World Tour: Jeju's Jewels and the Xbox Storm

The World Tour began with a jewel-like sunrise viewed from Seongsan Ilchulbong. A geology lesson inside Manjanggul. Healing amid the phytoncide-rich air of Bijarim Forest. A leisurely cup of coffee beside the emerald waters of Hyeopjae Beach. And the infamous Goblin Road, where cans mysteriously roll uphill against the slope.

The time Yoo Jae-won and his wife spent on Jeju Island lasted four days. The couple traveled to every hidden corner of the island, savoring the unique atmosphere of this mysterious paradise. Their journey was shared widely through TokTok and PowerBlog.com. Each TokTok post generated retweets in the tens of thousands, while a well-crafted article on PowerBlog.com could rack up hundreds of thousands of views in a single day.

Yoo Jae-won had managed his PowerBlog.com presence meticulously since its inception. He eagerly adopted every new HTML feature to create dynamic, engaging layouts. Because he left the source code unprotected, aspiring developers treated his posts like textbooks. The only real drawback was how slowly the platform updated posts. That changed the moment their honeymoon began. With fresh content appearing at least every other day, his blog instantly became the most popular in the country.

At the same time, readers were left awestruck by Jeju’s breathtaking beauty. The tourism resources Yoo Jae-won had carefully cultivated perfectly blended tradition with modernity. Reckless development had been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠strictly curtailed, leaving the island in pristine condition. The same thoughtful management extended to shops and restaurants featuring local specialties. While not every corner of Jeju received the same attention and budget, the difference ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the island’s past was night and day.

At the center of the buzz was Lightning Bolt’s fully electric LV-F1. Inspired by the pinnacle of motorsports, this supercar-level machine felt like over-technology pulled straight from the future. Its carbon-fiber body was stunning, but the interior drew even more attention. The massive LCD panel dominating the center console and the fighter-jet-style HUD projected onto the windshield left visitors speechless.

Whenever Tiffany drove the LV-F1, camera flashes erupted around her. Of course, these were almost all phone cameras. DSLRs offered superior image quality but still hadn’t reached the mass market. Korea, however, led the world in mobile phone adoption, and every handset came equipped with a surprisingly capable camera module. Taking selfies and uploading them to personal homepages or TokTok had become a daily ritual for everyone.

All of this helped craft an overwhelmingly positive image for Jeju Island. To Koreans who once viewed it as outdated, the island now symbolized cutting-edge technology, home to advanced electric vehicles. Foreigners saw it as a dream destination boasting WOW Wonderland, spectacular natural scenery, and cafés bursting with individual character. Even if this shift in perception didn’t immediately spike visitor numbers, its long-term positive impact was undeniable.

“Thank you for everything these past few days. Please continue to take good care of us.”

After four days of exploring every corner of Jeju Island, Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany arrived at Jeju International Airport to depart. The person who came to see them off was Bolt, president of Lightning Bolt. As the highest-ranking ID Group executive on the island, he was the natural choice to represent the company.

“Of course, sir. I will pour everything into developing the mass-production model.”

The LV-F1 was armed with the absolute best technology available. As a result, each unit cost well over 900 million won—far more expensive than Mercedes-Benz’s flagship Maybach or the revived Rolls-Royce models. The reasons were obvious. The LV-F1 contained almost no steel. Its frame used exorbitantly expensive carbon fiber for extreme weight reduction, while the main motor devoured massive amounts of specialized alloys to deliver blistering performance. When development costs were factored in, the 900-million-won price tag made perfect sense.

Yoo Jae-won gave President Bolt a new assignment: create an affordable electric vehicle priced under 100 million won. Demonstrating technological prowess was important, but a company’s true purpose was to sell products and generate profit. Having proven they could build the world’s finest electric supercar, the next logical step was to develop a model people could actually buy.

Of course, even an affordable model wouldn’t be sold in the massive volumes typical of other automakers. The greatest weakness of electric vehicles remained charging infrastructure. Yoo Jae-won had chosen battery-swapping technology instead, which meant building swapping stations. Those stations would also require charging facilities to prepare batteries for immediate reuse. Constructing and operating such infrastructure demanded enormous long-term investment.

