The Ancestral Mountain Negotiation
The computer boom erupted with a super-synergy effect. Parents, convinced that mastering computers could turn their children into the next Yoo Jae-won, began purchasing machines and enrolling their kids in computer academies. What had been a gentle breeze when the ministerial award first appeared in the papers had become a raging typhoon now that the Electronic Arts story had broken. The wave proved beneficial for Yoo Jae-won as well. While academies were not buying typing-practice software in corporate bulk, the number of legitimate copies sold continued to climb steadily. The boom itself had been sparked by Yoo Jae-won, so buyers were deliberately choosing Keyboard Warrior to associate themselves with his name. Order volume remained modest—cumulative sales through yesterday totaled roughly six hundred copies—yet each unit commanded the premium price of fifty thousand won. The academy channel alone had generated thirty million won in revenue. Naturally, far more establishments were running pirated copies, and Yoo Jae-won fully intended to bring the hammer down on them in due time.
Because Yoo Jae-won’s face was already public, Hwang Jae-hong, who followed the news closely, recognized him at once.
“Hello. I’m Yoo Jae-won.”
“Oh—oh! Nice to meet you. I’m Hwang Jae-hong.”
Hwang Jae-hong returned the greeting reflexively while Yoo Jae-won studied his face and clothing, quietly appraising the man. Hwang Jae-hong, for his part, was trying to gauge whether the news reports about the boy were accurate.
Yoo Jae-won had never heard the name Hwang Jae-hong before today. During his previous life, while preparing for regression, he had once asked his uncle about the man, but the memory was still too painful; his uncle had refused to discuss it. Consequently, Yoo Jae-won had harbored no goodwill toward Hwang Jae-hong. His original plan had been to drive the man away like an unwanted fly and hand the ancestral mountain matter to professionals. Running ID Technology, however, had softened that stance slightly. In his past life the fellow had inflicted serious damage on the family, yet giving him a single task to test his competence and character seemed worthwhile. The Daishin Securities shares would be held only until late spring next year; after that, Yoo Jae-won intended to shift focus entirely to land while avoiding Korean stock investments for the foreseeable future. He lacked a suitable person to handle the acquisitions. Assigning a talent like Choi Kang-wook to real-estate speculation would be an egregious waste. Partnering with local real-estate agents carried its own risks—if they somehow learned which parcels the government planned to designate for new cities or roads, their loose tongues would spread the information everywhere. None of his relatives on either side of the family appeared ready for such responsibility either. Although real-estate investment ultimately required only capital and an eye for value, experience was still necessary, and someone would have to stand beside him until he gained it. Hwang Jae-hong walking straight into his field of vision was therefore a natural development. If the man passed the test, he would be the perfect candidate for land transactions.
“You came to see our ancestral mountain, didn’t you? And you’re planning to propose swapping it for the smaller mountain north of the village?”
The boy’s words made Hwang Jae-hong gasp. The terms had been stated with uncanny precision, as though Yoo Jae-won had read his mind.
“Have you already purchased the northern mountain?”
“Ah, not yet.”
Hwang Jae-hong answered honestly. Once he had come this far, hiding behind trade secrets felt petty, so he laid everything out. The small northern mountain was not connected to any road and contained little timber. Moreover, the owner he had already met had agreed to sell provided the buyer’s intent was genuine. Hwang Jae-hong’s plan had been to acquire that mountain first, then trade it to Yoo Bong-cheol in exchange for the ancestral mountain once the latter agreed to sell.
“That’s fortunate. We have no intention of selling the ancestral mountain. If you had bought the northern mountain first, you would simply have wasted your money.”
Hwang Jae-hong could not refute the statement. One reason he had not purchased the northern mountain immediately was precisely the risk of the deal falling through. If he bought it and Yoo Bong-cheol later refused to sell, all the capital he had scraped together would have been squandered. Still, he had believed such a worst-case scenario would never occur. He had visited the Yoo family’s ancestral mountain himself and seen it with his own eyes; he had assumed that if the family truly understood its value, they would never have left it neglected, which was why he had devised the current scheme.
“The ancestral mountain produces pine mushrooms, lingzhi, and medicinal herbs, and a tunnel is scheduled to open soon. Swapping it for the northern mountain simply doesn’t make financial sense.”
Hwang Jae-hong felt the strength drain from his limbs. The boy knew everything. If Yoo Jae-won was aware of these details, the rest of the Yoo family must know them as well. They even knew about the tunnel. In terms of information quality, Yoo Jae-won held a decisive advantage. While Hwang Jae-hong had relied on mid-level officials at the Ministry of Construction and Transportation whom he and his seniors had cultivated over years, Yoo Jae-won was close to a minister. Although the Minister of Communications was not directly involved, the caliber of information he could access was vastly superior.
A heavy sigh escaped Hwang Jae-hong. After more than a decade of grinding away, he had finally struck out on his own. He had gathered scraps of information, stumbled upon what should have been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and now it was over before it had even begun. Comparing himself at the boy’s age only deepened his self-loathing.
“That’s why I have a request for you, Mr. Hwang Jae-hong.”
Hwang Jae-hong’s head, which had been hanging, snapped up. A request?
“We know nothing about real estate. The government will soon come to acquire the land. Would you negotiate on behalf of my uncle?”
“Me? You want me to negotiate in your place?”
“Yes. You’re skilled at the give-and-take; all you need to do is secure a fair price. In essence, you would be acting as an intermediary between us and the government. In return, we’ll pay you the standard brokerage fee plus ten percent of whatever compensation we receive as a performance bonus.”
