Chapter 143

Chapter 143
## Chapter 143: The Playchip Hotel Maneuver

Following our final meeting with Han Sang-cheol, we spent several days finalizing our preparations before traveling to the Playchip Hotel in Hongcheon.

The hotel staff was likely enduring a state of pure delirium. They were already stretched thin managing the high-stakes auction run by Blue Wrench, and the sudden announcement that Geumyang Group would host their massive anniversary gala on the same premises pushed them to the brink.

Despite the exhaustion, they were undoubtedly ecstatic. Chaos of this magnitude translated into massive profits. As our vehicle approached the entrance, a swarm of journalists and onlookers descended upon us instantly.

The scene bore a striking resemblance to a sequence from a zombie apocalypse film.

Watching the frantic crowd press against the glass, I turned my attention to the towering banners draped over the building. One heralded the Blue Wrench event, while the other celebrated Geumyang Group’s recent achievement of claiming the top spot in market capitalization.

“The auction seems to be generating quite a buzz,” I remarked.

“The hunter community is small; news like that travels fast,” Han Sang-ah replied.

She was occupied with a small compact, meticulously adjusting her appearance. Jeong Oh-hoon watched her with a look of mild surprise.

“I didn’t take you for the type to care about cosmetics,” he noted.

She handled the brushes and liners with surprising precision, never taking her eyes off the mirror.

“It’s a functional requirement. If the heiress of Geumyang Group walks into a milestone celebration wearing a tracksuit and a cheap hair tie, the rumor mill will go into overdrive. I’ll never understand why people find that so scandalous, but it is what it is.”

Usually, Han Sang-ah lives in those tracksuits and rubber bands during our training sessions. In her natural state, she looks less like a high-ranking hunter and more like a local slacker. Today, however, she was transformed—decked out in a designer mini-dress, expensive jewelry, and shimmering high heels.

If her estimates were right, the value of the outfit she was wearing could purchase a luxury estate.

“You skipped the earrings, though?” I asked.

“The idea of piercing my ears genuinely terrifies me,” she admitted.

It was an odd phobia for someone whose profession involved literal life-and-death combat. Getting a small hole in an earlobe seemed trivial compared to the broken bones and deep lacerations she faced in dungeons. Then again, psychological fear rarely follows logic.

Jeong Oh-hoon, who had been flipping through a program, looked between the two of us.

“The actual party shouldn’t be too demanding for us,” he said.

According to the itinerary, our tasks were minimal. We were essentially living props: we just had to remain seated, look pleasant, and applaud at the right moments. There was no practical reason for us to have any official duties during a private corporate function.

“The press is going to have a field day with this, regardless,” I said.

Jeong Oh-hoon gave a small smirk. “Maybe you can introduce me to some high-profile bachelorettes?”

He wasn’t looking for reporters; he was looking for a match. Our presence at a Geumyang event was high-tier gossip bait. I had no intention of indulging them, though. My plan was to remain completely unapproachable. We had a tight four-day window and a mountain of work; I wasn’t about to waste energy on social climbing or media games.

“Over here, please!”

“Why is a member of Headhunter attending a Geumyang Group function?”

“Hunter Yoo Chan-seok! Hunter Han Sang-ah! A word!”

Jeong Oh-hoon looked feigned hurt. “Is it possible that not a single person in that crowd wants to talk to me?”

Han Sang-ah didn’t miss a beat as she stepped out of the car. “You want the spotlight? Just pull your pants down right here in the driveway.”

I couldn’t suppress a laugh. A five-minute public display would certainly ensure he was the most talked-about person at the hotel.

The reporters, who were practically foaming at the mouth for a quote, were quickly dispersed when the Geumyang Group security detail intervened. They didn’t play around.

“They actually used a weapon,” I noted.

One guard had deployed a taser on a particularly aggressive journalist who tried to breach the perimeter. Seeing the man collapse and hit the pavement face-first took the fight out of the rest of the pack immediately.

Jeong Oh-hoon watched them drag the unconscious man away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Think they’ll get sued for that?”

“Even if they do, Geumyang Group won’t care. It’s just a rounding error to them,” I replied.

With the path cleared by high-voltage electricity, we walked into the lobby and headed toward the festivities. The gala was situated in the Diamond Hall on the second floor.

“There you are,” a voice called out.

Han Sang-cheol stepped away from a group of dignitaries to meet us, offering a hand in greeting.

“It’s good to see you again, Chairman,” I said.

He gave a sharp, measured nod. “I appreciate you making the trip. I hope the travel wasn’t too tedious.”

Standing behind him were Han Hoon and Han Soo-hee. I offered them a polite smile as well.

“We’re glad you could join us. I was concerned a corporate event might be too dull for your tastes,” Han Soo-hee said, her voice far more pleasant than during our previous encounter.

I wasn’t fooled. Her change in tone wasn’t a sign of newfound respect; it was simply a matter of professional decorum. You don’t start a fight in the middle of a high-society banquet.

“It’s a privilege to be part of such a significant day for the company,” I replied smoothly.

