Clinton's Diplomatic Coup
The news hit like a bombshell.
“This disguised peace offensive is remarkably strong,” Yoo Jae-won admitted, genuinely impressed as he watched the nonstop breaking reports on television. The story was powerful enough to completely eclipse coverage of the Korean national team’s historic first World Cup victory against Poland.
“You can say that again. The return of the abductees…”
Choi Kang-wook, the vice chairman sitting beside him, nodded vigorously in agreement as they watched the screen together.
Since the armistice declaration, North Korea had indeed taken a noticeably more conciliatory stance. Local provocations along the DMZ had vanished, and the North had stopped stirring up trouble over the Northern Limit Line in the West Sea. With both the DMZ and the NLL now formally recognized as borders, the very pretext for provocation had disappeared.
Moreover, the Kaesong Industrial Complex and Mount Kumgang tourism had been revitalized, while the distribution of various mineral resources had become active. The North’s economy was finally breathing again. Then, out of nowhere, they announced the Kwangmyongsong program—ostensibly a space development project but clearly a cover for intercontinental ballistic missile development. For a moment, frost settled over inter-Korean relations.
The 2002 World Cup co-hosting had prevented the situation from deteriorating into the worst-case scenario, but new economic cooperation projects had been put on temporary hold. The United States had reacted with extreme sensitivity, even dispatching former President Clinton as a special envoy.
That same Clinton returning alongside the abductees was nothing short of shocking.
Come to think of it, in the previous timeline Japan received their abductees back around this time as well.
To Choi Kang-wook, the event probably seemed completely out of left field. To Yoo Jae-won, however, it carried a strong sense of déjà vu.
In the original timeline, Prime Minister Koizumi had visited North Korea. A summit had been held to normalize Japan-North Korea relations, covering everything from the nuclear issue to diplomatic normalization. There, Koizumi not only secured official acknowledgment of the abductees’ existence but also returned home with several of them. It had been the greatest diplomatic victory in the history of Japan’s Liberal Democratic Party and a moment of catharsis for the Japanese people.
The entire world, including the LDP itself, acknowledged that this single event became the core driving force behind the party’s long dominance in Japanese politics afterward. It was significant enough that Abe, who had merely tagged along as part of the Japanese delegation, rode that single achievement all the way to becoming Japan’s longest-serving prime minister.
Of course, longest-serving did not automatically mean best. He had also received the most criticism, especially for his obsession with constitutional revision and his record tenure, which set Japanese political development back a full century.
But now?
The armistice declaration had completely altered North Korea’s trajectory from the previous timeline, and the Japan-North Korea summit had been postponed until after the World Cup. If the return of the abductees had always been a predetermined decision, the only real difference was that the central figure had changed from Koizumi to Clinton.
Complex calculations began spinning inside Yoo Jae-won’s head as he weighed North Korea’s intentions in releasing some of the abductees and the potential gains and losses for each country involved.
With this latest report, Yoo Jae-won finally grasped the full picture.
“At this level, even the United States has no choice but to accept.”
The biggest beneficiary was, of course, North Korea. The United States was known for going anywhere to retrieve its own. The movie Saving Private Ryan illustrated the point perfectly—a whole platoon mobilized to rescue a single isolated soldier. Repatriating remains was a moral imperative that had to be fulfilled.
At the same time, North Korea could use the gesture to shed its image as a rogue state. It could also lend credibility to their claim that the Kwangmyongsong program was genuinely a space development project rather than a missile program. To Yoo Jae-won, who knew the regime’s true nature, the claim was laughable. But to countries that still didn’t fully understand Pyongyang, this sudden display of goodwill made it difficult to imagine the North pursuing missile development.
Both the United States and South Korea had every reason to welcome the move. Regardless of North Korea’s inner motives, the outward appearance was an extension of peaceful gestures. This created leverage to get involved in the Kwangmyongsong program.
