The Thirty-Seat Vision
Command & Conquer. “They’re almost here. Five minutes out.” Kim Dae-seok’s report informed everyone exactly how close Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon and his entourage had come. Yoo Jae-won nodded and rose from his seat. They were not at the Old Palo Alto residence but at the ID Group villa near the Golden Gate Bridge. Most mansions eventually received some special name, yet Yoo Jae-won had simply called this one the ID Group villa—easy to remember, no confusion. If he ever purchased another property, he would add the location to the name. For now, “the Group villa” meant the one overlooking the Golden Gate in San Francisco.
The ID Group villa had been chosen as the meeting place with Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon, so Yoo Jae-won had moved his accommodations here several days earlier. After living in it, he had to admit it was far nicer than the Old Palo Alto house. The downside was its sheer size; the place felt cavernous. The black-and-white interior accented with silver only made it feel less cozy. If he were to move in permanently, he would either redo the interior or, as he was doing now, stay only a few days at a time. In any case, with Jeon Myeong-heon nearly at the gate, Yoo Jae-won headed downstairs to greet him at the entrance.
At the front door, multiple CCTV feeds came into view. The cameras covered not only the villa entrance but the entire approach road, and the same images were being monitored in the security office. Firearms were legal in this country, and the location was remote; thorough security was simply common sense.
One of the farthest camera feeds showed an unfamiliar vehicle turning onto the property. It began climbing the narrow path leading to the ID Group villa.
“That must be the car,” Yoo Jae-won said.
“Yes. Chairman Jeon’s preferences are quite consistent,” Kim Dae-seok replied, nodding at the screen.
Jeon Myeong-heon was the head of the global Mirae Group and had brought more than ten people with him. Common sense suggested a convoy of luxury sedans. Yet the only vehicle on the monitor was a single twenty-passenger minibus. Mirae Group had its own automobile subsidiary, Mirae Motors, which Jeon Myeong-heon himself had founded. Ever since the company began producing vehicles, he refused to ride in any other make except under unavoidable circumstances—such as when a foreign head of state provided an official car or when visiting a company that supplied Mirae Group. For ordinary business trips, a Mirae vehicle would already have been prepositioned. This trip, however, had been decided on the spur of the moment, leaving no time for that. The only option was to find something locally. Mirae Motors did export to the United States, but in very small numbers. Securing one in San Francisco was nearly impossible. The best they could manage was the minibus.
Jeon Myeong-heon had climbed aboard without complaint simply because it was a Mirae product. His aides followed without a word of protest, and the bus headed straight for the ID Group villa.
“Hey, is that Jae-won’s villa up ahead?”
“Yes, sir. The ID logo on the gate confirms it.”
Choi Jae-soo, head of Mirae’s restructuring division, answered promptly from the seat across the aisle. The minibus stopped before the tall iron gate. A waiting guard approached and verified the visitors’ identities. Nothing was handled carelessly. A thoughtless old man might have exploded at being asked for identification, but Jeon Myeong-heon merely nodded with satisfaction.
“Welcome, Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon and your party.”
At the guard’s words, the heavy gate swung open smoothly. The minibus that had paused for a moment rolled into the estate. The surroundings changed instantly: a European-style garden the size of a soccer field and a mansion whose sheer bulk could not be taken in at a single glance. Several members of Jeon Myeong-heon’s entourage who had not yet grasped the true scale of Yoo Jae-won’s success finally understood when they saw the villa.
“Ah, one last thing before we go in. I trust none of you will look down on Jae-won because of his age. Treat him exactly as you would treat me. Understood?”
When Yoo Jae-won’s figure appeared at the main entrance—visible even to the aging Jeon Myeong-heon—the chairman added this final warning. He had already dismissed any aides who judged people by appearances alone, but he said it anyway, just in case.
“Yes, sir! We understand!”
The reply came back in chorus. Every member of the entourage held at least the rank of president within Mirae Group, yet before Jeon Myeong-heon they were as docile as lambs.
