The Price of Clemency
Yoo Jae-won wore a puzzled expression as Ha Tae-won of Seonkyung Group pressed on with his prepared speech. “I’m aware that my father-in-law has been involved in many regrettable matters. Still, I hope you’ll acknowledge the contributions he made for the sake of the country. Moreover, his relationship with you, Chairman Yoo, was hardly an ordinary one, was it?”
An ordinary relationship? Ha Tae-won spoke with complete sincerity, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he earnestly argued for his father-in-law’s pardon. Yoo Jae-won let the words pass through one ear and out the other. It was true that light and shadow coexisted in every person. Right now, Yoo Jae-won himself was charging forward without looking back, guided by the intricate plans he had laid since his previous life. Thanks to that, he had built ID Group into a success at a remarkably young age. Yet if history later judged his actions, criticism would surely surface. The same applied to former President Roh Tae-woo—there were aspects worthy of praise and others that demanded scrutiny. The question was why Ha Tae-won was bringing this up to him now.
A thought crossed Yoo Jae-won’s mind. Perhaps Ha Tae-won and his wife’s family genuinely believed he had orchestrated Chun Doo-hwan’s execution. If so, the situation was deeply unfair. After all, the people who had stolen his technology and driven him to death in his previous life were still breathing freely. They were the sort he could have torn apart without remorse, yet he had never laid a hand on them. Partly because he did not wish to carry over the grudges of his past life, and partly because he understood that the misfortunes that had befallen him then were structural rather than personal. Those people had not targeted only him. Corporate history was filled with similar cases of technology theft by large conglomerates. Yoo Jae-won’s conclusion had been to reform the organizations themselves rather than pursue personal revenge. He had already gathered the power to make that possible, and he was now ready to begin in earnest.
He was genuinely disappointed that someone would mistake his principled stance for a man who traded in money and death. “Well, and…” Ha Tae-won hesitated before continuing. “When I visited my father-in-law, he mentioned that you had agreed to one request from him…”
A request? Yoo Jae-won searched his memory and immediately recalled the conversation he had shared with the former president while riding in the car during the Daejeon Expo groundbreaking ceremony. “Ah.” Back then, Yoo Jae-won had asked Roh Tae-woo to shield Park Sang-kwon’s investigation from political interference. The former president had agreed and, in return, asked Yoo Jae-won to grant him a favor someday. Yoo Jae-won had reluctantly nodded. He had since forgotten about it, never expecting Ha Tae-won to bring it up. Conversely, the fact that Roh Tae-woo was dredging up such a dusty old promise meant he now viewed his situation as a dire crisis. After all, his lifelong friend had been executed overnight, and no one knew when the same fate might befall him. He had received the red name tag in prison and had been expecting release through amnesty, only for everything to turn 180 degrees.
In Yoo Jae-won’s view, Roh Tae-woo’s sentence was effectively over. The next president was already Jeon Myeong-heon. The regime change was decided, and President Kim’s power had reached its end. Once the transition team began its work, there would be nothing left but a quiet exit. Without the IMF crisis, he would have stepped down amid the greatest achievements in history and universal applause. The crisis had triggered the regime change and dimmed many of President Kim’s accomplishments. Attempting further executions now would only deepen the stain, so it seemed unlikely to happen again. Roh Tae-woo and his family, however, remained filled with anxiety. That was why they had remembered the old request and sent Ha Tae-won here.
Having finished his calculations, Yoo Jae-won finally spoke. “The request I mentioned carries no burden whatsoever. It’s something that can be settled with a single word between us.” He began by correcting the very notion of a “request.” Judging by Ha Tae-won’s expression, Yoo Jae-won seemed to owe the former president a life-saving debt that had to be repaid by granting the favor unconditionally. That was absurd. Yoo Jae-won laid out the exact conversation he had shared with Roh Tae-woo at the Daejeon Expo groundbreaking. Shielding an investigation from political pressure was hardly equivalent to sparing someone’s life. Besides, the request had been made for Park Sang-kwon’s benefit, not his own. The intervention had worked—the investigation concluded smoothly, allowing Park Sang-kwon to reclaim management rights over Busan Group.
“If you think I’m lying, ask your father-in-law yourself.” At Yoo Jae-won’s cold words, Ha Tae-won turned pale. “Please, spare him. We have no one else to turn to but you, Chairman Yoo.” The man who had shown a flicker of confidence when first making his request now bowed deeply again. Watching him, Yoo Jae-won felt a touch of curiosity. Objectively speaking, Seonkyung Group had already received everything it could from Roh Tae-woo. They had secured favorable treatment and now held Telecom as well. With oil and telecommunications driving double-digit growth, entering the top five of Korea’s business rankings was only a matter of time. Even amid the IMF crisis, the country would still need oil and mobile communications. There was no reason for Ha Tae-won to cross the Pacific and humble himself like this. Yet the fact that he was pleading so desperately suggested either genuine affection for his wife and her family or something else Yoo Jae-won did not yet know. Naturally, he suspected the latter. If Ha Tae-won truly loved his wife, there would have been no affair, no divorce lawsuit, no property division battle. Yoo Jae-won was growing tired of the meeting.
