The Map That Recognized Dokdo

A CIA map from the end of the century. Anyone seeing it for the first time might wonder if the agency had started selling souvenirs. But America’s premier intelligence organization wasn’t limited to espionage and covert operations. The CIA poured enormous energy into information collection as well. For an agency like that to produce precision maps using its own satellites was hardly unusual. Those detailed maps were shared across countless American institutions and directly shaped policy. That was why the CIA never let its cartographic work grow stale.

The map Jeon Myeong-heon had brought back from the United States was the latest edition, released in early July.

“I had no idea what Clinton was thinking when he handed it over. Then I saw this and nearly fell out of my chair,” Jeon Myeong-heon said, jabbing a thick, calloused finger at one spot on the map. The place his blunt fingertip indicated was the eastern sea of the Korean peninsula—home to two islands: Ulleungdo and Dokdo. The name Dokdo was printed there in crisp, unmistakable letters.

“My chief of staff nearly jumped when he saw it. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dokdo. We’ve always called it that, but apparently the Americans never did.”

“That’s right.”

In previous CIA documents, the islands had been labeled neither Dokdo nor Takeshima, but with the bizarre term Liancourt Rocks. The name came from the French whaling ship Liancourt that “discovered” the islands in 1849. It was a deliberate linguistic sleight of hand meant to dilute Korean sovereignty. Yet this newest CIA map used the proper name—Dokdo—without hesitation.

“And look here. They’ve marked the East Sea as well.”

The East Sea had not been omitted. The regrettable part was that the label appeared alongside “Sea of Japan” in parentheses. If only it had stood alone like Dokdo, it would have been perfect. But because the dual naming had been used far more widely, a sudden unilateral change was unrealistic.

“Jae-won, my boy—how long have you been working on this?” Jeon Myeong-heon asked, unable to hide his admiration as he looked at Yoo Jae-won. His ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyes brimmed with unmistakable pride.

This map was only the latest example. He also knew how Jae-won had treated the East Asian financial crisis as someone else’s problem, dealt Japan a devastating blow while the country acted as if it were untouchable, and earned an astronomical fortune in the process. How could his gaze not overflow with pride?

“It’s been a while. I suppose I first started paying attention the year before last?”

While the Korean government and its people were still reeling from the IMF shock, Yoo Jae-won had never taken his eyes off the East Sea or Dokdo issues. He had sent fact-checking requests and supporting materials to the International Maritime Organization long before. The Special Team’s collected data included not only the atrocities of Japan’s imperial era but extensive documentation on Dokdo and the East Sea as well.

Nothing in this world changes overnight simply because someone wishes it to. Only after years of quiet effort does the fruit finally appear. Japan had been forced to retreat a step because of the staggering economic damage it suffered; had Jae-won’s campaign against Japan not succeeded, changing the labels might have remained a distant future dream.

“Tell me the details,” Jeon Myeong-heon said. He clearly wanted the full story. He even leaned forward, curiosity burning in his eyes.

Yoo Jae-won decided that if anyone deserved to know the broader picture, it was Jeon Myeong-heon. He began a concise briefing on the Japan strategy.

As the story unfolded, Jeon Myeong-heon’s expression shifted moment by moment. When Jae-won explained the various methods used to damage Japan’s international credibility, the older man slapped his knee with a loud thwack. At times he even offered slightly skeptical remarks.

“If it had simply been reported, the noise would have died down in a few days. You wove it all together and used it brilliantly. Truly impressive.”

A few days? In Jae-won’s view the shock should have lasted months—at least—and in some cases years. The lawsuit between Kobe Steel and Chevron, for example, would drag on for years unless the two sides reached an internal settlement on damages.

Conversely, there were moments when Jeon Myeong-heon nearly jumped out of his seat at Jae-won’s revelations.

“What? You’re telling me you conceded hundreds of billions of won just to change a few letters on a map?”

This was the same man who had been delighted moments earlier to see the name Dokdo restored. Yet the moment he learned Clinton had mediated the deal behind the scenes, he shot upright.

“Hundreds of billions? That’s not something anyone else needs to know about.”

Even though Japan’s economy was in free fall day after day, no one could predict when a rebound might come. If George Soros and the other hedge funds all pulled out at once, a sharp recovery would follow. In fact, Japan’s Nikkei index had already bottomed out at 12,400 points and was now surging upward. Stocks had to be bought to cover short positions, and even fundamentally sound companies that had been caught in the storm were gradually returning to reasonable valuations.

“Besides,” Jae-won continued, waving the CIA map, “not everything in this world can be bought with money. Having hundreds of billions of won doesn’t let you arbitrarily change place names on the CIA’s reference maps.”

Jeon Myeong-heon was left speechless by the rebuttal. The younger man was right—timing mattered just as much as money.

“And the map wasn’t the only thing I received in return. There were several other benefits.”

Simply getting one reference map updated was far too small a reward for everything Jae-won had delivered. This was only the beginning.

