What is this warm feeling?
It looks like Secretary Yang acted quickly.
Seeing that I’m wrapped in my favourite Canadian goose-down comforter…
Even the weight that always pressed on my shoulders feels lighter.
It feels like all the accumulated fatigue has disappeared overnight.
Is it because I’ve finally taken the chairman’s seat, the one I longed for so much?
Alright, time to head to work.
Chairman of Samjeon Group, Jeon Seong-guk.
Today marks the beginning of my legendary journey.
I stretched out with satisfaction.
“Waaah!”
Wait, what was that sound coming from my mouth?
Just then, I heard a young woman’s voice.
“Honey, our Kkugi just stretched. Come and see.”
Kkugi?
No way… are they calling me—Jeon Seongguk—Kkugi?
Me, the forty-year-old chairman of Samjeon Group?
Something is definitely wrong.
I tried to get up immediately, struggling to move, but someone pressed me down with their hand.
Then, a man’s unfamiliar voice followed.
“Wow, Kkugi’s really squirming. Maybe he’ll become a soccer player.”
At that moment, my eyes flew open.
A soccer player? Why the hell would I?
I have never, even once in my life, thought of doing anything other than inheriting the company!
I glared at the woman holding me.
Wait a minute—I’m being held by a woman?
I’ve embraced plenty of women before, but I’ve never been the one being held…
[Let me go! Do you even know who I am?!]
I shouted as loud as I could.
All that came in return was laughter from the man and woman.
“Honey, our Kkugi is babbling.”
“So-young, isn’t he a genius? How is he babbling when he’s not even 100 days old?”
Several words entered my mind.
Babbling.
100 days.
Genius.
And… Kkugi.
I rubbed my eyes furiously.
“Honey, Kkugi keeps scratching his face.”
“So-young, the doctor told us to make sure he wears mittens. Babies this young can’t control their bodies properly, and they might scratch themselves.”
“I just thought it might feel uncomfortable…”
“The doctor said it’s more dangerous if he scratches himself.”
“Alright, alright, dear Kkugi’s father.”
Before I could react, the woman slipped mittens onto my hands.
“Waa… Waaah… Waaahhh!”
That was the only sound I could make.
The man picked me up and started swinging me wildly.
“Kkugi, don’t cry. If you cry, Mom and Dad will be sad.”
Then, he carried me over to a mirror.
“Kkugi, who’s that?”
Finally, through my blurry vision, I saw my reflection.
A tiny, three-head-tall baby.
Not even 100 days old.
That… was me.
I stared at the man.
He smiled brightly at me.
“Kkugi, it’s Daddy. Can you see Daddy?”
“Waaah! Waaah!”
I struggled in an attempt to escape, but this so-called father just grinned happily and called out to the woman.
“So-young, our Kkugi’s babbling is really something else! It’s like he’s actually talking!”
“Kkugi’s dad, don’t go saying that to people. They’ll call you a doting fool.”
“So what if they do? Kkugi, say something again. Baa baa, peek-a-boo~!”
“Waaah… Waaahhh!!”
If this were translated, it would mean:
What the actual fuck?!*
The days passed in boredom.
I woke up to a bottle of milk.
After finishing it, the woman would pat my back furiously.
Then, an embarrassing burp would escape my throat, followed by sleepiness.
Whenever my diaper felt damp or heavy, I would feel utterly disgusted and frustrated.
At times like that, I would cry my lungs out.
The woman—who I had no choice but to call Mom—would rush over, check my diaper, strip me down, and change it.
“Our Kkugi even poops beautifully.”
Sigh… I had to listen to this nonsense for months.
The only silver lining was that the man and woman raising me were genuinely affectionate.
They held me often and smothered me with kisses.
Is this what warmth feels like?
It was a sensation I never experienced from my mother in my previous life.
Before my regression, my mother was known as the Iron Lady.
No matter the political storms, she never wavered.
She was the daughter of a renowned politician who served multiple terms in the National Assembly.
An elite graduate of South Korea’s top university.
Yet, in line with the times, she entered an arranged marriage with my father, the heir of Samjeon Group.
My father was a notorious womanizer, known even to the public.
He even openly acknowledged an illegitimate son and brought him to live with us.
There were also several other half-siblings he never publicly recognized.
I was the one who made sure they were crushed before they could demand shares of the company or inheritance after my father’s death.
Born with a half-diamond spoon in their mouths, yet too weak to be heirs.
“Seong-guk, never forget a single person’s weakness.”
My grandfather told my father that.
And my father told me.
