The NASDAQ Bell That Shook the World

The NASDAQ is America's over-the-counter stock market. It operates separately from the stock trading conducted on the New York Stock Exchange and lists securities registered with the National Association of Securities Dealers. To make over-the-counter trading more efficient, it had aggressively adopted computer networks. A system had been built that allowed real-time viewing of listed companies' bid and ask prices, along with order placement, through computers or dedicated terminals.

Since its origins lay in the over-the-counter market, there was no grand opening bell ceremony like the one at the New York Stock Exchange. However, companies did hold listing commemorations upon going public. The event Yoo Jae-won was attending today was precisely Android's NASDAQ listing ceremony.

The president of Android was Kevin Johnson. Strictly speaking, then, Kevin Johnson should have been standing at the listing ceremony venue set up in front of the main screen at NASDAQ's Broadway headquarters. But investors and ordinary citizens alike knew that the true owner of Android was Yoo Jae-won. Even NASDAQ itself acknowledged this.

As the floor announcer's voice rang out, a video introducing the history of Android played on the massive main screen that served as NASDAQ's signature.

“We now welcome ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the founder and owner, Chairman Yoo Jae-won.”

At the announcer’s cue, Yoo Jae-won stepped in front of the NASDAQ main screen. His outfit was utterly casual—a hoodie and jeans. The atmosphere at NASDAQ itself was relaxed, so there was no strict dress code for the listing ceremony. Yoo Jae-won had deliberately chosen the hoodie because he believed clothing was the best way to visually convey Android’s corporate culture to investors.

He had, however, been meticulous about the brands. Both the top and bottom were American: the hoodie was from Gap, and the jeans were Levi’s. Although American-first sentiment had not yet emerged in the United States, Yoo Jae-won believed that since he was earning money in America, it was important to show that he used American products first. Moreover, because today’s event would be recorded on video and remembered for a long time, he had paid close attention to every detail. He had even swapped his usual Rolls-Royce for a Cadillac limousine when coming to NASDAQ headquarters.

The moment Yoo Jae-won stood at the podium, camera flashes erupted in a frenzy. It was inevitable. The scale of Android’s NASDAQ listing was among the largest in history. Starting at $25.8 billion was a record that didn’t even exist on the New York Stock Exchange. What’s more, the owner was not even in his twenties—he was still a teenager. It was a record that had never existed in NASDAQ’s past and likely never would again. Guinness World Records had moved quickly, already promoting that it would be registered as a new economic benchmark.

“Hello. I am Yoo Jae-won, Chairman of ID Group and owner of Android. When I created Alpha, I never once imagined I would stand in such a glorious place. Yet a miracle has happened. Um…”

While reading from his prepared script, Yoo Jae-won suddenly felt a surge of emotion. It was only natural. Neither the NASDAQ officials, the gathered media, nor even the ID Group executives clapping until their palms turned red knew about his true background. To them, it had merely been a master plan born from the depths of despair, fueled by vague hope. And yet a miracle had occurred, bringing him this far.

But this was only the beginning. Among the countless subsidiaries of ID Group, only one had gone public so far. Regaining his composure, Yoo Jae-won focused once more and delivered his prepared remarks.

“I do not believe I achieved this miracle alone. This moment exists thanks to the ID Group family who ran alongside me while sharing the same dream, and to the users who loved the programs I created and willingly shared them across the internet. Android will continue to pursue innovation and progress based on this support. We will make computers accessible to more people more easily, and through that, we will achieve great advancement.”

The instant Yoo Jae-won finished speaking, thunderous applause erupted. But it was not over yet.

“Finally, I would like to make one clear promise to our shareholders. IT companies are known for their stingy dividends. Android will definitely dispel such concerns!”

Having thoroughly promoted Android as well, Yoo Jae-won firmly pressed the button prepared on the podium. The trading symbol NASDAQ had assigned to Android was ADOS, and with an offering price of $25.8, the historic trading began.

Naturally, the opening price lit up green from the very start. Unlike the Korean stock market, rising prices were displayed in green and falling prices in red.

Android’s listing became a massive issue in the United States as well. It was an event that clearly demonstrated the growth of the computer sector. Tens of millions of computers were sold each year, and as computer environments rapidly expanded, an entire industry called IT was taking shape. However, unless one was already interested in the computer industry, it was difficult to notice these changes.

