Gresham's Law
Yoo Jae-won stepped onto the stage as the final speaker at the year-end settlement meeting themed around Gresham's Law. It was the first time ID Group had held such a lengthy meeting, yet everyone greeted him with warm applause despite their evident fatigue.
"Good afternoon! This is Yoo Jae-won. You all know my style by now—I’ll keep it short and deliver only the essentials before we wrap up."
Yoo Jae-won’s approach always shone brightest in settings like this.
"I am one hundred percent satisfied with the 1993 performance reports you’ve presented. Thanks to everyone’s hard work, we’ve achieved most of our targets. Even where we fell slightly short, I feel no disappointment, because I know our employees did not slack off."
That was the entirety of his remarks on the 1993 results. Because of Yoo Jae-won’s management style, most of ID Group’s executives were administrators rather than risk-takers. None of them initiated bold new ventures or staked everything on a single ambitious project; those kinds of challenges were handled directly by Yoo Jae-won himself through specially formed task forces. Even among the many corporations he had observed across America and the world, his style was rare. Most chairmen, once they reached the top, shifted their focus to oversight and left development to others. Yoo Jae-won was different. He personally assembled and led teams within each affiliate. The largest number of such teams naturally existed inside ID Technology—the original ID Office development team that had been with the group since its founding, along with the recently launched mobile processor team and mobile phone development team. These teams operated with almost no interference from Remington, the president of ID Technology. Reports on progress and results went to Yoo Jae-won first, then to Remington afterward. The arrangement had existed from the beginning, so almost no one found it strange.
Kevin Johnson, who had joined from outside, had initially felt awkward about it. Similar teams existed inside the Android division as well—the team handling the Ribbon Interface, the team developing Android version upgrades and derivative editions, and so on. At first he had been startled to discover development teams he had not even known existed. When the Android Enterprise edition suddenly appeared, he had briefly wondered whether he was being sidelined. Only later, once he understood that this was simply Yoo Jae-won’s management style, did he relax. On reflection, it made perfect sense. A project as massive as the Enterprise edition would have taken other companies months or even years. Yoo Jae-won had assembled a small team and completed it in an instant. Kevin Johnson had to admit that, inside a vast conglomerate, the surest way for a recognized genius to exercise his abilities was to lead teams directly.
"Now let me outline our plans for 1994. Mobile communications, internet networks, and air conditioning."
Yoo Jae-won immediately launched the ID Presentation slideshow and distilled the year’s priorities into three concise keywords. Mobile communications and internet networks were terms everyone present understood; internet services already formed a major part of ID Group’s operations. Mobile communications was simply an extension of that. Even without operating the networks themselves, supplying systems and terminals represented a substantial business opportunity. Moreover, the terminals developed jointly by the High-Tech Research Institute and ID Technology’s engineers offered outstanding performance. Word had already spread among industry insiders, and the major telecommunications companies—the biggest potential customers—were showing keen interest. Rumors even circulated that they were preparing special incentives in hopes of securing exclusive supply rights once the devices were ready.
Then came the word “air conditioning,” and question marks appeared on many faces.
"We surveyed the working environments of our ID family members. Heating measures appear reasonably adequate, but cooling provisions seem relatively insufficient compared with heating."
The air conditioning Yoo Jae-won referred to was, quite literally, cooling equipment. The reason was straightforward: East Asia would experience a record-breaking heat wave in 1994. The summer would be so severe that, until the even hotter summer of 2018 broke the record, every subsequent summer would be measured against 1994. While heating could be managed with boilers and extra layers of clothing, heat could not. There was a limit to how little one could wear, and electric fans only blew hot air. Installing air conditioners was the only fundamental solution. Because the era was still early, however, air-conditioner penetration remained very low.
"Install air conditioners immediately in every sales outlet and office that currently lacks them. I will also issue a directive to operate them whenever the temperature exceeds twenty-seven degrees Celsius. Bulk purchasing should secure us discounts, and the move may generate positive news coverage as well. It would also be worthwhile for the ID Foundation to support schools in particularly poor condition."
For Yoo Jae-won, who was especially sensitive to heat, air conditioning ranked among the greatest inventions in human history—second only to the computer, with refrigerators, washing machines, and the internet close behind in the ranking.
"Mr. Chairman, in San Francisco the average summer temperature is only twenty-three degrees. Days exceeding twenty-seven degrees are extremely rare. Would it not be better to make an exception for such regions?"
