The Nightclub Scandal
The title “Dynamic Korea of the Seventh Republic” fit the current situation perfectly. — KBS on the Scene, Exclusive Scoop!— Korea Is No Longer a Drug-Free Nation.— Chaebol Heirs and Celebrities Caught in a Drug Party at DH Hotel Nightclub in the Heart of Gangnam.— Evidence of Collusion Between the Nightclub and Police.
If the previous Monday had been rocked by the bribery scandal involving the Senior Presidential Secretary for Civil Affairs, then exactly two days later, on Wednesday, an enormous scandal detonated. A drug party had taken place in the VIP room of the nightclub at DH Hotel, a prime location in Gangnam, Seoul, and the Police Agency’s Special Narcotics Investigation Unit had raided the scene. The entire incident was captured on camera by a broadcasting station and aired for nearly fifteen minutes straight, beginning with the lead story on the nine o’clock news and continuing through six consecutive segments.
The report opened with footage shot by a journalist who had infiltrated the DH Hotel nightclub and entered the VIP room, secretly filming people under the influence. Covert filming without consent would become illegal in the twenty-first century, but in 1998 it posed no problem. The footage showed everything from people sprawled out in drug-induced stupors to individuals snorting white powder through rolled-up bills and couples entangled in compromising positions. The content was so explosive that when it aired, nearly half the screen was blurred.
Next came the scene of the informant hiding in the restroom and making the call. The whistleblower who had summoned the journalist to the VIP room was shown holding a Tiffany phone and reporting the incident. Then came the real problem. The police who should have responded never even showed up at the nightclub. Instead, the nightclub staff rushed into the VIP room and warned the intoxicated guests to flee. It was damning evidence of collusion between the police and the nightclub.
A reversal followed immediately. As if anticipating the collusion, the Special Narcotics Investigation Unit arrived and raided the club. Guests trying to escape through the back door were arrested on the spot, lined up like dried fish, and the nightclub staff were taken into custody as well. It looked like a scene straight out of a crime drama.
Yet the shock was far from over. The location itself—DH Hotel Nightclub—was the first issue. DH Hotel was a five-star establishment owned by Daehan Ilbo. The name “DH” had been taken from the first letters of “Daehan.” While other networks eagerly rebroadcast KBS’s extensive coverage, conservative newspapers led by Daehan Ilbo completely ignored the story. Instead, they ran heated pieces suggesting the Senior Presidential Secretary’s resignation was merely the tip of a larger iceberg of corruption. Public attention, however, remained fixed on the DH Hotel nightclub drug scandal.
It was inevitable. The bribery case involving the Senior Presidential Secretary was still unproven, and the slush-fund allegations against Mirae Motors had been quickly contained after the President ordered a thorough investigation and promised to refer any lingering suspicions to the Gongsucheo. The nightclub drug scandal, by contrast, struck directly at the public’s appetite for sensational news. The involvement of celebrities only intensified the fascination.
Naturally, everyone wanted to know the identities of the VIPs caught using drugs. The first name to surface was Ma Jeong-hwan. He was the man filmed snorting white powder through a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill when the hidden camera entered the VIP room—the grandson of the Ma family that owned Daehan Ilbo.
“This is like a movie,” Yoo Jae-won murmured as he watched the KBS news through the streaming system connected to the internet. The tip-off about the DH Hotel nightclub had, of course, come from him. The place had long been notorious as a den for drug users. He had also suggested the idea of infiltrating the VIP section. Because forensic technology was still underdeveloped, it was difficult to determine exactly how heavily someone was using drugs. Wealthy and influential individuals could even suppress positive test results. That was why he had proposed the infiltration, though even he had not expected footage of someone snorting cocaine through a hundred-dollar bill.
“I used the black-sheep card earlier than planned, but getting rid of that guy early is good for society anyway.” In the master plan, this card had been scheduled for later. Even as the grandson of the Daehan Ilbo owner, Ma Jeong-hwan was still just an idle playboy with no real position. He was supposed to cause an even bigger incident later, and that was when the card was meant to be played. But events rarely unfolded exactly according to plan, and the constitutional amendment currently underway had never been part of Yoo Jae-won’s calculations. The potential gains were too great to ignore, so he had played one of his cards without hesitation.
President Jeon Myeong-heon issued a statement at once. Normally the Prime Minister would handle such matters, but the energized President paid no attention to protocol. He did not forget to mention the Gongsucheo either.
