The Price of Justice
The transfer to Seoul has been completed.
While Yoo Jae-won steeled his resolve, Vincent Greenhill had already executed the order. Only minutes after receiving the command, he had finished wiring the full one hundred million dollars.
— Is there anything else you require?
“That’s everything for now. Still, one hundred million dollars might not be enough, so stay ready to wire additional funds the moment I ask.”
— We still have nine hundred million dollars in liquid reserves. Will the total investment exceed that amount?
“I’m not sure yet. Oh, and this isn’t an investment. It’s something I want to purchase personally.”
— Understood! I will prepare everything the instant you give the word.
Because this was the first time since his regression that he was attempting to move society itself, he had no clear sense of exactly how much money would be required. Even so, the ample war chest left him unafraid.
The phone rang.
A few minutes after ending the call with Vincent Greenhill, Yoo Jae-won’s cell phone began to ring.
“Hello?”
As expected, money management was meticulous. With the exception of the investment division, ID Group’s Seoul headquarters controlled the cash flow of every subsidiary. A real-time monitoring system was in place, so an unexpected hundred-million-dollar deposit had been flagged and reported to Choi Kang-wook immediately.
“Ah, I sent that.”
Yoo Jae-won laid out his entire plan to purchase justice. Choi Kang-wook was the one confidant to whom he could reveal everything except his single greatest secret. Moreover, since Choi would have to handle the bulk of the practical work on this matter, it was better that he know the full scope.
“Exactly. The judiciary no longer seems to be functioning properly. Judicial independence may be constitutionally guaranteed, but the circumstances of this trial make it obvious that someone higher up intervened and steered the outcome to suit their tastes.”
Only days earlier, Attorney Jung Byung-woo had confidently predicted a favorable result. It wasn’t mere wishful thinking on his part; he had collected information through his contacts inside the judiciary and reported it to Yoo Jae-won. Yet that prediction had been overturned in the space of a few days. The president himself had expressed interest, and Kim Young-chol had personally promised to take care of it. The worst possible outcome had still occurred.
“The judges didn’t rule according to the law or their own consciences. They rendered a political verdict. In that case, we’ll respond in kind—politically. By impeaching every single judge involved.”
“Is that so? Then you won’t help?”
“Exactly!”
Yoo Jae-won’s voice rose naturally once Choi Kang-wook voiced approval of the plan.
“That’s fine. I can always make more money.”
ID Group was working tirelessly across the globe on Yoo Jae-won’s behalf. It generated hundreds of millions of won in profit each day, and the scale continued to expand. The companies funded by ID Investment were also steadily multiplying his wealth. Even now they outperformed average market returns, but once the IT boom ignited, their explosive potential would be staggering.
Factoring in returns of several hundred or even several thousand times once the boom arrived, the one hundred million dollars just transferred could easily become ten billion dollars in a few years. Yoo Jae-won understood this better than anyone. Yet his thirst for justice burned far hotter. Having suffered so much in his previous life, watching the same injustices repeat made him sick to his stomach.
Besides, overturning the judiciary now could ultimately serve his own future interests. If the courts—indeed, even the Supreme Court—stood upright, they would provide an immeasurable advantage to every step he took later.
“Let’s begin with the press.”
“I want a flood of serious articles in both newspapers and broadcasts. Pour advertising and sponsorship money into any outlet that covers this story in depth. Can you manage that?”
“Really?”
Choi Kang-wook answered with unmistakable confidence. Though he regretted being unable to show the evidence, Yoo Jae-won could picture the scene clearly enough without seeing it.
“Are there also people saying they’ll write articles while viewing the world through ID Group’s eyes?”
Choi Kang-wook sounded genuinely startled. How did he know? He had witnessed similar situations in his previous life, so the pattern was easy to guess. The curious part was that back then newspapers had already lost most of their influence, whereas current newspapers still carried real weight. Yet they were still hustling aggressively for advertising revenue—an amusing detail.
“There’s one more thing to add. Columns from respected figures in society. In particular, we need resolute pieces from professors at prestigious schools like Seoul National University.”
Yoo Jae-won rejected the very phrase “social elite.” No one accepted that parasitic professions, high government officials, or holders of honorable titles had the right to stand above ordinary citizens. Even without reaching back to the Gabo Reform that abolished the class system, democratization had created a nation where everyone was equal.
Reality, however, was different. When an influential academic moved, everyone connected to him through school ties or regional connections followed suit. It was not an ideal situation, but right now it was a lever that needed to be used.
“Good. Cover the costs with the one hundred million dollars I sent. If more is required to reach the objective, I can send larger sums, so spend without restraint.”
The call with Choi Kang-wook ended there.
With major media outlets now carrying the opening salvo of the public-opinion war, he would watch the flow for several days before laying the next stones.
“What else remains?”
Yoo Jae-won still had work to do. He picked up his phone and dialed at once. The line was powered off, however, and only an automated message answered. Using the brief lull, he handled company affairs for about an hour before redialing.
The phone rang for a long time before the call finally connected.
The person he had called was Jung Byung-woo of Kim & Jung Law Firm. Although Attorney Kim Chang-hwan held slightly higher seniority, Jung Byung-woo was the one who operated with visible zeal in public and had taken the lead in this particular defense. Of course his drive stemmed from overflowing ambition and a desire for recognition, but that was not necessarily a flaw.
“Attorney Jung? This is Yoo Jae-won.”
Jung Byung-woo, who had sounded listless even while introducing himself, seemed genuinely shocked to hear Yoo Jae-won’s name.
“Yes. I already heard the trial outcome from Chief Secretary Choi.”
“Not at all. I’m not disappointed. The final period hasn’t been placed yet, has it?”
Yoo Jae-won comforted the attorney.
