The Generous Gift and the Urgent Call

Yeong-sik opened the email without delay. Checking the message from Jae-won took priority over any new ideas the school might have cooked up for the Security Challenge. “Cold radish? What’s that supposed to mean?”

When he clicked the mail, the body contained nothing but that single phrase. Yet there was no sense of disappointment, because an IDW file was attached. He downloaded it immediately and opened it with ID Word. A password ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠prompt appeared, suggesting the file was encrypted. Without hesitation, Yeong-sik typed “cold radish” and hit enter.

The password field changed to a decryption message, and a progress bar began to fill. The bar moved slowly, indicating the highest level of encryption had been applied. “I really need to buy a National PC,” Yeong-sik muttered, suddenly wanting an upgrade. He had been diligently researching every new computer article and was a daily visitor to the Nextcom computer club. Naturally, the National PC initiative was his biggest interest. The government was currently selecting models for the subsidy program, with an announcement expected by late September or early October at the latest.

In truth, half of the National PC project had already begun. Applying for ADSL through Daekom automatically qualified buyers for up to 500,000 won in support when purchasing a new PC—an initiative run by the company itself, independent of the government. Combining it with the official program would make the price even lower, which was why people like Yeong-sik were waiting. Still, it had only been a little over a year since he bought his 486, so asking his mother for another PC felt burdensome. Even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with subsidies, computers remained expensive. The newly released HPC in particular felt like an unattainable dream. Even after every possible discount, it was still far beyond reach. Seeing authentication posts from people who had bought one on the Nextcom club only made him envious.

“Ah, it’s done.” While he was lost in thought, the encryption lifted and the document finally appeared. It contained a short letter, roughly half an A4 page, along with one image file.

At first, Yeong-sik didn’t understand. He turned the page and looked at the attached image. It showed a map of the ID Flagship Store on Seoul’s Rodeo Street along with a large barcode. The note said showing it to a flagship store crew member would take care of everything.

“Whoa.” The sound escaped him involuntarily. Yeong-sik had matured early, so he instantly grasped the hidden meaning. Jae-won had essentially gifted him a New Egg 2. He had asked for feedback, but Yeong-sik could tell it was just a polite way to avoid making him feel burdened. The cheapest New Egg 2 model cost over 3.5 million won—more than two months of his mother’s salary. The weight of the gift pressed on him, yet gratitude welled up at the same time. After all, what could Jae-won possibly want from him in return? All Yeong-sik could offer was his thanks. It was a gift between friends, so accepting it was fine. He would repay the kindness by studying hard and improving his computer skills.

“Hmm, but I have to go all the way to Seoul.” Having never been to Seoul before, Yeong-sik thought going alone would be difficult. Going with friends was also awkward—what if he was the only one who received such a letter? That could make things strange among them. “I guess I’ll go with Mom.”

That evening, a small commotion broke out at Yeong-sik’s house—all because of Yoo Jae-won’s extravagant gift. For ordinary friends, such a lavish present would have been unthinkable, but because it came from Jae-won, Yeong-sik’s mother eventually accepted it. Thus, on Sunday morning, Yeong-sik and his mother boarded a Seoul-bound express bus. They navigated the unfamiliar subway by asking for directions and eventually arrived at the ID Flagship Store on Rodeo Street, a place they had only seen on television.

“This is the right place, right?”

“Yes, it is!”

The store looked nothing like the ordinary shops in Yeoju. Its floor-to-ceiling glass, wooden interior, and rows of computers felt like something from the future. It was so pristine that Yeong-sik felt he should take off his shoes before entering. The foreign cars parked out front were rarely seen in Yeoju. Even the owner of the perilla oil factory that had made it big with beer, or Yugyeong’s father who had turned a chicken business into a conglomerate, driving foreign cars had been big news. Here, every car that caught the eye was a luxury import.

Clutching the single printed sheet Jae-won had sent, Yeong-sik and his mother hesitated for a long time before finally stepping inside.

“How may I help you?” A staff member greeted them politely the moment they entered. Their worry about being turned away for looking out of place had been unfounded.

