Blind Date
Ohsung Electronics, the president’s office.
President Cho Seong-tae entered and roughly loosened his necktie.
“Haaah.”
He sank into his chair for a moment, then straightened and jabbed the intercom with force.
“Tell the head of strategy to come in.”
A knock came shortly after. The door opened and the strategy chief stepped inside.
“You called for me, sir?”
“I did. I met with Representative Kim of JH. He’s no pushover. When I floated a one-trillion-won M&A to buy JH, he casually mentioned that Nvidia had already offered a hundred billion dollars.”
The strategy chief pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“A hundred billion dollars?”
“That’s right. Unbelievable.”
The chief fell silent for a beat, weighing the claim.
“Could it be a bluff?”
“A bluff?”
“Yes. That Nvidia offered a hundred billion is only JH’s word. Even for Nvidia, a hundred billion seems excessive.”
The president’s expression eased a fraction.
“Hmm… you think so?”
“And from the start we expected JH would refuse an M&A.”
“True. I never really expected them to sell the company. But he also rejected the HBM foundry proposal flat-out.”
The strategy chief tilted his head.
“That’s odd. They’re not producing HBM themselves?”
“He said they’ll make it themselves.”
“Themselves? Where? There isn’t a facility in the country that can match ours.”
“I don’t know. He claims they have one. They’ll simply buy DRAM and stack it ten layers high.”
“A factory, he says?”
“Yes. He says they have one.”
“Strange. That almost has to be a bluff. A plant capable of that kind of work would need at least the footprint of ten soccer fields and over ten thousand workers. You couldn’t hide something that size in Korea.”
“I don’t know. It feels like a bluff… and then when you listen to the rest of what he says, it doesn’t.”
“Hmm… wait.”
“What?”
“Could it be smuggling?”
“Smuggling?”
“Yes. If there’s no factory yet finished product keeps appearing, smuggling is the only thing that comes to mind.”
“Is smuggling even feasible?”
“Chips are small and expensive, so it isn’t impossible. But they’d have to keep producing long-term—there’s no reason to take that kind of risk. Something we don’t know about is clearly at play.”
“Hmm… what could it be?”
The strategy chief sank into thought as well.
“This won’t do. Push a blind date.”
“…Sir?”
“Think big. The man’s a genius with too many secrets, and he doesn’t fold easily to our offers. But he’s only twenty-four—peak of his prime. Strategy chief.”
“Yes.”
“Is there a twenty-four-year-old man alive who hates beautiful women?”
“Probably not.”
“So let’s soften him up gently. After meeting him I felt it was almost a waste. A twenty-four-year-old genius. Right now he’s charging across the world stage like a wild colt, but age will settle him. Eventually he’ll join forces with someone. Absorbing him into our camp wouldn’t be bad at all.”
“So dual track—absorption and attack?”
“Exactly. Prepare someone from the Ohsung bloodline. Tempt him with beauty; if that fails, hit him hard. Or better—hit him first so he seeks comfort from the beauty. Either picture works.”
The chief nodded.
“Understood. However far a twenty-four-year-old runs, he’s still in the palm of our hand.”
“Ah, but JH isn’t quite the grade that deserves a direct-line introduction from the Ohsung family. Roughly within sixth cousins of the Ohsung clan—prioritize face and figure.”
“Not wealth—face and figure?”
“He’s twenty-four, after all.”
“Understood. I’ll prepare candidates focused on looks.”
A few days later.
I arrived at a restaurant in Gangnam right on time for the appointment.
A staff member in a bow tie asked, “Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes. Kim Jiho.”
“Confirmed. This way, please.”
It was a luxury establishment that ran strictly by reservation. Soft jazz piano drifted through the dining room.
I turned my head without much thought—and discovered the music was live.
“Oh.”
I had assumed it was a recording. Live jazz.
Looking around, I saw crystal-and-gold chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The walls mixed deep wine red with marble textures. Everything in sight radiated elegance.
“This way, please.”
I followed the staff member.
I was wearing the prosthetic legs for the first time in a while—the ones Crown Prince Abdul of Saudi Arabia had gifted me. The toenails were diamond, which felt a little embarrassing, but once the shoes were on they disappeared from view. Motors in the calves made each step feel almost natural.
Right foot, left foot.
A smooth, ordinary walk.
I took the seat the staff indicated.
The reason I had strapped on the prosthetics I rarely used and come to a place this luxurious was simple: a blind date.
“A glass of water first, please.”
My throat felt dry for no good reason; I asked the staff for water.
I swallowed.
Ten minutes remained until the appointed time. She had not arrived yet.
