The document, which appeared quite thick, contained both people Jinseong knew and those he did not.
“Let’s see. There are quite a few.”
The conglomerate, being a complex web of interconnections, meant that the people invited also drew a complicated relationship network.
At the center of this spider’s web were Lee Yang-hoon and his wife.
Lee Yang-hoon’s wife was the beloved daughter of a named enterprise.
The third daughter of the founding chairman of the Hanbang Group, a conglomerate.
While Lee Yang-hoon may not have been much at present, he was certainly someone of a different caliber than the Lee Yang-hoon of the past. Before truly succeeding, he was just another promising candidate among many, while she was the daughter of a big-shot designated as a “conglomerate,” albeit one with a lower rank in the industry.
However, by a stroke of luck, Lee Yang-hoon was able to welcome her as his wife.
The Hanbang Group was a large family with five sons and six daughters.
This simply meant that they had enough “bullets” to not need to manage marriages too tightly. Moreover, the Hanbang Group originated in the defense industry. The chairman even earned money by scavenging corpses for bullets and relics during the Korean War and even participated in the Vietnam War to gain favor with the powers that be.
Naturally, with such a macho chairman at the top, the atmosphere in the business became equally macho, reminiscent of a military camp because it had started in the defense sector.
On top of that, the chairman had such a patriarchal demeanor that, in the past, he was called an old-fashioned guy. He believed that the most important among his children were the eldest son, who would inherit the family business, and the second son, who could step in if things went awry, while the rest were merely there to pursue what they loved but could touch nothing related to the group.
As for the remaining children aside from the eldest and second son?
They were all just bullets.
Bullets meant to make the group stronger.
Yet, whether fortunate or unfortunate, there were as many as nine bullets besides the eldest and second son, and the chairman’s strict demeanor softened a little in front of his daughters. This allowed the third daughter, who had staunchly opposed arranged marriages, to bring Lee Yang-hoon home as her future husband and gain permission to marry.
Of course, part of the reason was that Lee Yang-hoon had shown business acumen and was doing well enough to barely make the cut. When the fifth daughter brought home a celebrity, she was thrown out without a penny after being scolded for bringing home a clown.
What was originally a mere gesture to grant his daughter’s wish turned out to be a jackpot. The once unassuming candidate, having received assistance from the chairman, rapidly grew his business to become a conglomerate subject to cross-investment restrictions and spread the reputation and influence of his company throughout Korea.
“Did he claim to be the son-in-law most favored by his father-in-law?”
Jinseong chuckled as he recalled Lee Yang-hoon’s bragging.
“Just looking at the attendees, it’s clear. The chairman of HT&TEl, the chairman of Baek Cheon-ma Group. And the commander of the 2nd Army Corps and even the Minister of Defense are here.”
It felt like Lee Yang-hoon had amassed his golden connections to uphold his image.
And this was not the end.
Though not close, he sent notable individuals connected by blood from other conglomerates to shine at the event, and many others joined in, hoping to create connections with these powerful figures.
Furthermore, the network did not end with Lee Yang-hoon’s wife.
Although he lacked a long history, Lee Yang-hoon had built his own shining connections through repeated successes, akin to gold.
The lineup that emerged was… surely not something that could gather at a mere Coming-of-Age Day event.
“This will be quite a help.”
Jinseong began to memorize the documents, determined to seize the opportunity Lee Yang-hoon had created.
Memorizing was not difficult.
Jinseong had effortlessly crammed complex and bizarre spells into his mind.
A mere stack of papers posed no challenge.
When compared to the spells, where a single misstep or breath might distort the pronunciation, this stack was trivial.
Rustle.
Rustle.
Jinseong flipped through the documents without a hitch, feeling a sense of nostalgia with the recognition of familiar faces and names as he thought back to his past before he rewound time.
“Hmm?”
Yet, as he thumbed through, his hand suddenly stopped.
With a slight frown and a hint of confusion, he muttered, “What’s this guy doing here?”
There, in his line of sight, was a photo of a blonde white man.
William R. Artua.
The face of the second son of the Artua clan, which had inherited the title of Count since Great Britain, was plastered across the document.
Yet, what surprised Jinseong wasn’t the fact that the count’s family was mentioned.
‘Is this fool, the Prophet, really coming to the Coming-of-Age ceremony?’
What astonished him was that he was familiar with the main character of this document, William.
William.
He was a Prophet.
Not merely a diviner who forecasts the future through spells, but a Prophet capable of glimpsing far into the future.
Of course, William was not a great Prophet.
He could never be classified as a grand prophet who could predict events across decades or centuries, nor could he deliver great prophecies worthy of being recorded in history, or foretell apocalyptic events.