The minibus came to a complete stop in front of the mansion. Jeon Myeong-heon stepped out first and embraced Yoo Jae-won, who had come to greet him, displaying unrestrained joy.
A short while later, Yoo Jae-won, Jeon Myeong-heon, and the entire entourage gathered in the mansion’s living room. Ordinarily, the first day of such a visit was spent unpacking and resting after a long flight. Yoo Jae-won had prepared accordingly, concerned that the chairman might be tired. Yet Jeon Myeong-heon’s enthusiasm exceeded all expectations. Having declared his intention to enter politics without receiving full support from anyone else, he was now receiving Yoo Jae-won’s complete backing. Naturally, he was eager to begin. Since the chairman insisted, Yoo Jae-won could not force him to rest.
After a brief break, the meeting was convened in the central living room. The spacious area, large enough to serve as a classroom, also functioned as a conference room and contained a long table. Even after seating Jeon Myeong-heon’s entire party, ample space remained. Professional waiters hired for the occasion finished setting up quickly. The aides sat on either side of the table while Yoo Jae-won and Jeon Myeong-heon took the head seats side by side.
Once everyone was seated, brief self-introductions began. Starting with Kim Ik-chi, president of Mirae Securities—the oldest among Jeon Myeong-heon’s inner circle—the introductions continued with Choi Jae-soo, Kim Yoon-gu, and the others. They had clearly taken Jeon Myeong-heon’s earlier words to heart; their attitude toward Yoo Jae-won was impeccably respectful. The young man receiving the introductions felt almost embarrassed. It was like expecting a simple dinner with a girlfriend’s parents only to discover her entire extended family had also shown up. Though he had never experienced such a situation in either life, the awkwardness was real.
Yoo Jae-won’s discomfort lasted only until the greetings ended. The moment the discussion turned to business, his entire demeanor changed. Unlike a typical presentation, he made full use of ID’s presentation system. A large screen had been installed for everyone to see clearly, and a state-of-the-art projector connected to New Egg was switched on.
“I view your decision to found a new party very positively. While it may seem difficult to break into the established two-party structure, there are in fact many openings for you to exploit.”
The map of Korea that appeared on the screen highlighted the TK region centered on Ulsan, Gangwon Province where party lines were unclear, and the Chungcheong region—all shaded in the green that symbolized Mirae Group.
“If you actively target these areas, I believe you can secure at least twenty-three district seats and seven proportional-representation seats, for a total of thirty.”
It was a claim grounded in historical fact. In the original timeline, the party had won thirty-one seats—an achievement no one had anticipated, obtained by Jeon Myeong-heon through sheer determination. The shock to the existing political establishment had been immense, and systematic checks had begun immediately after the election. This time Yoo Jae-won intended to intervene directly, though even he could not predict how the change would affect voter sentiment. Once official campaigning began, he planned to run proper polling analysis. At present, Korean polling remained underdeveloped. The political world still regarded sophisticated data analysis as something only advanced countries did; no one had considered applying it seriously to elections. Moreover, general elections involved many candidates and required segmented sampling, which further reduced accuracy.
“What? Thirty seats? I expected more from a so-called genius, but your sense of reality seems rather lacking.”
Yoo Jae-won had anticipated exactly this reaction. The speaker was the stout gentleman seated at the very end of the table. During introductions he had identified himself as Lee Keon-hyung, security committee chairman of the National Party. It was an impressive title for a party that held not a single National Assembly seat. They had only just established an organization in Ulsan. Jeon Myeong-heon, pressed for time, planned to create his new party by acquiring the National Party. Ulsan was essentially Mirae Group’s backyard; Mirae Heavy Industries, Korea’s premier shipbuilder, was located there, as was the Mirae Motors plant. Countless partner companies clustered around them, making Ulsan the region where Mirae’s influence was strongest. One of Jeon Myeong-heon’s sons had already planted his flag there and was repeatedly re-elected to the National Assembly. Any party based in the region inevitably fell under Mirae Group’s sway. Lee Keon-hyung was no exception. That was why he had been the most enthusiastic when Jeon Myeong-heon announced the new party. With the chairman’s backing, winning multiple seats should have been routine. Securing a high position on the proportional list or simply planting the flag in Ulsan would guarantee entry into the National Assembly—or so he had believed. Then Yoo Jae-won had suddenly appeared.
