The Memory of Success

Yoo Jae-won had clearly told President Lee Yong-kwon of TG that this venture would go to Sunkyung. Yet because the preparation phase had produced such outstanding results, President Lee Yong-kwon seemed to have allowed a sliver of hope to take root. It was understandable. The business plan drafted with ID Technology’s consulting made TG the undisputed frontrunner. It contained not only the localization of handsets and base stations but also remarkably concrete visions for mobile telecommunications services.

Thanks to that plan, TG was selected alongside Sunkyung, Kolon, and POSCO in the first round of evaluations at the end of July. The final decision, however, brought no surprises. Sunkyung won.

“Huh? They’re already out? Auntie! Another bottle of soju over here! And this soju’s too bitter—bring me something fresh!”

The shameless voice coming through the receiver belonged to President Lee Yong-kwon. “Sir, soju is supposed to be bitter.”

Unless it was a properly distilled spirit, the diluted kind that came in green glass bottles never tasted good. They masked the flavor with heaps of sweeteners, yet the result was still oddly sweet and unpleasant. “Would you like me to make the soju taste better for you?”

Of course, Yoo Jae-won knew exactly how to revive the flavor. “Huh? What did you say?” “I said I can make the soju taste good again.”

Lee Yong-kwon was tipsy, but his high tolerance still allowed for coherent conversation. “Ah! So you’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t you?”

Yoo Jae-won’s words landed clearly. Naturally, he did. In his previous life, Sunkyung had also been awarded the second mobile carrier license, yet fierce political backlash prevented them from ever launching operations. Public sentiment had been equally hostile. Even after Sunkyung secured the license and aired three-minute image advertisements morning and night—featuring massive container ships bearing the Sunkyung mark sailing into the open ocean and promising a future filled with hope—the public’s gaze never softened. Everyone knew the license had been obtained through political collusion, and distrust only deepened.

The timing was terrible as well. The presidential election was imminent, and the ruling party’s likely candidate was Kim Young-sam, an outsider rather than someone from President Roh’s inner circle. Pressing the issue of Sunkyung and President Roh’s collusion would leave them unable to withstand the pressure. In the past, Sunkyung had indeed been forced to return the second mobile carrier license under exactly this kind of political assault.

“Will the political world actually move for us?” President Lee’s confidence had clearly taken a hit after his previous bitter experience. The man who never showed weakness in front of Yoo Jae-won was now, under the influence of alcohol, voicing his doubts without pause.

“Then I’ll speak with Assemblyman Jeon Myeong-heon.” “Hah! Really?”

In his previous life, Assemblyman Jeon Myeong-heon had missed several good opportunities during his time in the National Assembly. Had he seized the moment to raise his profile, he might have performed better in the presidential race. For whatever reason, he had remained inconspicuous as a lawmaker, and no one had been there to advise him. The Tongil National Party still lacked anyone capable of painting the bigger picture. But Yoo Jae-won was here now. Jeon Myeong-heon trusted Yoo Jae-won’s words above all others, so the right advice would translate directly into action.

The next day, a headline dominated the front page of the Nextcom news portal:

Assemblyman Jeon Myeong-heon had appeared at the National Assembly press briefing room and delivered an emergency press conference with full showmanship. He denounced the collusion between Sunkyung and President Roh while also implicating Kim Young-sam, chairman of the Democratic Liberal Party. In truth, Chairman Kim Young-sam had been one of the loudest opponents when Sunkyung’s name first surfaced alongside the second mobile carrier license. He had foreseen precisely this situation. A master politician, Kim Young-sam understood that favoring President Roh’s in-laws would create a major obstacle on his own path to the presidency. He had opposed the decision vigorously, yet he could not overcome President Roh’s stubbornness.

Kim Young-sam was a man who knew when to place his bets. Most politicians would have hesitated, claiming they needed time to formulate countermeasures, only to sink deeper into the mire. Kim Young-sam was different. On the very same day Jeon Myeong-heon held his press conference, Kim Young-sam called his own briefing just hours later and launched a fierce attack on Sunkyung. He went even further, requesting a direct meeting with President Roh to resolve the matter face-to-face. It was the boldest move the ruling party chairman could make.

Once Kim Young-sam moved, the opposition Democratic Party naturally followed, with Kim Dae-jung stepping forward personally. Chairman Kim Dae-jung had also been preparing a press conference, but because Jeon Myeong-heon had acted first, he received the spotlight last. To compensate, he responded with the greatest intensity. President Roh and Sunkyung found themselves trapped in an inescapable quagmire.

Exactly five days later, the announcement came:

With the entire political sphere—including the ruling Minjeong Party—rising in opposition, neither President Roh nor Sunkyung could hold out. They surrendered in just five days. President Son Seung-gil of Sunkyung held a surrender press conference at the Sunkyung Group headquarters in Euljiro, Seoul.

“They’ve got some nerve.” Yoo Jae-won clicked his tongue as he read the article on his monitor. It was not a complete surrender. Subsequent reports revealed President Son Seung-gil’s firm resolve to participate again in any future re-selection process. Sunkyung insisted they had won the license on merit, but because the public and political circles misunderstood, they would re-enter the selection process to prove their legitimacy and capability once more.

