The Giant's Empty Seat
The path to the Million Dollar Challenge awards ceremony and the road back home were perfectly aligned. The awards venue was located in the commercial floors of the ID Global Headquarters building, inside a dedicated e-sports arena. Though the facility was named an e-sports exclusive stadium, making it seem unsuitable for other purposes, that was far from the truth. Its stage and seating structure made it a versatile space capable of hosting any kind of event. The total seating capacity was one thousand, with no seat offering a blind angle to the stage, and the sound system was top-tier. Thanks to that, everything from small concerts to large-scale seminars took place there. Of course, as it was a dedicated arena, rentals were only available on days without e-sports matches.
As the building that served as both home and venue drew closer, a massive advertising banner covering the lower floors came into view. The words Million Dollar Challenge Awards Ceremony were embedded in half-deconstructed typography, with the names of the selected authors and their work titles displayed below. It hadn’t been put up suddenly; the banner had been there since before he visited Dream Entertainment, but it had gone unnoticed then. Only now did it catch Yoo Jae-won’s eye.
Five people had been selected for this awards ceremony. Three from the genre fiction category and two from the webtoon category. Kim Hyung-do’s Monster Super League, Na Sang-gyun’s Black Lonyaf River, and Lee Woo-hyuk’s Exorcism Record had won in the genre fiction division of the Million Dollar Challenge. In the webtoon category, Dakpul’s Everyday Life and Kim Hyung-hwan’s Recluse Life were chosen.
This selection had stirred up quite a bit of talk. The literary community didn’t hesitate to pour out harsh criticism, claiming the selected works had zero literary merit. Some netizens agreed, leaving numerous comments questioning whether certain pieces truly possessed the quality of a million-dollar work. While netizen criticism focused mainly on the webtoons, the literary world’s condemnation centered on the genre novels.
It seemed the literary establishment had hoped that the nearly dead Korean pure literature scene might be revived through the Million Dollar Challenge. Seeing that every winner was the kind of genre fiction kids would read, their disappointment must have been immense. Yoo Jae-won, on the other hand, took the stance that if it was entertaining, that was enough. As a bonus, he also evaluated their potential for media mix development. Exorcism Record, in particular, had become a massive hit in his previous life by using unfamiliar Korean occult themes, and had even been adapted into a film—though the movie’s quality fell short of expectations, making its box office performance difficult to discuss.
But now, with Yoo Jae-won stepping in to provide capital and technology, the odds were very high that it could become the standard for Korean-style occult entertainment films. He was even considering visual adaptations for Monster Super League and Black Lonyaf River.
Timeflix was rapidly carving out its own territory in both the United States and Korea. The speed exceeded even Yoo Jae-won’s expectations. He hadn’t anticipated VOD services taking root this quickly. Content consumption rates were equally fast. The entire film library of Time Warner and popular shows from broadcasting stations had all been uploaded to Timeflix. Programs currently airing were being added to VOD one after another, and the latest movies from Time Warner followed with only a slight delay. Yet user demand far outstripped this.
Looking at the feedback collected at the Timeflix customer center, users were constantly searching for shows from other networks and films from different distributors. Yoo Jae-won naturally refused to ignore any of this feedback. Distributors unable to build their own VOD systems were already in negotiations to supply content to Timeflix.
Of course, talks were also underway with Universal, Columbia, Paramount, and Disney, but he estimated the chances of success were low. Those companies had the resources to create their own VOD systems, which required enormous infrastructure. In any case, even if supply contracts were successfully signed and content from other companies was added, there were still inherent limits to VOD. Moreover, if the companies supplying content pulled out, Timeflix could take a serious hit. This wasn’t mere speculation; it was something that had actually happened in the past.
Therefore, what was needed was original content exclusive to Timeflix. Stories like Monster Super League, Black Lonyaf River, and Exorcism Record, if produced well, could achieve universal popularity in any country. The omnibus-style Exorcism Record could be adapted into a film using its most entertaining episodes, while the longer-form Monster Super League and Black Lonyaf River would be perfect as eight- or twelve-episode dramas.
The webtoons would continue to be serviced on Nextcom as they were, but they would become flagship services alongside Nextcom’s overall renewal.
“Chairman, we’ve arrived.”
“Just a moment.”
This time, Yoo Jae-won didn’t rise immediately at Kim Dae-seok’s words. He needed to jot down the various ideas that had come to mind. Although his memory was exceptional, there was a significant difference between rummaging through his head and recalling something after seeing a memo. He was in the process of building the habit of taking notes.
The awards ceremony concluded grandly. Not a single author was absent, and the seats were nearly full. Not only the authors’ families but also many fans had come, yet the press corps that gathered was almost as large. However, the journalists weren’t focused on the authors who had received the one-million-dollar prize and media mix contracts.
The person the press was truly paying attention to was Yoo Jae-won. It made sense. With the presidential election now just a month and a few days away, he was a figure capable of exerting considerable influence. There were frequent mentions that at least thirty percent of Jeon Myeong-heon’s votes in the previous election had come from Yoo Jae-won’s presence. Whether Yoo Jae-won would support Democratic Party candidate Kim Dae-jung in this election had become the hottest topic of the moment.
