Chapter 2: The Aung San Mausoleum Bombing Incident
While I was lost in thought, the number of mourners had thinned out a little. Not because of me—but because my grandfather had stepped outside.
It wasn’t exactly surprising that the chaebol chairman received more attention than his deceased youngest son, who was supposed to be the main figure of the funeral.
My chest burned with urgency. I wanted power too. The kind of power Chairman Yoo Seong-pil held—the power to decide life and death with a mere gesture.
How long would it take for these tiny hands to gain enough influence to sway the entire country?
I lifted my head slightly and quietly observed the people around me. Right now, to them, I was nothing more than an extra in the background.
But one day, my time would come. I'd step into that arena.
I opened my eyes and ears, gathering information. I didn’t know when I’d use it, but at the very least, I needed to earn the qualifications to step onto that stage.
Not long after, I heard a familiar voice—one I’d paid particular attention to earlier.
“Ah, I’m a bit busy today. I’ll just pay my respects to the deceased and be on my way.”
With those words, a middle-aged man approached with confident strides.
Even from behind his glasses, the exhaustion etched into his face was unmistakable. His neatly tailored suit said everything about the kind of man he was.
I recognized him, too.