Yoo Jae-won’s presence was impossible for Lee Keon-hyung to ignore, yet the difference between seeing him from afar and meeting him in person was stark. That was why Lee Keon-hyung had attached himself to Jeon Myeong-heon’s American trip and followed him all the way here. In his estimation, even with Jeon Myeong-heon’s full support, the maximum realistic number of seats was around ten—and that was an optimistic figure. In the worst case, perhaps only five or six. Yet here was Yoo Jae-won casually claiming thirty. To Lee Keon-hyung’s common sense, the number was simply impossible. He smelled a con artist.
Yet Yoo Jae-won had built everything from nothing and risen to his current position.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because thirty seats defies common sense! You need to have some sense of reality!”
Lee Keon-hyung had tried to restrain himself, but Yoo Jae-won’s innocent, puzzled expression finally made him lose his temper. His voice rose naturally. Yoo Jae-won remained unfazed. Anyone who spent years in Korean politics eventually developed that kind of reaction. Instead, he prepared to advance the presentation and explain the strategy that would produce thirty-plus seats. Someone else moved faster.
“Hey, Keon-hyung. You seem a bit worked up. Why don’t you step outside for a while?”
It was Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon.
“Pardon?”
“I said step outside.”
Though the house belonged to Yoo Jae-won, in that moment it felt as though it belonged to Jeon Myeong-heon. The short dismissal left Lee Keon-hyung at a loss.
“Uh, well… I…”
As he fumbled for an excuse, the cold stares of Kim Ik-chi and Choi Jae-soo sealed his lips. Lee Keon-hyung rose awkwardly, shoulders slumped, and walked out. No one tried to stop him.
“Well, he came all this way. Kicking him out seems a bit harsh,” Yoo Jae-won said, more out of courtesy than genuine concern.
“Not at all. If someone disrupts the meeting after traveling this far, there’s no reason for him to remain.”
Jeon Myeong-heon’s charisma was as overwhelming as ever. After the brief commotion, Yoo Jae-won resumed the presentation.
“To reach thirty seats, what we need most is recognition. And recognition comes from people. Gathering well-known figures is the most urgent task you must undertake, Grandfather.”
“Understood. And call me Grandfather.”
The title “Grandfather” had previously existed only between the two of them. Because this was a formal setting, Yoo Jae-won had switched to “Chairman,” but Jeon Myeong-heon chose the more intimate form. The fact that he did so in front of his inner circle carried clear implications, and Jeon Myeong-heon was fully aware of them—yet he did not care.
“Yes, Grandfather. In any case, both the ruling and opposition parties are currently embroiled in factional infighting and nomination scandals. Several heavyweight politicians have been denied nominations and left out in the cold. Bring all of them into the new party.”
Jeon Myeong-heon nodded. So did the other aides. This was a method the chairman himself had already considered, so it aligned perfectly with his thinking.
“High-profile celebrities also fall into this category.”
This was a tactic even Jeon Myeong-heon had not yet considered. Celebrities enjoyed far greater recognition than politicians. As long as the public did not dismiss the idea of entertainers entering politics, the odds were excellent.
“Once you have assembled these recognizable figures and finalized the nominations, you must win on policy. The 1987 direct presidential election was achieved, yet nothing has truly changed since then. Our new party must draw a clear line with the stale existing political forces through bold policies.”
“Exactly! You’re right.”
Jeon Myeong-heon applauded. The very reason he had decided to enter politics was that both ruling and opposition parties treated businesspeople the same way. If he entered the arena himself, he was confident he could do several times better than any of them. Korea had been a developing country until the 1980s, but that was no longer true. The Olympics had been a success, and an international exposition would be held the following year. The national economy was approaching the world’s top ten. Jeon Myeong-heon was certain that if politicians simply stopped treating corporate money as their own, the economy could rise another level.
