Chapter 1: The Birthday of a Chaebol Chairman
“Ugh!”
The same dream again.
Every night, I relive the events from three months ago in my dreams.
Waking up each morning, haunted by the vivid memory of that terrifying moment of death, is no way to live.
It’s not like I’m plotting revenge or anything… What a mess.
I just hope I don’t have to endure this dream for the rest of my life.
Ten minutes to six.
I turned off the alarm before it could ring and sat up in bed.
I got out of bed, changed out of my pajamas, and took a quick shower in the bathroom attached to my bedroom.
After changing into my school uniform, I left my room. My so-called brother in the room across the hall showed no signs of waking up.
Descending the thirty or so steps to the living room, I was greeted by the refreshing smell of bean sprout soup.
In the kitchen, the housekeeper was busily preparing breakfast.
Bean sprout soup is a staple in our morning meals because my so-called father drinks himself silly every night.
Stepping outside, the bright green grass sparkled in the early summer sunlight.
I picked up the three newspapers lying in the garden and quietly returned to my room on the second floor.
I slowly read through one financial paper and two general dailies.
The front page was dominated by a large photo of a protest, with tear gas and Molotov cocktails flying.
June 26, 1987.
The protests would continue today, right up until the president of the Fifth Republic announced his surrender on the 29th.
After reading even the ads, I neatly folded the newspapers.
“Do-jun.”
Sensing my presence, the housekeeper knocked on my door, balancing a tray with a glass of milk and a cup of coffee.
The name I’ve been hearing for three months now.
Jin Do-jun.
I’m still not used to it.
“You didn’t have to bring it up. I could have come down to eat…”
“Oh, it’s not just about the milk. I brought coffee too. If your parents see, they’ll make a fuss, so drink it quickly.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
The housekeeper looked at me with a fond gaze as I sipped my coffee.
She seems to like the new me a lot.
A once-spoiled ten-year-old brat.
A kid who used to throw tantrums at the dining table and treated the household staff with no respect has done a complete 180.
Now, I always speak politely to adults and constantly express my gratitude. I eat whatever is served without complaint, clean my room, and even help with house chores.
How could a ten-year-old’s maturity not be endearing?
“Oh, by the way, you know it’s the chairman’s birthday today, right? We’ll be having dinner at his house.”
“Yes, I remember.”
The housekeeper left, taking the empty coffee cup, milk glass, and the folded newspapers with her.
Today is the day.
Three months after becoming the ten-year-old Jin Do-jun, I will meet Jin Yang-cheol, the founder of the Sunyang Group.
In my past life, I never met him, but today, I will sit at the same table as him, not as an employee, but as his youngest grandson.
A 66-year-old grandfather and a 10-year-old grandson.
What does it mean to be reborn as the ten-year-old youngest member of the family that ordered my death, after dying with a bullet in my head on a quiet beach in Moldova?
Is it a chance for revenge that the heavens have given me?
Or is it a sign to forgive, as we share the same blood?
The breakfast table was unusually quiet.
My 12-year-old brother, Jin Sang-jun, who usually never stopped chattering, was silently shoveling food into his mouth.
My father, still hungover, was only sipping the broth of the bean sprout soup.
And then… my mother.
Oh, my beautiful mother!
Even more beautiful than the vice chairman’s secretary, who was once considered a beauty.
My mother, who was the same age as Olivia Hussey, the star of “Romeo and Juliet,” was known as Korea’s Olivia Hussey, a star who appeared like a comet.
In the early 1970s, she became a star with just one film, kicking off the era of the troika actresses. But she accepted the passionate courtship of a man who was her fan, married him, and disappeared from the screen.
That lucky man was my father, Jin Yoon-ki, the fifth son of Jin Yang-cheol, the founder of the Sunyang Group.
They were the couple of the century.
At that time, the Sunyang Group was laying the foundation for its expansion, especially with the launch of Sunyang Electronics, marking the start of its serious competition with Japan.
Despite her beauty and stardom, in the eyes of the Sunyang Group, she was just an ordinary woman from a regular family, nothing more than an advertising model.
She was perfect for a fling, but bringing her into the family was out of the question. Advertising models were meant for hotels, not homes.
Naturally, Jin Yang-cheol was furious and threatened to disown his son, but he had no choice because of the life growing inside her.
This is what I gathered from past media reports. I had to know the chairman’s family inside out for work.
And I know from experience.
This family was thoroughly excluded from the household.
I never had to make time for this family. The group didn’t manage them.
They just lived quietly, as if they were dead.
What I admired about this couple was precisely this.
Despite being the target of the founder’s hatred, and receiving only a pittance of shares when the eldest son succeeded the founder, they stayed far away from the fights over shares among the other siblings and lived their own lives.
Of course, being part of Korea’s top chaebol meant that even a pittance was an unimaginable fortune for ordinary people, which made it possible.
