The Proposal's Ripple Effects
Successfully proposing in the 21st-century Technopia brought several natural changes to Yoo Jae-won's surroundings. The biggest shift was Tiffany moving in with him after receiving approval from both families. Considering how long they had been dating, the cohabitation might have seemed overdue, yet America proved surprisingly conservative—especially Tiffany's household. Only after the proposal, when the news reached her family and maternal relatives and the wedding date was set, did permission finally come through.
The wedding was scheduled for July of the following year, to be held on a grand scale in the United States. Jae-won would have been content with a small ceremony, but his parents and Tiffany's extended family felt otherwise. The marriage represented not only the union of two individuals but the merging of two households. People lining up to attend formed queues on both sides, turning even the sending of invitations into a major event.
Fortunately, Jae-won was in a position to easily gather people to assist him. Moreover, America lacked the obsessive "wedding package" culture. He delegated all planning to Tiffany and a professional wedding coordinator, allowing him to focus on his core work.
On the final weekend of November, in the evening, a middle-aged man emerged leisurely into the living room of a luxury apartment in Daejeon. His name was Kang Chan-ho, Production Director of ID Display. Having settled in Yeoju to put his self-taught design skills from the late 1980s to use, he had been living an entirely different life after being scouted by Jae-won through sheer luck.
"Dad, want some honey water?" his daughter asked, watching television, upon seeing how exhausted he looked. It was unusual—unlike other girls, his daughter only acted affectionate when she needed allowance money.
"S-sure? Then I'll take you up on that." Still fatigued from an all-night drinking session that had ended only that morning, Kang Chan-ho accepted the offer. His daughter jumped up and ran to the refrigerator while he sank onto the sofa.
Though he rarely enjoyed drinking, such occasions had increased lately because of the expansion of ID Display's second factory. Daejeon was nearly confirmed as the site, yet several local government heads still clung to hope. Securing the factory would boost tax revenue and create thousands of high-quality jobs, so they kept pestering even Kang Chan-ho, who had little say in site selection. Unable to rebuff such powerful figures, he had no choice but to endure until groundbreaking next spring.
Shaking his head in irritation, Kang Chan-ho picked up the remote and changed the channel. He preferred news over the upcoming special music program. Just as the screen switched, his daughter returned with the honey water.
"Dad!" she cried. "Come on! The guys are making their comeback today!"
No wonder she had offered the drink unprompted—it was a bribe to keep the channel from changing. Thirsty, Kang Chan-ho reluctantly traded the remote for the glass.
The advertisements that followed were almost twenty in number, more than half of them for ID Group companies. Seeing so many made him feel a surge of pride, though he noted the absence of any ID Display ads. Understandable for a B2B firm, yet still disappointing.
Once the long commercial block ended, the program finally began.
— HxT Comeback Special Show, starting now.
As expected, the special was a comeback showcase for the idol group HxT, which his daughter had adored for years. The moment they appeared on screen, she grabbed a glittering light stick from somewhere and began cheering enthusiastically. Kang Chan-ho felt somewhat forgotten, yet this was far preferable to how listless she had been earlier in the year.
"Dad, you have no idea how amazing this special is!"
Fortunately, his presence had not completely vanished. Unable to contain her overflowing fandom, his daughter launched into an explanation of HxT's greatness. No other idol group had ever received a ninety-minute prime-time special on public television for a comeback. She went on about the renowned composers and choreographers involved, the luxury brands of their outfits, and more—her words flowing without end. Unfortunately, it was a world Kang Chan-ho could not comprehend.
"As expected, our Chairman Yoo is the best!"
Suddenly, a phrase he could relate to emerged. After praising HxT at length, his daughter declared that Chairman Yoo was the greatest.
"Chairman?"
"Yeah! Your company's chairman! And our oppas' chairman! Chairman Yoo is the best!"
He had never expected to hear "our Chairman Yoo" from his daughter's mouth. It turned out that HxT and Kang Chan-ho were connected through a single common denominator: Chairman Yoo Jae-won.
"Good heavens." To Kang Chan-ho, Jae-won was more than a benefactor. Without him, he would still be running a small design shop in Yeoju. Moreover, the octagonal watch on his left wrist would not exist. With that thought, Kang Chan-ho found himself naturally rooting for HxT. Though he knew nothing of their past controversies, the shared connection with Jae-won made them allies in his eyes.
