The Day After the Impeachment
The day after the great judicial scandal, crowds of victims and supporters who had waited anxiously outside the National Assembly erupted in cheers at the news of the impeachment's passage.
"Long live the Republic of Korea! Long live!"
They expressed gratitude to the citizens who had shown concern for others' affairs as if they were their own and had worked to correct the wrongful rulings. Yet one point remained controversial: although the judges in question had been impeached, the first-instance verdicts still stood. The final stage at the Constitutional Court had yet to be resolved. Many citizens and politicians voiced concern over this. Since the National Assembly, representing the people's will, had passed the impeachment, there was a significant risk that the Constitutional Court might issue a ruling that betrayed public sentiment.
Because of this, public opinion demanded revisions to the impeachment trial process. "Oh, I hadn't thought that far ahead." Yoo Jae-won sat with a hint of self-reproach at forty thousand feet above sea level. Roughly an hour had passed since ID Group's private jet departed San Francisco International Airport. He was on a business trip for Android Inc.'s listing. With time to spare during the flight, Yoo Jae-won had opened his Shell Book and was watching video clips. Naturally, at such an altitude, there was no internet or television. Yet what he watched now was simple enough—an offline mode. He had simply downloaded the files in advance. The collection of video clips, images, and documents totaled well over 100MB. Yoo Jae-won had prepared them merely to avoid wasting flight time, but in this unexpected setting, he was gaining far more than he had anticipated.
"That's right. If the National Assembly, representing the people, has impeached them, that should be the end of it."
From his memories of his previous life, he recalled that the Constitutional Court had rendered only one truly absurd ruling: the decision on relocating the capital. The justices, all of whom owned homes in Seoul, had invented the unheard-of concept of "customary constitutional law" to block the move. There had been two impeachments before, and their outcomes had sometimes hinged on public support. The fact that the Constitutional Court paid close attention to public opinion stemmed from its competitive relationship with the Supreme Court.
"Presidential impeachment may need to go through the Constitutional Court, but judicial impeachments would be better settled in the National Assembly alone." Yoo Jae-won organized his thoughts and made a note. To guard against potential errors in judicial impeachments, he considered allowing appeals for reinstatement through a separate standing committee every four or five years—an alternative that could replace the Constitutional Court's role.
"Then it would make sense to establish a dedicated standing impeachment committee, wouldn't it?" The National Assembly could house a permanent committee to handle impeachment motions, decide whether to bring them to the plenary session, and review reinstatement applications. This was precisely the system used in neighboring Japan. In Japan, where such a standing committee operated, impeachments of judges or lawyers occurred roughly once every ten years—quite different from Korea, which had seen none until the recent removal of Ma Tae-sik and seven other judges.
"Hmm. This might require a constitutional amendment." Not being a legal expert, Yoo Jae-won lacked certainty whether his idea aligned with the current constitutional framework. Still, it was clearly superior to the present system. Once he successfully completed Android Inc.'s sales and returned to Korea, he resolved to discuss it properly with experts.
"It's quite cold outside." Before the cabin door opened, the flight attendant offered a warning. Yoo Jae-won nodded as if it were nothing. Yet the moment the door swung open and a blast of frigid air rushed in, he realized it had been no exaggeration. It was the same biting winter wind he had only ever felt in Korea. Though the latitude difference between Sausalito in San Francisco and New York was a mere three degrees, the temperature gap approached twenty degrees. San Francisco remained cool even in winter, with average temperatures around thirteen degrees, but New York had plunged to minus six.
"Thank you for the service. I'll see you next time." Yoo Jae-won expressed his gratitude to the pilot and purser before stepping off the plane. There was no red carpet, but cars were already waiting for him and his entourage—vehicles prepared by ID Investment. Notably, three cars stood ready, yet only one person watched over them. ID Investment had supplied the cars; the drivers and bodyguards had come aboard the private jet with Yoo Jae-won, so there was no need for a large welcoming party.
The heater had evidently been running; warmth enveloped him the instant he climbed inside. "We'll take you to Trump Tower in Manhattan," Greg said from behind the wheel. Yoo Jae-won nodded. A radio message passed to the other vehicles, and the convoy pulled smoothly away.
