DeepMind (5)
Demian blinked.
“Their own picture?”
“Both of you already run your own companies, after all—Frontier and Nikola. If they remain major investors in DeepMind, they’ll inevitably try to drag your research into their existing businesses.”
“Come on, no way.”
Demian waved it off, but the seed of doubt had already taken root in his mind.
Now it was time to give that imagination a concrete shape.
“I hope I’m overthinking it too, but Frontier holds an exclusive contract with the U.S. Department of Defense. And you’re training AI on games.”
Games and the military.
At a glance they seemed unrelated, yet in reality they made an excellent match.
“An AI that finds the optimal move in chess can be applied directly to military operations. Do you really think Frontier hasn’t considered that?”
The moment those words landed, Demian’s breath caught in his throat.
My research… could be diverted for military purposes?
Come to think of it, Frontier’s core was big data, while Nikola’s was electric vehicles. Both fields were deeply entangled with AI.
If either of them seized control of DeepMind…
There was a real risk his research would end up subordinate to their existing businesses.
Demian clung to hope as he protested.
“But they have powerful networks in Silicon Valley. That’ll help when it’s time to exit.”
“True enough.”
Lee Jaseung agreed lightly, then drove straight to the heart of the matter.
“But Doctor, if Googol acquires DeepMind, what actually changes?”
“……”
Demian’s expression hardened. Until now he had been racing toward acquisition by a big-tech firm as the goal.
What happens the moment Googol actually buys us?
In all probability he would be reassigned to improving existing products—making the search algorithm a little smarter, sharpening ad targeting accuracy, and so on.
Whether it was Nikola, Frontier, or Googol, they were all the same.
His life’s project would be reduced to a product-development tool.
Lee Jaseung was forcing him to confront the reality he had been avoiding.
—Is a Silicon Valley network more important than your vision?
“And you’re any different?”
Demian hesitated, then added,
“Nikola claimed you’re trying to acquire DeepMind outright just so you can monopolize AI.”
“Ah, monopoly.”
Lee Jaseung let out a soft snort. That conspiracy theorist had backed into the truth while stumbling around.
“I am different. I’m a pure financial investor. I don’t hold contracts with the Korean Ministry of Defense like Frontier, I don’t run a search engine like Googol, and I don’t build cars like Nikola. I have neither the reason nor the need to fold DeepMind’s technology into any existing business of mine.”
“Hmm.”
Jaseung’s words sounded plausible.
If Sequoia pulled out, the remaining two investors would almost certainly dominate. They would try to use DeepMind for their own corporate ends.
Wouldn’t it be better to take the hand of Mr. Lee, who has no conflicting interests at all?
“Why go so far as a full acquisition of DeepMind?”
Lee Jaseung smiled. At last the key question had arrived.
It meant Demian was almost over the line.
“Simple. To buy time until your research truly succeeds.”
“Buy time?”
“A few years from now, when this research bears fruit, the big-tech companies will come running with enormous offers to acquire DeepMind. That’s the real harvest season. You buy enough time to research properly until then, and I buy the time to maximize the company’s value—without any risk of being subordinated to another firm.”
Demian’s resolve wavered. Investors who already ran their own companies were far more likely to interfere, using capital as leverage.
But Mr. Lee is different. He’s purely betting on future value. This man genuinely believes my research will succeed.
Yet another worry soon raised its head.
“What if I fail? If the research doesn’t proceed as expected, will you start interfering with the direction then…?”
“If you wish, I can legally guarantee the independence of your research by contract.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
In truth, that was exactly why he had approached the DNN team that had just won the competition. If DNN handled the applied research, DeepMind could pursue pure foundational work without restraint.
But he kept that thought perfectly hidden and simply smiled.
“How about it, Doctor? Will you take my hand?”
One month later, Seoul.
Demian stepped out of the taxi and looked up at the Makers building.
The modern structure sitting on a quiet Cheongdam-dong street was nothing like what he had expected.
It felt less like a financial firm and more like a high-end gallery or boutique hotel.
The sophisticated atmosphere only intensified once he entered the lobby.
Demian knew nothing about art, yet even he could tell the works on display were no ordinary pieces.
Then a sharp phone ringtone shattered the silence.
When Demian turned his head, he saw Lee Jaseung a short distance away, frowning as he answered the call.
"You goddamn XXXX! Do you even know what you're doing? AI is humanity…"
“Crazy bastard.”
