The Eavesdropper's Gambit
The day before his scheduled departure on the official Mission: Impossible itinerary, Yoo Jae-won received a summons from Jeon Myeong-heon. The elder statesman had grown deeply frustrated with North Korea's lukewarm attitude and had called Jae-won to vent. In that meeting, Jae-won spoke with uncharacteristic bluntness, invoking China and delivering a string of hardline remarks. Jeon Myeong-heon readily agreed, raising his voice in turn. It was a perfectly natural scene—until the next day, when Kim Jong-il suddenly asked them to stay one extra day. In that unplanned extension, history took an unexpected turn.
The two events seemed unrelated, yet they were one and the same. The reason was simple: when Yoo Jae-won had opened his iWorks notebook under the pretext of showing materials on China, the screen displayed not data, but a single sentence.
-Since we're being bugged, just agree with what I'm saying.
Baekhwawon Guesthouse had been built by North Korea specifically to host state guests. Jae-won had known from the start that every room carried the possibility of surveillance. It was something he had picked up naturally while studying the North. Of course, President Jeon Myeong-heon's security detail were no amateurs. They had swept the entire premises with eavesdropping detectors imported from the United States and had even found several suspicious devices. Those had been removed after formal protests to the North, and the team had declared the premises secure.
Yet Jae-won could state with certainty that they were still being listened to—because the exact same scenario had played out before. With Abe.
Abe had served twice as Japan's prime minister. The first term had been brief, little more than a taste. The second had lasted longer. What both terms shared was that Abe had managed to damage both himself and his country in spectacular fashion. The only reason he had been given those two chances was his decisive role in extracting an admission from North Korea regarding the abducted Japanese citizens and securing their return. And the method he had used was identical to the one Jae-won had just employed.
Knowing the guesthouse was bugged, Abe had told Prime Minister Koizumi in the strongest terms that there was no need to normalize diplomatic relations with North Korea. The North Koreans, listening in, had taken the statement at face value. Desperate for Japanese money at the time, they had made the fatal mistake of acknowledging the abductions and even issuing an apology.
Of course, the abductions themselves had been a grave crime on North Korea's part. There could be no argument about that. But for Kim Jong-il to apologize in that particular situation had been a blunder. The admission had triggered an explosion of support for Japan's conservative Liberal Democratic Party, accelerating the country's rightward shift at alarming speed. Meanwhile, North Korea had received its money, but at the cost of being branded a kidnapping state and a rogue nation—an image that had now been formally cemented in the international community.
It had been a true historical turning point, and Jae-won remembered it vividly. That was why he had delivered such hardline remarks. He had assessed the odds at roughly fifty-fifty.
"Looks like this fellow really is an outsider and a coward after all."
Just like Abe before him, Jae-won's gamble had paid off. Kim Jong-il was indeed more timid than expected. Whether it was because of China or some internal matter, the moment the extra day was granted, all the previous foot-dragging vanished.
Standing in the penthouse atop the ID Global Headquarters building, replaying the events in North Korea, Yoo Jae-won reached his conclusion about Kim Jong-il.
"If it's not that, then there's simply no answer."
If Kim Jong-il's personal trait was hesitation at critical moments, then every action North Korea had taken suddenly made sense—both during this 1998 summit and in everything Jae-won had witnessed before his regression. He compiled his analysis into a classified report and sent it directly to Grandfather Jeon Myeong-heon. Because the document contained statements that could never be made officially, he asked that even the Blue House chiefs of staff treat it as strictly confidential.
After rereading the finished report, Jae-won felt something was still missing—a crisp summary that would stick in the mind. He added one final line: "Contrary to appearances, possesses outsider tendencies and a cowardly streak. If events deviate from the picture he has drawn, he may take unpredictable actions. Therefore, placing full trust in him is dangerous."
