Dinner at Cheong Wa Dae
President Roh’s specialty was meetings. Perhaps because he disliked standing out as a former military man, he held frequent gatherings with his ministers, much like a career bureaucrat. There had even been newspaper articles about it. Still, these were not empty sessions; the results were often incorporated into actual governance. It seemed Minister Oh Myung had brought up Yoo Jae-won during one such meeting.
“Yes! I started with the educational computer that Grandpa President distributed. When my parents saw how interested I was in computers, they bought me a Daeho Electronics PC.”
At the mention of Daeho Electronics, Kim Woo-jung, chairman of the Daeho Group, who sat across from him, flinched. President Roh nodded. It was gratifying to see living proof that the educational computer distribution program had succeeded.
“I see. Our government has decided to focus on distributing educational computers again next year. Well then, is there anything difficult these days?”
“Yes! I made a practice program, and many people like it, so sales are going smoothly. I’m also grateful that the computer companies run by the chairmen here have each purchased thousands of copies.”
When the word “chairmen” came up, everyone seated at the table reacted. They flinched instinctively, worried that Yoo Jae-won might say something sharp and cause trouble. Fortunately, his words were positive, allowing them a small sigh of relief.
“I heard you’re selling it in America as well, and the response is good. But why aren’t you selling it domestically?”
It seemed news of the American sales had reached even the President.
“Ah, that version is a little different from the one released in Korea. It emphasizes game functions much more, so the hardware requirements are higher. Korea still doesn’t have many high-spec computers like in America. It won’t even run on an XT. And, well…”
“And?”
What Yoo Jae-won had originally intended to say was that he planned to release it once 286 and 386 machines became more common. But mid-sentence, a new thought struck him, and he changed his words slightly.
“Even when better computers become widespread, it might still be difficult. Because the game functions are so prominent, it would be hard to secure government or large-corporate contracts. Parents don’t like seeing their children play games, after all. So it would have to be sold through retail stores, but piracy is so rampant here that I’m hesitant to release it.”
From government and corporate procurement to software piracy, Yoo Jae-won laid out his concerns with perfect innocence. To the chairmen, it sounded like a request for help securing bulk corporate purchases and cracking down on illegal copying. Even President Roh, seasoned in politics, read the subtext clearly.
This kid is sharp.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, Yoo Jae-won continued.
“Fortunately, selling a million copies in America got us over the hump. Once Korea has more of the latest machines and people develop a habit of buying legitimate software, I’ll give it a try here too.”
The number one million carried real weight.
“A million copies? Is that true? You didn’t dump them at a loss, did you?” the President asked quickly.
“Dumping? What’s that?”
Yoo Jae-won knew the term perfectly well, but he pretended ignorance and asked anyway.
“Selling below cost to inflate shipment numbers or market share.”
“No way. Why would I sell something I worked so hard on at a giveaway price? It’s selling for thirty dollars each, and ID Technology receives fifty percent in royalties.”
The President and every chairman at the table were stunned. The companies represented here generated trillions of won in revenue. Ilseong Group alone had recorded seventeen trillion won in total sales in 1988. Yet even these massive conglomerates rarely moved a million units of a single product—especially software, a high-value item where even ten-thousand-copy sellers were rare.
The contrast became obvious when looking at net profit margins. Ilseong posted seventeen trillion won in sales but only about one hundred thirty billion won in net profit—a margin below one percent. Fifty percent was an enormous figure. The chairmen, all seasoned executives, had already run the numbers in their heads. A simple calculation showed fifteen million dollars in revenue, which at current exchange rates exceeded ten billion won. For a moment they wondered if the boy was exaggerating, but even the boldest child would not dare boast in front of the President. The chairmen shifted uncomfortably. They wanted proof, yet none of them could speak first while the President remained silent. Besides, their own intelligence networks had already confirmed that Yoo Jae-won’s software had been a massive hit in America; they simply hadn’t known the exact volume. One million copies was impossible to dismiss.
Seeing the doubt in their eyes, Yoo Jae-won felt tempted to pull out the document from Electronic Arts he had tucked in his pocket the day before. But since the President had not directly questioned its authenticity, he decided against it.
“Jae-won, let me give you some advice. You should be wary of achieving too much success at such a young age. This accomplishment is certainly impressive, but it could also make you rigid in your thinking and adaptability. If you push forward without considering new variables, you might suffer a major failure and become discouraged.”
Yoo Jae-won was inwardly startled. The President Roh he remembered had never been the type to offer such counsel. Yet these were words that could become flesh and blood.
“Yes. I have big dreams too. Even if my second product fails, I’ll try again with a third. No—I’ll keep moving forward with the spirit of seven failures and eight tries.”