The next day, back to his routine, Yoo Jae-won first checked on Korea's current affairs.
While Korea's issues were numerous, HxT's comeback show dominated the top rankings. The production had cost well over a billion won, culminating in the ninety-minute prime-time special. The program, broadcast under the title "Big Show," was essentially a solo concert—the kind of privilege once reserved exclusively for Seo Taiji and Boys upon their retirement-album return after a long hiatus.
HxT's anti-fans protested that granting a ninety-minute weekend prime-time special to a group that had only observed a short period of self-reflection after their plagiarism scandal was unacceptable.
"What's unacceptable about it?" Jae-won chuckled as he read the real-time reactions online. Broadcasting stations operated on business logic; with ID Group's full backing, securing a ninety-minute comeback concert slot in prime time was trivial.
The true highlight was the collaboration stage with RATM—the anti-fans' primary weapon of attack. The plagiarism on HxT's third album had become an indelible stain; the album titled "Resurrection" had instead died completely. Yet there was no reason to discard the songs from the fourth album. The decision to plagiarize had been made by former President Lee Seung-man and the producers, who were now paying the price. Jae-won had also calculated and paid RATM an astronomical settlement. The Korea Music Copyright Association's database now listed RATM as the copyright holder, and the CD albums had been reissued with updated credits. Performing the songs on public television posed no legal issue.
Jae-won had invited RATM to Korea for the collaboration stage. The members bore no grudge against HxT, and the settlement had resolved any lingering resentment. Moreover, the scandal had boosted RATM's own recognition and fostered goodwill toward ID Group. They accepted the invitation readily, and Jae-won even arranged a private jet for their journey.
Naturally, the joint stage became a massive sensation. An even bigger topic was the dramatically improved performance of the HxT members. During their self-reflection period, they had trained relentlessly to enhance their physical abilities, making it possible to sing live while executing intense synchronized choreography. Since the late 1990s, the demand for live vocals had grown, and music programs began indicating whether performances were live or lip-synced. For male idol groups specializing in synchronized dance, this had been a fatal weakness—until now. Through sheer effort, the seemingly impossible feat of combining live singing with precise choreography had become reality. It was the debut of what would later be called "Dream Performance."
Of course, for idols under Dream Entertainment, HxT's performance became the new standard—a basic skill every member was expected to master.
Alongside the comeback show, the transformed fan club culture also drew attention. Fandom culture for this first-generation idol group had been a lawless frontier. With no established rules, massive fandoms could openly attack rival groups without consequence. The plagiarism incident had brought this to its peak—though HxT's fandom had hardly been innocent victims. Until a year ago, Club HxT had been the most tyrannical fandom of all, with a long list of incidents involving female idol groups. The saying "what goes around comes around" fit perfectly.
Jae-won therefore chose a decisive break. The existing Club HxT was dissolved and a new official fan club launched. Membership cost thirty thousand won—high enough to deter casual troublemakers—yet members received differentiated services. The first benefit was an access code for an exclusive café on Nextcom, Korea's largest portal. In addition to communication with fellow members, there was a dedicated page where HxT members posted selfies and messages directly. While anonymous interaction via TokTok was possible, the new fan club café provided a safer space for friendly engagement.
More importantly, exclusive content was provided: two three-to-five-minute videos capturing the members' daily lives uploaded weekly—a form of V-log that would flourish in the 21st century. Members also posted selfies or short messages several times a day via a private TokTok account accessible only to fan club members. Though burdensome for busy idols, they understood that their profession's very existence depended on fandom support, especially after experiencing how fandom backing had sustained them through the plagiarism crisis. Jae-won's generous backing ensured the membership fee felt worthwhile: high-quality membership cards, light sticks, and photobooks. The membership card served not only as proof of belonging but also granted priority entry to concerts, fan signings, and workshops. The audience seats for the Big Show comeback stage had been filled entirely through this system.
The light sticks received particular praise. Previously, fans had only waved balloons in each group's designated color. While some used multicolored glow sticks, this marked the first proper official light stick. Its premium quality delighted paying members and sparked envy among other fandoms. After all, fans in this industry were often exploited by agencies in exchange for their affection—cheap, useless goods emblazoned with idols' faces sold at inflated prices. LSM Entertainment had once epitomized this practice, but the newly established Dream Entertainment dispelled such concerns with its official fan club. Initial doubts about the thirty-thousand-won fee vanished upon receiving the membership goods and witnessing the ongoing policies. The satisfaction was so high that comments like "As expected, a conglomerate is different" became common.
