The Former Chaebol Heir Excels as President

Chapter 3: The Chaebol Returns (3)

Kimchi and tofu soup was simmering.

Spinach and bracken.

That was all the side dishes.

It was exasperating.

Could they really not afford meat?

And besides, the rice was heavily mixed with barley.

Mom asked.

“Why? Feeling unwell?”

“Kind of.”

I resolved to live as Kang Cheonmyeong through the sleepless night.

In any case, I couldn’t go back now.

Mom furrowed her brows with worry.

“Eat and then go to the hospital.”

“Rest is fine. I’m not sick right now.”

“Still, I’m glad your memory is back. Phew. You don’t know how worried I was.”

“What were you thinking about late at night, Oppa?”

“What about?”

“Why are you sighing like an old man?”

Cunning.

Well, in that cramped room with four people sleeping, sighs were bound to be heard.

“It’s Lamaze breathing.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a technique. It calms both mind and body.”

“Whoosh\~ whoosh\~ like this?”

“Stop.”

“That’s odd. You were always so affectionate, now you seem like a different person.”

“That’s because Cheonmyeong is sensitive now. You’ll leave for work, Mom, so take your side dish from the cupboard for lunch.”

“Okay.”

Mom placed ₩3,000 on the table.

“Seriously, go to the hospital.”

“Okay.”

Mom slurped the kimchi broth coolly and left.

Sitting next to me, Kang Daemyeong wolfed down the rice mixed with broth as if possessed.

“Delicious.”

Though I’d decided to stay here, I still felt stifled.

Four people living in this tiny space was maddening enough, and now I had to care for a fool as well.

What made it even worse was the outdoor toilet.

Across the street, behind a wooden door.

It was locked, and every time someone needed to go, they had to bring the key.

It was a pathway people passed by—how embarrassing it was!

Just then, my stomach hurt.

“Hyung-ah, not eating?”

Grinning slyly, Kang Daemyeong looked at me.

“I don’t have an appetite.”

“Then I’ll eat it. Hehe.”

My bowl held amylase and kimchi broth.

It looked horrible to eat, yet Daemyeong ate it happily.

“Daemyeong, are you full now?”

That cheeky kid called out my second‑older‑brother’s name freely.

I was about to say something, then a memory surfaced.

Kang Daemyeong’s intelligence was only about that of a 6‑ to 7‑year‑old.

‘I thought acting like a friend would make Daemyeong more comfortable calling me “Hyung‑ah,” and he’d be more caring toward me.’

I think I’d told him something like that.

Daemyeong pounded his stomach and laughed until his eyes closed.

Even eating greens gave him strength, apparently.

I checked the toilet key hanging near the cupboard.

I could no longer suppress the urge to relieve myself.

“I’ll go to the bathroom.”

I took the key, opened the door slightly, checking for passersby.

I was too embarrassed to go in.

Someone passed.

Then another.

“Oppa! Still embarrassed? You used to go often without issue, and now this. Puberty?”

“I’m worried I’ll run into someone I know.”

“We’re not the only ones here. Hyung‑gyeong and Hyung‑min Oppa too.”

What kind of brat is this?

I saw no one, and darted toward the toilet.

My urgency made me fumble with the lock.

Damn!

Seeing the upward opening hole, my hands trembled further, so the key wouldn’t go in.

‘Please, let it open.’

At last, the key fit the keyhole and the latch turned.

“Cheonmyeong is so regular. You always poop at this time.”

Damn!

I wanted to disappear into a mouse hole.

---

Lying on the floor, I rubbed my stomach.

As soon as I entered the traditional toilet, I completely lost the urge to… you know.

A square hole in the cement floor.

It was practically overflowing with waste.

How could anyone use this?

At least it was winter—horrific to imagine using it when the weather warmed.

The stench, flies, mosquitoes, bugs everywhere.

“Oppa, what’s wrong? Your face is pale. Is your stomach still hurting?”

“Forget it.”

“You’ve gotten oddly unkind. Oppa, go to the hospital quickly. Can I go with you?”

“I told you I’m fine.”

I stood up, deciding to go to a public restroom or building restroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To get some fresh air.”

“Go to the hospital. Mom left ₩3,000 for you.”

₩3,000.

Was that even money?

Since working at Yongho Construction, I hadn’t seen a ₩1,000 bill.

More precisely, I’d never carried one in my wallet.

I slipped out wearing an old jumper, fleeing the house.

It was important to know the neighborhood now.

I entered the left alley—a narrow path only wide enough for one person—with a main gate and the toilet.

A scene unfolded before me with déjà vu.

A downhill ahead to the left, then turning right led to Daehwa Supermarket and Ddol‑i Stationery.

Going further down brought me to a road, then Jusin Cinema and Jinpoong Market.

‘Ah, the building with the billiard hall had a restroom.’

The déjà vu was accurate.

This was the high ground.

Passing Ddol‑i Stationery, heading downhill.

“Cheonmyeong ah!”

Turning around, I saw a schoolgirl with braided hair descending.

She was pretty.

I stared at her blankly. Memories grew clearer.

Seo Inha.

She was my sixth‑grade crush in elementary school. For some reason, she invited all the other kids for her birthday except me.

She was rich, living in the two‑story house next door.

A memory resurfaced.

When our sixth‑grade homeroom teacher handed out report cards, she said:

‘Cheonmyeong got all A’s again this time. Inha has one B. Do better next time.’

So that was it.

She was jealous because I was studying harder.

