The Answer Is Jeon Myeong-heon
The unification of the National Party through the Game of Thrones finally transformed the parliamentary parties into an electoral system, and full-fledged election campaigning began soon after. What clearly signaled the start of official campaigning was television itself.
"A clean man, Kim Young-sam! An honest man, Kim Young-sam! Creating a new Korea!"
"Let's change it on Friday, number two, Kim Dae-jung!"
Each party's presidential campaign commercials began flooding the airwaves at the start or end of news broadcasts. Yoo Jae-won was able to watch the first airing of the unification National Party's campaign ad from his office at the party's central headquarters. Four large 21-inch color televisions were set up for broadcast monitoring, with KBS1, KBS2, Munhwa Broadcasting, and Seoul Broadcasting running continuously, so nothing was missed.
"Oh my, look at that folksy feel."
Campaign ads usually aimed for the latest sensibilities, but the presidential commercial that had just aired was steeped in 1980s nostalgia. At least Kim Dae-jung's ad, billed as "Friday Night Chatter," featured young actresses discussing whom to vote for in this election, creating some sense of rapport and a slightly more polished impression. In contrast, Kim Young-sam's "Morning in Sangdo-dong" ad was thoroughly old-fashioned. It showed supporters gathering around Kim Young-sam as he went for a run before sunrise, jogging alongside him.
"One ad really highlights the difference in the two candidates' styles."
Presidential campaign ads couldn't just be thrown on air. They had to receive the candidate's final approval first. No matter how talented the director or how fresh the concept, if the candidate rejected it, the ad never made it to television.
"I'm different, though."
Full authority! In exchange for helping Jeon Myeong-heon with his campaign, Yoo Jae-won had demanded full authority, and Jeon Myeong-heon had handed it over without hesitation. It wasn't nominal power; real control over the entire Unification National Party had been placed in Yoo Jae-won's hands. Thanks to that, the campaign ad could be produced exactly according to his sensibilities.
"The answer is Jeon Myeong-heon."
Just then, the Unification National Party's ad aired on Munhwa Broadcasting. The concept was simple. After filling a blackboard with complex calculations, the only line was "The answer is Jeon Myeong-heon." The setting was a research lab at Stanford University, and the person doing the calculations was Yoo Jae-won himself. Homaging the scene where he had solved the Poincaré conjecture felt embarrassing, but in an election, what mattered was using whatever worked to achieve results. Though it struck him as painfully cringeworthy, the public response was positive, so the ad stayed on air.
Yoo Jae-won had also laid some groundwork. To people unfamiliar with mathematics, the blackboard looked like random scribbles of symbols, but it was actually part of solving a real problem. Naturally, it was one of the seven Millennium Prize Problems, though only a fragment. Even experts wouldn't be able to identify the original question. Still, anyone who remembered this scene would immediately recognize it when the full solution was eventually revealed.
"Please, let it be good."
After confirming the ad had turned out well, Yoo Jae-won turned his attention to the computer. What he waited for with bated breath, like a student awaiting exam results, was the latest poll numbers. The polling organization Choi Kang-wook had built and run during the general election had been upgraded into a professional firm called ID Human Research. Regardless of how the presidential election ended, ID Human Research would remain to handle all future polling and field testing the ID Group required.
"They're really cutting it close with the deadline, aren't they?"
They had promised delivery by nine at the latest, yet there was still no word. He considered pressing them, but figured they were probably swamped, so he decided to watch the news and wait a little longer.
Ding!
"Hm?"
Yoo Jae-won, absorbed in the news, turned toward the computer monitor at the sound of the alert.
"It's here!"
The message that arrived via ID Talk was the long-awaited poll results. The clock in the corner of the monitor showed it was thirty minutes past the promised time. The attachment came with a lengthy apology from ID Human Research for the delay. Yoo Jae-won would have preferred they spent that time sending the file one minute earlier instead. He instructed them never to waste time on unnecessary apologies again and to report even one minute sooner, then disconnected.
He moved the mouse and opened the downloaded ID Spreadsheet file. The hard drive whirred loudly before the program launched, filling the screen with rows of numbers. The raw polling data had been sent almost unprocessed, so he had to scroll for quite a while before reaching the results.
"Hmm."
Yoo Jae-won's reaction was brief. Jeon Myeong-heon's approval rating had clearly risen. A few days earlier it had been in the mid-20s; the fresh survey now showed the high 20s. A little more effort and breaking into the magical 30 percent range seemed possible.
"Both of them went up too?"
It was a change worth celebrating, yet he couldn't. Kim Young-sam and Kim Dae-jung's numbers had risen as well. Kim Young-sam was up 1.2 percent, Kim Dae-jung 1.4 percent. That put Kim Young-sam in the high 30s and Kim Dae-jung in the mid-30s. Jeon Myeong-heon had the largest increase, but the gap had narrowed by only about 0.8 percent.
"I suppose with the election officially underway, the base is consolidating."