Just as I was taught, I collected the weaknesses of my half-brothers and sisters, shut their mouths with money, and controlled them.
Of course, the money they received was nothing compared to the shares of Samjeon Group they could have fought for—but they were too dumb to realize that.
Even the smart ones couldn’t outmatch the Samjeon Group’s legal team, which was ten times sharper than any individual.
In a family like this, comfort was a luxury.
I gave up comfort in exchange for power and wealth—things most people could only dream of holding.
That was a good life…
I smiled as I reminisced.
“Kkugi, are you smiling at Mommy?”
The woman’s voice snapped me back to reality.
I furrowed my brows and glared at her.
This Mom seemed like a kind person, but why was she always staring at me?
The man who was supposedly my Dad left for work early every morning and came back late at night.
But the woman… she stayed home all day, just to take care of me.
Taking care of me, Jeon Seong-guk, was only natural.
But does that mean… this family can’t even afford a nanny?
Am I…
Was I actually born into a poor family?!
Me, Jeon Seong-guk?
But with my vision blurry and my body too weak to even flip over, I had no way to confirm anything.
Since I was reborn, I had no choice but to wait—until everything became clear.
At some point, my vision started becoming clearer.
Strength gradually returned to my previously weak and unsteady arms and legs.
Once I could turn over and crawl, I began exploring every corner of the house as if I were on an expedition.
As a result of that exploration, I realized I had been born into a miserably poor household.
The place I lived in was a tiny one-room space where even the bedroom and dining area weren’t separately divided.
It was structured just like the college dormitory I had briefly stayed in.
Of course, back then, I had lived there alone, and my time in the dormitory had been nothing more than a publicity stunt designed to create good headlines.
“Eldest son of Samjeon Group, Jeon Seong-guk, experiences dorm life at Seoul National University. A chaebol’s down-to-earth approach draws attention.”
As soon as I finished one semester in the dorm, I left immediately.
I still remember my fellow classmates—some trying to get on my good side, others looking for chances to mock Samjeon Group in front of me.
Later, I saw all of them at the Samjeon Group job interview.
Of course, they were the interviewees, and I was the interviewer.
“Seong-guk, what are you doing?”
The woman who called herself my mother hugged me, constantly stroking my head and kissing my cheeks.
Now that my hearing had fully developed, I recently learned that the man called my father worked in the kitchen of some restaurant.
As for the woman, she had been working until she got pregnant with me and then had to quit her job.
So this was the life of the common folk I had only heard about.
But what frustrated me more than that was the fact that I had no idea what point in time I was crawling on the floor of this one-room home.
A television slowly came into focus in my vision, but it was still out of reach.
But I, Jeon Seongguk, was not one to give up.
Upon spotting the TV, I pushed my round belly against the floor and crawled forward with all my might.
I was desperate to know what year it was and whether my Samjeon Group was still standing strong.
There was hardly a day when Samjeon Group wasn’t in the news.
At the very least, its baseball, volleyball, or basketball teams would appear at the end of the sports segment.
It took me a week to realize that this house didn’t even have a remote control. So I used all my strength to push a pillow toward the shelf where the TV sat.
If I managed to step onto the pillow, I might be able to grab onto the shelf and turn on the TV.
I stretched my chubby little arms as far as they could go, reaching for the power button.
“Ugh!”
“Kugi, you must be lonely without your dad, huh?”
The woman lifted me into her arms again.
[Who cares about that man? The only thing I want to see is the news!]
“Oh? Does our Kugi miss his daddy?”
As expected, my language did not reach them.
The woman even started shaking me up and down.
My insides churned from the movement, yet somehow, it was… exhilarating?
Before I knew it, laughter burst out of me.
“Who did our Kugi get this cuteness from?”
[Money can fix anyone’s face. Every woman I dated did the same. Remember Kim Mira? The so-called natural beauty? She got work done on everything except her toes.]
Clatter.
The sound of a stiff key turning in the lock echoed through the house.
It was obvious who it was.
The door opened, and my father entered, carrying something in his hands. He must have brought home leftover ingredients from work.
“Our Kugi is still awake. So-young, were you lonely by yourself?”
“As long as I have Kugi, I’m fine. Honey, what’s that?”
“I made some whelks for you. The ones that expired today were left over after the shop closed.”
“No way! Honey, should we have some soju with it?”
“Should we?”
[Wow, great idea. Eat expired whelks and end up in the afterlife. And did you even get permission from the owner?]
The man who called himself my father smiled as he looked at me.