“Having the Gongsucheo makes everything much cleaner,” Yoo Jae-won said with satisfaction. He would no longer have to watch the police investigate themselves and sweep things under the rug.
“Let’s see what Daehan Ilbo is doing.”
Yoo Jae-won immediately accessed the Daehan Ilbo website, but it was a wasted effort. The front page still carried the same headlines about the Senior Presidential Secretary and the ID Foundation. There was not a single article about the drug party at DH Hotel Nightclub. It was the very embodiment of “romance when I do it, adultery when others do it.”
“Just as I expected.”
Yoo Jae-won clicked his tongue and switched directly to the Nextcom news page, heading straight to the most popular articles among netizens. There, at least, the site looked exactly as he had hoped. Every single headline from top to bottom was about the nightclub drug party. After this incident, the Daehan Ilbo owner’s family would be thoroughly shaken down.
“They won’t go easy on him just because it’s his first offense.”
The Jeon Myeong-heon administration did not compromise its authority. While former President Kim Young-sam had emphasized closeness to the people under the banner of civilian government, the Jeon Myeong-heon administration used the President’s own name for the government and appointed more businesspeople than democratization activists to the cabinet. These were men who had come of age in the sixties and seventies, when corporate culture was barely distinguishable from the military. As a result, the President’s words were relayed down through each ministry with military precision. The same applied to today’s statement.
Although the judiciary was supposed to be independent under the separation of powers, it could not ignore the President’s wishes. Especially in this case, where nationwide outrage had erupted and clear evidence of collusion had surfaced. The police needed a strict investigation to clear their tarnished name, and the judiciary likewise could not risk public fury by issuing a slap-on-the-wrist sentence. They had no choice but to follow the law and principles to the fullest.
“And they can’t end this by simply locking up one drug user.”
DH Hotel had long served as Daehan Ilbo’s money-laundering channel. Tax evasion was routine, and the venue was used to secure favors and maintain their privileges through various forms of entertainment. To keep operations running smoothly, they had greased the palms of the police and, needless to say, the prosecutors. Tracing the chain upward eventually led to Ma Seong-hun, the current owner of Daehan Ilbo—the man known as the “President of the Night.”
As Yoo Jae-won sifted through these memories, a particular scene suddenly came to mind.
“I wonder if reporters will swarm the prosecutor’s office shouting ‘Fighting!’ when he goes in for questioning.”
There had been an incident involving the owner of Joongang Ilbo, the youngest of the three major dailies and an affiliate of Ilseong Group, who had been summoned for questioning over slush-fund suspicions. On that day, Joongang Ilbo reporters had taken over the photo line at the prosecutor’s office and escorted their chairman, even chanting “Chairman, fighting!” It had been a moment that laid bare the true nature of the press to the entire nation. Daehan Ilbo, which proudly called itself Korea’s number-one newspaper, would surely have behaved even more brazenly than Joongang Ilbo.
The scene when their owner stood on the photo line would be far more chaotic than the Joongang Ilbo incident. But this time, there would be no easy escape. Yoo Jae-won had already concluded that Daehan Ilbo’s disappearance from Korea would benefit society, and President Jeon Myeong-heon now shared that view. Though the President had once called Yoo Jae-won’s stance extreme because he had benefited from Daehan Ilbo while running his business, constant attacks and slander after taking office had changed his mind. If it had been a clean newspaper that only reported the news, dismantling it would have been burdensome. But Daehan Ilbo was illegal from the very formation of its wealth through pro-Japanese collaboration and national betrayal, and its methods of expanding influence had been equally corrupt. Simply enforcing the law and principles would be enough to send the owner and his entire family to prison. Until now, the Blue House and the press had been in league, making it impossible. Now the situation had changed.
“We’ll see it through to the end.”
If dealing with Daehan Ilbo proved difficult during Jeon Myeong-heon’s term, it could be finished in the next administration. With the Gongsucheo already in place and the constitutional amendment on the horizon, the task would only become easier.
“Still, I wonder if Father is all right.”
Daehan Ilbo’s attacks on the Blue House had even dragged Yoo Jae-won’s father into the fray. As soon as Yoo Jae-won saw the articles, he had called immediately, and both Vice Chairman Choi Kang-wook and President Hwang Jae-hong had visited in person to check on him. Each time, his father had said he was fine, but Yoo Jae-won suspected he was only saying so for his son’s sake.