— Chairman Yoo! Will you support Candidate Kim Dae-jung?
The journalists’ clamor caused a slight flicker of irritation to cross Yoo Jae-won’s face. If they had come to an event with a clear purpose, shouldn’t they focus on the main figures first? Today’s protagonists were the authors who had received the million dollars, yet the press was ignoring them, asking only inappropriate questions.
“I will address that during the official campaign period. Also, today is the first awards ceremony for the Million Dollar Challenge. I’d like to remind everyone that the real protagonists here are the authors with us today.”
After receiving that rebuke from Yoo Jae-won, the camera flashes finally began exploding around the authors. Watching the scene, he shook his head.
Yoo Jae-won’s own efforts, the power of the ID Group, and the underlying strength of the Korean people had created a synergistic effect. South Korea, which had been under the IMF system, was rapidly recovering. It wasn’t just the economy that was improving; various political challenges across society were being resolved, restoring dynamism to the nation.
If there was one area moving in the opposite direction, it was journalism. No matter how much Yoo Jae-won thought about it—and his perspective was on another level—there seemed to be no way to restore Korean journalism. Even though measures had been taken to help the press gain independence from corporations, such as laws prohibiting improper solicitations and acceptance of money or valuables, as well as the Resource Circulation Act, the behavior of journalists remained unchanged from before. In fact, reporters from conservative newspapers seemed to have sold their journalistic souls somewhere; they had become completely one with their companies and were leading the charge in condemning both Jeon Myeong-heon and Yoo Jae-won. They appeared to believe the laws created to help journalism grow properly had instead been designed to kill them.
Because of the journalists who couldn’t read the room, a small blemish had appeared on the awards ceremony. But the banquet that followed immediately afterward was warm and pleasant. That was only natural, since the banquet hall was none other than Yoo Jae-won’s own penthouse.
Roughly thirty people had been invited, including the authors, their families, and publishing company representatives. The ID Global Headquarters penthouse had been opened to the public only once, on the day of the building’s completion and opening ceremony. After that, it had remained completely closed. Today marked its second opening, for this very event.
The authors had been informed in advance that there would be a banquet. However, they only learned that the location was Yoo Jae-won’s penthouse after stepping into the elevator, which gave them a refreshing shock.
The banquet was, of course, a success. The prepared dishes had been made with care by chefs from five-star hotels. The variety was impressive—Korean cuisine was the foundation, but Italian, French, and even Japanese dishes were included. The portions were generous enough for all thirty people to eat to their hearts’ content.
Yoo Jae-won sat at the same table as the authors and shared the meal with them. His eyes sparkled. In his previous life, all of them had been famous writers. He had even reread Exorcism Record several times. When creating worlds inside Infinity Dream, he had referenced settings from these novels.
For the authors as well, having dinner with Yoo Jae-won in a penthouse with a clear view of Seoul’s nightscape was a special experience. At first, the atmosphere had been slightly awkward. But once the champagne and wine—essentials for a good day—began to flow, the awkwardness melted away quickly. Thanks to that, Yoo Jae-won was able to converse with the authors in a much more relaxed manner.
“Author Kim, do you happen to run an orchard at home?”
“Huh? How did you know? My parents grow apple and persimmon trees.”
Kim Hyung-do, author of Monster Super League, looked startled at Yoo Jae-won’s question. How did he know? The answer was simple. Yoo Jae-won had been a fan of Kim Hyung-do. The problem was that the man published books far too infrequently. There were even rumors that he focused more on tending his orchard than on writing.
“Andong is famous for its apples. So I wondered if that might be the case.”
“I see.”
“Just in case you didn’t know, the Million Dollar Challenge allows multiple wins by the same author. So even after you finish Monster Super League, I hope you’ll write many sequels and keep challenging us.”
What he really wanted to say was, Please write a lot more books.
“That goes for the rest of you authors as well.”
It wasn’t just directed at Kim Hyung-do; the same applied to the others. Waiting endlessly was something he couldn’t do twice. That was why Yoo Jae-won was doing his best to create an environment conducive to writing. For example, the selected work Monster Super League had borrowed heavily from the settings of TSR’s Dungeons & Dragons. If it had simply been posted on the I’m a Novelist bulletin board that anyone with a Nextcom ID could access, there wouldn’t have been a problem. But once it moved into publishing and commercialization, legal issues would arise.
Yoo Jae-won’s solution had been simple. He had negotiated with TSR and obtained a license. The contract details were confidential. What mattered was that it was now perfectly legal for works challenging the Million Dollar Challenge to use D&D settings. There would be no issues even if they were adapted into films or dramas. For TSR, which was notoriously strict about licensing, this was an exceptionally generous arrangement. It was also a demonstration of the power of Yoo Jae-won’s open wallet.
In any case, because the Million Dollar Challenge selected works rather than authors, there were no restrictions on the same writer winning multiple times. The only condition for the challenge was that the work had to be entertaining.