In fact, it was quite the opposite.
William was a person with extremely weak abilities.
Some would even refer to him as a “half-assed Prophet.”
Yet, it was precisely due to his inadequate prophetic abilities that he became famous in another way.
A fool.
Despite being a Prophet, he was notorious for acts that would categorize him as an epic fool.
“Tsk.”
And not just any fool.
He was so foolish that it wouldn’t even be strange to attach the term “legendary” to him.
Leading warriors, he would wreak havoc as a matter of course. He would invade private properties with his followers, grill meat in graveyards, and smash gravestones at will, and he had developed a habit of reaching out to any woman who looked half-pretty, resulting in a number of illegitimate children that could hardly be counted. Some even exaggerated that one-fifth of British models had crossed paths with William.
Furthermore, he sparked chaos right after becoming an adult, going out with his cronies to do drugs and causing a scandal in a regular person’s mansion, and he had a violent temper—swinging his fists at the slightest provocation.
The silver lining was that he had not committed major crimes such as murder, robbery, or sexual offenses.
But conversely, this meant he was involved in just about everything else.
‘So he’s living like a person because his prophetic abilities are poor. Isn’t that quite ironic?’
William’s demeanor was the complete opposite of what one would expect from a typical Prophet.
Usually, a Prophet, flipping between the future and the present, loses the sense of time, living in a bizarre state detached from reality. They transform into cold individuals lacking any adventurous spirit, incapable of forming genuine connections with people.
This inhuman aspect becomes even more pronounced the stronger a Prophet’s abilities are.
Before feeling the thrill of youthful love, they witness the joys and sorrows of a long marriage, and when they decide to take on a challenge, they already know whether it will succeed or fail, and they gain foresight into what their friends will do…
If it were just a few instances, it might be fine.
But if it becomes a repeating cycle and part of everyday life, a person is bound to go insane.
With the sense of time disrupted, the Prophet flits between the future and the present, unable to live a true life in reality.
Living in the present, they jump to the future, then sink back into the present, and going through this cycle of floating and sinking causes pressure on the mind just like water accumulating in the lungs, gradually warping their sanity, leading to a complete breakdown of their sense of time.
They would no longer be able to ascertain whether their friend’s outstretched hand for a handshake is in the present, or a shouting figure resembling a beggar with a knife demanding money is now, or whether their spouse whispering love beside them is in the present, or in the sickbed as they lie dying.
They would come to lose the ability to feel their living existence, walking through the distorted times anchored only by their reflection in the mirror.
Hobbies?
They were utterly useless.
Even something as simple as stacking cards would be foreseen by a superb Prophet who would know whether it would succeed or fail, and they would have foreseen the very scene itself.
Experiencing the results of their own challenge would be like trying to solve college-level math problems being handed to a child just grasping basic arithmetic.
Abilities?
They could be accumulated.
Unlike spells, a Prophet wouldn’t twist their container.
But in the crazy cycle of time, could they genuinely hone their powers?
Learning magic would mean that the magic they develop in the future would fill their mind. It’s like asking a child who just learned addition and subtraction to solve university-level math problems.
When mastering martial arts, insights gained in the future would suddenly come crashing into the present, causing unexpected experiences, and summoning creatures would blur the memories mixed with those gained in the future, throwing the summoned creature into confusion.
Thus, a Prophet simply lives on.
Detached from time, simply surviving within it.
But even this way of living beckons disaster.
Death.
A great Prophet can foresee their own end.
They can experience how and when they will die from any given point in time.
That is why a great Prophet is destined to go insane.
Carrying the intense, unforgettable memories of their demise, they slip into madness. Though they may grasp the information about the future, they hold onto nothing tangible.
‘William, William, huh?’
However, William R. Artua, due to his lacking talent, managed to evade the doom that was surely approaching.
Time flitting between the present and the future?
He hardly experienced that.
And whatever glimpses he did catch weren’t of any significant matter.
The future of death?
There was no way William could witness what only the most proficient Prophets could see.
Ability?
There were also no issues there.
He couldn’t properly predict even the simplest of prophecies in his daily life, so did anyone think he could foresee anything regarding abilities?
He was living comfortably having summoned a summon creature by splurging a lot of money. Just living in the present, pouring forth love toward the summon creature like an ordinary summoner.
Moreover, unlike the tragic fates of other Prophets, he was leading a very happy life.
Being from a quite wealthy and powerful noble family, his rare talent as a “Prophet” earned him respect wherever he went, and even from the family that handled the aftermath of his wild antics, he was treated well.
They were hoping for yet another Prophet to emerge from William’s bloodline.
“What whim drove this fool to come to Korea? Tsk.”
