Homecoming and Political Currents
Technopia 1993
“Where are we going now?” Tiffany asked, her eyes sparkling as they left the restaurant after dinner. She was clearly eager to know what came next.
“Well, it’s time to head home,” Yoo Jae-won replied simply, pointing toward the airport. The meticulously planned date he had spent days designing had reached about an eighty percent completion rate. Even if a few details felt slightly incomplete, it was more than enough to earn a passing grade for a first date. All that remained was to catch their reserved evening flight back to San Francisco and see Tiffany safely home.
“Oh.” Tiffany’s voice carried a hint of disappointment; she had clearly been hoping for more. “Right, we’re in LA. Let’s go, then.” She seemed embarrassed by her own reaction and quickly covered it with a brighter tone.
The flight that departed Los Angeles at nine-thirty in the evening arrived in San Francisco at eleven-twenty. The drive from the airport to Tiffany’s house took less than thirty minutes. With almost no traffic on the roads at night, they reached their destination well ahead of schedule. They pulled up in front of the house at eleven-fifty, just a few minutes shy of midnight. Yoo Jae-won’s promise of a same-day trip had been perfectly fulfilled—without any frantic rushing.
“Good heavens. You really did come back the same day? Goodness, I hope Tiffany didn’t cause any trouble. Please understand, Big Boss. This is the first time she’s gone on a proper date with a man.” Marina, who had come out in her nightgown—perhaps having just woken up—spoke with unexpected bluntness.
“Mom! What are you saying in front of Jae-won?” Tiffany, flustered, pushed her mother back inside. It seemed the hotel card she had nervously fiddled with and handed over had, in fact, been valid after all. But this date was hardly going to be their last. Tiffany hurried Marina indoors while shooting Yoo Jae-won an apologetic glance.
“I had a wonderful time today, thanks to you!” After sending her mother inside first, Tiffany turned back, cheeks flushed, and gave him a proper farewell. She stepped close, embraced him, and pressed a light kiss to his lips before darting into the house.
The unexpected parting gift left Yoo Jae-won frozen on the doorstep, staring blankly at the closed door. It took him a full minute to regain his senses. Even then, he climbed into the car with a dazed expression, wondering if he had simply dreamed the entire evening.
“Boss, congratulations.”
Fortunately, it had not been a dream. Greg and Fisher had remained in the car the whole time, as if they had known exactly how the night would end. Their professional vigilance had granted them an excellent view of the proceedings. In any case, there was no doubt that Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany had officially become a couple starting today. July 7, 1993. A date that would be remembered as a milestone in his second life.
The next day, Yoo Jae-won boarded another plane. This time it was the Seoul-bound flight departing Los Angeles at eight in the evening. Having wrapped up his American schedule with the date with Tiffany, he was now beginning the month-long trip to Korea he had announced earlier. That morning he had gone into the office, handled urgent matters, and issued clear directives for the work ahead.
The most pressing issue facing ID Technology was, of course, the second Security Challenge, and many of his instructions related to that. Yet very few of those measures would actually need to be executed. After all, his directives were contingency plans in case the Android operating system was ever breached. Losing a hundred million dollars in cash from the vault would be painful, but restoring consumer trust would be the far greater priority. That meant quickly releasing patches to close any exploited vulnerabilities and reaching out to the successful hackers as soon as possible to bring them under the ID Technology banner. Recruiting them into the development team would be ideal; even hiring them as security consultants would go a long way toward dispelling concerns about hacking.
Of course, these measures were only hypothetical. Monitoring the constantly updating threads on 2ch.com suggested that contemporary hackers stood very little chance of successfully breaching the Android operating system. Yoo Jae-won had also left several instructions for ID Investment. President Vincent Greenhill was performing his duties well, but the Wall Street analysts under him occasionally recommended questionable companies in an attempt to prove their worth. Their financial figures and proposed items looked plausible on paper, yet most of the companies were ones Yoo Jae-won had no memory of. For now, he could personally block such recommendations, but as the company grew larger, blind spots would inevitably appear. He had therefore issued a firm directive: any employee who continued to play solo against company policy could be dismissed. Normally such a policy would create a rigid atmosphere and stifle innovation, eventually leading to collapse under pressure. But Yoo Jae-won possessed information on an entirely different level from everyone else. With that advantage, he could afford to act decisively.
Finally, he had made special arrangements for the High-Tech Research Lab. The lab had been the most active department in preparing for the Daejeon Expo. Most of the exhibits were now complete, with only the move to Korea remaining. Since the Flagship Store logistics team would handle shipping through their global distribution network, the doctors at the High-Tech Research Lab had been given generous bonuses along with vacation time. Employees at ID Investment typically spent their vacations in Southeast Asia or the Caribbean. Whether the lab’s more bookish doctors would enjoy their time off quite as thoroughly remained to be seen. Still, forcing them into specific destinations would have been odd. At least the vacation had been granted; no one could accuse him of being a heartless employer.