“Um, Chairman.”
While everyone was enjoying the meal in the pleasant atmosphere, someone called out to Yoo Jae-won. It was Na Sang-gyun, author of Black Lonyaf River. He had been quiet at the same table, so Yoo Jae-won had assumed he was quite shy. The novel Black Lonyaf River itself was filled with such delicate emotion. Monsters like orcs, which usually appeared in fantasy worlds, barely showed up. Instead, it was a masterpiece that beautifully depicted conflicts between nations and between people, along with the romance between knights and ladies that bloomed within those struggles, all written in refined prose.
Among the selected works, it was evaluated as having the highest artistic value. Strict critics didn’t even glance at the webtoons, and few gave high praise to Monster Super League or Exorcism Record. But Black Lonyaf River received comments that it possessed literary merit unusual for genre fiction.
Of course, critics’ opinions had zero influence on Yoo Jae-won. He had only two criteria: works that he himself and netizens rated highly, and works that had already received public acclaim in the past. Passing even one of those two standards made selection for the Million Dollar Challenge highly likely. He would have liked to say one hundred percent, but because some works had legal or practical constraints, he couldn’t go that far.
Black Lonyaf River satisfied both. The moment he read it, he was certain it would work in America as well. He had even instantly imagined casting Hollywood actors as the novel’s characters.
“Yes, please speak!”
It was only natural to listen carefully to an author who could write something like that.
“I have one request.”
A request? Yoo Jae-won’s expression grew slightly more serious. He was willing to grant any request from a selected author, but if it was an improper solicitation, he would have no choice but to refuse.
“What is it?”
“First, I want to thank you sincerely for hosting this banquet in the penthouse today. Coming here made me realize there is an entirely different world from the one I’ve been living in.”
Yoo Jae-won nodded in complete agreement with Na Sang-gyun’s words. The penthouse was indeed rather extraordinary. However, it wasn’t to Yoo Jae-won’s personal taste. The space had been designed entirely according to the preferences of the experts brought in by Choi Kang-wook and Hwang Jae-hong. He had simply approved every design proposal to see just how luxurious it could become, and the result had surpassed imagination.
Yoo Jae-won’s true taste was the mansion in San Francisco. A reasonably sized living space, a PC he had customized himself, and a data center connected via optical cable to the network system—that was what he truly preferred.
“Thanks to you, I’ve gained some wonderful inspiration.”
“Oh! You mean for your next work?”
“Yes! I’d like to use you as the motif for the background and protagonist of my next novel. Would you allow me to do that?”
Having been tense because it was a request, Yoo Jae-won relaxed. Na Sang-gyun’s ask posed no problem whatsoever.
“Of course!”
Among genre novels set in the modern era, stories featuring chaebols were always popular. Although Yoo Jae-won was a self-made man rather than a chaebol heir, he was greatly looking forward to what kind of story the emotionally rich Na Sang-gyun would write.
A few days later, Yoo Jae-won quietly set out on his journey abroad. He had returned to Korea urgently upon hearing of Jeon Myeong-heon’s critical condition and had spent more than two months there. Nevertheless, his steps toward the private jet carried a slight sense of urgency. He had spent meaningful time with his parents and relatives, and had even visited the National Cemetery where Jeon Myeong-heon was laid to rest to pay his respects with flowers. He had no lingering attachments, yet the situation felt as if he were leaving in something of a rush.
It was because of the presidential election. As election day approached, Yoo Jae-won could clearly feel the growing commotion around him. In addition, the division of the Mirae Group due to inheritance issues had been finalized, but the three brothers were dissatisfied with the assets each had received and conflicts had erupted. To divide the Mirae Group, the circular ownership structure needed to be addressed, but depending on how the ownership rings were dismantled, some would gain and others would lose, so no easy conclusion could be reached.
Naturally, the three brothers sought to borrow Yoo Jae-won’s power. Among the compensation he had received for investing in Mirae Electronics was a ten percent controlling stake in the Mirae Group, and they hoped to use that to their advantage.
Politicians were the same. They were desperate to take even a single photo with him. The media, too, worked tirelessly to link anything Yoo Jae-won said to politics. Because of all this, after finishing the announcement event for the Korean winners of the Million Dollar Challenge, Yoo Jae-won had no choice but to choose to return to the United States.
Only a few days had passed since the giant had disappeared, yet his empty seat was already being felt. What was even more heartbreaking was that as time went on, that empty space would only grow larger. He could picture exactly what would happen as clearly as if watching it on a full HD screen.
“Chairman?”
While walking along the boarding bridge toward the scheduled private jet, Yoo Jae-won turned around as if something still lingered in his heart. The disappointment was great for now, but that wasn’t everything. The time he had spent working with Jeon Myeong-heon for the progress of the Republic of Korea had not been in vain. The next time he returned to Korea, it would surely show a much better appearance than it did now.
Yoo Jae-won quietly buried his regret in his chest, promising himself the future, and took a step forward. Moments later, the private jet covered entirely with the ID Group logo and the Android mascot kicked off the runway and soared powerfully into the sky.