Embarrassing as it was to admit, this was my first blind date.
Casting back through old memories, I had once gone to a four-on-four mixer in March of my freshman year. I had gone without a clue, played a few games, drunk a little, and the evening had simply ended. The thought that I was supposed to do something never even crossed my mind; it had become just another faded memory.
Then, in the middle of that chaotic freshman year, I had the car accident.
After that, hospital visits and simply surviving had taken every ounce of energy. Until now, a man with no legs had never been offered the chance to meet a woman.
How long had I waited?
Click-click.
The sound of high heels approached.
“This way.”
Following the staff’s guidance, a woman entered.
First impression… she was beautiful.
What caught my eye first were her eyes—long, distinct lashes framing soft almond-shaped lids. Her nose was smooth, its curve neat: neither too low nor exaggerated, a refined bridge that looked elegant. These days people inject filler into their lips, and hers looked natural yet somehow enhanced—lips that drew the gaze either way. A subtle rose-tinted gloss caught the light with a faint sparkle. Her skin was clear and luminous, so the whole face seemed to glow.
It was like looking at a sophisticated magazine fashion spread.
“Hello.”
The greeting of a woman who might have stepped straight out of that magazine.
I rose and returned the greeting.
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Kim Jiho.”
As we exchanged greetings, the rest of her came into focus. Long, gleaming dark-brown hair fell in soft waves. Pearl earrings caught the light. An airy ivory blouse followed the lines of her body with every gentle movement. A gold belt cinched her waist firmly; below it a black skirt ended sharply above the knee. My eyes followed something sparkling and found a delicate anklet glittering at her ankle.
“Please, have a seat.”
She set down a palm-sized leather handbag. Only then did I notice the sparkling bracelet on her wrist as well. A wave of perfume drifted over.
“Shall we choose the menu first?”
“Of course.”
She scanned the menu. Silver nail polish flashed at her fingertips.
I knew almost nothing about women’s makeup or fashion, but one thing was obvious: full setting from head to toe.
Turning pages, she spoke to the staff in a practiced tone.
“Could the truffle pasta be made with white truffle? And oil-based rather than cream sauce, please—I’d like something lighter today.”
The staff scribbled rapidly.
“For the appetizer, buffalo mozzarella and prosciutto with basil pesto on bruschetta. For dessert, panna cotta instead of tiramisu… and is gold-leaf topping possible?”
“Yes, of course.”
She looked at me.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Yes, that sounds good.”
“Château Lafite, 1869, please.”
To be honest, I understood none of what she had ordered. Gold-leaf topping at the end made me wonder why anyone would eat gold. The menu had tiny pictures; most of them looked like pork cutlets to me.
I’ll just have the pork cutlet.
I wanted to say it, but somehow it felt wrong.
“I’ll have the same.”
When you don’t know, order the same thing.
Dishes arrived in tiny, precious portions—one pinch of food per plate—and conversation began.
She ate with elegant restraint and asked, “I hear you’re the representative of JH?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“What’s JH’s market cap?”
I blinked.
“…Excuse me?”
“You’re the representative of JH. I was curious about the market capitalization.”
“Ah—we haven’t gone public yet.”
“I see.”
She tilted her head slightly and smiled.
“I heard about you from the president of Ohsung Electronics. He said you’re a genius. He recommended a union with the Ohsung family would be beneficial.”
“That’s far too kind.”
Honestly, I was no genius.
“I’m a fifth cousin of the chairman.”
“Pardon?”
“You know Chairman Oh of Ohsung, of course?”
“The chairman of the Ohsung Group? Naturally. No Korean could fail to know him.”
“Well, yes.”
She smiled with quiet confidence.
“He’s my fifth-cousin uncle.”
“Ah, I see.”
I nodded. Her self-assurance seemed to stem entirely from being a fifth cousin of the Ohsung chairman.
“And thirty percent of this building belongs to my cousin.”
“I see.”
By then the meal had finished and drinks arrived. Sipping hers, she asked,
“I heard you received a foundry proposal from Ohsung?”
Curious eyes. So the president of Ohsung Electronics had gone that far in his briefing.
“I did receive a proposal.”
“But you turned it down? Why? It’s Ohsung. You don’t even have your own factory, do you?”
She tilted her head. Her face was undeniably beautiful.
If a man who stepped out of a comic was a manhwa-ripped beauty, the woman across from me was a magazine-ripped beauty—full makeup, full luxury brands. With that face and that level of styling she could have been put on a magazine cover that very moment.
And yet… why did I keep sensing the president of Ohsung Electronics standing right behind her?
