But the dinner table was the true battlefield. His aunt and uncles watched him like vultures, sensing that this "prodigy" was a threat to their inheritance. They whispered about his mother’s lineage and his father’s lack of business "spine."

Do-jun smiled—a polite, boyish expression that masked a shark’s instinct. "Because, Grandfather, people will always pay to escape their lives. And soon, the world will want to watch Korean stories."

As the episode of his life unfolded, Do-jun realized that winning wasn't just about money. It was about dismantling the Soonyang empire from the inside, brick by golden brick. He wasn't just a grandson; he was a ghost in the machine, and he was just getting started.

The air in the Chairman’s study was thick with the scent of old paper and expensive tobacco. Jin Yang-cheol, a man who viewed the world as a chessboard of semiconductors and steel, eyed his grandson with a mix of pride and suspicion.