As if nothing had happened, Jaseung hung up and walked over to Demian.
Not a trace of the unpleasant call remained on his face.
“You’ve arrived.”
“That call just now…”
“Spam.”
“Ah. Right.”
It was clearly not spam, but Demian decided to treat it as such.
“Thank you for coming all this way. All the paperwork is finished, so we can proceed with the formal contract.”
“Yes. There was quite a bit of noise this past month.”
That was an understatement. In reality it had been closer to a war.
The moment Demian and Sequoia announced their intention to sell, the remaining two investors had erupted in fierce opposition. Lawyers flew back and forth; threats and inducements poured out. Nikola’s reaction bordered on outright madness.
I warned you from the start that guy was dangerous. He’s trying to rule the world with AI! He’ll become the Big Brother of the future!
Meanwhile, Frontier’s CEO Peter Quill had asked coldly,
What would I have to promise for you not to sell your shares? It’s a blank check, so think carefully before you answer.
I simply want to research without being subordinated to your business direction. At least until results appear.
Peter Quill had scoffed.
Then I have no reason to invest. Put money in and then just watch with zero control? Do you think that makes any sense?
He was right.
It was only natural, yet after receiving nothing more than Series A funding, Demian had gotten carried away as if he could do whatever he pleased.
In any case, DeepMind had been torn apart.
Demian for the purity of research, Sequoia for profit, Peter Quill to find a new startup that fit his business, and Nikola… well.
Lee Jaseung interrupted Demian’s recollection.
“I have one proposal.”
“What is it?”
“Let’s bring in the DNN team. The ones who won the competition.”
“Them? Their research direction is a bit different from mine.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m suggesting it. The DNN team handles applied research while you focus on more fundamental work.”
“Ah!”
Demian’s eyes lit up.
It was an absurdly simple yet perfect solution.
An ideal division of labor between basic and applied research.
And since they would be under one company, sharing research would create synergy as well.
“If you had this idea, you should have mentioned it earlier!”
Lee Jaseung merely smiled quietly.
Well. If he had brought up acquiring DNN a month ago, he would have had to use Makers’ operating capital.
Now I can acquire them with DeepMind’s company funds.
That difference was considerable.
Makers’ balance sheet remained untouched, yet he had effectively seized both core AI organizations.
Basic research ecosystem, hardware, software.
Of those, he had secured the software.
At a remarkably cheap price.
Googol would spend six hundred million dollars to acquire DeepMind; he had brought in both DeepMind and DNN for eighty million.
He understood the pleasure of owning expensive luxury goods.
But the truly thrilling moment was buying something excellent for far less than everyone else.
As they wrapped up the conversation and Demian prepared to leave, Jaseung asked almost casually,
“By the way, I heard you’re developing an AI program. What’s it called again?”
Demian’s face brightened. Whenever research came up, he became as excited as a boy.
“AlphaGo!”
It was the future he had seen four years from now. That future had finally fallen into his hands.
Lee Jaseung wore a pleasantly languid smile—the particular smile that came from deep satisfaction.
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
Just moments earlier, Seo Minjae had received a call from Lee Jaseung.
"The DeepMind acquisition is finalized. Handle the remaining deals yourself."
“So it actually worked.”
The acquisition process had moved at breakneck speed.
Sequoia Capital, desperate for year-end performance numbers, had shouted “Exit only!” and shoved everything through.
It was the first time Minjae had ever seen West Coast people move that fast.
Sequoia’s one thing, but how the hell did he talk the founder around?
Shaking his head, Seo Minjae returned to work.
Nine investment files that Jaseung had handed over sat stacked on his desk.
While Jaseung had focused on DeepMind, Minjae had dissected each deal one by one. The more he looked, the more he clicked his tongue in awe.
He’s just throwing these away?
From corporate bonds with guaranteed returns to high-growth startups—the range was impressive.
Every single one was a gem of a deal!
Right. After Facenote, gas futures, and DeepMind, his standards have gotten ridiculously high.
Thanks to that, Minjae was enjoying the trickle-down effect.
What were crumbs to Jaseung was a treasure vault to him.
He recalled the last meeting.
Seo Minju had deliberately elevated him.
He had stood out too much, so she had lifted him all the way up—making him the perfect target for everyone else.
Time to start flipping departments one by one. Bond and equity are her core lines, so leave those alone. Start from the periphery.
