The Desperate Gambit
The day after the ladder was kicked away, the reason why the number of death row inmates Yoo Jae-won knew—twenty-three—had suddenly become twenty-four was revealed. The additional name belonged to none other than former President Chun Doo-hwan. Once the presidential signature appeared on the execution order, the sentence was carried out without delay. There was no time for public opinion or supporters to react, nor for family members to attend. The execution happened in a flash of lightning.
Even South Korea’s public broadcasters, which had been running nonstop IMF-related news, interrupted regular programming to deliver urgent bulletins. The execution of a former president was simply too shocking an event.
“What on earth is going on?”
Naturally, Yoo Jae-won, watching from San Francisco across the Pacific, was stunned by the breaking news from Korea. He had suspected something like this might happen. In December 1997, the number of death row inmates whose sentences could be carried out was fixed, and only a handful of additional names could possibly be added. Yoo Jae-won tried to read President Kim’s true intentions. He should have been preparing for the launch of Android 98 and ID Office 98, but ignoring the Korean emergency broadcasts was impossible.
A few minutes later, a realization struck him.
“Wait. This feels like it’s aimed at me.”
Yoo Jae-won could now dimly see the outline of the larger picture President Kim was drawing, and his mood soured instantly. Mentioning the 10 billion dollars during their last call must have given the president an opening. At the time, Yoo Jae-won had said that only two conditions needed to be met for him to send 10 billion dollars to Korea immediately: a floating exchange rate and the withdrawal of pardons. President Kim had expressed strong displeasure and rejected the demands outright. Yet the situation unfolding now suggested that the president was fulfilling both requests in a twisted, extreme manner.
The implementation of a free-floating exchange rate had already been promised to the IMF and was scheduled for late December. As for the withdrawal of pardons for the two former presidents, it had been executed in the most drastic way possible—through actual executions. People would naturally wonder why Chun Doo-hwan had been put to death at this particular moment, and while the president’s side could not say it openly, they would imply that the choice had been unavoidable in order to secure 10 billion dollars.
From Yoo Jae-won’s perspective, whether he converted the 10 billion dollars or not, problems would arise either way. The December 18 presidential election, now only a week away, would also be heavily affected.
“I knew politics was ruthless,” Yoo Jae-won muttered, shaking his head, “but this exceeds all imagination.”
A few hours later, events unfolded exactly as he had predicted.
Jeon Myeong-heon, busy with his campaign, called Yoo Jae-won directly.
“You’re saying I’m being linked to Chun Doo-hwan’s execution?”
— What? So is it true?
When Yoo Jae-won asked first, Jeon Myeong-heon nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Of course it’s not true. I only demanded the withdrawal of the pardons. The decision to carry out the executions was entirely President Kim’s.”
Yoo Jae-won’s request had been exactly that—a withdrawal of pardons. He had wanted the two men to rot in prison for the rest of their lives, not to be executed.
— Good heavens! Then does that mean you actually have 10 billion dollars in cash? It wasn’t just a bluff to provoke Kim Young-sam?
Jeon Myeong-heon had interpreted the answer in an unexpected way. It sounded as though Yoo Jae-won had casually named a sum he never intended to pay, purely to needle the president.
“Of course not. The money is real. It’s spare capital I can afford to lose if an investment goes bad.”
Yoo Jae-won tried to reassure the older man first.
— Good heavens. Ten billion dollars isn’t something even the richest households throw around. How is that possible?
Reassurance failed. In a Korea where even a single dollar was precious, the idea of 10 billion dollars in disposable funds was simply beyond Jeon Myeong-heon’s imagination. The Mirae Group, acting on Yoo Jae-won’s earlier warning, had taken measures against the foreign-exchange crisis—dumping memory semiconductors and automobiles, securing low-price plant orders, and doing everything possible to attract dollars. Thanks to those efforts, the group was better positioned than most chaebols. Even so, after repaying short-term foreign debt, their total foreign currency reserves barely exceeded 1 billion dollars. Hearing that Yoo Jae-won possessed 10 billion dollars was therefore shocking.
Yoo Jae-won had been about to mention that he could mobilize 40 billion dollars at any time, but he stopped himself. Telling the truth might have caused the elderly Jeon Myeong-heon to faint on the spot. Instead, he briefly explained the conversation with President Kim.
— I see. Understood.
Having become a politician himself, Jeon Myeong-heon grasped the situation immediately.
— The more I think about it, the more despicable this is. The Chun Doo-hwan loyalists will now be gnashing their teeth at us. President Kim will go around claiming he had no choice but to carry out the executions to bring in 10 billion dollars in precious foreign currency. On top of that, he’ll say that you, to help my political fortunes, demanded the ruling party split, and that he was forced to accept the request. The supporters of Chun Doo-hwan and Roh Tae-woo will hold a grudge against both you and the Tongil National Party. Worst of all, your previously spotless image will be badly damaged. This is exactly the kind of underhanded trick even veteran politicians hesitate to use.
“Don’t worry. I’m not the sort to fall for such petty schemes.”
— Well, I may worry about my own sons, but I never worry about you, Jae-won.
The call with Jeon Myeong-heon ended there. Shortly afterward, Choi Kang-wook contacted him, followed by a flood of reports from the group’s intelligence team and Korean subsidiaries detailing the rumors swirling through political and business circles. The speed of the response showed that Jeon Myeong-heon and Choi Kang-wook, with their reliable human networks, were faster than the field agents, though the intelligence team’s reports were far more detailed. One document even included an emergency poll analyzing the potential impact on the 1997 presidential election. According to the data, the effect was still minimal. Jeon Myeong-heon’s approval rating had dipped slightly, but his commanding 47 percent lead among all candidates remained intact. Meanwhile, the ruling New Korea Party’s Lee Hoi-chang had seen a statistically insignificant 1.5 percent rise.