“Shameless.” President Son Seung-gil was merely a salaried executive. The true royal family of Sunkyung was the Choi clan. The words printed in the article reflected not Son’s own thoughts but the will of the current owner, Choi Il-sun. “That filthy blood never changes.”

Yoo Jae-won felt his temperature rise. Among the grudges he carried from his previous life, Ilsung ranked highest, but Sunkyung was not far behind. In the fusion of IoT and artificial intelligence, telecommunications were indispensable, and Yoo Jae-won had personal stakes in the matter. He had suffered endless abuse of power and had countless achievements stolen. Those stolen capabilities had been used to polish the image of Sunkyung’s incompetent third-generation chaebol heirs. And once used, they were discarded like wrapping paper. “Just you wait.”

People who say “just you wait” are usually not frightening; the weak utter the phrase while nursing grudges. But when Yoo Jae-won said it, the meaning was different. He carried a blade he had honed for years. They would need to be on guard.

Ring ring! As if on cue, the phone rang. It was the Korean-model telephone, so Yoo Jae-won already knew who was on the other end.

“Jae-won, you’re incredible! Truly!”

As expected, the caller was TG’s Lee Yong-kwon. The man who had been whining about fresh soju just days earlier was now brimming with vitality. His voice alone radiated energy. It was only natural. The mobile telecommunications business had been TG’s next-generation growth engine, prepared with full commitment. ID Technology’s consulting had been precise. Even the company’s scale now surpassed competitors like Kolon and POSCO. A few years ago, TG had been a small-to-medium enterprise with a single factory in Yongsan. Now, with computers alone, it stood on equal footing with Kumseong Electronics. Projected sales this year exceeded two million units, with expected profits surpassing one trillion won. At this scale, TG had already overtaken Kumseong Electronics. Moreover, the computer sector was growing at over twenty percent annually, and forecasts suggested TG would surpass Ilsung Electronics within a few years.

Industry insiders had widely believed TG would have won the license had Sunkyung not existed. Now that political pressure had forced Sunkyung to withdraw, everyone assumed the second mobile carrier license would fall to TG.

“It’s not over yet.” “Huh? What do you mean?” “President Son’s announcement wasn’t an unconditional surrender. You have to read between the lines.”

Sunkyung’s surrender contained a hidden maneuver—the word “re-selection.” If Sunkyung had returned the license, people naturally assumed the second-place candidate would inherit it. President Lee Yong-kwon thought the same. So what purpose did “re-selection” serve? Sunkyung was proposing to scrap the entire selection process and start over. “What? Is that even possible?”

Of course it was an unreasonable demand. In reality, no re-selection process for the second mobile carrier had ever taken place. The statement was both a show of determination not to retreat easily and a stepping stone toward another path—namely, the acquisition of Korea Mobile Telecom. This was the selection of the second mobile carrier, which implied another entity already operated in the mobile telecommunications space: Korea Mobile Telecom, a state-owned subsidiary of Korea Telecom. The car phone service Yoo Jae-won used belonged to Korea Mobile Telecom.

“There’s something called privatization.” Until the early 2000s, privatization had been viewed positively. The prevailing perception among politicians and the public was that civil servants were untrustworthy and that public enterprises were plagued by inefficiency and bloated management. Calls to privatize troubled state-owned companies to maximize efficiency gained traction, and through this route Sunkyung finally achieved the mobile telecommunications entry it so desperately wanted.

Interestingly, the privatization of Korea Mobile Telecom occurred during Kim Young-sam’s presidency—the very man now opposing Sunkyung so fiercely. The fact that he had approved Sunkyung’s acquisition of Korea Mobile Telecom indicated that some form of agreement had already been reached. This collusion had twisted Korea’s mobile telecommunications market. By handing the healthy Korea Mobile Telecom to Sunkyung, Korea Telecom was later forced to launch KTF as a separate entity to re-enter the mobile business. There was also Shinsedae Telecom, hastily created when Kolon and POSCO ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠refused to abandon their ambitions. With POSCO as the largest shareholder and Kolon as the second, the joint venture was doomed from the start due to conflicting interests. It was eventually absorbed by Sunkyung Mobile and disappeared. Even the merger between Sunkyung Mobile and Shinsedae Telecom had been controversial. Approval was granted only after Sunkyung promised to maintain less than fifty percent market share, yet Sunkyung consistently exceeded that threshold afterward.

“So from now on, this is what matters.” “Right! Just tell me what to do!”

Aside from Assemblyman Jeon Myeong-heon, no one trusted Yoo Jae-won more than Lee Yong-kwon. After partnering with ID Group, TG had transformed. Where once the company trembled at the prospect of even a few hundred million won in new business, it now participated confidently in a multi-hundred-billion-won mobile telecommunications project. Its headquarters had moved from a modest building in Yeouido to a skyscraper in Gangnam, and its computer manufacturing plant had been greatly expanded in Gyeonggi Province. Intel, which had once ignored TG, now supplied its latest products first. If Yoo Jae-won said it, Lee Yong-kwon would do it.