Though it was only four in the afternoon upon landing in New York, heading straight to his lodging for rest was not Yoo Jae-won's style. Trump Tower in Manhattan marked the beginning of business. Several super-rich individuals who had shown keen interest in Android Inc.'s listing had agreed to meet him there. Nothing was finalized yet, but if discussions went well and a mutually satisfactory price was reached, a block deal could materialize. The meeting place had been set at Trump Tower for a simple reason: it had been chosen as ID Investment's headquarters. Among the candidates, Trump Tower had ranked third. Had its owner not been the future U.S. president Donald Trump, Yoo Jae-won would never have considered it. The building was far too large and expensive for ID Investment's scale. Yet after meeting Yoo Jae-won, Trump's side had offered a twenty-percent discount. At that price, the dismal cost-performance ratio suddenly became viable. Considering the explosive rise in Manhattan land and building values that would begin in the early twenty-first century, the deal bordered on a bargain. Whether the offer stemmed from goodwill generated by The Art of the Deal or from Trump's dire financial straits, Yoo Jae-won could not say. Either way, it cost him nothing, so he accepted Trump Tower. Its original asking price had hovered around 1.6 billion dollars. Listed for roughly two years without a buyer, the price had gradually fallen to 1.5 billion. With the twenty-percent discount, it dropped to 1.2 billion. The sole condition was an all-cash, lump-sum payment—a steep demand for most. The wealthy typically held their fortunes in real estate, precious metals, or other liquid assets. Finding someone with that much cash on hand was rare enough; finding one willing to buy a Manhattan building was rarer still. In that sense, Yoo Jae-won was the buyer Trump had been waiting for. ID Group's explosive growth had already accumulated substantial cash reserves, and the Android Inc. listing would bring in an enormous additional sum.
Yoo Jae-won, too, had long desired something grander than the modest building scaled to ID Investment's current size. Years earlier, while visiting Edwin Feulner at the Heritage Foundation, he had nurtured the romantic notion of someday affixing his name to a skyscraper reaching toward the heavens. Trump Tower was not quite a true skyscraper, but it was a worthy beginning. The deposit had already been paid; once the Android Inc. listing concluded, the balance would be settled immediately. From the moment the contract was signed, Trump Tower could be used as ID Investment's headquarters building—a courtesy extended by Trump. It seemed Yoo Jae-won had indeed earned his favor.
While lost in thought, the convoy crossed the Queensboro Bridge connecting Roosevelt Island to Manhattan and entered East 57th Street. The deep navy façade of Trump Tower came into view. Robert Edward Turner III—the full name of the man Yoo Jae-won was scheduled to meet today. Most people simply called him Ted Turner. He was also famous to the public as the creator of CNN, the twenty-four-hour news channel. After founding CNN, he launched additional specialized networks—HLN, TNT, TBS, and the Cartoon Network—each a resounding success. He bundled them into the Turner Broadcasting System. Rising from nothing to become a media mogul was no small feat. Yet he had not yet reached the stratospheric wealth Yoo Jae-won remembered from his previous life. Ted Turner's real jackpot came when Time Warner acquired CNN and the rest of the Turner Broadcasting System. In exchange for the merger, he received Time Warner stock and an enormous cash payout, finally ascending to true super-rich status. Consequently, among the super-rich who had contacted him seeking Android Inc. shares, Ted Turner's ranking was not particularly high. Nevertheless, Yoo Jae-won had chosen to meet Ted Turner first because the man's temperament and capabilities aligned perfectly with his own objectives. Yoo Jae-won wanted Nextcomcast to become a colossal media group spanning both online and offline domains. His analysis identified Rupert Murdoch's News Corp as the greatest obstacle to that ambition.
"What do you think of Rupert Murdoch?"
"Well, I've never actually spoken with him…"
"Him?"
"Ah! I mean, I've never had the chance to meet the man, so I've never even considered it."
The man who flew into a rage at the mere mention of Rupert Murdoch as "that person" was none other than Ted Turner. Arriving at Trump Tower precisely on time, Ted Turner displayed unfiltered curiosity toward Yoo Jae-won while simultaneously asking what he thought of Rupert Murdoch. It was only natural; Ted Turner was the person who despised Rupert Murdoch most in the world—and he made no effort to conceal that loathing.
Fortunately, the arrival of food from the restaurant gave Ted Turner pause. Yoo Jae-won seized the opening. He had no desire to remain on the defensive and let Ted Turner dictate the pace.
"Still, I doubt we'll ever have a good relationship. You're aware I acquired Comcast, correct?"
"Of course! Who doesn't know that?"
