White Christmas and the Three Paths

The news soon switched to other stories.

“They say tomorrow is going to be a White Christmas! It’s my first time ever seeing one!”

“Really? Your first White Christmas? That’s surprising.”

Tiffany lit up like an excited puppy at the report. Yoo Jae-won found her reaction fascinating. He had only learned about her love for falling snow a month earlier, during their trip down to the Daejeon semiconductor plant. After all, before the climate anomalies, seeing snow in San Francisco had been anything but common. So her delight made perfect sense.

“Then how about we head to a ski resort for an overnight trip tomorrow?”

“A ski resort? I’ve never been skiing before.”

“Neither have I. We can learn together.”

“Really?”

Tiffany showed immediate, deep interest in Yoo Jae-won’s spontaneous suggestion. In truth, they had no firm Christmas holiday plans. Until a few days ago, every ounce of Yoo Jae-won’s attention had been fixed on the Daejeon plant because of the production delays with MAP3. He had not expected the setback to drag on this long. As a result, their stay in Daejeon had stretched far beyond the original schedule.

They had planned to run pilot production, secure approval, and return to Seoul. Yoo Jae-won had anticipated a few failures but remained confident of rapid success. Yet Dr. Lisa Su and the semiconductor researchers wore comparatively relaxed expressions. From the beginning, they had expected trial and error—the process difficulty had risen dramatically, after all.

Yoo Jae-won felt deeply frustrated that he could not reveal his true thoughts to Dr. Lisa Su or the research team. The technologies incorporated into the MAP3 blueprints had already been thoroughly proven in the twenty-first century. The design itself accounted for performance, heat dissipation, power consumption, and every other critical factor. Fortunately, the assembled experts were the best in their fields. They continued to run tests, incorporate feedback, and steadily improve yields. Still, it was disappointing that they had not achieved the kind of instant success seen with the copper wiring technique.

Even as Christmas drew near, the target remained out of reach. To clear their exhausted minds, Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany had returned to Seoul.

“But didn’t the news just say you were invited to the Blue House?”

Tiffany, who had been thrilled about the ski idea, suddenly brought up the earlier report.

“Ah, right. That.” Yoo Jae-won’s expression darkened. “It feels rather unpleasant. If they’re going to extend an invitation, shouldn’t they ask my opinion first?”

The more he thought about it, the worse his mood became. Because the invitation had already been broadcast on television, any unavoidable scheduling conflict on his part would make it look as though he had snubbed the Blue House. The blame would fall squarely on him. It would not involve financial liability, of course, but for someone in his position an image drop carried far greater cost. Winning public favor was difficult; losing it could happen in an instant over the smallest misstep.

Ding!

While talking with Tiffany, Yoo Jae-won’s T-Touch Phone chimed. After reading the message, he showed it to her, thought for a moment, then replied that it was too late tonight and they should speak tomorrow.

At the same time, inside the Blue House’s Yeomin Hall.

“Whew… Understood. Yes, I’ll contact you again tomorrow.”

Han Kwang-wook hung up the phone with careful politeness, every ounce of his attention focused on the call. The moment the receiver settled, however, his gaze turned savage as he glared at the staff standing before his desk with guilty expressions. The voice that had flowed like warm butter during the conversation had vanished, replaced by eyes as sharp as frost-covered blades.

“Just how long do you plan to keep acting like amateurs? Hm? At this rate I cannot trust any of you with real responsibility!”

Han Kwang-wook’s roar finally erupted. The people standing before him shrank back, necks tucked like startled turtles. They had reason to be afraid. The year-end gathering had been ordered by President Kim Dae-jung himself. Officially it was meant to praise entrepreneurs who had worked for early IMF graduation and to hear their concerns, but everyone understood the true centerpiece was the meeting between the President and Chairman Yoo ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Jae-won.

That encounter carried profound meaning both economically and politically. While the economic aspect was obvious, the political implications were just as significant. Anyone with knowledge of the situation understood that Yoo Jae-won wielded considerable influence over the Tongil National Party, the second-largest force in the National Assembly. Therefore, contact with him required extreme caution.

