The house had fallen silent.
Only the soft ticking of the ancient wall clock kept him company as Tae-Hyun sat by the window, knees drawn to his chest.
Outside, winter gnawed at the landscape — skeletal trees clawed at the gray sky, and snowflakes drifted down like falling ash.
He watched them silently, lost in thought.
In his previous life, this was the age when his world had still been simple — when family meant warmth, not knives in the dark.
But now he knew better. He had seen the future, and it was fire and graves.
There was no "family." Only players. And soon, only prey.
"No one will save you. Not luck. Not justice. Not fate."
"You survive by your own hands — or you die again."
Tae-Hyun hugged himself tighter.
He had no power yet. No resources. No allies.
But he had something even more dangerous: knowledge.
And with knowledge, even a child could carve a bloody path through titans.
His mind spun, calculating with chilling clarity:
- Five years before Cheon Enterprises would enter its first international deal — a partnership that would later chain them to foreign political interests.
- Three years before Uncle Woo-Sik would botch an acquisition, sparking internal strife.
- Seven years before the Seoul real estate collapse would nearly wipe out a third of the family's hidden assets.
He knew the cracks. He knew where to push. Where to plant rot and let it fester quietly.
But first — he needed independence. Freedom of movement.
A hidden base of operations, even if it was just influence among nobodies.
Power didn't come all at once.
It had to be seeded, grown, guarded.
Tae-Hyun pressed his forehead against the cold glass.
"Start small. Hide in plain sight."
"Build a kingdom out of ants before you steal one from kings."
And for that… he needed a tool. Something they wouldn't suspect.
Something a child could "innocently" ask for.
The idea struck like lightning.
A laptop.
He slipped off the chair, bare feet pattering softly across the floor.
He found his father in the study, working.
Cheon Min-Jae — a Fierce man. Loyal to Cheon Yeon, and too stupid to see the war raging behind polite smiles.
Cheon Min-Jae was also one of the active members in Cheon Yeon's grand organised crime syndicate, before it was all washed clean by himself.
He was a force to be wreakened with.
But Tae-Hyun loved him still.
A foolish, soft kind of love.
Tae-Hyun swallowed the bitter taste and approached.
"Father," he said, voice small, "can I have a laptop?"
His father looked up, surprised.
"A laptop? At your age? What for?"
Tae-Hyun shuffled his feet, pretending to be shy.
"I want to… learn things. Like the smart kids on TV."
He made sure to widen his eyes, to add a slight tremble to his voice — the illusion of youthful eagerness.
His father stared at him for a long moment.
Then — a chuckle.
Rough fingers ruffled Tae-Hyun's hair.
"You've always been different," his father said proudly. "Fine. I'll get you one. A good one."
Tae-Hyun beamed. Bowed deeply. Said the right words.
All while inside, he smiled for real - a wolf's smile, hidden behind a lamb's face.
The first stone had been laid.
The game had begun.
Tae-Hyun sat awake long into the night, scribbling furiously into a battered old notebook:
Names. Events. Opportunities.
Every move he would make.
Every pawn he would recruit.
Every empire he would burn.
He wrote until his fingers cramped, until the ink smeared and blurred.
And when he finally set the pen down, he stared at the final sentence he had written.
A single truth.
"This world belongs to those willing to take it."
And Tae-Hyun?
He intended to take everything.