He opened the briefcase that had been thoroughly inspected upon his arrival at the Blue House.

“This should be useful as a reference in future talks with North Korea.”

“Rising China?”

Ed Royce, director of the East Asia Strategy Institute, was undeniably talented. Jae-won had only suggested the book a little over a month ago. In that short time Royce had produced a credible manuscript. Because it contained sensitive content, mass printing had not yet begun; the book was still under review. But in Jae-won’s judgment there were no major problems. He had arranged for a single copy to be produced before coming to the Blue House. That volume now rested in his hands.

“It anticipates how America’s East Asia policy will evolve in the twenty-first century and suggests ways for our country to maximize its national interests in response. It was written by Director Royce of the East Asia Strategy Institute that I operate.”

Jeon Myeong-heon had paused at the book’s considerable thickness, but the moment he heard it came from the institute Jae-won ran, he accepted it gladly.

“And here is the summarized version.”

Naturally, Jae-won had prepared a condensed edition as well. It captured the core arguments of Rising China and had been edited in 24-point font so that the presbyopic Jeon Myeong-heon could read it comfortably.

“Thank you! As expected, when it comes to thinking about the nation, no one compares to you, Jae-won!”

Like Clinton before him, Jeon Myeong-heon was delighted by the summary.

“Even if America’s East Asia policy shifts, don’t be alarmed. Simply consult this book and the report.”

What was immediately visible was the change in geographic names on the map, but since Clinton had approved the report, the invisible transformations would be even greater than anyone could imagine. Jae-won was giving Jeon Myeong-heon a clear reference guide so that if the United States began moving in unfamiliar ways, he would not be caught off guard.

“By the way, what do you plan to do with all that money?”

Although Jeon Myeong-heon had gratefully accepted the book and report, his curiosity about the money refused to fade. Having chased wealth his entire life, it was only natural for him to ask. Even so, he never forgot his duties as president. His interest in money did not stem from personal greed; he viewed the nation as his true family business and had zero interest in lining his own pockets.

“I’m still thinking. But first, I have to pay the income tax.”

One of the principles Yoo Jae-won had set for himself before his regression was simple: pay every tax that was legitimately due and earn money honestly. The Japan strategy had generated $43.4 billion in profit. After roughly thirty percent in income tax, that left about $13 billion. The more one earned, the higher the tax burden, and even Jae-won felt a slight pang. But he was not the kind of man who discarded his own promises like worn-out shoes.

“What? Thirteen billion dollars in taxes alone?”

“That should ease the government’s finances a bit, don’t you think?”

“Ease them? This would mean we no longer need to borrow from the IMF at all. No—we could even repay the loans we’ve already taken!”

At Jeon Myeong-heon’s excited outburst, Jae-won simply nodded. A reaction like this made paying taxes feel worthwhile. Nothing was more disheartening than carefully paying taxes only to see the money wasted on foolish projects.

Jeon Myeong-heon already knew exactly where this money would be most effective.

“Once the accounts are settled, I’ll pay it as a lump sum.”

“Are you sure that’s all right?”

Comprehensive income tax wasn’t due until May of the following year. Simply leaving the money in the bank until then would generate enormous interest. But since governing the nation was also part of Jae-won’s grand vision, he chose to pay early for the country’s sake. Above all, the money earned this time had come easily—just as Tiffany had said. Although he had worked hard to set the board for the Japan strategy and had even been prepared to lose the entire $10 billion stake, the profit had still arrived with surprising ease. Moreover, every dollar had been taken from Japan, so he felt almost no regret.

Of course money was money, but even Jae-won was human; some distinctions were inevitable. Had the fortune been earned the way Tiffany made hers—by digging through dirt and sand—he might have hesitated before paying taxes. But not this time.

The private meeting with Jeon Myeong-heon afterward was warm and pleasant.

“Thanks to you, the Minister of National Defense is going to be overjoyed.”

Receiving $13 billion in pure tax revenue rather than another IMF loan would change everything. Although National Assembly approval would still be required, the ruling coalition had secured a clear majority. The government would therefore have discretionary funds. The breathing room would be so great that projects previously left on hold for lack of money could finally move forward.

The most urgent among them were the KDX project to acquire Aegis destroyers for a blue-water navy and the FX project to replace the aging F-4 fleet with next-generation fighters. Although reconciliation with North Korea continued, no one could predict when the situation might change. Moreover, China, Japan, and Russia were all acknowledged military powers. Japan’s forces were called Self-Defense Forces rather than a formal military, yet in objective strength they held the advantage—especially in naval power, where the gap was almost embarrassing.

That was why realizing genuine self-reliant defense required rapidly acquiring cutting-edge capabilities. The conclusion had been to build an ocean-going fleet centered on Aegis destroyers for the navy and to mass-introduce fourth-generation fighters for the air force.