When the automobile industry boomed, roads changed. When smokestack industries grew dramatically, cityscapes transformed. In contrast, as the computer industry advanced, nothing outwardly seemed to change. Yet inside companies and homes, the landscape was shifting rapidly. The critical point for explosive growth was slowly approaching, and today’s Android listing clearly signaled that this was the beginning.

While America was abuzz, there was one place in even greater uproar: Korea.

Because of major political events—the impeachment of judges and the enactment of the special law for victims of Japanese colonial rule—news about Android’s upcoming listing had been pushed to the back burner. As a result, the announcement that Android had listed on NASDAQ and closed at $30.96 came as a genuine shock.

Television and newspapers competed to deliver the news. Moreover, the media occupation operation led by Choi Kang-wook was still in progress. Since the Constitutional Court’s ruling was still pending, it was not yet perfectly finished. As meticulous as Yoo Jae-won, Choi Kang-wook continued the policy to ensure a flawless conclusion.

In the midst of this, Android’s successful listing occurred, and the media exploded with fervor. Even without ID Group’s advertising revenue, this was a nuclear-level issue that would dominate headlines for days.

It was already well known that Yoo Jae-won had built a global corporation in America, but because it had remained unlisted, gauging the true scale of that success had been difficult. The only glimpse had come when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ID Investment successfully closed its investments and paid enormous taxes upon liquidation.

The scale of Yoo Jae-won’s wealth and ID Group could only be estimated through sales figures for the Android operating system and New Egg computers. Then came Android’s listing. Market capitalization was the most intuitive measure of a company’s size.

The money talk continued without end. The explanation that income tax alone would reach 3.4 trillion won left readers reeling. A single tax filing would cover roughly one-eleventh of the national budget. Thanks to this, a small controversy arose in America: the idea that someone making vast sums in America would pay taxes in Korea.

As expected, the first outlet to raise the issue was the conservative Fox News. Fortunately, the controversy did not last long. It was already widely known that ID Group was a Korean company, and it had faithfully paid taxes in America on profits generated by its U.S. entities. Moreover, most of ID Group’s employees were American, and its social contributions were centered on the United States. There were also many media outlets and figures friendly to ID Group.

Broadcasters such as CNN, TBS, and NBC introduced Yoo Jae-won’s success as an exemplary American Dream. Although the headquarters was in Korea, they emphasized that ID Group’s growth greatly benefited American interests. The most enthusiastic was, of course, TBS. Since Ted Turner had boarded the same ship as Yoo Jae-won, the broadcasters under Turner Broadcasting System did not hesitate to support him.

Thanks to all this, Korea was in a festive mood.

It had been just over a month since the discovery of the Baekje Golden Incense Burner during parking lot construction at the temple site in Neungsan-ri, Buyeo, South Chungcheong Province. The artifact was of such extraordinary quality that it was considered the pinnacle of Baekje culture. Its emergence had been loudly touted as proof that the nation’s fortune was rising. Yoo Jae-won had thought at the time that linking a single relic to national fortune was a bit excessive, but now they were even connecting it to Android’s listing.

Only after reading the follow-up article could Yoo Jae-won grasp the context. It seemed the Blue House was orchestrating this. “Historical reckoning” had been an agenda President Kim had declared since his inauguration. While the current focus was on the Japanese colonial period, President Kim’s ultimate target was the Fifth Republic. Concealing that intention while steadily advancing was clearly a highly sophisticated political maneuver.

While the Republic of Korea basked in a festive atmosphere, not everyone shared in the celebration. If one looked at the newspaper stands displaying February 2, 1994 editions, one paper stood out glaringly: Daehan Ilbo. While every other newspaper led with Android’s listing on the front page, Daehan Ilbo featured farmers’ protests against rice market opening as its headline.

The atmosphere inside Daehan Ilbo on February 2 was heavy. For the past month, the paper had continuously run critical articles opposing the impeachment of judges, causing the number of paid subscribers to keep dropping. Moreover, the largest source of revenue for any newspaper—advertising—had been declining day by day. While other papers were throwing lavish year-end parties thanks to record profits, Daehan Ilbo felt like it existed in another world.

Management had announced that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Lunar New Year bonus would be drastically reduced due to poor performance. Naturally, reporters and staff protested, but nothing changed. Just a year earlier, things had been completely different. Daehan Ilbo had been Korea’s premier print newspaper with the best treatment in the industry. Entry had been so competitive that the term “journalism exam” existed, and it had been the dream destination for aspiring journalists.