“Where are you going?”

“Just taking a walk for exercise.”

“You’ve got kimchi broth on your clothes. Even if it’s winter, wash and change.”

She smiled triumphantly with a puzzled tilt of her head.

So insufferable.

“Go wash your own face.”

Saying it felt utterly childish. How embarrassing that a head of a top company over fifty would speak like that.

That showed how immersed I was in high‑school‑freshman Kang Cheonmyeong.

“What kind of words are those?”

Seo Inha’s face flushed.

Making enemies from the start is exhausting.

I immediately apologized.

“Sorry. I was angry for a moment.”

“Don’t ever say that again. I heard you breathed coal‑gas, but it seems your head is messed up.”

She spoke plainly.

It seemed she didn’t filter through her prefrontal cortex.

“Your words are harsh.”

“Really? Then I’m sorry too. You got into Danil High School, right? I entered Danil Foreign Language High. Same foundation, but our grades differ a lot.”

Crazy girl.

Does she really want to beat me that badly?

A four‑character idiom popped into my head.

“There’s a saying, ‘one hair from nine oxen’…

“What?”

Seo Inha tilted her head, not understanding.

“It means one hair out of nine oxen. It’s not like you’re the only one who got into a foreign language high school.”

Seo Inha looked stunned and speechless.

They said I was praised at the village school—it must be true. How else could I recall such a fitting idiom right now?

Seo Inha, as if furious, let out a lion’s roar.

“Do you know how many from Danil Foreign Language High get into Korea University? Danil High barely sends thirty! We…”

“Hold it!”

Something about her arrogant attitude felt familiar.

Seo Inha.

It was definitely a familiar name. Her face seemed faintly familiar too.

But that didn’t matter right now—my stomach hurt too much.

“Kang Cheonmyeong! If you interrupt, you should at least respond!”

“Forget it.”

Without looking back, I ran down the slope.

I finished my business in the restroom at the building with the billiard hall.

Of course, it wasn’t a sitting toilet either, but at least it flushed and was clean.

‘I need to get more familiar with the area.’

Feeling lighter, I wandered the neighborhood.

Kids playing on the bare mountain, dust flying from the carpentry shop, a clinic on a hill, even the gap at the bus stop where tokens and fare tickets were sold.

Faded memories became clearer but were still not perfect.

Standing at the bus stop, I stared at passing buses, trying to recall routes by their numbers.

But I couldn’t quite remember.

Then, a memory popped into my head.

‘There was a shortcut up this slope.’

I climbed above the stop and stopped in front of tall stairs.

At the top was a small church.

If you followed the church wall down, it led to Daehwa Supermarket.

It was a shortcut that saved about three minutes from the bus stop.

I stared blankly at the steep stairs when someone tapped my back.

“What are you doing here?”

Turning around, I saw a woman with heavy makeup—wearing a miniskirt in this weather.

Her makeup was thick, so I didn’t recognize her immediately.

“Hey!”

She waved her palm in front of my eyes.

“You’re spaced out. What are you thinking about?”

Ah.

Now I remembered.

She lived next door.

The women who came home in the morning after work.

Their place was structured like ours, and two young women lived there.

Right.

Last summer, I’d visited their room once.

I didn’t remember why, but I vividly recalled seeing red panties and a bra.

She was also wearing shorts like underwear and a sleeveless top showing cleavage—completely startled me.

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Something wrong?”

“No.”

“Come to our place next week and teach us some English.”

Her words triggered a memory.

They’d asked me to teach them English because foreign guests were coming. Neighborhood ajummas said the women worked at a bar.

‘I only know Kiss and Sex in English.’

‘I know Love too.’

Their voices replayed in my head.

“Okay.”

“You’re trying to take the shortcut, huh? I can’t climb that path since I didn’t wear panties today.”

She gave a suggestive smile and headed toward the bus stop.

What was that?

Unbelievable.

My mind, recalling that visit to their room, prompted a physical reaction.

Thank goodness I was wearing a jumper—otherwise, I’d have to face a wall until it settled down.

I climbed the steep stairs briskly and descended along the wall.

A narrow alley.

Huh?

“Hyung-ah has to go to the hospital. You can’t take this.”

Kang Daemyeong’s voice.

I quickened my pace and spotted Daemyeong cornered in the alley by two older boys.

They looked like high schoolers, vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t recall clearly.

“Idiot! We’re saying we’ll take your brother to the hospital. Where’s the money?”

They were trying to rob him.

I approached firmly.

Seeing me, Daemyeong beamed.

“My Hyung-ah is here!”

The two guys looked at me and grinned wickedly.

“Hey, you come over too. This punk grew tall over winter break.”

“You robbing someone now? Learning all the wrong things, you little punks! If you’re broke, just live like it!”

“What’s with this guy? What’s with his tone?”

“Maybe he turned stupid like this one. Heh heh.”

They swaggered toward me. One tapped my cheek with his fist.

“Hey! You don’t know who I am? Did this bastard swallow rat poison or what?”

I was pissed.

It was hard to accept getting hit by these little punks.

His punches got stronger, and he struck my solar plexus.

“F\*\*k!”

My body reacted before my head did.

I grabbed one by the collar and slammed him to the ground, then swept the other off his feet by the waist. I clamped his right arm between my thigh and yanked his wrist, twisting it.

“Aaah! I give! I give!”

A perfect armbar.

Amazing.

My body remembered the martial arts techniques I learned while studying abroad.