For South Korea in particular, the one major risk to the 2002 World Cup had been North Korean provocation. With Pyongyang now adopting a peaceful posture, the path to successfully hosting the tournament became much smoother.
Japan, which had been preparing for its own summit with North Korea, could only feel bitter. What should have been Prime Minister Koizumi and the LDP’s greatest achievement had instead been handed over through North Korea’s “broad-minded generosity.” The domestic political appeal was now significantly diluted.
The most upset party of all would be China. Beijing had likely been trying to stir instability in East Asia using North Korea, with the Kwangmyongsong program serving as its public expression. Things had seemed to be going according to plan until North Korea suddenly switched to a conciliatory stance with the abductee repatriation, muddying China’s carefully drawn picture.
“China is the variable here.”
“True. They’re in complete chaos these days.”
Yoo Jae-won’s words carried layers of implication, but Choi Kang-wook understood immediately. As the executive in charge of ID Group’s East Asia division, he received extensive reports on the region. Although ID Group had not directly entered the Chinese market, they received remarkably detailed information through partners like Tencent.
Hu Jintao had launched a sweeping anti-corruption campaign. Every morning brought news of high-ranking officials and People’s Liberation Army generals falling like dominoes. Tax evaders were being rooted out as well. Many belonged to the Shanghai Gang and the Princeling faction, both of which were pushing back hard against President Hu Jintao.
To an outsider like Yoo Jae-won it was merely interesting news. To those involved, it was literally a matter of life and death.
“Creating an external crisis to suppress internal chaos is a classic move,” Choi Kang-wook noted.
In such a situation, the best way to vent exploding domestic discontent was to direct attention outward—and South Korea would certainly be part of that target.
“We’ll pay even closer attention to China,” Choi Kang-wook said, offering a reassuring response to Yoo Jae-won’s concerns.
Unfortunately, the current flow of events was occurring at the nation-state level. Even ID Group stepping forward first would have limited influence. When military force entered the equation, Yoo Jae-won’s options were nearly nonexistent. Still, his basic philosophy was to do everything possible to the best of his ability.
Ding!
While they were discussing strategy toward China, Yoo Jae-won’s Android phone rang.
The caller was former President Clinton. After escorting the Korean abductees from Pyongyang to South Korea, he was already on his way out of the country again—this time because of the Japanese abductees.
Strictly by the numbers, there were six Korean abductees compared to four Japanese—two more on the Korean side. Yet the political weight of the Japanese cases was far heavier. This stemmed from the differing attitudes their respective governments had shown over the years.
Especially after Koizumi became prime minister, mentions of the abductee issue had increased sharply. This had only been possible because of prior coordination with North Korea. No one had imagined Clinton would appear as the problem-solver, but that didn’t mean they could complain.
In the end, the grandest welcome ceremony Koizumi could arrange was waiting in Japan. As a result, Clinton’s schedule allowed him only a few hours in Seoul before he had to fly onward.
“It can’t be helped. Then how about we watch the U.S. team’s match together? I’ll prepare the venue.”
“Oh, the United States is playing South Korea. Perfect!”
“Great. Let’s meet on the 13th.”
Yoo Jae-won had many questions he wanted to ask Clinton. Fortunately, in the World Cup group stage, South Korea and the United States were in the same group, with their match scheduled for the 13th. Whether Clinton actually liked soccer or not, he agreed immediately.
Yoo Jae-won held no illusions that Clinton and Kim Jong-il had engaged in a heartfelt, candid conversation in Pyongyang. Still, having visited the heart of North Korea, the former president was bound to have brought back information that would help Yoo Jae-won read the regime’s true intentions.
“A meeting with former President Clinton? Should we adjust the schedule for the 13th as well?” Choi Kang-wook asked the moment the call ended.
It was a reasonable question. The 13th already had a rather special event planned; changing it would create a cascade of adjustments.
“No, keep it as is. We’re simply gaining a very special companion. I’m sure President Clinton will enjoy it too.”