Remington asked politely. It was true that even in summer, San Francisco remained cool enough that people often wore long sleeves.
"Some air-conditioner models also include heating and dehumidifying functions. I am not insisting on air conditioners exclusively. Where cooling is needed, install air conditioners; where it is not, simply provide whatever equipment creates a comfortable working environment."
"Ah, I understand."
Yoo Jae-won’s 1994 vision presentation ended more modestly than many had expected. The sudden inclusion of air conditioning had been surprising, yet not incomprehensible. The executives simply felt a slight twinge of disappointment that the sweeping, large-scale visions of previous years were absent. Instead, the 1994 plan emphasized meticulous detail at the level of the air-conditioning initiative. After announcing the three priorities, Yoo Jae-won advanced the slide. The Nextcom logo appeared.
"Nextcom now carries Yahoo’s search engine. How has the response been?"
"Excellent, sir."
"Adopting Yahoo’s search engine made me realize that bringing in external capabilities to fill our own gaps is an effective approach. On reflection, this method is hardly unfamiliar to us. From the very beginning, the news pages that launched alongside Nextcom have carried articles from outside media outlets."
"That is correct."
Henry Samuel, president of Nextcomcast, sensed where Yoo Jae-won was heading.
"I believe we should leverage this kind of external infusion to launch new services—for example, comics and science-fiction novels."
Next came the logos of Marvel and DC, North America’s leading comic publishers, followed by the names of the three giants of science fiction: Robert A. Heinlein, Arthur C. Clarke, and Isaac Asimov.
"If we offer weekly Marvel and DC magazines and science-fiction novels through an online service, I expect a strong response. Wouldn’t you agree?"
Yoo Jae-won judged that Nextcom, now more than two years old, was ready to enter the content market. The method was simple: first populate the pages with the well-known works of Marvel and DC to build recognition, then, once user traffic grew, discover and feature works by amateur webtoon artists, thereby rapidly cultivating a webtoon market as well. He would have preferred the initiative to originate from Nextcom itself, but with everyone else occupied by other matters and no proposals forthcoming, he had decided to raise the idea himself.
When Yoo Jae-won finished, Henry Samuel cautiously requested the floor. Yoo Jae-won nodded at once.
"Um, Mr. Chairman, I hesitate to say this, but we actually reviewed the online serialization of comics several months ago. At the time we conducted market research and found that the number of regular comic readers has been steadily declining. As a result, both Marvel and DC are facing severe financial difficulties. Our conclusion was that an online service would not produce meaningful change, so the project was shelved."
Henry Samuel wore an apologetic expression. He had just delivered a direct blow to one of the business plans Yoo Jae-won had prepared with such care for the coming year. Yet he believed that simply obeying orders without question would be even less desirable. Surprisingly, Yoo Jae-won looked pleased rather than offended.
"Financial difficulties! That’s actually good news. It means we should be able to acquire the online rights far more easily. Ah, and since ID Entertainment also invests in films, we should secure the film adaptation rights at the same time."
Yoo Jae-won’s tone was decisive, leaving no room for further objection.
"I have no intention of charging users for the online comic serializations. They will serve as bait to attract users. Actual revenue will come from advertising displayed alongside the serialization pages. You all understand how advertising rates are determined, don’t you? The number of users exerts enormous influence. If we can gather users by any means, that audience will become a powerful asset later on."
Henry Samuel, along with the other presidents and executives, agreed. The online advertising market had not yet surpassed traditional media, but it remained the fastest-growing segment of the entire advertising industry. Rates were set by user numbers, and user numbers were determined by the quantity, quality, and convenience of content. Even if the core comic readership was small, the executives judged that building a larger user base would ultimately prove beneficial.
For Yoo Jae-won, of course, the decision formed only one piece of a much larger picture. Comics might be struggling now, but he knew better than anyone that their fortunes would change. Once computer-graphics technology advanced to the point where comic content could be rendered in live-action without any downgrade, a re-evaluation would occur.
"I would like to see both companies’ comics appear on Nextcom as soon as possible. Please do not forget the film adaptation rights either."
"Yes, Mr. Chairman."
"Ah! Some titles, like Spider-Man, have complicated rights situations. Even so, do not give up. Work with the legal department to sort everything out and bring the rights over."
