The Negotiation That Never Began
Choi Gwang-ho, president of Ilseong Electronics, still had no idea why he was riding in this car on the way down to Daejeon. The night before, a frantic call from the Future Strategy Office had summoned him to Hannam-dong. When he arrived, he barely exchanged a few words with the chairman. His only role had been to answer a handful of difficult questions: whether the Coppermine process was truly essential for the semiconductor business, whether there was any way around it, and if bypassing it proved impossible, whether a similar technology could simply be copied. Naturally, none of Choi Gwang-ho’s answers satisfied Chairman Choi Hyun-hee.
If the technology had come from a small or medium-sized enterprise, Ilseong could have used it freely. Even if the original owner protested the unauthorized use, Ilseong Electronics possessed the accumulated know-how to handle such matters discreetly. But the other party was ID Group. All the hard-won expertise Ilseong had built over the years would be useless. Moreover, any lawsuit would be filed in the United States, making control far more difficult. If Ilseong Electronics sold its memory semiconductors only in Korea, it might not be a major problem, but the company’s stage was already the global market. The American market alone accounted for a significant portion of its sales. Treating ID Group like some insignificant domestic firm would likely trigger consequences far beyond anything they could imagine.
In the end, Choi Gwang-ho had been unable to offer the chairman a single positive word at Hannam-dong the previous night. As a result, he had no choice but to bow and leave when Chairman Choi Hyun-hee waved him away. On the ride home in his private car, already convinced his days were numbered, he received a call from Kim Hyuk-soo, head of the Future Strategy Office. The chairman had ordered them to travel to Daejeon together the next day. Refusing a direct order from the chairman was impossible, which was how Choi Gwang-ho now found himself seated beside Kim Hyuk-soo in the back of the car heading south.
“Hmm.”
The seat felt like a bed of thorns. Kim Hyuk-soo made him uncomfortable, and not knowing the reason for the trip to Daejeon only added to his frustration. In terms of actual influence, Kim Hyuk-soo held the greater power. As Choi Hyun-hee’s closest aide, he was known within the Ilseong Group as the chairman’s right-hand man. On paper, the title of office head ranked below the presidents, but proximity to the chairman determined one’s real weight. Kim Hyuk-soo could even mobilize the audit office; he was essentially an agent of death. Countless presidents had risen or fallen at his word.
“I imagine you’re wondering why we’re going to Daejeon,” Kim Hyuk-soo said, finally speaking only when the tollgate came into view.
“The chairman mentioned that Ilseong Electronics’ semiconductor division needs that copper technology to survive. We’re going to buy it.”
The displeasure Choi Gwang-ho had felt toward Kim Hyuk-soo melted away in an instant. The semiconductor division was Ilseong Electronics’ largest and most important business unit. He took pride in its technological prowess. The company had been the first in the world to develop 64Mbit DRAM and was now challenging 256Mbit DRAM. He also believed its mass-production capability ranked among the best globally. Just when he thought the only remaining task was to rake in profits, the sudden emergence of the Coppermine process and HPC certification had turned everything upside down. Unable to obtain the technology or certification, Ilseong Electronics had seen new orders dry up completely. Meanwhile, Mirae Electronics, despite lower integration density, had secured both Coppermine technology and HPC certification, causing its orders to explode. Once Mirae’s second semiconductor plant came fully online, it would instantly surpass Ilseong Electronics’ production volume. Ilseong had planned to expand its Suwon facilities, but building such a large factory was no simple matter. Furthermore, if the performance gap continued to widen, Ilseong’s products would inevitably become low-end commodities sold only in the cheapest markets.
Choi Gwang-ho had risen to his position through genuine ability, so he understood better than anyone how absurd the current situation was. For a corporate executive to ruin a business over personal grudges was unthinkable to him. At the very least, they should have attempted a transaction. He had been deeply frustrated, yet unable to speak frankly to Chairman Choi Hyun-hee. Now that he was told they were going to negotiate, he felt the knot in his chest loosen.
“You’re certain about that?”
“I’ve been given full authority by the chairman. All you need to do, President Choi, is sign once I’ve handled the negotiations.”
Kim Hyuk-soo spoke with complete confidence. Though Choi Gwang-ho still found the man unconvincing, the chairman himself had chosen Kim as the lead negotiator, so there was nothing to do but watch.
The car carrying the two men soon entered Daejeon and reached the hotel in Yuseong-gu without delay. Because they had departed early, they still had time before the meeting. They even managed a light brunch. Naturally, Kim Hyuk-soo took charge of ordering. Choi Gwang-ho, who had eaten only a hasty breakfast, forced down a few bites, but with a major deal ahead, he tasted nothing. His mind was occupied with one question: what powerful bargaining chip had Kim Hyuk-soo received that allowed him to remain so relaxed? No matter how hard Choi Gwang-ho thought, he could not imagine what card could justify such composure.