The most noticeable change in today's poll was the sharp drop in the undecided voter bloc. Previously, undecideds had hovered above 15 percent; this survey showed them down to the 10 percent range.
"This is going to be tough."
A shrinking pool of undecideds meant the campaign would only get harder. Wooing people who hadn't made up their minds was far easier than changing the minds of those who had already chosen a side.
"The candidate will have to deliver."
Yoo Jae-won had crafted powerful pledges targeting Busan and Jeolla, the strongholds of the two major parties, but the person who had to sell them convincingly to voters was Jeon Myeong-heon. Whether Jeon Myeong-heon could convey genuine conviction remained a growing concern. The margin of error in this poll was ±3.5 percent, so Jeon Myeong-heon needed to reach 36 percent by December 9 to have a realistic chance. Not a single day could be wasted.
Mid-November.
"Congratulations on the victory. Another landslide, as expected?"
"Oh, it's all thanks to enthusiastic supporters like you."
The caller was Bill Clinton of the United States. With the title of candidate removed and the majestic designation of President of the United States proudly secured, Clinton's voice overflowed with confidence. Election day had been the fourth; after the acceptance speech, everything had been a blur. Several days later, once reality had settled in, he had begun preparing the transition team and making thank-you calls to his supporters. The order of calls was determined by how much each person had contributed to the campaign. Naturally, Yoo Jae-won ranked quite high. A ten-million-dollar astronomical donation and public endorsement had earned him that spot. ID Group, the rising sun of Silicon Valley, and its leader Yoo Jae-won had actively supported Clinton's Information Superhighway policy, turning Silicon Valley into Clinton territory. California had always been Democratic heartland, but Clinton posted far higher vote shares than any previous Democratic nominee. Though the U.S. used the Electoral College, where a single-vote majority swept the state's electors, approval ratings still mattered as a key indicator of governing strength. High approval was good in America just as it was in Korea.
"How's your own election going?"
Clinton already knew Yoo Jae-won had become emergency committee chairman of the Unification National Party and was directing the Korean presidential campaign.
"Ah, we're still in third place, but we've only just begun."
"Must be difficult. Still, good luck."
Clinton's encouragement was simple. Having been a businessman himself before entering politics, he felt greater affinity for Kim Dae-jung, the symbol of the democratization movement, than for Jeon Myeong-heon. His support was for Yoo Jae-won personally rather than for the candidate's victory.
"Oh, and I'd like to invite you to the inauguration. Would that be all right?"
"An invitation from you would be the greatest honor. I'll clear my schedule no matter what and attend."
Clinton was the man who survived scandal and won re-election. He was also the most powerful backer in the information and communications sector. Strengthening ties with him was something Yoo Jae-won had to pursue at every opportunity. Being invited without even asking was the best possible outcome.
"Who was that on the phone?"
It was Jeon Myeong-heon.
"Ah! When did you come in?"
Yoo Jae-won, who had been lost in thought after hanging up, was startled by the sudden voice.
"Just a moment ago."
Jeon Myeong-heon sounded slightly hurt. There was no reason he couldn't enter Yoo Jae-won's office. He had come in while Yoo Jae-won was still on the call and had stayed quiet, worried he might interrupt.
"Ah, it's not that. If you'd made a sound, I could have put the call on speaker. It was President-elect Clinton, actually."
Yoo Jae-won spoke with genuine regret.
"Clinton? You mean Bill Clinton?"
Jeon Myeong-heon was equally surprised. He pointed at the four televisions and asked urgently. On every screen, the words "U.S. Presidential Election — Clinton Elected" appeared alongside footage of Clinton delivering his acceptance speech. All four networks were broadcasting nearly identical reports.
"Yes."
"Good heavens!"
Jeon Myeong-heon, who had grown accustomed to Yoo Jae-won's presence through daily interactions, was genuinely taken aback. The American presidency was no ordinary position. In blunt terms, it was practically the presidency of the world. Moreover, a president-elect who had just won was a person with every second accounted for. Every ounce of attention had to go toward forming the transition team and assembling a cabinet. The fact that Clinton had called first was proof of how highly he regarded Yoo Jae-won. At the same time, a wave of regret washed over Jeon Myeong-heon. If he had made his presence known, he might have exchanged even a brief greeting with Clinton. Instead, he had stayed silent and missed the chance.
"So what did Clinton call about?"
"To thank me for the endorsement and to invite me to the inauguration."
"That's impressive."
Even Jeon Myeong-heon couldn't help but be astonished. An American presidential inauguration. That was a seat that couldn't be obtained easily. Good seats were hard to secure even with large sums of money. They were the kind of positions one earned by betting support on the candidate before the election. Though regrettable, the moment also filled him with renewed energy. Whatever Yoo Jae-won touched turned to gold. Since that same Yoo Jae-won had chosen him, expectations for a positive outcome surged once more.
"Tomorrow is the first debate, isn't it?"
"Yes. I don't understand why we're giving so much weight to some circle of old journalists."