“Still, you have to give that man credit for his sheer audacity,” Yoo Jae-won muttered after finishing the flurry of urgent calls. Even when cornered, President Kim moved decisively. But this incident was very different from the purge of the Hanahoe faction. Yoo Jae-won could not understand how the president planned to handle the aftermath of such a reckless move. Had he really believed Yoo Jae-won would make that phone call without any countermeasures? If the president had thought the call-recording function built into every Tiffany Phone was merely for show, that was a regrettable miscalculation.
“Perhaps this is history’s backlash,” Yoo Jae-won wondered. In the original timeline, a major incident would have occurred around this time: the ruling party’s campaign secretly asking North Korea to stage a provocation near the DMZ—the infamous “Total Wind” incident. This time, however, there was no sign of such a plot. Neither ID Group’s nor the U.S. government’s intelligence channels, nor even the Agency for National Security Planning lines connected to Jeon Myeong-heon’s camp, showed any warning of “Total Wind.” Inter-Korean relations were simply too good, IAEA inspections were proceeding smoothly, and the light-water reactor project was on track. President Kim’s most significant remaining achievement was the improvement in North-South relations; he would not risk destroying it. So it seemed that today’s event had erupted in place of “Total Wind.”
“I should at least make preparations.”
With that thought, Yoo Jae-won sent Vincent Greenhill a message via ID Talk, instructing him to prepare 10 billion dollars from his personal reserves for immediate transfer to Korea. Since President Kim had fulfilled the requested conditions—albeit in an unexpected form—Yoo Jae-won intended to keep his own promise.
As expected, the Blue House responded the next day.
— President Kim: It is now time for Chairman Yoo Jae-won to honor his promise.
The statement was not made at a formal press conference or during a cabinet meeting. After a barrage of questions about Chun Doo-hwan’s execution poured into the Blue House, the presidential spokesperson had stepped forward to answer. President Kim appeared to have kept the details of his conversation with Yoo Jae-won to himself; the spokesperson’s reply remained strictly theoretical. The government had intended to grant pardons for national reconciliation, but because inter-party consensus could not be reached and public opposition was fierce, the pardons had to be withdrawn. When asked why the withdrawal of pardons had resulted in executions, the spokesperson evaded the question while firmly stating that President Kim hoped Yoo Jae-won would keep his word.
Of course, inquiries immediately flooded ID Group. Reporters from conservative newspapers, their compass shattered by the death of their ideological center, demanded to know why Yoo Jae-won had called for executions. ID Group’s response was simple: complete silence. No one at the company issued any official comment. The media then began writing articles claiming that President Kim’s words were true and that ID Group and Yoo Jae-won were unable to respond. Some pieces even stoked regional sentiment, suggesting that Yoo Jae-won had forced the devil’s choice upon the president in order to split the ruling conservative forces and install Jeon Myeong-heon as president.
Amid the media frenzy, a new post appeared on Yoo Jae-won’s PowerBlog. Titled “Conversation and Transcript with President Kim,” it contained a three-minute audio file and a text document transcribing the dialogue. The reaction was explosive, spreading even to the United States and Europe. European responses were especially swift, given the region’s strong opposition to the death penalty and its willingness to impose trade discrimination on countries that retained it. Debates erupted over whether the execution of the dictator Chun Doo-hwan had been justified, and whether Yoo Jae-won—who had provided the pretext, whether intentionally or not—bore responsibility.
Of course, nowhere was the reaction as intense as in Korea. People argued over whether the withdrawal of pardons mentioned in the recording meant execution, questioned whether Yoo Jae-won truly possessed 10 billion dollars, and debated countless other topics spawned by the transcript. Radical far-right civic groups even attempted to march on Deokjin-ri, Yoo Jae-won’s hometown, demanding that Chun Doo-hwan be brought back to life. Fortunately, police dispatched from Yeoju blocked their entry into the village, but the incident itself became major news.
Naturally, the opposing camp was equally outraged. Supporters of Yoo Jae-won, the Tongil National Party, and Jeon Myeong-heon exploded in condemnation of President Kim and the New Korea Party, accusing them of trying to pin the backlash of Chun Doo-hwan’s execution on Yoo Jae-won. In the broader picture, however, the election had clearly descended into the worst kind of negative campaigning. Daily polls showed the negative impact on Jeon Myeong-heon’s campaign.
Public opinion shifted daily. Fortunately, as election day approached, the situation gradually stabilized. The key question was whether Yoo Jae-won actually possessed 10 billion dollars in cash. If the offer had been a bluff, he had mocked a president in distress; if the money was real, then President Kim had willfully misinterpreted Yoo Jae-won’s goodwill.
When public interest reached its peak, Yoo Jae-won delivered the final blow. Exactly 10 billion dollars had been deposited into the Korean branch account of ID Investment at HSBC Korea.
— Chairman Yoo Jae-won invests 10 billion dollars in Korea!
— President Kim’s deliberate misinterpretation of goodwill is highly suspicious, yet Korea’s difficult circumstances cannot be ignored.
— Korea’s investment value has not disappeared! ID Investment to begin large-scale investment in Korea!
He even authenticated the actual deposit account. Although it was a foreign bank, the funds would still count toward the nation’s foreign reserves. Since the money had not yet been converted to won, the government and banks could not use it arbitrarily, but the moment Yoo Jae-won decided to release it, the funds would become available—like a loaded gun with the safety still on. It was more than enough to shift public opinion. In a Korea where bankruptcy news arrived daily, Yoo Jae-won’s demonstration that the country still held investment value significantly eased fears that the nation might collapse like Russia.
Thus, a whirlwind of issues raged until the final moments before voting day, and December 18—the fateful election day—finally arrived.