A Life Spared in Sin City
Las Vegas, the city of digital revolution. A glittering oasis of pleasure rising from the vast Nevada desert. Its name comes from the endless rows of casinos and hotels that define it. Every American city has its nickname, and Las Vegas is known as Sin City—the city of sin. Yet the “sin” here refers not to crime but to the moral and religious kind, for this is a city built on gambling. In truth, its crime rate is not particularly high. Because casinos and adult entertainment districts are so concentrated, police patrols are frequent, and as a city that lives off tourists, it is especially sensitive to crime. A single horrific incident could drive visitors away and cripple municipal finances, so officers patrol day and night with diligence. Thanks to the city government’s efforts, Las Vegas also attracts many families, which is why Yoo Jae-won, still carrying the air of youth, drew no strange looks as he strolled with a few executives.
Yoo Jae-won walked with three companions: Choi Kang-wook, Remington, and Kim Dae-seok. This trip to America had no sightseeing schedule, so his parents had not accompanied him. They already found two visits a year burdensome, and with pine mushrooms pouring out of the family mountain estate since a month ago, they had gone with his uncle to help with the harvest. The mushrooms were packed the moment they were picked and shipped straight to Japan; top-grade specimens fetched 23,000 yen per kilogram—110,000 Korean won. The estate produced ten kilograms of premium mushrooms daily, along with dozens of kilograms of mid-grade ones. Even the mid-grade, though cheaper, remained expensive. A single season’s mushroom harvest earned enough for every household, large or small, to live comfortably for a year. The elders believed such matters were best handled personally rather than entrusted to others, which was why the entire family had mobilized.
Yoo Jae-won had brought only Choi Kang-wook and Kim Dae-seok from Korea. The considerable volume of equipment needed to set up the booth had been sent ahead by air freight, while critical items like the Egg PC were carried personally. They were not shipped as ordinary cargo; to avoid customs scrutiny that might mistake them for smuggling, the items were documented as exports from Korea’s Sambo Computer to ID Technology in the United States. Because the cargo was so important, Remington, vice president of ID Technology, had flown to Korea himself to take possession, with all paperwork prepared accordingly. Preparations had been completed the previous day; the event began tomorrow. With a free day on his hands, Yoo Jae-won decided to take his executives out to ease their tension.
“Can I go into the casino too?”
“No, sir. Casinos and alcohol are restricted to adults. Even if an East Asian looks young, they will immediately ask for identification.”
Remington answered Yoo Jae-won’s question without hesitation. Americans were often thought of as extremely liberal, yet in matters like this they were anything but. In many ways they were more conservative than Koreans. Unable to enter a casino in Las Vegas itself, the list of places worth visiting shrank by half in an instant.
“There’s a rather large boxing match tonight. Would you care to watch?”
Yoo Jae-won had been itching to pull a few slot-machine levers, but the casino’s strict age policy had left him despondent. Remington suggested boxing instead.
“Boxing?”
“Yes. It’s at Caesars Palace. The challenger happens to be from the same country as the boss. His name is Kim, I believe. The champion is Italian-American Ray Mancini.”
As Remington read from his notebook, Yoo Jae-won felt a sudden sense of déjà vu.
“Ah, Kim Duk-gu?”
“Yes! That’s the one. Is he famous in Korea?”
The fighter was famous, but so was today’s match. In America it was merely one of many boxing bouts, yet in Korean boxing circles it was anything but ordinary. During the fight Kim Duk-gu had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage from a blow and died five days later. The bout had been arranged through the machinations of promoter Bob Arum. To preserve the title of the well-known champion Ray Mancini, the challenger had been chosen from among Korea’s unknown fighters. Kim Duk-gu was not the only one who would die because of this match. When his mother learned of her son’s death she fell into severe depression and ultimately took her own life by poison. The referee, accused of continuing the fight to the fourteenth round despite recognizing Kim’s dangerous condition, later committed suicide out of guilt, convinced he had killed the boxer. Even the opponent, Ray Mancini, retired from boxing. Meanwhile, promoter Bob Arum, free of any remorse, continued to reign as a powerful figure in the sport.
Can I change it?
Having recalled the facts through his Memory Palace, Yoo Jae-won naturally felt the urge to alter the grim outcome in which three people died because of one unscrupulous promoter.
“Let’s go. Get us the best seats available.”
“An excellent decision.”
Obtaining same-day VIP tickets was normally difficult, yet Remington spoke as though it posed no problem. He clearly had something in mind.
The next day, Yoo Jae-won rose refreshed from the luxurious, plush bed. The day of reckoning had finally arrived, and the omens were good. He had saved Kim Duk-gu. Yesterday the boxer had fought as fiercely as in his previous life, but the outcome changed when the referee declared a TKO in the ninth round. Yoo Jae-won had not forced his way into the match. He had merely spoken loudly with Remington near the ringside judge while watching in apparent boredom. “Kim’s legs are gone. If this continues he’ll die.” Startled, the judge began whispering urgently. Soon a message reached the referee inside the ring, and his interventions grew stricter. Already exhausted from severe weight cutting, Kim Duk-gu was knocked forward by a clean punch from Mancini in the ninth. Clinging to the ropes with sheer will, he tried to rise, but the referee immediately called the TKO. Kim pounded the canvas in frustration, refusing to accept defeat. For an unknown fighter like him, this fight had been meant to be the stepping stone to the top tier. Poverty had been more hateful than death itself; his fists were his only means of earning money. That primal drive had kept him charging at Mancini even as his body felt like it was dying. Yet now, with strength still left in him, the loss rendered everything meaningless, leaving him hollow.