Although ID Group was engaged in major litigation with companies such as Electronic Arts, the legal team could certainly assist with negotiations involving comic publishers. The organization had grown large enough, and formal court proceedings had not yet begun; the current stage was still an attempt to reach a settlement between plaintiff and defendant. Neither Yoo Jae-won nor the plaintiffs had any intention of settling, so the period was simply time spent preparing for trial.
Finally, Yoo Jae-won reported on the progress of the project teams under his direct supervision. Some updates he delivered himself; others came via ID Talk’s video-call function from team leaders still in their offices or laboratories. The range of projects—from mobile-phone development to low-power mobile-processor development—was so broad that calling him a jack-of-all-trades would not have been an exaggeration. Everyone had wondered how such diversity was possible, yet the results kept pouring out, delivering enormous benefits to the company, and expectations remained high.
"That concludes the 1993 settlement review. December is not over yet, so please do not relax your guard. Enjoy a proper rest during the Christmas holiday."
At Yoo Jae-won’s declaration that the meeting was over, the presidents and executives responded with enthusiastic applause. Although the hour was still early, they moved on to the lavish dinner the hotel had prepared and continued the post-settlement gathering. No one overindulged, however; as Yoo Jae-won had reminded them, December was not yet finished.
A few days later, December 9 arrived. Yoo Jae-won’s eyes and ears were fixed on Korea. The first-instance ruling in the lawsuits seeking compensation for victims of forced labor and comfort women during the Japanese colonial period—an issue that had not yet captured widespread public attention but in which he personally took great interest—was scheduled for that day.
Inside the courtroom sat the victims themselves, the attorneys from Kim & Jung Law Firm, and even Chief of Staff Choi Kang-wook. Although Choi was not a party to the case, he had agreed to text Yoo Jae-won the outcome immediately after the verdict was delivered.
"Strange how nervous I feel."
Yoo Jae-won expected a favorable result, yet a faint flutter of anxiety remained. Unlike previous trials, this one had been elevated several levels through Kim & Jung Law Firm. The firm’s two partner attorneys had taken on only this single case during their post-retirement grace period. The intelligence team, together with a newly formed special unit, had worked tirelessly to locate evidence and had achieved results. Several documents containing crucial clues had even been accepted as evidence. Finally, he had personally appealed to Kim Young-chol and President Kim. He had not asked outright for a victory, but receiving such a response from politicians was tantamount to an acknowledgment that the request had been received.
"Come to think of it, we’ve done everything legally possible, haven’t we?"
He had not been able to oversee every detail personally, yet the support he had provided was substantial enough that claiming he had done his best was no exaggeration.
Ring—!
At that moment, the mobile phone on Yoo Jae-won’s desk rang.
"Hello?"
—Mr. Chairman, it’s me!
To his surprise, it was Choi Kang-wook. He had been expected to send a text once the verdict was announced, yet here he was calling directly. Could it be—?
—We have an emergency. We lost.
"What? What did you say? We lost?"
Yoo Jae-won’s voice rose sharply as he repeated the question. No wonder his heart had been pounding even though he should have been relaxed.
"What was the reason?"
—The sentencing is still in progress. I stepped out the moment the conclusion was reached to call you. I’ll scan the written judgment as soon as it’s issued and send it over.
"All right. I’ll be waiting—send it as quickly as you can."
After hanging up, Yoo Jae-won walked to the water dispenser and gulped down cold water. He could not contain the heat slowly rising inside him. He had even made a direct request to President Kim, yet the outcome had not changed from before. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps President Kim and Kim Young-chol had stabbed him in the back. But that was unrealistic. President Kim’s anti-Japanese stance had long been verified, and Kim Young-chol had no reason to betray him either. Intelligence reports indicated that Jeon Jae-jun, recently released from his Jeju exile, had traveled to Yeouido and met with Kim Young-chol several times.
"This wasn’t the time to be squabbling with Wares."
In the end, there was only one answer. Judges who placed personal advancement and the interests of a small privileged class above justice had closed their eyes to what was right and brought down the gavel.
Would an appeal change anything?
"Not a chance."
He could already conclude that the judiciary had been completely overtaken by Gresham’s Law—bad money driving out good. In this state, no matter how diligently one participated in trials, a proper verdict was impossible. Yet doing nothing was not Yoo Jae-won’s style. It might be earlier than planned, but he had to implement extraordinary measures immediately.