The New Horizons
The atmosphere among companies tallying their accounts after the 2002 FIFA World Cup was largely festive. Even a mere brush with the World Cup events had produced figures far exceeding expectations. Naturally, the companies that had properly prepared for the 2002 World Cup received report cards that defied imagination. Busan Group, led by Park Sang-kwon, was one such company.
“Liquor sales for the month of June surged more than 600 percent.”
The voice of the head of the management support office, delivering the June settlement report, was filled with excitement. Park Sang-kwon, listening from the head of the table, and the executives seated with him felt the same. In truth, the past month of June had been nothing short of madness for them. They had been forced to run the liquor factories around the clock to meet the enormous order volumes pouring in from nationwide direct dealerships.
“If we hadn’t stocked up on key ingredients like malt and hops in advance, we would have been left sucking our thumbs for lack of supply! The same goes for feed for beef cattle and poultry production! Our grain feed inventory is hitting rock bottom, but since the World Cup is over and we’ll be adjusting production, it won’t be a major issue. All of this is thanks to the president’s foresight!”
True to his status as Park Sang-kwon’s closest aide, the speech ended with boundless praise. That praise weighed heavily on Park Sang-kwon. The notion that the man was his closest aide belonged to the head of the management support office and the executives; Park Sang-kwon himself had never considered their relationship particularly special. When Park Sang-kwon seized control of Busan Group, he had purged every aide loyal to his half-brothers. The result was a simultaneous influx of outside talent and internal promotions of non-mainstream figures. The head of the management support office was the Cinderella story of those internal promotions. Like the saying that a scholar dies for the one who recognizes his worth, the man had served Park Sang-kwon with utmost devotion. Nearly ten years had passed, yet the relationship still felt awkward. Most crucially, the judgment that the 2002 World Cup would be a massive success had not been Park Sang-kwon’s own.
Park Sang-kwon enjoyed soccer more than most. While the English Premier League was only beginning to gain recognition in Korea, he had long been a dedicated fan who sought out matches on satellite TV. He had been overjoyed when Korea won the bid to host the 2002 World Cup, then disappointed by the news of a unified Korean team. He had placed fresh hope in the appointment of Coach Hiddink. Consequently, Park Sang-kwon’s most optimistic prediction had been advancing to the round of sixteen with one win and two draws in the group stage. Because Yoo Jae-won—who had placed him in his current position—had strongly urged him to do so, Park Sang-kwon had been able to issue the bold order to secure additional inventory. When the lid came off, the results were exactly as Yoo Jae-won had foreseen. Korea had swept through the group stage, then fought all the way to a penalty shootout against Germany in the semifinals before falling. They had even won the third-place match to claim the bronze medal. It had been an extraordinary performance. Even now, the World Cup still felt to Park Sang-kwon like a midsummer night’s dream. Yet the figures displayed on the screen were undeniably real.
“We cannot afford to relax yet.”
That was why he could deliver his next instruction with conviction.
“Pardon?”
“Now that the public has tasted the heavenly combination of chicken and beer, will they really stop ordering just because the World Cup is over? The chicken and beer markets themselves have expanded to an entirely different scale. It is time to build a system that can stably maintain the distribution volume we temporarily increased, rather than relying on stopgap measures.”
Thanks to Yoo Jae-won, Busan Group had ridden the World Cup wave successfully and was now doing everything it could to sustain that momentum. Busan Group was not the only Korean company to do so. Yoo-gyeong Group and TG Mobile were in the same position. The man who had made it possible for so many to catch the World Cup wave, Yoo Jae-won, had drawn a line under the event the moment it ended and moved on to new business.
Yoo Jae-won had returned to the United States, spending a single day at his San Francisco residence to recover from jet lag. Having immersed himself in the World Cup for the entire month of June and rested thoroughly, his body was brimming with vitality. Thanks to that, he had not simply lounged around the house in San Francisco; he had been able to play with his cat, DD, to his heart’s content—the cat he had neglected while enjoying the World Cup. After spending one day in San Francisco, Yoo Jae-won left the house to catch another flight.
“I’ll be back!”
“Of course you will! You can do anything, Jae-won!”
Tiffany, who still had vacation days left, had chosen to stay home. Instead, she sent him off with bright encouragement. Carrying Tiffany’s supportive buff, Yoo Jae-won’s final destination was New York—Rockefeller Center. In other words, NBC headquarters. Today, Yoo Jae-won’s task in New York was to present a new vision to NBC, where Ted Turner was enthusiastically sharpening his knives. Yoo Jae-won had announced that he would unveil NBC’s new vision for the first time in an official setting since acquiring the network, and interest had exploded. As a result, Rockefeller Center was packed with reporters. Interestingly, roughly one-third of them belonged to ID Group affiliates. This was because there were so many journalists from NBC itself, as well as from broadcasting stations, newspapers, and magazines under Time Warner Nextcom. Another third came from News Corp. The atmospheres of the two groups were polar opposites. ID Group-affiliated reporters were filled with anticipation, while those tied to News Corp radiated a sharp, blade-sharpening energy. Between them sat reporters from ostensibly neutral outlets, preventing the situation from sparking into open conflict.