Checking the time in Korea, Yoo Jae-won picked up his Tiffany phone again and pressed the speed dial. After a brief ring, a bright trot song burst through the line—“The Day the Sun Shines Brightly.” It was the coloring service, where the caller heard music chosen by the recipient instead of a standard ringtone. The service had launched at the end of the previous year and was enjoying explosive popularity, especially in Korea, where it resonated with the national love of music and dance. The company that developed it, Witcom, had gone public on KOSDAQ and made a fortune.
—Oh, my son! What’s going on?
His father’s familiar voice came through just as the song reached its halfway point.
“Father, are you all right?”
—Huh? Is this about that again? I told you I’m fine.
“Really?”
—Of course. Why would I let a tiny article in the newspaper bother me? Besides, there was no request for favors. I’m clean, and that’s enough as long as my family believes me.
“That’s good to hear.”
Hearing his father’s voice again, Yoo Jae-won felt certain the incident had not upset him.
“By the way, is there any inconvenience with running the foundation?”
—None at all. It’s a bit annoying that so many people keep asking for meetings, but the foundation is running smoothly. We’ll be opening at least ten more kindergartens, and the university construction is going well too.
Entrusting the school foundation to his father had been an impulsive decision, but it had turned out to be an excellent fit. Yoo Bong-man, who had developed a distaste for incompetent private school foundations after unpleasant experiences with teachers during Yoo Jae-won’s middle school years, was now leading the ID Foundation’s educational institutions with the opposite approach.
As he listened, a question occurred to Yoo Jae-won.
“Wait, who keeps asking to meet you?”
Just playing golf with the Senior Presidential Secretary had caused an uproar. It was natural that people would avoid requesting meetings during such a sensitive time. Yet his father was saying many people still wanted to see him.
—Who else? The baseball association people. Ssangbangwool looks like it’s going under, and they want us to acquire it.
“Hmm? Ssangbangwool?”
The company, whose name evoked a warm, friendly feeling, mainly produced underwear. Underwear was an essential item everyone needed, so if they had stuck to that, Ssangbangwool would never have collapsed. But like so many other companies, it had overextended itself into resorts and other businesses, accumulated unsustainable debt, and gone under.
“Are you interested?”
—Of course I’m interested. Your uncle and I both love baseball.
Baseball was the sport loved by his father, uncle, and the entire extended family. Whenever they traveled to the United States, they watched Major League games. Naturally, they followed Korean baseball just as enthusiastically.
“Then go ahead and meet them. Consider the acquisition positively.”
—Really? Are you sure? Isn’t this too much?
“Not at all.”
Given the scale of ID Group, operating a few professional sports teams would not be a burden. In fact, Yoo Jae-won had already been considering acquiring teams like the LA Dodgers or Manchester City when they came on the market to strengthen the media division. A Korean professional baseball team would be far cheaper and pose no difficulty. He was also planning to establish a professional esports team in preparation for the future. Combining several professional teams and gaming squads into an ID Group sports division would make for an impressive picture.
A few days later, Ma Huateng, who had spent more time deliberating than expected, came to see Yoo Jae-won and accepted the proposal. On the spot, Yoo Jae-won drafted a contract to acquire 49% of Tencent for 2.4 million dollars and paid the amount immediately. He had valued Tencent at five million dollars. Ma Huateng could not stop smiling. Tencent’s only hit product was an unproven messenger service, so receiving 2.4 million dollars was beyond his expectations. Moreover, the fact that Yoo Jae-won of ID Group had personally invested would only increase Tencent’s value further. Blizzard had agreed to complete the Chinese localization as quickly as possible for an official release in China, and Tencent would handle all legal procedures for official distribution.
While Yoo Jae-won’s business dealings progressed smoothly, Korea was in an uproar. The Gongsucheo had done its job well. Ma Jeong-hwan’s presence among those arrested at the DH Hotel nightclub had been confirmed, and the collusion with the Gangnam police station was being steadily uncovered. Tax evasion through the nightclub, sexual favors, and a host of other corrupt practices centered on the venue were being exposed one after another. The public condemnation raining down on Daehan Ilbo had reached an entirely new level. Though the newspaper was backed into a corner, President Jeon Myeong-heon showed no sign of loosening the reins. If anything, he intensified the offensive. For the first time against a media company, he deployed the special tax audit card. And that was not all. While everyone’s eyes and ears were focused on the tax investigation, the Resource Recycling Act quietly appeared on the scene—a true dagger aimed directly at Daehan Ilbo.