Han Hoon maintained a similar facade, though his expression darkened the moment his gaze shifted to Han Sang-ah. Their hostility hadn’t waned in the slightest.

“Ooh, salami,” Han Sang-ah muttered.

She completely disregarded their death stares, focusing entirely on piling appetizers onto a plate from the buffet. While she seemed oblivious, the two of them watched her every move like hawks. They reminded me of small dogs barking at shadows—loud, but ultimately harmless in this context.

We spent the next few hours blending in, eating high-end catering while a waltz played softly in the background.

“The food is actually incredible,” I admitted.

This entire party was just a giant alibi for us. We played our parts—listening to speeches about the humble beginnings and meteoric rise of the corporation, clapping on cue, and posing for the occasional photograph. After about four hours, the formalities finally ended.

—

“Now, we get to the real reason we’re here,” I said once we reached our suite.

“Are we really all staying in one unit?” Jeong Oh-hoon asked, looking at Han Sang-ah.

It was a large suite with two bedrooms, but the arrangement felt unconventional. Han Sang-ah looked at him like he was missing a brain cell.

“I’ve beaten you in duels before, and I can’t beat Yoo Chan-seok even if I try. If he decided to do something to me, do you really think a thin interior door would stop him?”

She had a point. She sat on the couch, ordered a coffee from room service, and gestured toward the specialized gear we had brought along.

“Besides, if I were in a different room, I’d be constantly walking back and forth to check the equipment. It’s a waste of time.”

Jeong Oh-hoon conceded with a nod and leaned against the wall. “The Chairman is moving in tonight, right?”

“That’s the plan. I have to admit, I was surprised he suggested it,” I said.

The strategy had been refined during our meeting at his estate. I had originally just asked for access, but the elder Han was far more daring than I had anticipated.

“He’s certainly a unique character,” I remarked.

Tonight, Han Sang-cheol was going to enter the restricted junket room. Usually, hunters are barred from gambling in casinos regardless of their wealth, which kept us out of the Playchip’s private rooms. But as a civilian and a billionaire, Han Sang-cheol faced no such restrictions. He had the capital and the status to walk right in.

He would carry a hunter-grade tracking chip into the room, engage in some high-stakes play, and then subtly signal his interest in the black-market goods they were rumored to be moving. When they showed him the contraband, he would plant the tracker and then decline the purchase.

The goods would then be moved back to their primary storage facility via their secure internal channels. Once the tracker went stationary at the warehouse, we would strike.

“I hope he can pull it off,” I muttered.

Success meant we would have the location of the haul within hours. Failure meant our alibi would crumble instantly. If the Chairman were caught in a sting, the suspicion would immediately fall on us as his invited guests.

“If there’s anything high-quality in that shipment, I wouldn’t mind taking a few pieces for myself,” I added.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Han Sang-ah warned.

I figured if we found something truly exceptional, it wouldn’t hurt to keep a few “bonuses,” provided I could scrub their magical signatures first. But for now, everything hinged on the old man’s performance.

—

Inside his private quarters, Chairman Han Sang-cheol meticulously groomed himself, straightening his expensive suit and taking a firm grip on his cane.

“Gambling,” he whispered to himself.

He understood the mechanics of it, though his personal history with betting was limited to playing video games with friends and wagering on who would pay for lunch. He had always found the concept of gambling for profit to be fundamentally flawed. To him, it was like paying for a movie ticket and then demanding the theater owner give you your money back at the end. It was an expense for entertainment, not an investment.

“It’ll likely be baccarat,” he surmised.

There were two ways into the Playchip casino: the public entrance and the private VIP elevator that led directly to the junket rooms. He took the latter. The room manager was already there, waiting as the doors opened.

“Chairman Han Sang-cheol, welcome. Right this way. However, before we proceed…”

“Before we proceed?” The Chairman narrowed his eyes and tapped his cane against the floor. The sound was sharp and commanding.

“We require a quick security scan. To prevent any… irregularities. Even for a guest of your stature, we must ensure the integrity of the game.”

Han Sang-cheol didn’t miss a beat. “I understand. Protocol is protocol. Do you truly believe I would resort to cheating over a pittance like 5 billion won?”

He had brought 5 billion won just to secure his seat at the table.

“I’ve met with heads of state who didn’t subject me to this level of scrutiny,” he added, spreading his arms wide. “Go ahead. Scan me. I never imagined I’d be treated like a common thief over pocket change I could make during a nap.”

He looked directly at the manager. “You certainly have a lot of nerve. It seems you’ve forgotten who you’re dealing with.”

The manager visibly stiffened. Sensing the opening, Han Sang-cheol raised his voice. “Well? Get on with it! Do you intend to keep an old man standing here all night?”

Han Sang-cheol’s reputation was well-earned. He had built Geumyang Group by systematically dismantling his competitors. He was known as an old fox who navigated the grey areas of the law to crush his enemies. When it came to financial warfare and corporate takeovers, he was the apex predator.

He fell silent, simply staring the manager down. In a world driven by capital, Han Sang-cheol was a force of nature. One word from him could end the manager’s career—or worse. Facing that kind of power was truly terrifying.