Yet Yoo Jae-won knew that every gasoline and diesel vehicle would eventually be replaced by electric ones. He intended to focus relentlessly on expanding that infrastructure.

“Then we’ll see you next time.”

After saying goodbye to President Bolt, Yoo Jae-won boarded the private jet. The couple’s next destination was Seoul. The flight from Jeju to Seoul was over in moments. They climbed to altitude, then began descending almost immediately. They arrived in the blink of an eye. One clear advantage of a small country, he thought.

In America, flying from San Francisco to New York took hours. In Korea, traveling from one end of the nation to the other felt instantaneous. The private jet carrying Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany landed at Gimpo Airport. Incheon International Airport—destined to become the world’s finest—was still under construction, though now in its final stages. Set to open in March of next year, Seoul’s international gateway would transform completely.

A vehicle prepared by Vice Chairman Choi Kang-wook waited for them at Gimpo. Reporters had gathered just as they had at Jeju International Airport, but this time there was little to say. The couple skipped interviews and slipped into the car through the VIP lane.

“Whoa!”

Once inside the vehicle, Yoo Jae-won glanced at his T-Touch Phone and let out an astonished sound.

“What is it?”

Tiffany, who had been admiring Seoul’s cityscape through the window, turned to him immediately.

Rather than explain, Yoo Jae-won simply showed her the screen. The NextCom news page was open. Although it was in Korean, Tiffany read it with practiced ease.

“Wow! They really sold a million units?”

Korea was the only country outside the United States to receive the Xbox at simultaneous launch. Perhaps that was why PlayStation 2 had also launched here at the same time. Yet even on home turf, Xbox sales had completely overwhelmed its rival. Sony had established Sony Korea, localized the PlayStation 2, and handled distribution directly, but it still couldn’t withstand the Xbox’s momentum.

Sony’s strategy to showcase the PlayStation 2’s dominance even in Yoo Jae-won’s backyard had crumbled from the very beginning.

Yoo Jae-won opened his iWorks notebook and connected to the ID Technology internal network to check Korea’s Xbox shipment and sales figures. Shipments had exceeded 1.1 million units, while sales hovered around 900,000. Since the real-time tally prioritized card payments, including cash purchases likely pushed the total past one million. The numbers were almost certainly accurate.

While he was connected, he checked global sales as well. The monitor displayed 2,826,283 units. Daily sales had begun to taper slightly, but at this pace, surpassing three million units by the one-month anniversary was entirely possible. Launches in the second-wave markets of Europe and Asia would likely send the momentum soaring again.

Most encouraging of all was that Korean sales had reached nearly half of U.S. figures. Yoo Jae-won held no such expectations for Japan. Although Japan boasted the highest income levels in Asia, its Galápagos syndrome remained extremely strong. Japanese gaming tastes were particularly inflexible. The Xbox’s one-two punch of Doom 3 and Halo simply didn’t align with what Japanese players preferred.

Normally this kind of information would have reached him first through ID Talk or email. But because he was on his honeymoon, official company matters had been delegated to the presidents. As a result, both his ID Talk and email inboxes remained empty.

“This makes me actually want to do a giveaway event.”

In Seoul, the couple wouldn’t only enjoy their honeymoon—they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠also planned to handle a few company matters. One of those was an Xbox giveaway event. Yoo Jae-won would make a surprise visit to the ID flagship store and personally hand consoles to customers who purchased them. Naturally, he wouldn’t stop at just the consoles; he had prepared additional gifts as well.

Because it was a surprise event, no advance notice had been given. The live coins, controller pads, and game DVDs prepared as gifts for gamers had all been purchased with Yoo Jae-won’s personal funds.

“We’ll be arriving shortly.”

At Kim Dae-seok’s words, Yoo Jae-won looked up. The ID flagship store’s first Korean location—the Rodeo branch—came into view.