“There is a way. If you make a few promises, I could speak favorably to Grandfather Jeon Myeong-heon.” “What would those be?” Ha Tae-won’s voice rose at the mention of a solution. “The fines.” Both Chun Doo-hwan and Roh Tae-woo faced not only execution but astronomical fines as well—illicit funds accumulated during their presidencies that the state sought to recover. The amounts reached hundreds of billions of won; adjusted for 1990s prices, they exceeded trillions. The figures were already lower than reality because the investigations had been rushed and failed to uncover the full scope of the slush funds. Still, the sums were substantial enough to warrant such penalties.
“If you pay them in full during these difficult times, my grandfather, being a practical man, would likely consider suspending the sentence and even granting amnesty.” Roh Tae-woo’s old nickname had been “Water Roh” because he lacked presence compared to Chun Doo-hwan. He had not caused many scandals while in office—though that assessment was relative to Chun Doo-hwan and did not compare to the elected presidents who followed. “Ah, is that so?” At the mention of money, Ha Tae-won looked slightly flustered. He had apparently expected the matter to be settled with a simple request, and the sudden introduction of payment caught him off guard. “Yes. That is all I have to say. Once news breaks that the fines have been recovered, I will speak to Grandfather Jeon Myeong-heon immediately.” Ha Tae-won’s discomfort deepened at Yoo Jae-won’s follow-up. The favor was being offered on a post-payment basis, and it was likely the first time he had received such treatment. Still, this was already an enormous concession on Yoo Jae-won’s part. He could have dismantled Seonkyung Group—built on political connections—without difficulty. No matter how solid its domestic foundation, IMF conditions would shrink its revenues. If the government began forcing chaebols to restructure their affiliates for the sake of overcoming the crisis, Seonkyung would be caught in the net. The octopus-like expansion of conglomerates had created inefficiencies that necessitated debt-driven management. To overcome this, large corporations classified affiliates into core and non-core businesses and pursued cross-sales and acquisitions of the latter. Yoo Jae-won considered this “Big Deal” policy one of the more effective measures for navigating the IMF crisis. While it risked creating monopolies if mishandled, proper calibration could produce several companies with genuine international competitiveness.
The meeting with Ha Tae-won ended there. Yoo Jae-won had listened sincerely to the man who had traveled far and offered the solutions available to him. Whether they accepted them was their choice.
A few days later. “Wow, that was fast.” A gasp of admiration escaped Yoo Jae-won as he sat before his computer. A breaking news alert had appeared on the monitor. In the past, breaking news had not truly been breaking. Articles uploaded to Nextcom carried a time lag. Now, however, things were different. Breaking news was genuinely immediate. Newspaper companies now prioritized their Nextcom news pages over their own homepages. If an article did not appear on Nextcom’s news page, no amount of uploads to a newspaper’s own site would generate clicks. Fewer clicks meant lower advertising rates and no new readers. As a result, newspapers and other media outlets raced to post as many articles as possible on Nextcom’s news page. This competition ensured that breaking news reached Nextcom first.
- Roh Tae-woo announces he will faithfully pay 385.9 billion won in fines.
- Payment will be made in installments, with consistent monthly remittances.
The only blemish was that he had not been able to produce the full 385.9 billion won in one lump sum. Still, his statement included an initial payment of 98.2 billion won. After all, raising such a massive amount at once was not easy for anyone except a rare few like Yoo Jae-won. Much of the slush fund had likely been converted into real estate such as land, which would take time to liquidate. What was interesting was the size of the fine itself. Originally it had not exceeded 300 billion won, but now it had increased by roughly 30 percent. Yoo Jae-won’s substantial tax payments and the launch of TG Mobile, which involved significant spectrum usage fees, had inflated the estimated scale of the former president’s hidden funds, resulting in a much larger fine. Roh Tae-woo’s side had also provided a detailed payment plan for the remaining amount, presenting it with the thoroughness of a debtor explaining repayment to a creditor. Because this was unprecedented, reporters repeatedly used the word “unusual” in their breaking news coverage.
“Hmm. This might actually be sincere.” Yoo Jae-won nodded after reading the article. Even in his previous life, Roh Tae-woo’s camp had paid the fines with reasonable diligence, unlike Chun Doo-hwan. This time, with his own life on the line, he would approach the matter with far greater seriousness. “In that case, I should keep my word as well.” Yoo Jae-won picked up the Tiffany phone resting on his desk. It was the perfect personal mobile device, and he had given the number only to a select few important enough that he would answer their calls even while working. Naturally, only a handful of names were saved in its contacts. Likewise, when Yoo Jae-won called someone from this phone, they would almost always set aside whatever they were doing to answer. This time was no exception.
- Oh! Jae-won? Before the phone had even rung twice, Jeon Myeong-heon’s cheerful voice came through the receiver.