At eleven o’clock, Yoo Jae-won was on his way to the private room at Daejeon Roto Hotel, the agreed meeting place. He was not alone; more than ten people accompanied him. Yet only two belonged to the working team: Chief of Staff Choi Kang-wook and Executive Secretary Kim Dae-seok. The rest were members of the security and intelligence teams. Greg and Fisher, who had come with him from the United States, were present, along with personnel recruited in Korea. The Korean additions were particularly noteworthy. They had been part of the special team formed the previous year in preparation for the presidential election—specifically, the ones who had remained loyal. The Chowon Bokguk House incident had not concluded exactly as Yoo Jae-won intended because of Jeon Jae-jun’s trolling. The informant who had appeared unexpectedly had been taken by the National Intelligence Service. The agency’s fearsome reputation had caused many members of the special team to defect. Not everyone left, however. Two had stayed and followed Yoo Jae-won’s orders. Although the outcome had not been ideal, he had accepted them into the intelligence team. He had not made them regular employees immediately. Before being selected by Hwang Jae-hong and beginning to work alongside Yoo Jae-won, both men had operated in the underground economy. They had never received formal training and had learned their trade informally while running errands. Their field experience was solid, but they lacked any standardized manual or theoretical foundation. Therefore, they could not be placed directly into ID Group’s intelligence team. Their education began instead in the United States. Neither had any criminal record that would prevent them from obtaining American visas. Training started with a boot camp—not the kind that merely imitated military atmosphere to straighten out delinquents, but a proper PMC-operated facility run by elite U.S. special forces personnel. Everything followed strict FM protocols, and the equipment ranged from rifles to professional surveillance devices. The cost was substantial, but because ID Group maintained special contracts with both its intelligence and security teams, adding two more trainees posed no significant issue. Every day, the two men wanted to quit. Yet they endured, determined not to waste the opportunity they had finally seized. The special allowance of one thousand dollars per week also helped strengthen their resolve. After several months, the grime of the back alleys had been completely washed away. They had been reborn as all-weather intelligence operatives. Statistically, their scores leaned more toward security work than pure intelligence. They had become proficient with a wide range of firearms, from pistols to rifles, and their marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat skills were excellent. However, what Yoo Jae-won wanted was intelligence work, and the two men themselves preferred intelligence missions, so their assignments remained unchanged.
“An Jong-cheol reporting.”
“Choi Hun reporting.”
An Jong-cheol, the older of the two, was addressed as “hyung,” while Choi Hun followed him like a younger brother. They had returned to Korea only a month earlier after completing training. Their posture remained rigidly disciplined, evidence of how thoroughly the boot camp had broken them in.
“I should have said this earlier, but I never had the chance. Thank you for last time. I look forward to working with you from now on. Just don’t push yourselves too hard.”
“Yes, sir! Understood!”
People who tried too hard often caused accidents. Yoo Jae-won issued the warning while their loyalty and determination were still at their peak, knowing that was precisely when mistakes were most likely.
“By the way, you mentioned you had something to report?”
“Yes, sir. It’s an analysis of Kim Hyuk-soo’s likely negotiation strategy, based on the data we’ve gathered from multiple angles.”
An Jong-cheol and Choi Hun had not come merely to exchange greetings. They presented Yoo Jae-won with a formal report formatted according to ID Group standards.
“Oh, really? Let me take a look.”
Normally such documents arrived through the secretariat or via ID Talk, but because the meeting had been arranged on short notice, they were delivering it in person. The report was only a few pages long, yet its contents exceeded expectations. It contained information that would have been difficult to obtain without a competent intelligence team. There was, however, a fundamental difference in perspective regarding the meeting. The report seemed to assume a major business deal might take place and had prepared accordingly. In reality, Yoo Jae-won intended to walk out the moment Kim Hyuk-soo or Choi Gwang-ho said anything foolish.
“Hmm. I clearly stated from the beginning that the price for the technology transfer would be equity in Ilseong Electronics. Yet all I hear is talk of royalties. It seems you’re not prepared to make a deal.”
With those words, Yoo Jae-won rose from his seat. Less than a minute had passed since the formal greetings had ended and the real discussion began. The cause was, of course, Kim Hyuk-soo’s nonsense. Yoo Jae-won had offered to provide Ilseong Electronics with Coppermine technology in exchange for equity rather than cash. Instead, Kim Hyuk-soo had begun complaining about paying hundreds of billions in royalties. Ilseong’s shareholding structure was extremely complicated, so they could not prepare equity immediately. They proposed calculating the monetary value first and then determining the equity ratio later. Ilseong understood the dangers of equity transactions. Without Coppermine technology, however, its semiconductor division would have to shut down. Therefore, even if they had to surrender shares, they needed to find a compromise that would not damage Chairman Choi Hyun-hee’s control or interfere with his succession plans. That was why they had suggested calculating the cash value first and then deriving the equity ratio. Yoo Jae-won’s response was exactly what he had just demonstrated. He had decided that if Kim Hyuk-soo talked nonsense, he would immediately walk out—and he was now acting on that decision. There was no point in continuing pointless conversation when he had no intention of reaching any compromise. Moreover, such a decisive display would force the other side to react. It was the Trump-style negotiation tactic that had been popular in the early twenty-first century.