One personal matter had unfortunately been postponed: locating Red Hack. Despite the need for anonymity, Red Hack had given numerous interviews to magazines, leaving behind far more clues than most hackers would. With a deliberate search, his whereabouts could likely be pinpointed within days. Yet the trip to Korea had forced that task onto the back burner. It was not being delayed by a full month, however. Korea, which had begun laying its information superhighway much earlier than the United States, had already commercialized ADSL. Although the rollout of high-performance PCs had lagged behind, the network itself was ready. Communication speeds with the U.S. had improved dramatically, and response times were remarkably fast. Tracking Red Hack would not be a problem.
“Welcome back.”
As Yoo Jae-won entered the arrivals hall, Chief of Staff Choi Kang-wook and other ID Group executives—the head of the audit office, the head of the planning office, and others—greeted him warmly. Normally, Yoo Jae-won disliked having executives line up to meet him. He had never been one for ceremony and considered it a waste of manpower and time. Such gatherings also drew unwanted attention. Today, however, was an exception.
“Hello, everyone!”
Yoo Jae-won returned their greetings with equal warmth. After shaking hands with each of them, he climbed into the car Choi Kang-wook had prepared. There was no need to stop by the Seoul office; they were heading straight to the house in Deokjin-ri. In the past, when communication had been limited, he had sometimes needed to receive reports in person. Now he could handle everything instantly from his study in America via ID Talk, email, or video calls. All urgent matters had already been dealt with that way. The only remaining tasks were meetings with key individuals.
“What is this?”
Yoo Jae-won had expected nothing more than a quiet ride home, but Choi Kang-wook handed him a thick file.
“It’s the record of the lawsuits filed by Kim & Jung Law Firm on behalf of the Japanese military comfort women and forced labor victims. The first trial verdict is expected soon.”
At Choi Kang-wook’s words, Yoo Jae-won remembered something he had nearly forgotten. Rather than donating to unreliable charities, he had established the ID Foundation as his own vehicle for philanthropy and installed his father, Yoo Bong-man, as its chairman. Since then, roughly one percent of ID Group’s net profits had been transferred to the foundation. That was the entirety of the foundation’s operating budget. Because ID Group’s contributions were so substantial, there had never been any need to solicit additional donations. Unlike other charities that relied solely on contributions, the foundation received enormous annual funding, allowing it to operate with bold efficiency. While typical foundations preserved their principal and spent only the interest, the ID Foundation’s guiding principle was to spend its entire operating budget each year. Its activities extended beyond Korea to every country where ID Group conducted business. Providing scholarships in the Los Angeles area regardless of race was already well known, and its food aid and modern well-digging projects in Africa had frequently appeared in the media. To ordinary Koreans, these efforts might seem distant, but those who had directly benefited—particularly recipients of free legal services from Kim & Jung Law Firm—held the foundation in exceptionally high regard. For people who had suffered injustice but lacked the means to hire a lawyer, the firm’s pro bono work had made a profound impact. Recovering unpaid wages from exploitative employers and even securing their arrests had become famous cases. As a result, clients had flooded the firm, leading to repeated expansions and the establishment of branch offices in major cities nationwide. Although the costs of opening offices and hiring large numbers of lawyers had been enormous, the ID Foundation’s backing had ensured that budget shortfalls never occurred.
One of the very first cases Kim & Jung Law Firm had taken on was the lawsuit for compensation on behalf of the Japanese military comfort women and forced labor victims. The firm had gathered victims and filed suits against Japanese corporations and the Japanese government, as well as the Korean government. While suing Japan was expected, the decision to also sue the Korean government stemmed from a clear grievance: the Korean government had received compensation from Japan but had arbitrarily disposed of the funds instead of distributing them to the victims.
“Come to think of it, it’s been over two years since we started this. And the first trial verdict is only coming now?”
Yoo Jae-won felt a twinge of guilt for having issued the instructions and then nearly forgotten about them. Still, if the verdict had come earlier—whether favorable or unfavorable—he would have reacted immediately.
“It’s a sensitive matter. Not only the defendants but the court itself dragged things out. The defendants deliberately delayed proceedings, and the court went along with them.”
Fortunately, President Kim Young-sam’s strong push for historical rectification after taking office had accelerated the process. Kim was certainly worthy of recognition in this regard, given his background as a democratization figure. Even so, uncertainties remained. The current Chief Justice, Kim Duk-joo, had been appointed during President Roh’s term and his tenure would end in September. Yoo Jae-won’s Memory Palace contained little information about the man’s political leanings or any pro-Japanese tendencies. He had never been considered important enough to factor into any master plan. A few remaining news articles, however, raised concerns: as a Supreme Court justice, he had released the former president’s brother-in-law on bail without clear justification; during the 1979 YH Incident he had accepted an application to suspend President Kim Young-sam’s duties; and in 1980 he had participated in the National Security Emergency Measure Committee. In short, he appeared to be an ordinary political judge who had shown loyalty to those in power. While this raised legitimate questions about judicial fairness, it was not necessarily the worst possible scenario. A man inclined to bend to authority might well follow President Kim’s wishes and deliver a favorable outcome.
