Two Can Play at That Game
The ardent followers known as the Esquires needed only three minutes to captivate a single soul. When Yoo Jae-won unleashed his prepared remarks before Choi Hyun-hee, the chairman’s eyes wavered and he exhaled sharply through his nose to keep his temper in check. In essence, Jae-won’s rebuke boiled down to one simple request: “Let’s play fair.”
“During the Busan Group affair, Ilseong’s intentions were obvious. Yet while many outlets criticized the Busan Group, almost none pointed a finger at Ilseong. I wondered why, and the answer came quickly. Ah, the media was already on your side. So I looked into how you managed to bring the press into your camp, and quite a few interesting details surfaced.”
“Interesting details?”
“Thanks to you, Chairman, some reporters are living in luxury without spending a single won of their own salary. Naturally, they repay that support with favorable coverage. The real problem is that the same thing has been happening inside the judiciary. You should never have touched that institution.”
In his previous life, Yoo Jae-won had taken the ownership dispute over the machine-psychology analysis module he himself had created all the way to court. The court, predictably, had sided with the chaebols. Jae-won’s only assignment from them had been to improve the processing speed of an artificial-intelligence system, and the fee had been modest. Even so, they had seized the technology simply because it had been developed in the same space. The grip Choi Hyun-hee had begun tightening in this era would still be strangling the judiciary in the mid-twenty-first century.
“Hmm? Are you claiming I’m the only one who has done such things? What about your close ally, Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon of the Mirae Group? Is he any different?”
“He is.”
“Different?”
“The scale of the stakes placed on the scales of justice is different.”
At Jae-won’s crisp reply, Choi Hyun-hee’s mouth snapped shut. The Mirae Group had recently been hit with a 160-billion-won fine. That figure also represented the size of the inheritance tax the group would have to pay while settling its succession. Ilseong Group, however, operated on an entirely different scale—moving from “hundreds of billions” to “trillions.” The reason was simple: Choi Hyun-hee had risen suddenly as the successor and had not prepared his defenses in advance.
“Your will to dominate is far more desperate and aggressive than the former chairman’s, isn’t it? The trouble is that when you play that game, newcomers like me are placed at a severe disadvantage. Just imagining that future sends a chill down my spine.”
Because he had lived through exactly that experience, Jae-won’s expression carried genuine weight.
“That is pure delusion.”
Choi Hyun-hee’s answer was exactly what Jae-won had expected.
“Is it? Yet the precedents show my concerns are well-founded. If the lawsuit between my ID Group and Microsoft had been tried in Korea, could you honestly guarantee I would have won?”
Once precedents were mentioned, Choi Hyun-hee had nothing left to say.
“That is why I changed my mind. If you are going to play that game, Chairman, why shouldn’t I? So if you stop, I will stop. Conversely, whatever you choose to do, I am perfectly capable of doing as well.”
Choi Hyun-hee felt his throat go dry. Every word had struck home. He could hardly believe such a monster had appeared. Moreover, this was a game in which he himself was at a disadvantage. To achieve what Choi wanted, prosecutors and judges would have to break the law, whereas what Yoo Jae-won demanded was simply that everyone follow the law and basic common sense. Yet he could not simply crush Jae-won and ID Group either. Jae-won was a once-in-a-century genius under special protection in the United States, and ID Group was already one of the largest conglomerates in Korea.
Choi Hyun-hee started to speak, then closed his mouth again. He had wanted to ask why they had to be enemies when they could simply get along, but the words felt too pathetic to utter. Even if their businesses did not overlap much, suggesting they coexist peacefully while locked in unlimited competition was absurd. He had come here expecting some relief, yet only felt heavier. The one thing he had gained was confirmation that Yoo Jae-won and ID Group were now Ilseong’s sworn rivals. It was as good as a formal declaration of war. From now on, he would simply have to crush them with everything he had.
Chairman Choi believed that even if ID Group’s momentum was frightening, Ilseong, which still held Korea’s establishment firmly in its grasp, could handle them. Thus the hundred-million-won meeting concluded with both sides clearly understanding each other’s resolve.
“I will never be caught off guard twice.”
Yoo Jae-won watched Choi Hyun-hee’s party drive away in their Mercedes and renewed his determination. He could have left the meeting without revealing his true feelings and let things pass amicably. But after regressing, he had no desire to suffer in silence. He had wanted to make Choi Hyun-hee, the root of every problem, feel the same headache so that he himself could breathe easier. Ilseong’s pattern was obvious. They would look for any opening in ID Group and Jae-won, then use the media and political connections to bury them. If that failed, they would not hesitate to call in hitmen—people who staged car accidents rather than sending obvious assassins with guns.
