"Arrogant little bastard! A kid makes a little money and thinks he can mouth off? I'll show this son of a bitch..."

When the line went dead on him first, Jang Han-su's face burned hot.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been humiliated like this.

He was the Ojeong Group's chief of staff.

Reigning as Ojeong's number two, he'd been treated like royalty countless times.

Apart from the chairman, the heads and executives of the group's affiliates and the giants of politics and business all bowed their heads to him.

Every slush fund at Ojeong ended up passing through Jang Han-su.

These days, even Chairman Im Seong-cheol watched Jang Han-su's mood.

If he so much as opened his mouth, Ojeong would be blown to pieces.

Jang Han-su controlled the astronomical slush funds hidden in paper companies.

Touch Jang Han-su and you'd never sleep easy again—that was an unwritten rule of Korean high society.

And yet some greenhorn had made a little money and was getting cocky.

"Bringing a guest? Ha... Unbelievable. Is this son of a bitch out of his mind?"

He shook his head as he set down the phone.

The punk had dared to inform him he'd be bringing a guest to a meal with the master of the mighty Ojeong Group.

This Jang Tae-san had to be out of his mind.

Chairman Im Seong-cheol was a man people said it was an honor for the whole family just to lay eyes on.

Making a few trillion didn't put you in his league.

"'Somewhere tasty, please'? Heh-heh-heh-heh."

Jang Han-su's eyes glistened with madness.

"I think I've been living too nicely all this time... The greenhorn's making me rethink things."

He'd have to grind the kid underfoot, slowly, so nothing like this ever happened again.

Jang Han-su was Ojeong's knife.

He'd given his whole life to Ojeong.

In return, Chairman Im Seong-cheol had handed him a fortune in the hundreds of billions.

That was why it galled him. (TL Note: The Korean pictures envy in the gut—here his "guts twisted," and three lines on, his "stomach ached.")

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