“Was our Kugi waiting for Daddy?”
[Why are you acting all greasy? We’re both men.]
“So-young, I think Kugi really missed me.”
[Oh, please.]
The woman giggled and set up a small table with soju.
Seeing the chilled bottle made me instinctively swallow.
In truth, my favourite drink was the wine produced in my vineyard in Napa Valley, California.
But these commoners would never understand the depth of wine’s flavor….
Gulp.
[Why is my swallowing so loud? How embarrassing.]
Ever since my body regressed, my actions had been growing increasingly childish. A survival instinct, perhaps…?
“Oh my, Kugi must be hungry. He’s sucking on his fingers.”
Before I could react, a milk bottle was shoved into my mouth.
“While Daddy and Mommy drink soju, our Kugi can have milk. That’s only fair, right?”
[Fair would be drinking soju together!]
But all of this was merely my internal monologue.
Meanwhile, the woman and man downed their soju with satisfaction.
“Honey, I swear, your whelks are the best in the world.”
“So-young, do you think I’ll ever be able to open my own restaurant one day?”
“Of course! Your cooking is the best in the world.”
“So-young, I feel bad for dragging you into this life so young, making you have Seong-guk when we’re still struggling financially…”
“What are you saying? Honey, once Kugi gets a little older, I’ll start working too, so don’t worry.”
My name was still Jeon Seong-guk, just like before I regressed.
But my life had changed 180 degrees.
Before my regression, I was the eldest son of Samjeon Group.
But now… I was born into extreme poverty.
The woman held back tears as she raised her soju glass.
“You work so hard, honey. One day, we’ll be rich too. We’ll buy an apartment and a car, just like everyone else.”
“So-young, I’ll work even harder.”
I saw the man press his lips together, suppressing his own tears.
I pulled the bottle from my mouth and let out a quiet sigh.
They didn’t know the truth.
Poverty only breeds more poverty.
Especially when you have a child with no money—it’s even harder to escape the pit.
The woman looked down at me with sad eyes.
“Kugi, I’m sorry that Mommy and Daddy are poor. But we’ll do everything we can so you can study and do whatever you want.”
For a moment, my chest ached.
Was the genetic disease from my past life still lingering?
Strangely, my eyes felt hot.
Had I actually been moved by these pathetic words? Me, Jeon Seong-guk?
The only rational chaebol in South Korea?
I shook my head vigorously.
“So-young! I think Kugi understands what we’re saying! His eyes are tearing up.”
“Oh my, you’re right! Honey, maybe Kugi really is a genius. You received academic scholarships all through high school, remember?”
“So-young, let’s make sure Kugi can study whatever he wants.”
The man sniffled, holding back his runny nose.
“Honey, don’t cry.”
“Yeah… Sorry, the tears won’t stop… So-young, let’s watch TV.”
Finally!
I watched in anticipation as the man pressed the power button.
The late-night news flickered onto the screen.
A familiar face appeared.
A frail old man in a wheelchair, his hat pulled low.
It was my grandfather, the founding chairman of Samjeon Group.
[Grandfather! It’s me, Seong-guk!]
I crawled frantically toward the TV.
But the man scooped me up into his arms.
“Seong-guk, that man is one of the five richest people in Korea. But he got caught bribing officials with cash in apple boxes. He’s a bad person. Don’t become like him, even if you make a lot of money.”
[Tsk tsk.]
That was the mindset of ordinary people.
They naively believed that being honest would bring them wealth and recognition.
But the world was like a sewer.
If you acted too noble in the muck, you’d only get isolated.
Grandfather went back and forth to the courtroom several times before finally being sentenced to just two years in prison.
Yet, counting the financial losses suffered by Samjeon Group due to the chairman’s absence and the subsequent negative impact on South Korea’s economy, he was granted a special pardon in less than three months.
After that incident, he abandoned the apple boxes he had long favoured and established a new bribery route—one that no one could catch.
Various social organizations and sponsorships.
On the surface, they appeared to be charitable groups making donations, but in reality, they were fronts for laundering money to high-ranking officials.
I refocused on the news.
To gain public sympathy, Grandfather had me, the ten-year-old eldest grandson of Samjeon Group, push his wheelchair.
That would mean the year is 1992.
I quickly turned my eyes to the child pushing the wheelchair.
[That’s…]
I was at a loss for words.
The one pushing Grandfather’s wheelchair was none other than my younger brother, Jeon Tae-guk—the dumbest and most greedy fool in this world, two years younger than me.
[Why the hell is that idiot there?]
Leave a Reply