"At the time, instead of congratulations, News Corp sent only a notice about channel numbers and content supply price adjustments. Before that, I was also attacked by Fox News."
It was no fabrication. The supply contracts with Comcast contained numerous special clauses that could not be carried over to Nextcomcast, prompting News Corp to demand swift negotiations to avoid the unfortunate scenario of content supply being cut off. Losing News Corp's portfolio—Fox News, movie channels, National Geographic, Sky, Channel V, and more—would deal a severe blow to Nextcomcast's content offerings. Although Nextcomcast was North America's largest cable and internet provider, its lack of owned broadcast stations made News Corp's pressure particularly effective.
"That Murdoch bastard—his filthy personality hasn't changed a bit. Looks like he wants to show the new kid who's boss in this world."
Ted Turner once again proved that building a media empire from scratch had been no accident. Had Yoo Jae-won's presence been any less commanding, Murdoch would never have dared such a probe.
"But there's no need to play along. If News Corp gets dropped from your cable lineup, they'll feel the pain too. I hope it happens! Having that trashy Fox News vanish from your network would be far better for America."
Yoo Jae-won, who also harbored grievances against Fox News, nodded without hesitation. Improvement would be welcome, but Fox News was unlikely to reform. Moreover, the flood of fake news that would plague the early twenty-first century had its roots right here. The notion that video games caused murder had already become a cliché on Fox talk shows; no further commentary was required.
"Above all, I hold your potential in very high regard. Ah, not just you—I'm quite positive about the internet as a new communications medium as well."
"Oh! Really?"
"If I weren't, would I have asked for this meeting so many times? You knew that when you came, didn't you? Enough probing—let's get to the point. How does this sound?"
How does what sound? Yoo Jae-won tilted his head, puzzled.
"Wouldn't someone like me be sufficient as a major shareholder in Android Inc.?"
Caught up in the Murdoch and Fox discussion, Yoo Jae-won had momentarily forgotten the meeting's purpose. His favorite negotiating style was the direct approach, yet Ted Turner's colorful personality had delayed its deployment today. Once business began, however, Yoo Jae-won's gaze sharpened.
"What percentage are you looking to buy?"
"How about ten percent for one billion dollars?"
Yoo Jae-won shook his head the instant he heard the offer. This old man was quite the character—grand in speech, yet stingy in proposal.
"The final IPO price set by the lead underwriter, Lehman Brothers, is twenty-five dollars and eighty cents per share."
"Huh? How many total shares are being issued that one share costs twenty-five eighty?"
"One billion shares."
"One billion shares! Then the market cap would be…"
Android Inc.'s total assets had been valued at five billion dollars—the figure set on the day the company spun off from ID Technology. Naturally, this amount reflected the most conservative accounting. Factoring in all assets, rights, and patents, the true value easily exceeded five billion. Still, Yoo Jae-won had wanted a swift listing and simple calculations, so he had anchored the valuation at five billion. This produced one billion shares with a par value of five dollars each. Considering Android Inc.'s market share, margins, future vision, and the scale of investors and investment banks participating in the offering, the price per share had been set at twenty-five dollars and eighty cents.
"Therefore, for ten percent, you would need to pay at least two billion five hundred eighty million dollars."
"Good heavens! Isn't that far too expensive? I don't have that kind of money."
Yet only moments earlier, the same man had spoken so enthusiastically about the internet's promise. Now he claimed it was too expensive.
"Come now, you speak so grandly, yet you call this expensive? And the great Ted Turner saying he has no money—who would believe that?"
"It's true! I really don't have it right now. After scraping together everything, one billion dollars is all I can manage."
Yoo Jae-won had never imagined he would see Ted Turner wearing such a pitiful expression. Yet he felt no displeasure. The man bore no malice—except toward Rupert Murdoch. Through give-and-take negotiation, they ultimately settled on a deal for four percent of Android Inc.'s shares at one billion dollars. Though the price was slightly below the offering price, Yoo Jae-won saw no harm in extending the courtesy to forge a good relationship with Ted Turner.
In similar fashion, over the next several days Yoo Jae-won met with other influential figures favorable to him and sold fifteen percent of the shares via block deal. Pricing the shares as close as possible to the offering price, he raised 3.8 billion dollars. Within days, the cost of Trump Tower had been more than covered. Yet the events in New York were far from over. The main event—the Nasdaq listing ceremony—still awaited him.