Yet loose lips among the staff in front of Han Kwang-wook had twisted everything. While chatting with the resident reporters, someone had let slip that Chairman Yoo Jae-won would be invited. The story had naturally spread through the press and broadcasters, and the invitation was now public knowledge.

“What disappoints me most is that after causing this mess, you tried to cover it up.”

When accidents happened, panic was understandable, but one still had to regain composure and fix the problem quickly. These people had done neither. They had not even recognized the mistake. Had they reported it immediately, an embargo might have bought time. They could have contacted ID Group in the interim. Instead they had bungled everything.

“If Chairman Yoo refuses to attend this event, you will truly answer to me.”

Han Kwang-wook was so furious that the usually mild-mannered chief of staff had uttered the word “die.” The year-end gathering might be called a meeting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with businessmen, but the single most important attendee was Yoo Jae-won. President Kim Dae-jung had personally expressed his desire for an in-depth conversation with the man leading the world in IT, hoping to discuss Korea’s future.

“Um, Chief of Staff, sir…”

The staff, still reeling from the dressing-down, reacted sharply to the word “refusal.”

“He wouldn’t actually decline the President’s invitation, would he?”

Bang!

The loud slam made the protesting staff member’s head duck instantly. Han Kwang-wook found their attitude unbearably frustrating. These were not low-level clerks; every one of them held the rank of senior administrative officer or higher—officials who had passed the elite level-five civil service exam. Yet their understanding of how the world worked remained this naïve.

“When the Blue House calls, the chairmen of other conglomerates come running without hesitation. So you think ID Group is the same?”

Han Kwang-wook had struck the heart of the matter. He himself took pride in the fact that no organization in Korea carried more weight than the Blue House. The IMF system had dealt a severe blow to the national economy, but it had proven even more lethal to the chaebol families who once challenged presidential authority. Big deals once unthinkable due to their opposition could now be forced through, and economic reforms could finally begin.

“Treating ID Group the same way you treat the other chaebols will bring disaster!”

This time Han Kwang-wook’s eyes filled with pure disappointment. He hated that he even had to explain something so obvious. These were supposed to be the carefully selected elite. Still, for the sake of preventing any repeat of this blunder, he would spell it out himself.

“Do you know the biggest difference between ID Group and the chaebol companies?”

He waited roughly twenty seconds, but no one spoke. With an expression that said he had expected as much, Han Kwang-wook continued.

“Has ID Group ever once asked us for anything? Have they ever whined for loosened regulations, legal changes, or tax breaks the way the other chaebols do?”

The Blue House received every kind of request imaginable from countless corporations and organizations. The largest and most persistent came from the Daehan Ilbo and Ilseong Electronics matters. Daehan Ilbo had grown quieter after ID Group’s bulldozers razed their executive residences, but Ilseong Electronics, sensing its own turn was coming, was now exerting every possible pressure to save Chairman Choi Hyun-hee.

The secretaries receiving the tongue-lashing naturally recalled the endless stream ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of favors sought by their acquaintances, corporate executives, and politicians. Yet, just as Han Kwang-wook said, not a single request had ever come from ID Group.

“You probably assume that if you dig into ID Group, dust would fly just like with any other company. That will never happen.”

During the government transition, Han Kwang-wook had even examined National Tax Service records. Because the previous president, Jeon Myeong-heon, shared a close personal relationship with Chairman Yoo Jae-won, he had wondered whether any tax favors had been granted. He had not intended to use the information to threaten them; he simply wanted to be prepared for any future contingency.

Yet even under President Jeon Myeong-heon, ID Group’s tax records had been flawless. They followed global-standard American accounting practices rather than the porous Korean ones and never pushed tax avoidance to extremes. Moreover, they paid enormous corporate and local taxes each year—sums befitting their worldwide stature. If every Korean chaebol had managed their taxes the way ID Group did, the government’s fiscal health would be several times stronger than it was now.