At the same time, the situation left a bitter taste. If the judges had simply examined the law and ruled impartially, none of this maneuvering would have been necessary. But that had never been the case, so there were many factors to consider.
“Understood. Then when I go up to Seoul the day after tomorrow, I’ll visit Kim & Jung Law Firm and meet with Attorneys Kim Chang-hwan and Jung Byung-woo as well.”
“Yes, I’ll let them know in advance. Both gentlemen have been working extremely hard lately. A visit from the chairman will be a great source of encouragement.”
Yoo Jae-won nodded at Choi Kang-wook’s words and began reading the file. As expected from documents prepared by Seoul National University law school graduates who excelled in the humanities, the quality was on an entirely different level from ordinary company reports. The tiny print filling page after page of A4 paper made his eyes swim. Reading it in a moving car was even more difficult, so he decided to review it carefully once he got home.
That resolve proved short-lived. His parents, relatives, friends, and the villagers of Deokjin-ri had already prepared a lively celebration, having waited only for his arrival. The festivities began the moment he stepped out of the car, ensuring that any document review would have to wait several more days.
Two days later, after thoroughly catching up with his parents, relatives, and friends, Yoo Jae-won was once again on his way to Seoul. Fatigue showed clearly on his face. Two consecutive days of celebrations, being pulled from one gathering to another, had taken their toll. He had also paid respects to his former teachers and met his childhood friends—Soo-kyung, Jumin, Yeong-sik, and others. One advantage of friends who had known him since they were children was that reunions never felt awkward. Occasional chats on ID Talk helped as well; it felt as though they had simply been apart for a few days. The only thing that still felt strange was the acne covering their faces. Both the boys and girls were affected. Soo-kyung had a single pimple on her forehead and looked miserable, while Jumin’s cheeks were covered. During the peak of growth hormone secretion, avoiding oily foods was clearly the best policy. Added to that was the typical teenage grumbling. Despite the exhausting village schedule, the mental stress that had quietly accumulated during his hectic business dealings in America had been thoroughly relieved. As a result, Yoo Jae-won’s expression inside the car was quite pleasant.
“Come in.”
Yoo Jae-won was not the only one looking cheerful. Jeon Myeong-heon greeted him warmly in front of the Prime Minister’s residence, his own face bright with good spirits. For Yoo Jae-won’s first external meeting after returning to Korea, visiting Jeon Myeong-heon was only natural.
“Thank you for the warm welcome. I’m glad to see you looking well.”
“Haha, it’s all thanks to you.”
The “thanks” Jeon Myeong-heon referred to was the title of Prime Minister. Although the position carried little real responsibility, it offered far more privileges than he had anticipated, and it suited him remarkably well. Normally a prime minister would have to serve as a shield before the president took any blame, but President Kim’s popularity was currently sky-high, so that had not been necessary. Jeon Myeong-heon had swiftly dismantled the military’s worst private organization, the Hanahoe, and had properly begun the process of historical rectification. His approval ratings showed no sign of declining. Moreover, his presence carried an entirely different weight from previous prime ministers. The Tongil National Party, which had secured fifty seats in the National Assembly, remained strong and played a decisive role by casting the casting vote on important legislation. Jeon Myeong-heon wielded the greatest influence within that party. President Kim treated him as a governing partner, and even those who styled themselves as power brokers could not afford to ignore him.
Jeon Myeong-heon personally escorted Yoo Jae-won inside the residence. Refreshments had already been set in the living room. They sat facing each other across the table and began unpacking the bundle of stories that had accumulated since their last meeting. Jeon Myeong-heon did most of the talking while Yoo Jae-won listened attentively. There were simply far more important matters that could not be discussed over the phone.
“Preparations for the visit to North Korea are going well.”
One of those matters was Jeon Myeong-heon’s upcoming trip to the North. During last year’s election campaign, Yoo Jae-won had suggested the idea of sending cattle across the border. Prime Minister Jeon had not taken it lightly. He had begun raising a large herd of cattle at the ranch in Saemangeum. Furthermore, the atmosphere of reconciliation between North and South that had begun under President Roh had only grown stronger under President Kim, making the cattle drive to the North increasingly likely to happen soon. In his previous life, Jeon Myeong-heon had been known only as a successful businessman. Now, as both a special envoy of the president and the Prime Minister of the Republic of Korea, his visit carried far greater expectations for Yoo Jae-won.
Jeon Myeong-heon continued.
“And since it’s you, Jae-won, I’ll tell you this: in truth, an inter-Korean summit is also being pursued.”
Yoo Jae-won was unsure what expression to make. He now understood exactly why movie enthusiasts despised spoilers so much.
“Wow! Really?”
Although Yoo Jae-won already knew that the summit would be pursued only for Kim Il-sung to die just before the two leaders could meet, rendering the entire effort meaningless, he put his full effort into reacting with appropriate surprise. Just as Jeon Myeong-heon had done for him, Yoo Jae-won gave his complete attention to conveying genuine astonishment through both expression and tone.