But it would not be easy. Jae-won had told Choi Hyun-hee directly at this very meeting that if the chairman used dirty tricks, he would use them too. So if hitmen were sent, Choi would have to expect hitmen in return. If he underestimated Jae-won because he was still young and assumed he could not possibly know any hitmen, then—
“He’ll be the one who dies.”
Yoo Jae-won spoke the chilling words without hesitation.
“Chairman, the event begins in sixty minutes.”
It was time to start the ceremony. Jae-won, who had been staring out the window, finally turned around. He had not been able to say everything he wanted, but simply speaking his mind had loosened some of the knot that had been lodged in his soul.
“Has the chairman arrived?”
“Of course. When you asked me to come, I had to.”
Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon, who had just stepped out of his car, greeted Jae-won’s welcome warmly. Perhaps because they had not met in a while, he looked especially bright. The two men smiled broadly at each other. In particular, Chairman Jeon showed no sign whatsoever that he would soon have to pay the National Tax Service 160 billion won. The Mirae Group had declared it would fight the fine in court, claiming it was unjust, and had begun the appeal process. Yet every businessman of this era already knew roughly how that fight would end. Yoo Jae-won knew it too—not as a guess, but as a certainty. He remembered clearly that the court would reject the Mirae Group’s request without hesitation. Next January, the Mirae Group would pay the full 160 billion won in a single transfer. For most small and medium-sized companies that sum was unimaginable, but for the Mirae Group it was merely the amount of one online transfer.
“You give me far too much credit. The event would feel empty without you today, Chairman.”
“You think so? Then I’m glad I came.”
“These two gentlemen are the real stars of today’s event—Attorney Kim Chang-wan and Attorney Jung Byung-woo.”
The true protagonists of the day were not Jae-won himself but Kim Chang-wan and Jung Byung-woo. Jae-won made sure they received proper attention. Although he had only met them twice—yesterday and today—he personally promised them solid treatment and generous support. He did not stop at words; he introduced them directly to the VIPs attending the event.
“I am Kim Chang-wan. The fact that former Prime Minister Jeon is here makes today’s event all the more splendid.”
“It is an honor to meet Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon, the man who led Korea’s modernization! I am Jung Byung-woo.”
“Good to meet you both. I expect you to work hard from now on.”
Kim Chang-wan and Jung Byung-woo each greeted Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon in their own styles and shook his hand. Both men looked visibly moved. Even Kim Chang-wan, who was twelve years older than Jung Byung-woo, could not hide the flush on his face. It was understandable. The VIPs they had just met in person were people they could never have encountered without Yoo Jae-won. From economic giants like Jeon Myeong-heon and Choi Hyun-hee to high-ranking political figures such as the Blue House secretary and the Minister of Posts and Telecommunications, and numerous influential figures in the legal world—the dazzling roster of attendees was a vivid demonstration of ID Group’s reach. Jae-won had gone out of his way to introduce Kim Chang-wan and Jung Byung-woo to every one of them. Shaking hands with people they would normally never meet, learning their faces, and sometimes even exchanging contact information—such experiences were enough to stir even the usually composed Kim Chang-wan. As for the opportunistic Jung Byung-woo, there was no need to say more. He looked ready to swear loyalty on the spot if only Jae-won would accept it. A follower even more devoted than Choi Kang-wook had been born.
As expected, the opening ceremony of the Kim & Jung Law Firm concluded successfully. It received more than one segment on the nine-o’clock national news, so no further evaluation was necessary. At the same time, real work began in earnest. Lawsuits for compensation were filed against every notorious war-criminal company that had established Korean subsidiaries, and the firm began collecting testimony and evidence from victims. Japan reacted even more strongly. A formal protest note arrived at ID Group from the Japanese embassy, and Japan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs openly displayed its displeasure while denying the very existence of war crimes such as forced labor and sexual slavery. It was the usual Japanese response. The fight had only just begun.
After finishing his business in Korea, Yoo Jae-won headed for Russia. Because there were no direct flights to Moscow, the route chosen was Seoul to Germany and then on to Moscow. Direct flights would have been convenient, but they were still impossible. The aftereffects of the 1983 downing of Korean Air Flight 007 still lingered. That flight had departed John F. Kennedy Airport bound for Gimpo International Airport. When it attempted to cross Sakhalin and enter the East Sea, Soviet fighters appeared and shot it down. The Soviets claimed it was a reconnaissance plane disguised as a civilian airliner, yet no country used that type of reconnaissance aircraft. Although Korea and the Soviet Union had restored diplomatic relations earlier that year, resuming direct flights remained a distant prospect. Even if a direct route were established, few people would use it. When travel time increased only modestly, most travelers chose the safer route. Yoo Jae-won had no desire to board such a plane either.