But one thing is certain: this couple was not greedy.
“Do-jun.”
“Yes?”
“Why are you so startled?”
She’s still in her mid-thirties. Her beauty is unchanged.
Seeing that beautiful face up close still makes me shy. When will I get used to it?
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Ha, our Do-jun has become so mature that it surprises me.”
Three months ago, when I woke up from death—there’s no better way to put it—I was shocked to find myself back in the past, 30 years ago, and even more so to learn that I was the youngest grandson of the Sunyang Group’s founder.
I’ve gotten used to it over time, but it’s still hard to show affection to these two, who are merely my biological parents.
My father is 38 now.
Two years younger than I was in my past life.
It was hard to call them Dad and Mom, but now I can barely manage to call them Father and Mother.
A son who suddenly changed.
A ten-year-old who uses formal titles and polite language must be surprising.
“I’m not going!”
Suddenly, my brother slammed his spoon down, his lips jutting out in a pout.
“I’m serious. I’m not going!”
I could guess why he was acting up.
Our parents’ expressions hardened, but they couldn’t scold him.
This kid must be scared of our grandfather.
Well… when a son who was supposed to marry into another chaebol family insisted on marrying an actress, the only reason our grandfather reluctantly agreed was because of this kid.
How could he look at him kindly?
I understand the sentiment, but I can’t overlook such poor table manners.
I’m not this kid’s parent, nor am I his peer who can empathize with him.
And the biggest reason I need to correct his behavior is that I can’t have our grandfather looking down on me because of him.
“Sang-jun, I promise we’ll just have dinner and come back quickly. Okay?”
My father spoke gently, and my mother looked apologetic as they tried to soothe their eldest son, but the little brat continued to whine for a while.
If it weren’t time for school, I would have exploded first.
You little brat. Just wait until after school.
In the back seat of the luxury Daewoo sedan driven by our chauffeur, my immature brother sat sullenly, not saying a word.
The elementary school we attended, now called a primary school, was a prestigious private school filled with the children of the wealthy, like the Sunyang Group, and the offspring of high-ranking officials and legal professionals.
Future chairmen, presidents, congressmen, and ministers were alumni and classmates. The depth of your connections with them could change your future, so I tried to blend in and be sociable.
At that time, students who commuted by car instead of the school bus would get dropped off far from the school gate and walk in, sharing the mindset of “don’t show off” and “don’t stand out” with teachers and students alike.
But even the young kids at this school would soon realize.
They were blessed from birth to inherit wealth and power. Once they realized that, they would start to lord over others.
Annoying brats.
Anyway, today I couldn’t wait for school to end.
I was eager to see the young, early versions of the Sunyang Group’s founder and the people I used to serve.
After school, I returned home to face the brat who needed a lesson.
“Hey! Who said you could come in? Get out!”
Three large arcade machines, the kind you’d find in a game room, occupied one side of the room, and a Nintendo Famicom, the legendary handheld game console, lay on the bed.
My grumbling brother was busy pressing buttons on the arcade machine, not even bothering to look back as he shouted.
This little brat.
Perfect. The opportunity is just right.
Without a word, I crept up behind him.
With a swift kick, I sent the chair he was sitting on flying, and he tumbled to the floor.
“Hey! You…!”
“Shut your mouth, you bastard!”
I pressed my foot firmly against his chest, and he squirmed, unable to utter a sound.
Grabbing my brother by the hair, I dragged him into the bathroom.
“Do-jun! What happened to your hand?”
My mother gasped, her eyes wide with shock as she saw my hand, swollen and red.
She fussed over me, applying ice and cream, tears welling up in her eyes.
“It’s nothing, really. I just made a mistake while turning on the shower… some hot water splashed on me.”
“Is this what you call a splash? What if it’s a burn?”
Eventually, the family doctor rushed over, and only after he assured her it was nothing serious did she seem to relax.
If my hand was fine, then my brother, Sang-jun, who was watching me with a frightened expression, was also unharmed.
After all, I had only threatened him with the hot shower while he was fully clothed, so it was far less severe than what I endured. At worst, it was like the heat of a sauna.
But for a sheltered twelve-year-old, it must have been terrifying.
No one had ever treated him so roughly before, and he wasn’t mentally prepared to withstand physical intimidation.
Of course, as time goes on, he might resist more, but breaking the spirit of a child is hardly a challenge.
Once the commotion settled, our family headed to my grandfather’s house.
“Honey, are you driving yourself?”
My mother asked as my father opened the driver’s side door.
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not drinking. Have you ever seen me drink in Pyeongchang-dong?”
Pyeongchang-dong.
A place I frequented more often than my parents’ home.
The house that Jin Yang-cheol, the founder, left to his eldest son, Chairman Jin Young-gi.
It was also where I pulled weeds for my first job after joining the company.
Back then, I was just a lowly servant, but now I’m part of the family.
It feels like returning home after making something of myself.