“I had no choice regarding Ohsung Electronics’ proposal. The conditions simply didn’t align between our companies.”
“But you’re unlisted?”
“That’s true.”
“You’re not even a listed company—unlisted. No matter how much of a genius you are, wouldn’t accepting Ohsung’s proposal be better in the long run?”
Her words weren’t exactly wrong. Doing business in Korea, if you weren’t a giant yourself, how far could you go by snubbing Ohsung?
“There are… circumstances.”
“What kind?”
“That would be… corporate confidential…”
Why did this blind date feel more and more like a corporate negotiation?
“Thank you for the meal.”
She rose from her seat, then glanced briefly toward my legs.
“Are your legs all right?”
“My legs?”
“Yes. I heard they cause you difficulty.”
“Yes, that’s correct. These are prosthetics.”
“Which side?”
“Both.”
“Not one—both?”
“Yes.”
“But you can still walk?”
“Yes. Prosthetics have improved a great deal; walking is possible now. Of course there’s still some discomfort, so I prefer the wheelchair most days.”
“I see. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye.”
“Yes. It was nice meeting you as well.”
And so the blind date ended. On the way home something felt hollow.
I had eaten a delicious meal with a beautiful woman—why this emptiness?
She had been beautiful. Yet somehow she and I simply did not match.
I spoke to the security chief who was driving.
“Chief Cha.”
“Yes.”
“Take me to Mom’s hospital, please.”
“Understood.”
When I felt like being a little childish, I went to my mother.
A short while later we arrived. Through the window of the spacious playroom I watched her playing. It looked exactly like an indoor playground for children.
Her eyes met mine while she was playing with a nurse.
“Oh?”
She grinned widely.
“Handsome oppa!”
The woman earlier had been pretty and glamorous, but my mother was prettier.
I sat in the indoor park and talked with her.
“So among Korea’s tech companies, I’m actually doing the best right now.”
“Wow, amazing.”
“Heh heh. Thank you. Anyway, when it comes to technology in Korea, I’m the best, you know?”
“Handsome tech-king oppa?”
I even bragged to her that I was the best at technology, just for the fun of it.
“Yes. Heh. Oh, and today I went on a blind date.”
“What’s that?”
“I met a woman.”
“A woman?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Unfortunately, Mother’s intelligence was at the level of a kindergartener.
“To get married?”
“No, not that.”
“Then why meet her?”
“Because I might marry her in the future?”
“Do you like her?”
“No. It was the first meeting… and I felt we didn’t really match. Not that she was a bad person—more like we live in different worlds? Our values seemed different.”
“What’s values?”
“Goals in life, I guess?”
“What’s your goal, oppa?”
“Hmm… make good money so Mom can get treatment, and so I can live a little more comfortably. I look fine like this, but… look.”
I rolled up my pant leg a little and showed the prosthetic.
“With both legs like this, what woman would like me?”
“Does it hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“Can it be fixed?”
“It would be nice if it could… but they were completely severed, so it’s difficult.”
“Treatment is hard?”
“The technology isn’t there yet. There’s still no way to make a completely cut-off leg grow back. Some animals can regenerate, but applying that to humans is a whole different problem.”
“There’s no technology?”
“Not right now. But a lot of people are researching it, so maybe medical technology will advance in the future?”
“I see. So there’s no technology now.”
“Right.”
“But oppa is handsome, and the best at technology.”
“Ah… well, that’s true.”
“Oppa is the tech king, but there’s no technology?”
“Um…”
How was I supposed to explain this?
I was the best at semiconductor technology, but that didn’t mean I was the best at medical technology.
“I’m the best at semiconductor tech, not the medical side.”
“Those are different?”
“They are different, but…”
Yet were semiconductor technology and medical technology truly that separate?
AI only ran when you had semiconductor data centers. That alone exerted enormous influence on medicine.
A mother whose intelligence had been damaged by cerebral hemorrhage, and a son with no legs.
Even if the truth was otherwise, the world called JH a genius. In this country, the person best positioned to succeed in AI and data-center business was me.
Current medical science could not heal a mother whose intellect had declined from brain hemorrhage or a son whose legs had been amputated. A medical revolution was required.
And who possessed the technological power to spark that medical revolution?
“The person in Korea most likely to start a medical revolution… is me, isn’t it?”
LPU.
HBM.
The moment they were revealed, the whole world had gone wild.
Why had I only planned to sell technology that was the best in the world?
“Mom.”
“Yeah?”
“Come to think of it, there was something more important than money.”
“What is it?”
“Developing the technology that will heal you, and heal me.”
“Really? You’ll fix me?”
I smiled.
“Of course I will. You and me both.”