Yoo Jae-won shook his head. No one understood better than he how much effort his employees had poured into making the event a success. How could he possibly cancel it?
The event in question was a massive joint cheering event for the South Korean military and U.S. forces stationed in Korea, sponsored by ID Group. They had gone so far as to adjust the training schedule of U.S. forces in Korea to make it possible. While it didn’t include every soldier, it was a large-scale gathering that had invited the 28th Division in Yeoncheon, Gyeonggi Province, and the U.S. Army’s 2nd Infantry Division.
Soldiers were the ones who suffered the most whenever the country hosted a major event. The idea had come from sympathy over them being forced to watch the world’s greatest soccer festival on tiny television screens. There was also a hidden true purpose behind it—saving lives.
Yoo Jae-won knew very well that high-ranking visitors to military bases often created hardship for the troops there, but he had no choice but to push forward with eyes tightly shut. He had compensated by making the event larger, higher in quality, and providing special meals and supplies. That should be enough to make up for the inconvenience.
The 2002 World Cup was proceeding smoothly.
On June 8, South Korea produced another miracle against Portugal in their second match. Park Ji-sung scored with a stunning technique—chest trap followed by a left-footed shot—while the team displayed an ironclad defense that didn’t allow Portugal a single goal. Luis Figo, the star Portugal was so proud of, was completely neutralized by Song Jong-guk, a player whose market value was less than one-hundredth of his own. The Portuguese star practically vanished from the match.
The final score was 1-0. A victory for the Korean team. With two wins already, advancement from the group stage was all but guaranteed.
Naturally, the street cheering for the Portugal match grew far larger. The first street cheering had filled Gwanghwamun Square in front of Seoul City Hall. This time, people packed the main streets so completely that vehicle traffic was halted entirely. The scale had expanded more than tenfold.
The phenomenon wasn’t limited to Seoul. Street cheering events activated across every major city in the country. After the cheering ended, nearby bars, chicken restaurants, and pubs were packed to capacity everywhere.
Yet there was no chaos whatsoever. Planners had anticipated the rapid growth of street cheering and prepared response measures calibrated to crowd density. Numerous large screens using Infinity Display technology had been installed, and the number of mobile base stations had been increased.
While Ilseong Telecom and KTF were scrambling to deploy more mobile base station vehicles, TG Mobile had no such worries. Red Devil t-shirts were selling out, and orders for chicken and beer were skyrocketing, but thanks to thorough preparation by the Busan Group and Yugyeong Group, supply problems had yet to appear.
The business owners were the ones becoming concerned. They had expected a boom, but the reality far exceeded expectations, and many were physically unable to keep up.
Just as the 2002 World Cup and Guus Hiddink’s team continued their impressive run, ID Group was also advancing smoothly.
The moment had arrived for ID Technology’s initial public offering.
The number of shares being issued for ID Technology’s listing was one billion, meaning the market had valued the company at $162 billion. Forty percent of that—400 million shares—would be released to the market. The funds coming to Yoo Jae-won would total $64.8 billion.
The exchange rate had stabilized in the 1,250 won range. Converted at that rate, the amount reached a staggering 81 trillion won.
Yet the incredible fortune pouring into Yoo Jae-won did not end there.
The idea to pressure China using the old Qing bonds and the actual documents had come from Yoo Jae-won. The Al Gore administration had used it as their trump card, scoring a massive victory in negotiations with China. Naturally, Yoo Jae-won’s contribution could not be ignored, and it was only natural that the administration would offer him every courtesy.
That courtesy meant placing Yoo Jae-won at the very front of the repayment queue for the Qing bonds. Since money loses value over time, receiving it first provided the greatest benefit.
Yoo Jae-won held roughly $40 billion in Qing Dynasty bonds. Combined with the proceeds from selling his ID Technology stake, it meant roughly $100 billion in cash would soon flood in.
Even Yoo Jae-won, who possessed uncommon composure, felt his heartbeat quicken the moment he heard the astronomical figure.