The debate scheduled for tomorrow was not the 21st-century style where candidates faced off and exchanged questions directly. It was the format used by the Gwanhoon Club, a journalists' social organization, which invited leading presidential candidates one by one and grilled them with verification-style questions. Yoo Jae-won agreed with Jeon Myeong-heon. The group lacked real authority or popularity. Still, since both Kim Young-sam and Kim Dae-jung had accepted, it would look bad for Jeon Myeong-heon to be the only one to decline.
"Here are the prepared sample questions. I've underlined the important parts in red, so you absolutely must not skip them."
Yoo Jae-won handed Jeon Myeong-heon a thick stack of papers. The text was printed large enough for Jeon Myeong-heon's presbyopia to read without glasses. Though not as thick as a legal code, the bundle was the size of a small Korean dictionary, and Jeon Myeong-heon let out an involuntary gasp as he received it.
"Leave tomorrow's campaign events to the election headquarters. You should focus entirely on debate preparation."
"The debate? Is it really that important?"
Jeon Myeong-heon was the type who needed to be out on the trail to feel satisfied. Sitting still and poring over materials was not in his nature. With precious campaign days slipping by, being told to stay indoors and study felt impossible.
"It's extremely important."
Yoo Jae-won made an exaggerated expression to convince him.
"So if I win tomorrow's debate, my approval rating will skyrocket?"
Yoo Jae-won did not nod. Many people mistakenly believed that dominating an opponent in a debate would boost their numbers. Debates were not about winning or losing in that sense.
"Then what are you saying?"
"It's an opportunity to prove to your supporters that you're someone worth supporting. That's why a dignified posture matters more than delivering crisp answers or sharp counterattacks. Reacting aggressively and attacking the moderator is what amateurs do."
"I see."
In 21st-century presidential debates, the people who delivered the most refreshing, soda-like moments were never absent. Those who countered brilliantly and dug into opponents' weaknesses flew across the stage, and several such figures came to mind. Yet when their actual performance was measured, the results were different. Candidates with weaknesses who stumbled or froze under pressure from these aggressive debaters often saw their approval ratings rise after the debate. Having reviewed the historical data, Yoo Jae-won found the phenomenon incomprehensible. But the numbers proved it, leaving no room for alternative interpretations. While tomorrow's Gwanhoon Club debate differed in format from 21st-century televised debates, the viewers' perspective would not be so different.
"Hm? What's this about selling three hundred billion won worth of stock?"
While flipping through the sample Q&A, Jeon Myeong-heon's eyes stopped on one page and his voice rose. At the top of the page were the words "Expected attack from opposing candidates." The question concerned the surge in Mirae Group stock prices after Jeon Myeong-heon declared his candidacy, followed by the owner family—including his children—selling three hundred billion won worth of Mirae Group affiliate shares. Even Jeon Myeong-heon himself was listed as having sold two hundred eighty billion won worth of Mirae Construction stock. This was the very issue that had relentlessly plagued Jeon Myeong-heon during the 14th presidential election. The accusation that a man seeking the presidency had sold his own company's shares to profit from price fluctuations had drawn fierce criticism.
"Ah, that rumor had already spread throughout the securities industry. I had people look into it and confirmed the transactions actually happened."
Yoo Jae-won had activated a special team to dig directly into the securities market and verify the information. It involved not only Jeon Myeong-heon's sons but various relatives as well. The rumors had already begun circulating in tip-sheet form and could no longer be contained. In truth, there had been no need for the special team at all. ID Investment's Korean branch accounts showed a significant increase in holdings of Mirae Group companies, and the timing matched exactly with the owner family's share sales.
"Hah, these people—!"
From Jeon Myeong-heon's expression, it was clear he had known nothing about it. Still, taking his word at face value was risky. He might have known and chosen to feign ignorance, or his memory might simply be faulty. The incident had already occurred, and cleaning it up was Yoo Jae-won's responsibility. At this rate, it seemed the entire Jeon family—not just Jeon Jae-jun—had engaged in trolling behavior during this election.
"Stay calm. What's done is done and can't be undone. The debate, however, is tomorrow. It would be strange if the Gwanhoon Club members hadn't heard about this. They'll almost certainly ask the question hoping to see you squirm."
At Yoo Jae-won's words, Jeon Myeong-heon, who had clenched his fists so tightly the veins stood out, relaxed his grip.
"You're right. But is there a way to handle this?"
Jeon Myeong-heon sounded as though a massive scandal had erupted.
"I've prepared an answer that will flip the script."
Jeon Myeong-heon couldn't understand. This was a three-hundred-billion-won scandal. How could it possibly be turned around? Yoo Jae-won, however, was confident. A complete reframing of the narrative—that was the grand strategy he had set for the 14th presidential election. In the previous election, illegal government interference had been exposed through illegal wiretapping, inflicting severe damage on Jeon Myeong-heon. This time, he intended to properly ensnare and topple the giant Minjeong Party. The opening move would be tomorrow's Gwanhoon Club debate.