."
"The accountant?"
Tae-soo hadn’t seen that coming.
"She brought it up first. Then the miners from Pohang Steel backed her up, saying I had a sharp mind and would rise quickly in the ranks."
Even the miners from Pohang Steel?
It made sense—they were former special forces.
Transitioning from the military to the intelligence agency was a common path.
But the accountant?
A bookkeeper who spent her days stapling receipts and balancing ledgers?
And she was the first to suggest it?
'I’ll have to ask her about that later.'
But that wasn’t the priority right now.
'Now that I’m back, it’s time to secure my foundation. The hunt for Cheong-il begins.'
There was a lot to prepare.
Cheong-il was a massive corporation—too big to take down in one strike.
It had to be dismantled piece by piece.
Starting with its pillars.
'Choi Mu-ryong and Chomyeong Bank… can they withstand what’s coming?'
First, Tae-soo would shake their financial foundation.
Tomorrow's meeting with Jang Mal-dong couldn’t come soon enough.
***
As usual, Jang Mal-dong sat atop a silk cushion, lazily fanning himself.
Tae-soo plopped onto the floor and spoke.
"Elder, have you been well?"
"How is it that the brat I sent to the Middle East is already back? The men I sent with you haven’t sent word yet."
A loaded remark.
And understandable.
As soon as Jang had turned his loan sharks into mercenaries, Tae-soo had snatched them up.
Shipped them off.
To the Middle East.
"Because I handed them over to you, I find myself short-handed. A troublesome predicament for an old man like me."
"Ah, that's unfortunate. But I’m afraid you’ll find yourself even more troubled. I’ve brought you a pile of work."
"Work?"
Jang’s eyes gleamed mischievously as he snapped his fan shut.
The man in the hanbok beside him pricked his ears.
"Something is about to go down in the Middle East."
"Something? What kind of something?"
"Something you’ll like. A money-making something. A factory-reviving something. Something that’ll keep your hands even busier."
Growing impatient, Jang slammed his fan onto the table.
"Enough teasing. Out with it."
"You recall the goods I bought from you? There’s someone who wants to buy a lot more of them."
Goods?
Jang’s expression shifted.
"You’re not planning some kind of terrorist attack in the Middle East, are you?"
"Not me. But the Saudi government just might."
"What?"
"I have a good grasp of the situation. Elder, why don’t you be honest with me? You’ve been secretly supplying Egypt and Syria, haven’t you?"
"W-What…!"
Jang darted a glance at the man in the hanbok.
The man's eyes sharpened.
‘Impressive… A guy who was supposed to be building roads in the Middle East sure has sharp ears.’
How the hell did Tae-soo know?
‘Eyes and ears overseas too? That backer of his is no ordinary man. We’ve tried to uncover him, but he’s a ghost.’
The man in hanbok narrowed his gaze.
A hidden mastermind, unseen even to the most relentless information brokers.
"Quite the backet you've got"
Tae-soo’s backer was the future itself.
That’s what made it powerful.
That’s why it left no trace.
"The Saudi government will soon get wind of it."
"W-What are you talking about?"
"The arms Egypt and Syria have been buying. With such massive quantities moving under the radar, it’s only a matter of time before they catch on."
This wasn’t just small-scale arms smuggling—selling a few guns here and there.
Arming an entire military required an enormous supply.
An official military buildup would draw global attention.
That’s why Egyptian President Sadat played it both ways.
‘First, he issued a blatant declaration of war—mobilizing troops and making a show of boosting military spending. But in reality, the actual arms budget hardly increased. If it had, all hell would’ve broken loose.’
Forget words. Money tells the real story.
Sadat was spending only a fraction of his budget on legal arms deals.
So, to the world, his threats seemed like empty bluffs.
The smart ones thought they had him figured out.
‘What they didn’t know was that he was funneling a fortune into the black market.’
If the true scale of Egypt and Syria’s arms deals ever came to light, panic would be unavoidable.
One of the key suppliers?
Jang Mal-dong.
An old weapons factory that had once funded the independence movement had survived and grown fat over the years.
Through the Pacific War. The Korean War. Vietnam.
And now—onto the Middle East.
‘The Middle Eastern war wasn’t fully exposed until long after it started. Cheong-il Group’s intelligence network is sharper than I thought.’
A bitter realization.
‘When will I ever catch up to Cheong-il’s financial and intelligence might?’
Decades of wealth.
An endless pool of elite talent.
Tae-soo was only just beginning.
‘I’ll take them down. One by one.’
His prey was larger. Stronger.
A real hunter would go for the kill in one swift strike.
But that wasn’t an option here.
So what was?
‘You go for the limbs first. Bleed them out. Wear them down. Trap them. Drain them.’
Tae-soo was setting the stage for his hunt.
His first target?
Cheong-il Refinery.
This was his hunt.