“Um, just a moment.” Yeong-sik opened his bag, took out the file, and handed over the printed paper. The employee looked puzzled. “They said to scan this barcode on the POS machine,” Yeong-sik explained. The staff member had never heard of such a thing—barcodes were only scanned when customers decided to purchase. Still, Yeong-sik’s serious demeanor convinced the employee to give it a try. There was no official training that the customer was always king, but the guideline was clear: if a customer was respectful, the staff should do their best in return.

“Please follow me.” The employee led Yeong-sik and his mother to the POS machine, exchanged a few words with the operator, and scanned the barcode on the paper.

What happened next was astonishing. The top-tier Pro version of the New Egg 2 was automatically registered on the POS and the payment processed in one smooth motion. The staff erupted in surprise. After all, the New Egg 2 Pro model that had just been delivered days earlier wasn’t even on display yet. It existed in the system but not on the floor, so some employees hadn’t even known it was available. The payment was real. A quick call to the main bank, HSBC, confirmed that exactly 6.33 million won—the retail price of the New Egg 2 Pro—had been deposited.

The staff were simply amazed. The fact that a single barcode could accomplish this was thanks to the one-click payment system developed by Kaspersky and his team at ID High Tech. The system connected directly to bank networks and processed payments at flagship stores and online malls worldwide. It was still in pilot phase, and Yoo Jae-won had volunteered to test it himself, conveniently using it to send gifts to friends and acquaintances.

“The New Egg 2 Pro has been paid for. You’ll also need to fill out a customer information card to register as a VIP member.” Spending over five million won in a year qualified someone for VIP status, with benefits lasting two years. With just the New Egg 2 Pro, Yeong-sik had instantly become a VIP.

“Pardon? Yes!” The VIP benefits were extensive—priority access to new products, discounts, and even premium delivery. While the U.S. lacked a delivery culture, in Korea, home delivery of appliances was standard. To earn the “premium” label, something extra was required: the customer themselves would be chauffeured home. VIP customers couldn’t be driven in just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠any car, so a Mercedes was used, while the product itself traveled in a specially equipped truck. It was a standard service at flagship stores worldwide, and particularly popular in Korea.

Fortunately, no other deliveries were scheduled that day, so Yeong-sik and his mother received the premium service immediately. Because the Pro version came with a 19-inch Trinitron monitor, the box was as large as Yeong-sik himself. His mother’s concern about how they would carry it vanished the moment the service was offered. Delivery and installation proceeded without a hitch.

From Sunday afternoon onward, Yeong-sik was able to fully enjoy the New Egg 2, now equipped with a full HPC setup.

“This is incredible.” Switching from his small 13-inch domestic monitor to a 19-inch screen was eye-opening. He had assumed all color monitors were the same, but the Trinitron’s color and clarity were on another level. Even more impressive was the processing speed. Boot times were instantaneous, and computational power was overwhelming. The custom program he had written for the Security Challenge ran several times faster. On his old 486, it could barely manage dozens of attacks per second. On the New Egg 2, it exceeded hundreds of attacks per second just by running. With HPC optimization, it could easily surpass a thousand.

“Whoa! This is insane!” Yeong-sik let out an uncharacteristic burst of excitement. At the same time, he didn’t forget the friend who had given him such an extraordinary gift. He immediately wrote a note expressing his thanks and including several observations, then threw himself back into the Security Challenge.

The next day, an alarm appeared when Yoo Jae-won turned on his computer: “6.33 million won has been paid. Seoul Rodeo ID Flagship Store.” Seeing the location, he immediately knew Yeong-sik had received the New Egg 2. There was also a note from Yeong-sik via ID Talk, thanking him for the gift and reporting that the staff at the Rodeo Street flagship store had been very kind.

“This is practically a letter, not just a note.” Jae-won had only asked Yeong-sik to observe service quality as a polite way to frame the gift. He would have been fine with no feedback at all. Yet Yeong-sik’s note read like a full report, detailing exactly how the staff had assisted him.