He ran the entire document through the spell-checker built into ID Word Processor, corrected the typos, encrypted the file, and pressed send. Only then did he stretch, feeling as though he had finally emerged from a long tunnel. Yet the finish line was still ahead. The matter would not be truly settled until the United States gave its approval.
"The odds are higher now than at any previous point."
America's stance toward North Korea was the product of decades of confrontation that had begun with the Korean War. After 9/11, that posture had hardened even further. Only a genuinely unconventional president could break it. Clinton, at least, was capable of flexible thinking. If they could play on his wariness of China and highlight the advantages of a changed North Korean role, there was a real chance.
In truth, the Jeon Myeong-heon administration, the Blue House, and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs were already working on similar efforts. But no one else could plant the right seeds in the right places as quickly as Jae-won—or pick up the phone and speak directly with Clinton.
Having organized his thoughts, Jae-won checked his upcoming schedule.
"The major items are all done."
The only remaining commitment was a site visit to Jeju Island.
"So after Jeju, Japan, then?"
Jeju's development was a major project for ID Group, yet it had been overshadowed by the successive giants of the next PC operating system launch and the Time Warner merger. Still, steady work had been underway for years, and visible progress had finally been made. Since he was already in Korea, it would be good to stop by, rest properly, and perhaps bring family and relatives along to make memories. Once he left this time, he had a feeling it would be a while before he returned.
A few days later, Yoo Jae-won, his parents, and several relatives arrived on Jeju.
"Welcome to the island of fantasy, Jeju."
The moment they stepped out of the arrivals gate, a welcoming party greeted them. At its head was the current governor of Jeju, Shin Gu-beom, an independent with no party affiliation. Appointed in 1993, he had won the first local election as an independent. One of Jeju's defining characteristics was that the local gwandang—the tight-knit regional network—often outweighed party loyalty. People voted for those closest to them rather than for political platforms. While some criticized this, it was a natural choice given the hardships the island had endured. The 4.3 Incident, now being reexamined, was a perfect example: outsiders from the mainland had created the problems and the tragedy.
Even so, Yoo Jae-won's reputation surpassed even the power of gwandang. Thanks to that, Governor Shin Gu-beom and even the Democratic Party's Woo Geun-min had set aside their discomfort to welcome him.
"Well, look at that—our Jae-won is getting recognized even on Jeju."
"Of course. Jeju is the only place in Korea the IMF crisis skipped over."
The exchange between his uncle and aunt reached Jae-won's ears during the welcome ceremony, leaving him slightly embarrassed. Still, it wasn't wrong. He had already invested more than a billion dollars in Jeju, and the investments would continue. Most corporate investments focused on factories and facilities, so only directly employed workers felt the change. Jae-won's approach, however, was developing the entire island, and ordinary people could see the difference.
That difference was the Olle Trail.
The idea of walking around Jeju had been unfamiliar in this era. Jae-won had built comfortable paths from nothing, installed streetlights, and added centrally monitored CCTV systems—internet-connected cameras rather than old closed-circuit ones. ID High Tech had developed the cameras; ID Technology had built the central control center. In cooperation with TG Telecom, relay stations had been installed so that mobile phones would work everywhere along the trails. And once wireless internet became widespread, Jae-won planned to turn the entire Olle Trail into a free Wi-Fi zone.
At first, locals had not understood his intentions. But as the trails were completed one by one and opened to the public, their perception shifted. Even long-time residents discovered new aspects of Jeju's scenery and sea views while walking the paths. Along the trails, old houses had been renovated into cafés and restaurants that employed local people. As tourists increased, so did the islanders' sources of income. Some establishments even became so famous online that lines formed outside—something previously unimaginable.
Although visitor numbers had dipped after the foreign exchange crisis, the situation was far better than the collapse that had followed the liberalization of overseas travel. And there was more development underway. A theme park using IP from ID Entertainment was under construction, larger than Japan's Disneyland. The pending merger with Time Warner would also bring Warner Bros. film content, expanding the park even further.