The IMF crisis had shattered those plans. With the national economy in ruins, who could talk about advanced weaponry? The programs had been scaled back and their future had grown uncertain. The jackpot Jae-won had just delivered was enough to resurrect both the KDX and FX projects.

“I hope other companies normalize quickly and resume vigorous activity,” Jae-won added.

The hidden meaning was clear: he hoped other corporations would pay their taxes as diligently as he had.

“Ahem, of course. It will happen.”

Jeon Myeong-heon could not miss the implication. Even Ilsung Group—once Korea’s second-largest conglomerate—was in chaos after the bankruptcy of Ilsung Electronics. Because the group had already shifted its core to Ilsung Motors, the electronics collapse had not brought down the entire conglomerate. Still, affiliate companies that had invested in Ilsung Electronics suffered massive losses. And even automobiles were not selling well under the IMF regime.

The only major domestic company still operating smoothly was Mirae Group. Yet even Mirae was not completely exempt from taxes. While not as egregious as Ilsung, it had still engaged in enough creative accounting to make Jeon Myeong-heon clear his throat.

“Of course, releasing people who deserve punishment is completely out of the question.”

It had long been a Korean tradition to free businessmen from prison the moment the economy turned sour. Jae-won had never understood what economic recovery had to do with pardoning white-collar criminals. In his view, such leniency merely encouraged the next generation of would-be economic offenders to dream of one big score.

“Absolutely. On that point you need not worry.”

Fortunately, when it came to strict punishment, Jeon Myeong-heon’s word was reliable.

The next day, before departing for the United States, Jae-won fulfilled his final remaining schedule: personally chairing an executive meeting at ID Global Headquarters.

The meeting had been arranged to review ID Group’s Korean operations, receive reports on various planning documents, and discuss short-term strategies. While ID Talk and the ERP system allowed remote management, they were not perfect. Sometimes people simply needed to gather in one room and strengthen personal bonds.

The meeting style was thoroughly Korean. America had its own formalities, but they were not nearly as rigid. In Korea, Jae-won’s seat was placed at the head of the table, and the executives’ positions were arranged strictly according to rank, much like officials in the Joseon dynasty sitting according to their grade.

Even so, compared to other corporations, ID Group’s meetings were not overly burdensome. Although Jae-won held the highest position, he treated the presidents and executives with genuine respect. Polite speech was the baseline, and he never trampled on anyone’s dignity. It was a world away from companies where ashtrays supposedly flew across the room.

The first presenter was naturally Choi Kang-wook, Vice Chairman of ID Group and chief manager of the White Tiger Fund.

“We have finalized the acquisition of Ilsung Electronics. The Korean subsidiary of ID Technology will purchase the company through a disassembly-and-acquisition method. Insolvent assets will be completely liquidated, leaving only the healthy ones. The purchase price is one hundred won.”

The prime assets of Ilsung Electronics—one of the largest corporate groups in 21st-century Korea—had been sold to ID Technology for the price of a single coin.

“However, because we are assuming the banks’ claims, the effective price is approximately 2.5 trillion won.”

In exchange for acquiring the quality assets for a hundred won, ID Group had taken on 2.5 trillion won ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in debt owed to the creditor group. Originally Ilsung Electronics had borrowed far more from the banks, but after accounting for responsibility over bad loans and thanks to ID Group’s powerful negotiating position, the figure had been reduced to 2.5 trillion.

“It’s a bargain. We’ll repay it immediately and start fresh without debt,” Jae-won said lightly.

Having brought back such an enormous sum from Japan, even this amount could be settled in one stroke without the slightest strain.

“Yes, the banks will certainly be pleased. We have also filed lawsuits against all the former executives, presidents, and chairman of Ilsung Electronics.”

Jae-won nodded with satisfaction at Choi Kang-wook’s follow-up measures. Then, as if something had just occurred to him, he spoke quickly.

“Ah! Among the acquired assets is the Suwon plant, correct? Begin a thorough environmental diagnosis there immediately. Also, make sure every single employee who worked there receives a complete medical checkup. Not one person is to be left out.”

The Suwon plant of Ilsung had a notorious reputation. Anyone who worked there for an extended period seemed to develop leukemia or cancer. The faulty design of the work environment had caused frequent exposure to the toxic gases required for semiconductor production. Although no reports had come in yet, some workers might already be showing early symptoms. The goal was to detect illness early and begin treatment before conditions worsened. At the same time, this opened the door to additional charges against the Ilsung executives who had known about the dangers and remained silent.

After Choi Kang-wook’s presentation, the other executives took their turns. Most ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reports were routine. Since nothing major was underway except for the White Tiger Fund, there were few surprises.

Hwang Jae-hong’s report, however, caught Jae-won’s ear.

“Recently, loan companies are sprouting like mushrooms across Korea. Even with interest rates exceeding fifty percent, the number of borrowers is growing rapidly.”

Loan companies?

The moment he heard the words, terrible memories began to rise like smoke inside Yoo Jae-won’s mind.