“If there hadn’t been a report, I would have let it go, but since one arrived, I should apply it.” Jae-won copied the content and sent it to Chief of Staff Choi Kang-wook. Whether it translated into bonus points on performance evaluations or an actual bonus would be up to Choi Kang-wook and the flagship store manager.

“That kid will make proper use of the New Egg 2’s performance.” Jumin would probably just use such a fine computer as a gaming machine, but Yeong-sik had real talent for programming. Jae-won couldn’t predict how far his potential would take him once it fully bloomed. His modest hope was that Yeong-sik might reach the level of a second John Carmack.

On the other hand, Jae-won hadn’t gifted New Egg 2 units to Jumin or Su-gyeong. Su-gyeong’s business was already thriving. After Yugyeong Food and Yugyeong Chicken, they had expanded into Yugyeong Delivery—practically a Yugyeong Group. With over three hundred employees, they were legally a large corporation and operated at that scale. Jumin’s Hanwoo business was also doing well. Though it hadn’t grown as explosively as Su-gyeong’s family, it was large enough to supply department stores in Seoul. Both families had the financial means to buy a New Egg 2 the moment it launched. Giving them something they could already afford would have been awkward. Instead, Jae-won sent them specialized software that was hard to obtain in Korea, mixing games and applications. Games required video content review, but Nextcom’s paid software sales site operated just outside that regulatory net, avoiding issues.

“Well, let’s see how thorough the follow-up is.” Jae-won launched the credit card company’s internet inquiry program. Checking payment history and upcoming charges online would soon become a common service, but for now it was only available in select regions to select customers. Fortunately, Jae-won was one of those special customers.

“As expected, there’s a discrepancy between the message and the actual amount paid.” The receipt from the flagship store was in Korean won, but the card company had converted the dollar amount to won, adding a fee. Because the one-click service was still in beta, it hadn’t properly accounted for that yet. Transactions in U.S. dollars would cause significant confusion for consumers and merchants if not fixed before full launch. It was a known issue, yet it remained unresolved. Jae-won attached a screenshot of the screen, the receipt number, and a brief memo, then emailed it to Kaspersky. No explicit urging was needed—one such email was pressure enough.

Time passed, and October arrived. Time truly was the ultimate problem solver. Qualcomm, which had been silent, finally sent modem chip samples. Upon receiving the parts, Jae-won immediately forwarded them to the High Tech Research Institute to begin prototype phone production. The institute handled design and assembly, while various ID Group subsidiaries supplied the necessary components. Jae-won began collaborating with Android Corporation on the operating system that would run on the phone. It was a different task from optimizing for tablet PCs. The device was extremely basic, with only a 320×200 resolution, 256-color display. Its functions were limited to checking messages, managing a phonebook, and simple memos—essentially building a minimal embedded OS. Even so, to Jae-won’s eyes, this crude prototype was years ahead of existing feature phones.

“Haaah.” While deep in coding, Jae-won glanced at the clock. He had been staring at the monitor from morning until dawn for several days. The work was challenging, yet for him it was simply tedious. Then a thought struck him. He pulled up the calendar on his computer.

“Today’s October 9th, right? The intelligence team should be contacting me around now.” Checking the date, Jae-won’s expression grew slightly tense. He considered asking the Korean intelligence team why there had been no word, but just then a soft chime announced an incoming note.

Jae-won switched to chat for more details. “Shall we begin?” After confirming the situation on the ground, his face took on a determined ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠look. This was the contact he had been waiting for, yet now that the moment had arrived, a trace of hesitation surfaced. Once his resolve was firm, he picked up the phone beside the computer and dialed. After the number was entered, the ringing tone sounded. Several rings passed.

“Don’t tell me…” He wondered if the call wouldn’t connect at all. That wasn’t part of the plan. Fortunately, after about five rings, a click signaled the line had opened.

- Yawn, yes, Buan Coast Guard. What is—

“I’ve planted a bomb on one of the Buan ferries. Order all vessels to return to port and stand by immediately. I’ll call again in six hours.” Jae-won poured out the words like a storm before the other party could finish speaking, then hung up.