ID Group was not building only tourism and entertainment facilities. Jeju had been designated a special zone for Lightning Bolt's electric vehicle development, and research centers and charging infrastructure were rising steadily. Numerous venture companies in which ID Technology held stakes were also conducting advanced IT research on the island.
Thanks to these diverse investments, ID Group's share of Jeju's economy now exceeded twenty percent. This was hardly surprising: the island's annual budget had yet to surpass one trillion won, while ID Group was pouring in hundreds of billions of won every year.
Some progressive economists had written critical articles, arguing that Jeju was no longer an attractive destination for Koreans and that electric cars belonged to a distant future. They concluded that ID Group's aggressive investments amounted to a form of dictatorship. Choi Kang-wook and Hwang Jae-hong, who oversaw the Jeju project, had been furious. Jae-won himself had shown no reaction. Concepts like wellness and electric vehicles still felt remote to older generations, and complaints about tourism during corporate bankruptcies had their own logic at the time.
The dictatorship charge was equally beside the point. Democracy and capitalism were not natural partners. Democracy assumed equal decision-making power for all members, while capitalism granted rights in proportion to share ownership. The most undemocratic organization in a democratic country was therefore the joint-stock company. Yet shareholders' rights were legally protected, and Jae-won was exercising his rights lawfully. The critics could only write articles.
Those articles had not gained much traction anyway. In an era when investment itself was considered the highest good, the fact that both the independent governor and the Democratic Party candidate had come out to be photographed with Jae-won ahead of the local elections was entirely natural.
The only regret was that the Tongil National Party had been unable to field a candidate for Jeju governor. It was not for lack of people, but because no one had met the party's strict qualification threshold. Both the current governor and Woo Geun-min had approached the party first, each backed by powerful local networks. Either one would have guaranteed victory. Yet the absence of a candidate was proof that the party's rigorous screening system was working. The Tongil National Party had been founded by people without established pedigrees, which had made building a clean system easier. That system had now filtered out unsuitable candidates. Even though an existing party would have forced a candidate forward to secure the seat, Jeon Myeong-heon's overwhelming charisma had upheld the standard. It was a decision that showed consideration for the coalition partner, the Democratic Party, while demonstrating the Tongil National Party's distinctive ethical standards to the public. Besides, Jeju was already economically within ID Group's sphere of influence; whoever became governor made little practical difference.
Jae-won posed for photographs with both candidates equally and began his inspection schedule. His parents and relatives, focused on the vacation, parted ways with him at the airport. They would meet again at the hotel in the evening, so they were not completely separating.
Leaving Jeju Airport, Jae-won headed first to Lightning Bolt's research facility. Although serious development of electric vehicles had only recently begun and there were no impressive finished products yet, he wanted to encourage the hardworking researchers. To his surprise, a two-seater demonstration vehicle was available for a test drive. It was not a prototype but a simple technology-validation unit, yet its fundamental ability to move was excellent.
From that point on, Jae-won's Jeju schedule leaned more toward rest than work. Normally he worked eight hours a day; on Jeju he worked only four, spending the rest of his time exploring the island. He carried his camera everywhere, capturing scenes for his power blog—the same camera that had never rested even in North Korea.
On what was nearly the final day of his visit, Jae-won once again set out with his camera. His destination was Yongnuni Oreum, one of Jeju's representative volcanic cones.
"Huff, huff—Chairman!"
From a distance the hill had looked modest, but the slope proved steeper than expected. The path was also uneven, and Jae-won was breathing hard when Kim Dae-seok called from behind.
"Your phone has been ringing for a while."
Jae-won pulled the Tiffany Phone from his inside pocket. The caller was Tiffany.
"Honey! It blew!"
The moment he answered, Tiffany's excited voice came through in an unusually high pitch.
"What blew?"
As she rapidly explained, Jae-won's eyes widened.
"Oil! Oil, I'm telling you!"
The well they had been drilling on the land Tiffany had secured in Siberia had struck oil.