First target: the Alternative Investments department.
They handled overseas infrastructure, real estate, venture capital, and other alternatives.
I need to pick the deals with the highest success probability out of the nine. Though they are all a bit too AI-heavy.
As last meeting had shown, AI was still considered premature.
Algorithms are at least familiar territory, so I’ll package those first and send them out.
Seo Minjae carefully selected the deals.
Stepping out of the office, he heard the usual year-end strain in conversations all around.
“You finish next year’s portfolio yet?”
“Don’t even ask. Japan’s a headache this time.”
“Satonomics, right? Unlimited quantitative easing—no one has a clue how far the yen will fall. Our bond positions…”
That was the Bond desk’s lament. Equity was complaining too.
“And us? We’re already drowning adjusting the Japan book, and then they make us write that AI report for no reason…”
“Hey!”
A colleague elbowed the grumbling employee. Seo Minjae had been standing at the coffee machine.
Pretending he hadn’t heard, Minjae turned away with his characteristic easygoing smile.
His steps headed toward Alternative Investments.
“Hello, Director.”
“Ahem. Director Seo.”
The awkwardness was mutual here as well. Minjae had been nothing but affable, yet a wall still remained.
A newly established department overtaking traditional ones was already irritating; now he looked like he was coasting on Makers’ solid backing.
With your skills alone, would you even be here?
Anxiety compounded that sentiment.
What if the new department starts beating us on performance?
Those feelings always created an ambiguous distance, which often leaked out as curt remarks.
“Must be nice for you, Director Seo. You can just ride Makers.”
“Ah, Makers is my life bus. I ride it every day.”
That left the other man with nothing to say.
Seo Minjae grinned.
He knew exactly what the grievance was.
That he alone was enjoying Jaseung’s information.
If that was the problem, then they could simply share it.
“Oh, right. Speaking of which, Makers passed along a deal.”
“?”
Director Kim’s previously indifferent eyes suddenly sharpened.
“Makers did? What is it?”
Minjae gave an awkward smile.
“Well, it’s AI, though. More precisely, a fintech startup using machine-learning technology.”
AI again.
Director Kim’s brow furrowed.
“AI? That tech all went bust in the nineties.”
“It’s different from the old AI. Combined with big data, it’s already reached practical application in fintech.”
“Is that so? Which company?”
“Cortex Analytics. A New York startup. They analyze hedge-fund trading patterns to detect market anomalies in advance…”
Director Kim’s eyes glazed over.
Right. There were better words that actually worked.
“Honestly, Makers looked at it for quite a while. They were seriously considering investing right up to the end…”
Life instantly returned to Director Kim’s gaze.
“Makers invested?”
“No. The AI exposure was larger than expected. Portfolio balance wouldn’t work. They had no choice but to pass.”
“If Makers was that close… hmm.”
Director Kim scratched his chin.
“But well, you don’t really care about this sector, Director. Feel free to ignore it.”
With that, Seo Minjae slowly stood. Director Kim cleared his throat once, then asked awkwardly,
“Wait. What was the company name again? Just once more… Co-Coway?”
“Cortex Analytics. They’re raising a Series A.”
Director Kim, jotting it down, looked embarrassed and offered an excuse.
“No, I mean… since Makers reviewed it, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a look. Ahem. Next time I get a good deal, I’ll share it too.”
“Yes. I’d appreciate that.”
Seo Minjae smiled and rose from his seat.
That was enough for today.
Little by little, he would loosen the knots.
The thought that he had untied one of them lightened his steps considerably.
Leaving Seo Seong Securities, he headed to Makers to meet Lee Jaseung.
Walking straight into the CEO’s office, he found Jaseung absorbed in financial data and AUM status reports—the materials Minjae himself had sent a few days earlier.
“Hmm…”
“Something wrong?”
“There’s a company I want to buy.”
“But?”
“I’m short on cash.”
Seo Minjae tilted his head.
The eighty-million-dollar DeepMind acquisition had indeed drained funds sharply, yet year-end management fees and annual charges had already restored AUM to a hundred billion won.
“How short are we talking?”
“Four point nine trillion won.”
“……”
※ This work is a work of fiction. All characters, groups, place names, and events appearing in the story are entirely fictional and have no connection whatsoever to any real persons or entities. Specialized knowledge described herein has also been restructured and adapted for the narrative and may differ from actual information.