Interest flickered in Hwang Jae-hong’s eyes. The sum he would pocket would be smaller than if he had acquired the ancestral mountain and subdivided it himself, yet it was still better than letting the opportunity vanish entirely. There was no guarantee he would ever obtain such information again; when a meal was offered, it was wiser to eat.
Hwang Jae-hong’s gaze sharpened. Several calculations ran through his mind. If handled well, this could still yield a substantial profit.
“However, if you attempt to take advantage of us by treating us as ignorant country folk, you will be held accountable. You’re aware that I founded a company called ID Technology, correct? We employ several highly capable attorneys. The final contract will be reviewed and verified by them.”
Hwang Jae-hong flinched again at the mention of lawyers. He was confident he could sweet-talk a generous rural man like Yoo Bong-cheol, but Yoo Jae-won was an entirely different matter. The fact that the boy had connections to a minister and was conducting major business with the United States made it highly probable that he truly employed attorneys well-versed in civil law.
“And if the outcome is satisfactory, we will continue to entrust you with various real-estate matters in the future. Please do your best.”
“Huh? This isn’t a one-time thing? So you’re offering to hire me right now…?”
Hwang Jae-hong, who had begun speaking in casual speech, unconsciously added the polite ending. The possibility that the boy might one day address him as “President” rather than “kid” had prompted the shift.
“Of course. The fact that you came all the way here shows both initiative and ability. If you channel those qualities properly, you could accomplish far more than mere land speculation.”
Yoo Jae-won’s words provided clear motivation. Hwang Jae-hong, previously filled with disappointment, felt renewed resolve. He would exert every ounce of the experience he had accumulated and deliver the best possible result. The desire to shed the label of “land speculator”—a title he could never proudly claim—and instead have a respectable company name printed on his business card began to take root.
Once the conversation concluded, Yoo Bong-cheol immediately drafted a document appointing Hwang Jae-hong as his agent.
“Well then, sir, I’ll be in touch frequently.”
After tucking the document away, Hwang Jae-hong bowed deeply to Yoo Bong-cheol before rising. To the much younger Yoo Jae-won he offered only a casual wave. The boy was still an outsider, and the agency agreement had been made with Yoo Bong-cheol; that was sufficient.
“Eat something before you go.”
After seeing Hwang Jae-hong off, Yoo Jae-won had intended to return home immediately, but his uncle and aunt kept pressing food on him. While enjoying the homemade snacks—sujeonggwa, dried persimmons, and yakgwa—his aunt had prepared, they chatted about the company and school. Roughly thirty minutes later, Yoo Jae-won finally made it home and sat down in front of his computer. He inserted the secret diskette, entered the password, launched JewelWrite, and opened the 1988 file of his master plan. The document was not long, and thanks to his recent efforts, nothing remained to be done.
“Have I finished everything scheduled for 1988?”
Only one item remained: the year-end invitation to the Blue House scheduled for late December. Following Minister Oh Myung’s advice, he had achieved export revenues of $175,000, making an invitation to the Export Entrepreneurs’ Night highly likely. The prospect of meeting legendary first-generation founders both excited and unnerved him. Beyond that event, no major schedule existed. The only recurring commitment was teaching computer skills at Soo-kyung’s house every Sunday. At this late stage in the year, launching another new piece of software was impractical, and land purchases would not begin until next year. All that remained was to fulfill existing orders and deliver the packages.
“In that case, shall I start thinking about next year’s business items?”
Idleness did not suit Yoo Jae-won’s nature. Although nothing was urgently pressing, he had already pulled out next year’s agenda. Naturally, the foremost goal was to surpass this year’s results. Yet common sense suggested that another blockbuster on the scale of Keyboard Warrior would not appear easily. Companies and musicians who scored one massive hit often struggled most with preparing the follow-up that would sustain their momentum; they poured everything into avoiding the hollow title of “one-hit wonder.” That concern did not apply to Yoo Jae-won. Selecting next year’s items was not a matter that required him to wring his brain dry. He knew perfectly well that the central topic of Korea’s computer industry in 1989 would be “Hangul.” Various application programs were undergoing localization, and debates raged over whether to adopt a combination-type or completion-type Hangul encoding. Competition between the two-set keyboard layout and Dr. Kong Byung-woo’s three-set layout was also beginning. Amid these developments, a historic milestone was approaching: the release of the outstanding Hangul word processor Hangul 1.0.
“He must be working hard on it right now.”
The thought of someone tirelessly developing software filled Yoo Jae-won with a pang of sympathy and guilt. After all, ID Technology’s next product was also a word processor.
“No, not just a word processor.”
In fact, ID Technology’s upcoming lineup consisted of more than a single word processor. Precisely speaking, it would be an entire office suite: word processor, spreadsheet, database and statistics, and presentation software—all bundled together. These programs would form the solid foundation upon which ID Technology would grow into a vast IT empire. Feeling sorry for the person currently building a word processor did not mean he could yield. Moreover, the scale of the project made it impossible for one person to develop alone, unlike Keyboard Warrior.
“Then I suppose it’s time to post a recruitment notice.”
Ever decisive, Yoo Jae-won acted at once. He connected the modem, dialed into KETEL, and navigated straight to the job board. No need to place an expensive newspaper advertisement when the nation’s computer professionals gathered most easily on KETEL. After the modem’s shrill connection tones subsided, he opened a new post. The title read: “ID Technology is recruiting talented software developers.” The once-lopsided ID Technology—nominally an IT company yet staffed by only Yoo Jae-won as its programmer—was finally beginning to secure proper technical talent. Although the format was that of a standard recruitment notice, Yoo Jae-won had included terms so generous they would make other software firms and even large corporations envious. The compensation and benefits offered to programmers were spelled out in detail.