Yet in the blink of an eye, its prestige and treatment had plummeted. The cause was simple. The long-standing conflict with Yoo Jae-won—the man who had dominated headlines since yesterday—had accumulated and created the current crisis.

Shim Jae-guk, the political desk chief who could no longer simply watch this trend, arrived at the editor-in-chief’s office at 11 a.m., just before the afternoon edition deadline. He had not come of his own volition. While the department heads were smoking together, someone had naturally remarked that the company might go under. The conclusion was that they should at least say something to the higher-ups. Since going together would be too burdensome, they needed someone to take the lead. In the end, Shim Jae-guk, the most senior among the chiefs, had been pushed forward by his juniors.

“Chief Editor, it’s Shim Jae-guk.”

With a deep sigh, Shim Jae-guk finally knocked on the editor-in-chief’s door. A moment later, he was told to enter. When he opened the door, the room looked like a badger’s den. Thick cigarette smoke filled the office. It was clear evidence that the editor-in-chief was just as worried as the department heads.

“The afternoon deadline is right around the corner. What’s this sudden visit about?”

“Chief Editor, isn’t it time we make a decision?”

“A decision?”

The editor-in-chief’s short, heavy tone made Shim Jae-guk feel considerable pressure. Even among desk chiefs, the aura that came from seniority was on another level.

“I’m talking about the Yoo Jae-won matter.”

Asking again about something everyone already knew was the editor-in-chief’s way of applying pressure and making the other person uncomfortable.

“Are you telling me to declare surrender?”

“Surrender? When have we ever been at war? I’m saying this is an opportunity to run a few favorable articles about Yoo Jae-won and test the waters. I hear the neighboring Dongha Ilbo has already started receiving ID Group advertisements.”

Shim Jae-guk calmly relayed the latest from Dongha Ilbo while stating his opinion. Surprisingly, the editor-in-chief did not explode in anger. Normally, whenever an article went against company policy or his personal feelings, he would summon the department heads and unleash a torrent of abuse. That was why both reporters and chiefs found him difficult to deal with. The only reason Shim Jae-guk—the oldest among the chiefs—had been chosen to carry the burden this time was because age was given some consideration.

The editor-in-chief stubbed out his cigarette butt in the ashtray and pulled out a fresh one. He even offered the pack to Shim Jae-guk. Shim Jae-guk usually preferred Marlboro Red over Mild Seven, so it didn’t particularly appeal to him, but he had no choice but to take one and light up. After a few puffs, the editor-in-chief spoke.

“Who likes seeing their salary decrease? To be honest, I’d like to do that too.”

Surprisingly, the editor-in-chief revealed feelings he had never shown before.

“Then… isn’t that fine?”

“The president’s opinion remains unchanged. He says that as Yoo Jae-won’s presence has grown, only we can check him, and he just ordered us to criticize him even more vigorously.”

At the words “the president,” Shim Jae-guk’s expression hardened completely. What he had learned in university was that even an owner could not interfere with journalists’ articles. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠But after joining Daehan Ilbo, he had realized that none of that knowledge was useful here. The president’s policy was law at Daehan Ilbo. Any article that deviated even slightly from it would disappear without seeing the light of day.

Since the president’s stance was firm, Daehan Ilbo’s policy would not change going forward. Naturally, improving relations with ID Group would be impossible. When Yoo Jae-won’s presence had been small, there had been no problem. But now, with just one subsidiary listed, he had become Korea’s richest man. The power of the unlisted subsidiaries was also enormous. And that wasn’t all. The close relationship between Yoo Jae-won and Jeon Byeong-heon had already been proven. As a result, the Future Group was gradually distancing itself from Daehan Ilbo as well.

“Would you like to go speak directly to the president?”

At the editor-in-chief’s question, Shim Jae-guk waved his hands in refusal. Conversation was only possible with someone who could be reasoned with. The editor-in-chief nodded as if he had expected that answer, then spoke one last time.

“At least we received one decent column. It argues that we should follow the example of ID Group, which set a new record in advanced IT technology in the heart of capitalism, America, and successfully listed.”

This showed that the editor-in-chief had not simply been sitting idle. Since it was against the president’s policy for Daehan Ilbo reporters to write favorable articles under their own names, they had resorted to the trick of using outside contributors. Shim Jae-guk prayed that the column running in the afternoon edition would produce a positive effect.