To Yoo Jae-won, however, the only thing that mattered was that the man was still alive. He approached Kim Duk-gu and promised his support. Saving someone and then ignoring what came afterward was not his style. More importantly, he had come to Las Vegas for Comdex, and encountering Kim Duk-gu’s match had been no coincidence. This was no ordinary connection, so he resolved to offer his backing.
At first Kim Duk-gu could not understand what was being said. Still dazed from the fight and confronted with a Korean student claiming VIP status in faraway Las Vegas, the scene felt unreal. Only after Yoo Jae-won and Choi Kang-wook persisted with lengthy explanations did Kim finally recall ID Technology. Overwhelmed by the promise of medical expenses and enough support for him and his parents to live comfortably, he wept openly in gratitude. Having grown up in such poverty, Kim had never received proper treatment even after brutal matches. He had never imagined finding a sponsor in this distant land. In return, he agreed that from now on every bout would be fought wearing trunks bearing the ID Technology logo. He also promised that once Yoo Jae-won returned to Korea, the sponsorship would be announced in newspapers and on television, with several promotional events to follow. For an unknown fighter like Kim, the advertising value was negligible, but unconditional support would have felt wrong; this arrangement at least provided some return. With the financial burdens that had always held Kim back now lifted, his future as a major figure would depend entirely on his own efforts. From Yoo Jae-won’s perspective, a modest intervention and modest financial support had saved Kim Duk-gu and, as a bonus, his mother and the referee as well—a thoroughly profitable transaction.
“Now it’s time for my own business.”
Shaking off yesterday’s thoughts, Yoo Jae-won went to the bathroom and performed a thorough cleansing ritual—not a simple shower, but a deliberate purification of body and mind before a major undertaking. He then donned the custom-tailored suit prepared for the occasion. Its style differed from those of Remington and Choi Kang-wook. While theirs were loose and roomy, Yoo Jae-won’s two-button suit was slim-fit, sharp, and modern. “Your skin is in such good condition that full makeup isn’t necessary. A few small blemishes will be enough to cover.” The stylist brought in especially for today offered the compliment. Extra care was taken with his hair; the uneven ends were trimmed and neatly styled into a regent cut.
“Boss, dressed like this you look like a rising Hollywood star.”
Remington’s praise had become so routine that Yoo Jae-won could no longer tell whether it was genuine or mere lip service. This time, however, even he had to admit that his reflection in the mirror looked quite presentable, so the compliment was probably sincere.
“All right, let’s go!”
After thanking the stylist and leaving a generous tip, Yoo Jae-won headed for the battlefield. The first Comdex had been held in 1979 at the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas. Spring and autumn shows were held every year, traditionally in New York in spring and Las Vegas in autumn. As computer technology advanced and the market grew, so did Comdex. The 1989 edition opened its grand doors not at the MGM but at the Las Vegas Convention Center. For several years the hotel venues had been unable to accommodate all participating companies, necessitating the change. From the front the Las Vegas Convention Center resembled a saucer-shaped UFO that had landed, yet inside it revealed an enormous rectangular space—vast beyond comparison to Jangchung Gymnasium. Today that hall was filled with booths from countless companies. Long lines outside attested to the show’s success, and the interior was already packed with people.
ID Technology’s booth occupied a prime central location. It was an enormous structure that could stand alongside those of Intel or IBM. As at Jangchung Gymnasium, the ID Technology booth stood out conspicuously. While every surrounding booth clung to 1980s aesthetics, ID Technology’s radiated twenty-first-century style. Its walls were painted a striking white, and high-quality projectors displayed the company logo and artistic visual effects. Stepping inside felt like entering a world created by computer graphics. The projectors were cleverly concealed so as not to break the illusion. The resulting visual displays doubled as large screens that ordinary visitors could easily see during demonstrations. The products on display included Keyboard Warrior, Wolfenstein, Android Alpha, and the flagship ID Office. Demo units were exhibited, and nearly twenty computers were prepared for visitors and buyers to try themselves. Inventory had been scraped together and piled high on one side for immediate sale; the packaging design alone was striking enough to draw attention. The staff manning the booth were elite employees drawn from the flagship store. If every package sold during the seven-day Comdex show, they would be overjoyed. Yet nowhere in the ID Technology booth could the Egg PC be seen. The reason was simple: it was the secret weapon.
Comdex was not merely a matter of opening a booth and letting the show run. Numerous presentations, large and small, were held in smaller venues near the convention center. The main hall was crowded with ordinary visitors, making it noisy and chaotic. Therefore, buyers, media, and industry professionals were gathered in calmer settings for presentations explaining new technologies and products. ID Technology had secured a large conference room at the nearby MGM Hotel. The presentation was scheduled for six o’clock that evening. Afterward, VIPs would be hosted for dinner at the MGM Hotel restaurant, while invited guests and those who had traveled specifically for the event would be treated to the hotel buffet. This venue would decide whether Comdex ended in victory or defeat.