“Good. That’s what I want to hear. To keep your spirits up, I’ll have the retainer fee wired today.”
Both Kim Chang-hwan and Jung Byung-woo received salaries from Kim & Jung Law Firm that were more than adequate. In annual terms it came to slightly more than two hundred million won—astronomical for the early nineties. Yet in absolute terms it was not enormous. In 1993 the courtesy extended to former high officials remained ironclad, and the real money for such lawyers came from retainer fees earned by handling multiple cases. Merely lending one’s name could bring in hundreds of millions or tens of millions without effort. Earning several billion won a year that way was commonplace.
Kim Chang-hwan and Jung Byung-woo, however, had spent nearly two years litigating forced-labor and comfort-women cases from the Japanese colonial period. Although they accepted other matters, those were public-interest cases handled through the ID Foundation for the legally vulnerable. Originally Yoo Jae-won had planned to award them a substantial success fee if they won the first trial—both to reward their hard work and to establish them as icons of justice. He wanted to plant hope in those inside the judiciary who still wished to act according to conscience: that they too could become the next Kim Chang-hwan or Jung Byung-woo.
Even though the result had flipped to defeat, Yoo Jae-won’s thinking remained unchanged. In fact it had grown even firmer. Through Kim & Jung Law Firm he would demonstrate that pursuing justice could still bring both wealth and social success. That was why the fee was ten billion won.
The original amount he had intended to pay was five billion. Split between the two men, each would receive 2.5 billion. Over two years that worked out to 1.25 billion per year—slightly more than a typical former high-official lawyer earned. Yoo Jae-won had doubled it. An annual figure of 2.5 billion won would mark a new epoch in the Korean legal world, he was certain. The sum itself would serve as an enormous billboard, setting the hearts of every prospective lawyer ablaze.
Of course the full fifty billion won in two-year retainer fees would not land intact in their accounts; roughly twenty-eight percent would be deducted as income tax, leaving approximately 3.6 billion won after taxes.
“The money will be deposited tomorrow. Please continue working hard.”
Jung Byung-woo was so stunned by the astronomical figure that he could barely speak. Had anyone else mentioned five billion won he would have told them to stop the tasteless joke at once. But the speaker was Yoo Jae-won. Ever since the ID Group logo had been embossed on his business card, Jung Byung-woo had never once felt financial pressure.
As expected, Jung Byung-woo’s reaction was far more passionate than that of the incorruptible Kim Chang-hwan. He sounded genuinely excited. So excited, in fact, that he had used the archaic phrase “devotion even at the cost of my life.”
“Ah, and I have one question.”
“A few days ago you were expecting a favorable outcome, correct?”
“No, don’t do that. Otherwise how will we discover why the result suddenly changed? I want to know exactly who exerted influence.”
Jung Byung-woo was quick on the uptake.
“Heh, that’s enough.”
The call with Jung Byung-woo ended there as well.
Having confirmed that he had taken every possible step available today, Yoo Jae-won finally relaxed. Mentally exhausted, he retired to his bedroom earlier than usual and fell asleep.
Several days later.
Yoo Jae-won rose at his usual hour and sat down in front of the computer. As always, he navigated straight to NextCom’s news page—the Korean edition.
Is the Republic of Korea’s Judiciary Japan’s Lackey?
In-Depth Analysis of the Comfort Women Verdict! Japan’s Counterarguments Applied Word for Word!
Column by Jeong Tae-ha: A Nation That Forgets Its History Has No Future.
Was President Kim’s Pledge to Settle Historical Wrongs Merely Empty Rhetoric?
The Japanese Colonial History the Government Failed to Honor—Civilians Step Forward First!
The Judiciary That Faced Zero Checks Has Finally Created a Scandal.
The front page of the Korean NextCom news portal had changed dramatically. Yoo Jae-won had not personally intervened to manipulate editorial policy; the site’s operating principles remained unchanged. What had shifted was the actual content of the published articles. Front-page and in-depth pieces now lambasted everything from Japanese colonial atrocities to the failings of the judiciary.
Naturally, this was the result of Choi Kang-wook’s efforts. The day after such articles appeared, the corresponding newspapers received full-page ID Group image ads, ADSL ads, or Android ads—either at the bottom of the front page or as back-cover spreads. The stronger and longer the article, the larger the ad.
The most prominent piece on NextCom’s news page was the culture daily’s scathing headline “Is the Judiciary Japan’s Lackey?” Because it perfectly echoed Yoo Jae-won’s own feelings, the newspaper received a double-page spread. Even that cost less than thirty million won; newspaper ad rates were tiered by circulation, and the culture daily sat at the bottom rung. Online, however, circulation tiers meant nothing. A top spot on the front page generated massive clicks. Once comment functions were enabled, hundreds of replies flooded in within minutes.
The number of users had grown rapidly thanks to aggressive ADSL rollout. At this pace, the total number of netizens able to connect—whether by modem or ADSL—would surpass one million before the end of 1993. Despite the explosive growth in internet subscribers, high-quality services remained scarce. Among them, NextCom shone brightest, and its news page was rapidly becoming the beating heart of online public opinion.
Feedback on the articles was therefore instantaneous. While such monopoly might eventually produce side effects, now was not the time to worry about them. Netizens copied the NextCom stories into their own communities and raged together. Those reactions were then turned into fresh articles, creating a self-reinforcing loop of amplification.
The other side’s reaction was immediate as well. According to Jung Byung-woo’s report, people inside the judiciary—especially those connected to this trial—were visibly rattled. They had known there were slight problems, but they had never expected the matter to balloon to this scale.
“They’re already moaning and we’ve barely started.”
Yoo Jae-won clicked his tongue, then opened ID Talk. It was time to move on to the second stage. Now that the press had begun to burn, it was only right to throw more fuel on the fire.
The real game was only just beginning.