A minority voiced concern that the closed fan club operation might hinder expansion, yet popularity and growth showed no signs of slowing. Official membership had already surpassed one hundred thousand, with numbers accelerating further as word of the benefits spread. Most decisively, the album quality was exceptional. Music was what mattered most for singers, and the fourth album delivered. The title track was hip-hop, resonating with teenage sensibilities while incorporating socially critical lyrics. The B-sides spanned lyrical ballads to dance tracks, all crafted at the highest level by a professional A&R team—songs that remained enjoyable even after repeated listens.
Though the paid fan club presented a minor hurdle, expansion remained strong. The only thing to watch for was another plagiarism controversy. The third album incident was something only Jae-won could have prevented, and even he could not do so twice. Thus, beyond album quality, the utmost priority was blocking any potential plagiarism claims. Expert opinions were sought, and direct comparisons against the Next Music database were conducted. The fourth album was the result of capital, technology, and the members' grueling efforts, backed by meticulously focused media spotlight and a fandom that even turned anti-fan reactions into publicity. Failure was impossible.
"Korea is handled for now." Jae-won closed all Korea-related documents. After reviewing status reports from ID Electronics and ID Display, he had moved on to Dream Entertainment's report. There were also reports on the Unified National Party ahead of next year's general election and updates from the Blue House, but he closed those windows without hesitation. Korean politics and media required no direct intervention from him for the time being; delegating to Vice Chairman Choi Kang-wook was sufficient. The Blue House and the Democratic Party were sending overt courtship signals, openly hoping for an electoral alliance to secure a stable majority. Jae-won's response leaned negative. Forced alliances engineered by political strategists rarely yielded good results, as past experience had taught him. The Unified National Party would field candidates nationwide, just as in the previous election, solidifying its position as a true national party.
With Korean matters settled, Jae-won turned to the main course: the Xbox project. He had visited the Xbox team office that afternoon and received an excellent proposal.
"The weakest area in ID Entertainment's portfolio is sports games. Since EA holds the rights to soccer and basketball, how about securing MLB and NFL?"
It was Marcus Ruiz, head of the first-party team. A proposal that deserved a perfect score. Reviewing ID Entertainment's games, Jae-won realized they spanned FPS to MMORPG but lacked any sports titles—largely because he himself had little interest in them. Yet many people enjoyed sports games, whose greatest strength was their ability to draw even adults to the console. A well-made sports game could sustain a console for decades. Unfortunately, EA had long since secured the most popular sports: soccer and basketball. That left Major League Baseball and American football—titles EA had passed on due to high licensing costs and doubts about market size. Compared to soccer's global fanbase, baseball and American football audiences were smaller.
For Jae-won, this was no obstacle. He signed and sent the proposal Marcus Ruiz had submitted, granting authority and budget approval for licensing negotiations with MLB and NFL, along with plans to acquire a proven game studio for development. Building an in-house team would be ideal, but with time as the enemy, acquiring a verified company was more efficient.
"Hmm, but why no word from Japan?" Jae-won muttered after signing. The third-party team led by Oh Jung-geun was actively working in Japan. Negotiations with Sega had gone well, securing an Xbox exclusive for Virtua Fighter 3 and its sequel. They had also successfully approached Namco, famous for Tekken, obtaining a promise for Tekken Tag Tournament on Xbox. Oh Jung-geun's team was currently in contact with Konami, and a report had been due today. While Yu-Gi-Oh! was Konami's most famous property, what Jae-won truly anticipated was Metal Gear Solid—the groundbreaking stealth-action game—and its genius producer, Kojima Hideo. When Oh Jung-geun reported securing a meeting with Konami, Jae-won had issued special instructions regarding Kojima Hideo. Today was the day for results, yet no news had arrived, leaving him increasingly curious.
Ding!
"It's here?"
The ID Talk notification sounded at the perfect moment. He wondered if it was Oh Jung-geun's report, but unfortunately it was not. The sender was the Group Information Team. The priority level, however, was the highest, and the contents were far from ordinary.