And then there was the employment creation effect, the most critical factor during the IMF crisis. In short, digging into ID Group would yield no dirt. On the contrary, the company poured far more into Korea than could be considered normal while asking for virtually nothing in return. The government, by comparison, had many favors to ask of them. This situation was no different.

That was why Han Kwang-wook, despite his lofty title as Chief Presidential Secretary, had no choice but to adopt a humble attitude when speaking with Yoo Jae-won. Once relations went off track, there would be no way to correct them. Yet these reckless administrative officers had carelessly ruined the arrangement. They made a fuss whenever the other chaebols—Ilseong, Geumseong, Mirae, or Busan—called, but treated the incomparable ID Group with shocking negligence.

The Blue House staff, who were supposed to maintain the widest possible perspective, instead saw the world like frogs in a well. No wonder Han Kwang-wook’s blood boiled. His eyes grew fierce once more, and the administrative officers finally realized the magnitude of their error. Their faces turned deathly pale.

The administrative officers under Chief of Staff Han Kwang-wook had barely escaped with their careers intact. Although the format differed significantly from the original plan, Yoo Jae-won had accepted the Blue House’s invitation, and the meeting with the President would proceed. He could have used their mistake as grounds for refusal, yet he ultimately agreed. Various reasons influenced his decision, but the greatest was a sense of pity.

When comparing the previous timeline with the current one, Korea’s overall situation had improved dramatically. Many large corporations had collapsed and banks had been consolidated, but more companies had survived than in the original history. On the other hand, some—like Ilseong Group—fared worse. After handing its electronics division to ID Group, Ilseong’s scale had shrunk to two-thirds of its peak. Chairman Choi Hyun-hee’s lifelong dream of entering the automobile sector had succeeded, but the IMF crisis caused sales to plummet, creating severe difficulties. The acquisition of Shinsegi Communications to fill the electronics void had yet to turn a profit.

While TG Mobile enjoyed a dominant fifty-five percent market share and earned money effortlessly, Ilseong’s newly acquired communications arm faced massive investments for next-generation networks and could barely stay afloat.

Like Ilseong Group, the person most harmed by the new history Yoo Jae-won had written was President Kim Dae-jung. The landmark first inter-Korean summit and the Nobel Peace Prize had gone to Jeon Myeong-heon and Clinton instead. Even the IT revolution—something that should have been Kim Dae-jung’s signature achievement—had begun under former President Roh Tae-woo.

It was no wonder President Kim Dae-jung had become obsessed with securing early graduation from the IMF. When Yoo Jae-won first heard about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the plan from Vice Chairman Choi Kang-wook, he had been furious. Now he understood the reasoning and even felt a twinge of guilt. By focusing on speed and the bigger picture, he had greatly diminished President Kim Dae-jung’s role and legacy.

That was why he had accepted the Blue House invitation. He simply had no desire to attend alongside the other chaebol chairmen. He would be forced to see unwelcome faces such as Ilseong’s Choi Hyun-hee and Mirae Construction’s Jeon Jae-geun. At his request the format had been adjusted, and the final official schedule of the year 2000 became his meeting at the Blue House.

December 30.

Yoo Jae-won arrived at the Blue House exactly on time. After passing through the familiar protocol procedures, he sat down face-to-face with President Kim Dae-jung.

“I have one deep concern. For our Korea to never again suffer the humiliation of a foreign exchange crisis, the economy must develop. Yet I cannot see the answer. I believed Chairman Yoo might have a good solution, which is why I requested this meeting.”

As expected, after exchanging a handshake, President Kim Dae-jung sat down and immediately came to the point.

In that instant, Yoo Jae-won recalled the famous anecdote associated with the president. The timing was roughly two years later than in the original history, and the invited guest was not SoftBank’s Masayoshi Son but himself. Nevertheless, the situation felt remarkably similar.

Yoo Jae-won remembered exactly what Chairman Son had answered without needing to consult his Memory Palace, but he could not give the same reply. After all, the broadband internet solution Son had proposed was already well underway.

After a brief pause to gather his thoughts, Yoo Jae-won spoke carefully.

“Well, I see three possible approaches.”

The beginning was classically similar to Masayoshi Son’s.