“I’ve already thought of several policies that should resonate: an aggressive unification policy, half-price apartments, and active encouragement of women’s participation in society.”
Jeon Myeong-heon, who had been nodding along, continued where Yoo Jae-won left off.
“Will that be enough? We should also abolish university admission quotas and introduce graduation examinations, and provide free school meals for all elementary and middle schools.”
Yoo Jae-won nodded as if he had expected nothing less. The pledges Yoo Jae-won had mentioned were in fact the very ones the Tongil National Party had put forward in his previous life—extremely radical at the time. It seemed Jeon Myeong-heon had personally championed them once again.
“Yes. In addition, a comprehensive safety inspection of Han River bridges, department stores, cultural facilities, and other heavily used public spaces would be effective. Many people still remember the Wow Apartment collapse. That alone could earn us significant support even in Seoul, where we are currently weak.”
Yoo Jae-won added a new policy he had spent several days refining. From the early 1990s onward, Korea would begin to suffer the aftershocks of its breakneck growth. One consequence was the collapse of poorly constructed buildings and bridges. When Seoul’s landmark structures—Seongsu Bridge, Sampoong Department Store, and others—failed, the country earned the shameful label of “accident republic.” Overseas construction orders dried up for a long time afterward.
“Excellent!”
Jeon Myeong-heon slapped his knee in delight. The idea had struck him immediately as the right one.
“Um, sir…”
At that moment, someone spoke up cautiously. It was Kim Yoon-gu, president of Mirae Construction. Although Jeon Myeong-heon’s second son had been appointed chairman of Mirae Construction, day-to-day operations were still handled by Kim Yoon-gu, one of the company’s founding members.
“What is it?”
Still irritated by the earlier incident, Jeon Myeong-heon’s eyes narrowed dangerously. One wrong word and Kim Yoon-gu might find himself dismissed as well.
“A full-scale safety inspection requires caution. If a major defect were to be discovered in a Mirae Construction project…”
Mirae Construction was Korea’s largest construction company, having held the top spot in contract rankings for over a decade and leaving its competitors far behind. There was virtually no part of Seoul—or indeed the entire country—untouched by Mirae Construction. Kim Yoon-gu feared that any significant defect found in a Mirae-built structure could become a serious liability in the election.
“Well, that’s…”
“Ah, you exasperating man. Is your head just for show? We simply conduct the inspections in advance, before the official campaign begins. Besides, how many people will actually be on the inspection team? Thousands? They won’t be able to check every building at once anyway. We can simply manage their routes appropriately.”
The explanation Yoo Jae-won had been about to give came directly from Jeon Myeong-heon’s mouth. Construction had been the very first business Jeon Myeong-heon started. Years of working with cement and sand had given him an instinctive grasp of the optimal angle.
“Yes, exactly. And we must not skimp on television and radio advertising either. Of course, as I mentioned before, if you wish, I will appear in the television commercials myself.”
“Thank you.”
Under normal circumstances he might have declined, but with so little time remaining until the general election, there was no room for refusal.
Yoo Jae-won’s presentation continued for a while longer. He also handed Jeon Myeong-heon a diskette containing a far more detailed report than the slides had shown. Afterward, he urged the chairman to rest while he was in San Francisco, but Jeon Myeong-heon, whose mind was already racing ahead, declined. The Silicon Valley tour could wait. They shared dinner together and then Jeon Myeong-heon departed on an early-morning flight back to Korea.
—Mirae Group pays full fine amount!
—Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon resigns. Relinquishes all authority and returns to private life.
—Mirae Group appoints Jeon Myeong-heon as honorary chairman.
Upon returning to Korea, Jeon Myeong-heon moved without hesitation. He paid the 160 billion won fine in full and stepped down from the official position of chairman at Mirae Group.
—Honorary Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon declares founding of Tongil National Party!
Everything was preparation for the general election. The sight of him casually discarding a 160-billion-won fine left even other chaebol leaders stunned. The political world, which had previously dismissed Jeon Myeong-heon’s moves as a joke, finally began to take him seriously—but it was already too late.