After finishing his statement, Yoo Jae-won turned and walked out. The bodyguards had already matched his pace.
“W-wait! Chairman Yoo! That’s not what I meant!”
Kim Hyuk-soo was completely flustered by Yoo Jae-won’s abrupt departure, but the latter’s footsteps did not slow. Choi Kang-wook and Kim Dae-seok, who had been seated at the negotiation table, also stood and followed. A short while later, the only people left at the untouched table were a completely stunned Kim Hyuk-soo and Choi Gwang-ho, who watched him with cold eyes.
Choi Gwang-ho felt the most wronged. Kim Hyuk-soo had told him to trust him, and Choi Gwang-ho had believed there must be some hidden card. The fact that Chairman Yoo Jae-won himself was attending the meeting had made the promise that they only needed to sign seem credible. Yet this was the result. He wanted to berate Kim Hyuk-soo, but doing so would change nothing. What he had clearly realized, however, was that if someone like Kim Hyuk-soo continued to act recklessly while relying on the chairman’s protection, the group’s future would be extremely uncertain.
“Shall we proceed to the LCD factory now?”
Once they were completely outside the hotel, Choi Kang-wook asked about their next destination. He did not inquire why Yoo Jae-won had walked out of the meeting. As his closest aide, Choi Kang-wook had already been briefed on the larger picture Yoo Jae-won was drawing with regard to Ilseong Electronics. He also fully understood the value of Coppermine technology.
“The meeting ended earlier than planned. If we go now, they’ll be caught off guard. Let’s have lunch first. How about beef?”
No one objected to Yoo Jae-won’s suggestion. The prospect of beef for lunch made the decision even easier.
“I know a good place,” Kim Dae-seok said. He had thoroughly researched Daejeon’s restaurants, so once the destination was decided, they moved immediately.
At two o’clock in the afternoon, after a hearty lunch, Yoo Jae-won’s party visited the LCD factory. Kang Chan-ho, the department head who had been waiting in advance, along with other on-site managers, guided them. Although Yoo Jae-won had initiated the project himself, the scale of the construction site was extraordinary. Even in an industrial complex where factories were densely packed, occupying an entire zone would normally be considered large. The LCD factory currently under construction, however, spanned three zones—an enormous scale that went beyond “large” into “massive.” The factory construction, which Mirae Construction was directly overseeing, had proceeded so smoothly that not a single problem report had reached Yoo Jae-won. Whether this was because Jeon Myeong-heon had issued a prior warning or because Mirae Construction was simply putting in its best effort was unclear, but the company was working harder than when it had built its own headquarters. Of course, ID Group was also an excellent client. It had not pressured them to finish quickly, nor had it diverted construction funds to create slush funds. The entire construction budget had gone directly into the site, allowing high-quality materials that met specifications to be used generously. Selecting an American firm as the design and construction supervision company had also proven to be a good decision. Consideration for the workers on site was equally thorough. While it was unprecedented for a company to provide free lunch to construction workers, ID Group had contracted with an outside catering service to supply high-quality meals every day.
“This looks excellent.”
If one examined the site under a microscope, problems would certainly appear. Such issues could never be eradicated in a single stroke. Because they possessed the vitality of cockroaches, the important thing was to maintain continuous attention and management.
“By the way, how is the technical cooperation with Sharp progressing?”
Among companies possessing core LCD technology, Japan’s Sharp was the most advanced. Cooperation with ID Technology was also going well; Sharp’s liquid crystal panels were already being supplied to Shell Book. They had therefore decided to strengthen the partnership so that the LCD panels produced at the Daejeon factory would also utilize Sharp’s technology, and the contract had been concluded cleanly. Currently, Sharp’s technical team was on site assisting with production equipment setup. Yoo Jae-won wondered whether everything was proceeding smoothly. He suddenly recalled past instances where companies had spent large sums to bring in Japanese engineers for technology transfer, only to be frustrated when the engineers withheld proper instruction. While drafting the master plan, he had studied the heroic tales of famous entrepreneurs from the 1970s and 1980s. Without exception, they all mentioned the difficulties of technology development. Episodes involving friction with Japan appeared at least once in every account. This was no longer the 1980s, and ID Group’s stature far exceeded that of the small businesses those entrepreneurs had started, but one could never be certain what actually happened on the ground.