“First, we need to raise TG Mobile’s brand recognition.” “Hmm, we’re already working on that.”

TG’s advertisements were appearing frequently on television and in newspapers. Even the newly generous Lee Yong-kwon found the spending somewhat painful. “That’s not enough. TG is doing well globally right now. Sales are strong not only in the United States but also in Europe. You’ve also won the Red Dot Design Award with every new product. A special program highlighting TG’s achievements would be sufficient.”

In the twenty-first century, TG’s success would have generated an even greater response. But in 1992, foreign news appeared only in one or two columns on the international pages of newspapers or in television news broadcasts. Even then, the information was filtered through reporters’ and newspapers’ preferences—neither accurate nor fresh.

“Understood. But is that all?” An overseas-location special program was no small undertaking, yet President Lee still felt something was missing. “Yes. That’s enough for what TG needs to do.”

Naturally, this was not everything. But for TG, this level of effort was sufficient. The person who needed to clash directly with Sunkyung and President Roh and seize the spotlight was someone else.

“What theme should we go with? It needs to hit hard.” After ending the call, Yoo Jae-won pondered briefly. Fortunately, the thought did not last long. He launched ID Word Processor and began drafting a document titled “The Memory of Success.”

A few days later, Jeon Myeong-heon—who now carried the unmistakable air of a seasoned politician—sat in a large restaurant having lunch with reporters. The establishment was a spacious seolleongtang house with over sixty seats. The only politicians present were Jeon Myeong-heon and a few aides; the rest were all journalists. Naturally, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the gathering had been arranged with intent. The official pretext was simply sharing a meal, but the aides had already laid the groundwork that Jeon Myeong-heon would speak candidly about the Sunkyung incident. Of course, the reporters’ meals were all paid for from Jeon Myeong-heon’s own pocket, so there was no burden, and because he was the most talked-about figure whose every word generated headlines, the restaurant was packed.

The reporters’ expectations were not disappointed.

“To put it plainly, a company that used to sell tape had the audacity to try its hand at the mobile telecommunications market and ended up in this mess.”

No one else spoke so openly about Sunkyung. As the president’s son-in-law’s company, its influence had been immense. Since the 1987 democratization, one could criticize the president openly without the Agency for National Security Planning coming to arrest you from Namsan. Still, the president’s authority remained formidable, so people nodded in agreement in public while criticizing behind closed doors.

“Then why ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠did they take such a reckless gamble? Because they had succeeded with this exact method before. Everyone here knows that Sunkyung began with a textile factory it received as vested Japanese property.”

The reporters nodded at Assemblyman Jeon Myeong-heon’s words.

“That textile company became a conglomerate through the acquisition of the Korea Petroleum Corporation. I wonder how many of you young reporters even remember that time. There was quite an uproar when Sunkyung acquired the petroleum corporation back then. Think about it—Sunkyung Group’s annual sales were barely over three hundred billion won, while the petroleum corporation was worth over one trillion. A shrimp swallowed a whale.”

Calling them young was a polite compliment. Many of the reporters vividly remembered that era, and they actively agreed with Jeon Myeong-heon’s assessment.

“Sunkyung tasted the sweet fruit of political collusion and assumed the same method would work again this time.”

The reporters nodded at the clear analysis while marveling at Jeon Myeong-heon’s boldness in attacking Sunkyung so directly. But he was not finished.

“And this isn’t unique to Sunkyung. Those who profit from cheating will cheat again. Those who profit from tax evasion will scheme to evade taxes once more. I’ve named this phenomenon ‘the memory of success.’”

The Memory ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Success!

“But is the memory of success always bad? No! Though it may sound like self-praise, look at Mirae Group. I started with nothing and built that massive enterprise. When everyone called heavy industry, automobiles, and shipbuilding reckless, I succeeded by sharing that memory of success. Is today any different? A recent example is ID Group—a highly desirable case. It clearly demonstrates what innovation truly means.”

Jeon Myeong-heon’s insight was sharp enough that even the reporters acknowledged it, and they scribbled furiously. After quenching his thirst with a sip of cold water, he continued.

“Re-selection? And they want to participate again? Ha! The only reason such shamelessness can even be voiced is because of that misguided memory of success. Imagine, for a moment, that this scheme succeeds again. How much more aggressively would they pursue an even bigger jackpot?”

The reporters nodded at Jeon Myeong-heon’s question. Although a few plants had been placed in the audience in case the reaction was poor, the response had been so favorable that the precaution felt unnecessary.

“A society where many people share the right kind of success memory—that is what makes an advanced nation, isn’t it? No one but I, Jeon Myeong-heon, can do this without owing anyone a favor!”

Jeon Myeong-heon drove the point home with finality. As expected, his words became front-page news that very day, appearing on every television broadcast and newspaper. Naturally, Sunkyung’s owner family—who had been preparing Plan B—and even President Roh looked as though they had bitten into something bitter. Finally, a dramatic shift occurred in the presidential race as well. The name Jeon Myeong-heon, previously overshadowed by the two frontrunners Kim Young-sam and Kim Dae-jung in approval ratings, began to surge upward at an alarming rate.