The reaction to the surprise event far exceeded expectations. Customers inside the store gazed at the suddenly appearing couple with the same reverence reserved for beloved celebrities. In America, Yoo Jae-won was seen primarily as a genius developer. In Korea, however, he carried the aura of an entertainer. His public appearances in Korea had mostly shown him elevating the nation’s prestige on the news. Before the 2000 general election he had even appeared in commercials.

Koreans harbored an especially strong desire for international recognition. The IMF crisis had briefly stalled their climb into the ranks of advanced nations, but the country had proven its potential with nearly ten percent growth in 1999. The provisional 2000 growth rate was also a healthy six percent. In that context, Yoo Jae-won perfectly embodied the public’s aspirations. His popularity was so high that virtually every company except Ilseong and Daehan Ilbo would have fought to cast him in commercials.

Thanks to that star power, the moment Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany appeared at the Rodeo flagship store to give away Xbox consoles, the event became an instant sensation.

“Could I get an autograph, please!”

Requests for signatures poured in. Most asked him to sign the Xbox packaging, but one fan pulled out the console itself and asked him to sign the unit directly.

“Your name?”

“Lee Sung-hyuk!”

Lee Sung-hyuk? Yoo Jae-won reflexively looked up, but it wasn’t the person he knew. The original Lee Sung-hyuk had been born in 1996 and was currently only five years old. Besides, the AOS game Legend League hadn’t even been released yet.

Feeling a touch of disappointment, Yoo Jae-won finished the signature. It would still be a long time before AOS arrived. This was still the golden age of RTS games led by Warcraft and StarCraft.

Both titles had become massive hits. StarCraft had exploded in Korea, while Warcraft had taken China by storm. Europe and the United States leaned slightly toward StarCraft, but Warcraft was popular there as well. Naturally, e-sports flourished.

In Korea, various companies sponsored teams and individual players. Talk of founding professional teams had not yet begun, but it was clearly only a matter of time. Even without official pro teams, the treatment and public perception of professional gamers were excellent. Individual leagues for Warcraft and StarCraft were hosted by ID Entertainment with substantial prize pools. Appearance fees for reaching the finals were also considerable. With stable livelihoods, the quality of matches had risen dramatically, creating a virtuous cycle where fanbases grew and audiences increased.

Yoo Jae-won made a mental note to look forward to meeting the real Lee Sung-hyuk one day.

Before that, however, he had to make sure he didn’t repeat the mistake Blizzard had made before the regression. Legend League had grown out of DotA, which itself had grown from a StarCraft use map. The game that would captivate gamers worldwide had been born from Blizzard’s own use maps, yet the company had ignored it and suffered greatly for that oversight. As long as Yoo Jae-won kept his eyes wide open, that mistake would never be repeated.

After successfully completing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the giveaway, Yoo Jae-won felt it would be a shame to leave without playing. At his suggestion, space was quickly cleared on the second floor of the flagship store. A projector screen was set up, making it easy for everyone to watch.

From that makeshift stage, Yoo Jae-won played cooperative Halo with customers who had come to the store and battled them in Tekken. He showed no mercy just because they were guests. He played his best and won. As always, the inevitable comments followed: “He really is good at games.”

But this time something was different—Tiffany’s performance.

The hastily recruited emcee called Tiffany forward. Yoo Jae-won thought it would be fun and handed her a controller. Tiffany accepted it with an expression that said she couldn’t possibly win. The result was entirely predictable. Tiffany was every bit the gaming enthusiast that her husband was. Some people froze in front of large crowds, but she wasn’t one of them.

Within minutes of picking up the controller, the in-game announcer began rattling off “double kill,” “triple kill,” and more. By the time the customer participation event ended, the crowd’s verdict had upgraded from “The chairman is good at games” to “This couple is incredible at games.”

After completing the brief official schedule in Seoul, Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany enjoyed activities more to Tiffany’s taste—touring Gyeongbokgung Palace and shopping in Insadong. Their lodging for the night was, of course, the penthouse of the ID Global Headquarters Building. Although it had been a while since they’d visited their Seoul residence, they didn’t have time to relax and look around. They needed to retire early for the next leg of their journey: a tour of Mount Kumgang.