“Oh? Is that so? To already be thinking that way… My concern was unnecessary. Then why work so hard at such a young age? To become rich?”
“Hehe, being rich is nice. So I’ll become rich, and I’ll make the older brothers, sisters, and elders who work with me as rich as Grandpa President!”
A sudden choking sound erupted. It was Kim O-jung, who had been sipping champagne across from Yoo Jae-won. He had failed to hold it in and now looked mortified.
Oh dear, do be careful.
“Like me? So you think I look rich, Jae-won?”
President Roh was equally flustered.
“You live in such a big house and have the most subordinates. If the richest person in Korea isn’t Grandpa President, then who is?”
Yoo Jae-won asked with an innocent face.
“Ah, no, that’s not right. The salaries of the people who work here are all paid by the state. Even the President is a public servant who receives a salary. The real rich people are the chairmen sitting right here. Isn’t that so?”
President Roh, still early in his term and yet to properly collect any “donations,” felt wronged at being called rich. He told the truth, but this time it was the chairmen who flinched and waved their hands in denial.
“Hehe, I’m going to make everyone who works with me rich. That’s why I’ll hire as many people as possible. And that way I’ll pay a lot of taxes too.”
“Taxes?”
“Hehe, I only got to meet computers because of the educational computers funded by taxes. If more kids like me are to appear, we need to distribute more computers, and for that we need plenty of tax revenue, don’t we?”
President Roh’s expression, which had been wondering what kind of audacious child this was, brightened completely at the mention of taxes. He had already sweated blood preparing the new year’s budget. With the opposition holding a majority in the National Assembly, any major project was immediately cut in half. The Ministry of Finance kept insisting there was no money. In such circumstances, a boy who promised to hire many employees and pay substantial taxes could not help but look adorable.
“Hmm, Chairman Choi. What do you think of our Jae-won’s mindset?”
The spark suddenly flew to Choi Hyun-hee, chairman of Ilseong Group. He had only recently inherited the company last year, and there was still much talk about his inheritance tax filing. After taking over the enormous Ilseong Group, he had paid a mere fifteen billion won in taxes. On top of that, Ilseong was constantly embroiled in labor and union issues. Now Yoo Jae-won had brought up taxes, and President Roh had pointedly asked Choi for his opinion. The atmosphere grew heavy. Moreover, the President had said “our” Jae-won.
“Ah, for someone so young, he has remarkably mature thoughts. He’s a child with a promising future.”
“Isn’t that right? Since his future looks bright, I hope everyone here will help him grow into a pillar of the nation.”
Choi Hyun-hee’s eyes twitched. “Yes, Your Excellency.” His reply was curt. He was clearly exerting every effort to control his expression in front of the President.
Of course, not everyone wore the same expression. Jeon Myeong-heon, chairman of Mirae Group, wore a faint smile. As the oldest man present, he seemed to enjoy watching Choi Hyun-hee of Ilseong—his frequent rival—being put on the spot.
Yoo Jae-won smiled back at Jeon Myeong-heon. He had deliberately raised the tax issue, and seeing Choi Hyun-hee cornered was enough to satisfy his goal. He had not spoken of taxes insincerely, however. He truly intended to pay them properly. In an era filled with tax-evading “thieves” recognized by the government, paying taxes felt wasteful even to him. Yet the thieves did not steal everything from the nation. Moreover, by paying taxes honestly, he would have no need to beg favors from the regime, nor would he leave any weaknesses to be exploited. That was the only way to prevent unnecessary obstacles from tripping up his future moves. IT was a high-value-added industry; he could amass enormous capital without resorting to tax evasion. Besides, Yoo Jae-won possessed an advantage no one else had—regression. Bearing the handicap of honest taxation was no problem at all.
“Hm?”
Jeon Myeong-heon, meeting his eyes, nodded as if he understood something. Yoo Jae-won had been pleased to land the first blow on Ilseong, but perhaps the chairman had misinterpreted that look. Come to think of it, Jeon Myeong-heon had shown unusual interest in him. He had even given up his own galbi-jjim earlier. Did he have something he wanted to say privately? But Jeon Myeong-heon offered no further words until the end.
Yoo Jae-won’s performance ended there. Pushing any further would turn him from an enfant terrible into a mere troublemaker, so he reined himself in. Around nine o’clock, when the banquet concluded and they left Cheong Wa Dae, Yoo Jae-won’s hands were no longer empty. President Roh had pressed a bundle of commemorative gifts upon him—tea sets, watches, and the like. It had been a far more profitable evening than expected. He had enjoyed an expensive meal, received promises of cooperation—however hollow—from the ten largest chaebols, and even landed a jab at Ilseong’s chairman. Compared to the humiliations he had suffered in his previous life, a single sting was far from enough. But this was only the beginning.