“Have you been to Russia often, Mr. Kevin?”
“Ah, I wouldn’t say ‘often.’ The only time was a five-day business trip a few years ago.”
Kevin Johnson answered promptly. The party traveling to Russia consisted of only Kevin Johnson, Allen, Kim Dae-seok, and two bodyguards—a modest group. As planned, Kevin Johnson had been appointed vice president of the Android Division. Yoo Jae-won’s personnel policy was to place people one rank below their final position during a probationary period and test them. Vincent Greenhill of ID Investment was still a vice president, and Remington had also risen from vice president to president. Kevin Johnson was currently vice president of the Android Division, yet the work given to him was essentially that of a president. If he performed well, his promotion to president would be natural. At the same time, Kevin Johnson found even the vice-presidential role extremely burdensome. At Microsoft his title had been director. After ID Group’s acquisition he had been promoted four levels at once. He regarded this appointment as one of the three great opportunities that come to a person in life and was determined to accomplish the mission Jae-won had given him at all costs.
The task now entrusted to Kevin Johnson was the success of Yoo Jae-won’s business trip to Russia. Most of the difficult administrative procedures had already been completed, so the burden was light. His greatest concern was whether some unexpected variable might arise in the extremely chaotic Russia. A few years earlier there had still been some order, but now political and economic turmoil was extreme. At this point, not going would have been the wisest choice, yet no one could dissuade Yoo Jae-won.
“Still, the people I met back then should still be in their positions. If any unexpected situation occurs during our stay in Moscow, I will do my best to request their assistance.”
Kevin Johnson, who had begun with an uncertain tone, now spoke with renewed resolve. Yoo Jae-won nodded at his words. It was better to be cautious in speech and action than to boast with baseless confidence and then panic when trouble actually struck. Of course, there would be moments when bold action was required, but in those cases Jae-won himself could take the reins.
The corporate significance of this trip to Moscow was to demonstrate ID Group’s sincere regard for talent. No Western company would fly all the way to Moscow just to recruit Dr. Shailov, so Jae-won intended to make the first move. Through this trip he planned to have ID Group sweep up every outstanding Russian researcher. The company’s executives agreed that nothing would be more effective than Jae-won going in person. That was why they had not tried to stop him and had instead focused on ensuring thorough security. Even now two bodyguards accompanied him, and upon arrival in Moscow a local security team prepared by Mikhail, the head of the scouting team, would join them. Each member of that team was highly capable and carried legally permitted firearms—an indication of just how chaotic Moscow had become.
Yet Yoo Jae-won intended to achieve far more than mere scouting during this Russian trip. In addition to ensuring the scouting team’s stable operations, he planned to establish contacts with influential Russian politicians and build patronage relationships. Naturally, Vladimir Putin was on that list. Although Putin would later become the new tsar of twenty-first-century Russia, he had not started out as a powerful dictator. Currently he held the post of assistant to the rector of Leningrad State University. His previous career had been as a KGB agent stationed in East Germany, where he had witnessed the collapse of the Eastern Bloc firsthand—an experience that had profoundly changed him. That was why, during the August coup attempt by communist hardliners opposing the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the independence of its republics, he had refused to participate. After leaving the KGB, a sympathetic superior had arranged the assistant-to-the-rector position at Leningrad State University, though the salary was not generous. Anyone who helped him during such difficult times would be remembered as a benefactor, even by a ruthless future dictator.
Yoo Jae-won had no intention of making unreasonable demands simply because he was providing support. He would be satisfied with a reasonable give-and-take relationship. That was why it was important to make the connection feel natural rather than contrived. As a result, he now found himself in the unexpected role of university patron. The university in question was, of course, Leningrad State University, where Putin worked. Fortunately, there was a good pretext. More than six researchers were scheduled to join ID High Tech, not just Dr. Shailov. Among them was a rocket expert named Alexandros Movich, a graduate of Leningrad University. Movich himself had not requested a scholarship from the school. Instead, Jae-won had offered to donate a scholarship fund to the university once Movich joined ID High Tech—an offer that had been received very positively. Jae-won planned to use the scholarship-fund presentation ceremony as an excuse to visit Leningrad State University and begin his connection with Putin, the rector’s assistant. If he could both activate the scouting business and forge ties with the man who would become Russia’s future tsar, this Russian trip would be an undeniable success.
—Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon be landing at Moscow International Airport. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts.
Right on cue, the announcement came. Looking out the window, Jae-won saw a frozen city blanketed in white snow. Only then did it truly sink in that he had arrived in the land of the sickle, the hammer, and the red star.