In truth, not everyone affiliated with News Corp was particularly fond of Murdoch or regarded him as their superior. However, Ted Turner had repeatedly lumped Murdoch and News Corp together in his criticisms, and because they had been unable to refute or retaliate against the scandals Murdoch had caused, resentment had naturally accumulated. If Yoo Jae-won made even a minor mistake during his announcement—or if the public showed any sign of disappointment—they were fully prepared to tear into him for a long time to come.
“Just what is he planning to announce?”
Meanwhile, the ID Group-affiliated reporters were brimming with expectation. Whenever Yoo Jae-won created such a grand stage, he had always delivered shocks beyond imagination. That was why most netizens were already looking forward to IDDC 2002 next month. A new version of the Android operating system, next-generation Android smartphones, and major new releases from ID Entertainment—truly massive announcements were lining up one after another. NBC, on the other hand, remained a question mark. Everything Yoo Jae-won had shown so far had been in the IT sector; there had been almost nothing in broadcasting. The only notable successes were the massive hit of Timeflex and the supply of Time Warner content to Nextcom.
“We begin in three minutes!”
At the advance notice from Chief of Staff Kim Dae-seok, the noisy press corps fell silent. The three minutes that had felt both short and endlessly long finally passed, and Yoo Jae-won appeared on the prepared stage.
“When I decided to acquire NBC, many of you must have had questions. Even with the massive media empire of Time Warner already under our control, why acquire NBC as well?”
Some netizens who did not know the reason had even begun spreading conspiracy theories that he was swallowing media companies to bury unfavorable articles about ID Group and manipulate public opinion in his favor.
“The reason is simple. It is because there were so many fantastic stories I wanted to show our viewers.”
“You already control Time Warner. Is that not enough?”
One reporter immediately raised an objection to Yoo Jae-won’s answer. This freewheeling atmosphere was the American style. In some countries, even when reporters were explicitly invited to ask questions, most would not raise their hands. Here, however, most of the people present would blurt out their questions the moment a doubt arose.
“That is correct. Time Warner’s distribution network is quite solid. But it is not universal. Viewers must subscribe to paid cable, and for movies they must go to theaters. For newspapers, they can use Nextcom, but for proper articles they still need to receive the physical paper. I simply thought it would be better if far more people could see the stories I want to show you.”
This was not the time for a Q&A session. Yet he could not simply ignore the question, so he adjusted his remarks, gave a partial answer, and continued guiding the atmosphere.
“What I have emphasized again and again is that seeing something once is better than hearing about it a hundred times. So let me show you the story I have prepared.”
The stage setup for announcing NBC’s vision was similar to an IDDC presentation hall, except the prepared display had been upgraded by an entire dimension. Behind the podium hung the very object that had been the most striking feature in recent street-cheering news broadcasts. Originally, they had planned to use a high-resolution projector, but Yoo Jae-won had boldly brought in an Infinity Display more than ten meters wide. No matter how good a projector’s performance, it could never match an LCD in brightness and clarity.
-NBC, The NEW Horizons with ID.
Alongside NBC’s peacock logo, the title “New Horizons” appeared. Although Yoo Jae-won had acquired all shares and folded NBC into Time Warner Nextcom, he had decided to keep the logo and corporate identity intact. Instead, to make it clear that NBC was now part of the ID Group, the official policy was to use the ID logo alongside NBC’s on all official documents.
The opening of the prepared video material was quite serious. Even if NBC was struggling, it was still a major broadcast network spanning the North American continent. There was no room for excessive levity. Matters of public interest—securing media fairness and strengthening the news division—could never be emphasized enough, so they were presented first and given strong weight.
-Establishing customized programs for each generation so that NBC can truly belong to everyone.
The first, somewhat stiff and slightly tedious segment ended, and when the second segment—on which Yoo Jae-won had poured the most effort—began, the atmosphere reversed 180 degrees.
Thump! Thump-thump-thump!
With a majestic bass line and a heartbeat-quickening drum beat, a title no one had expected appeared.
“Huh? That’s—!”
It was the official title screen of Dragon Ball, the very anime and manga that people had enjoyed so much in the 1980s and 1990s. North American reporters had childhoods too. Dragon Ball had been one of the most popular comics not only in East Asia but also in the West, distributed through every medium from video rental stores to over-the-air broadcasts. Because it was such a deeply buried memory, the first reaction upon seeing the title screen was joy. Then, returning to reality, the reporters quickly cooled. It seemed NBC had acquired the Dragon Ball rights along with the network, but airing it again now would likely please only a small minority and generate little broader impact. The reason was the animation quality. Dragon Ball had been a manga whose anime rights were contracted even before serialization began. As a result, the anime had been produced without any buffer stock, and its quality was naturally very low. In animation, the TV version was generally the weakest, the video version was middling, and the theatrical version boasted the highest quality. Since at least one episode had to air every week, the key animation had to be rushed. Moreover, Japan’s long-standing tradition of low pricing, dating back to Astro Boy, had driven the visual quality even lower. At the time, this had been perfectly acceptable, but now it was questionable.
Yet the moment the Dragon Ball title screen faded out, the battle scene between Goku and Majin Buu began without warning, and everyone’s jaws dropped. On the enormous screen, Goku in Super Saiyan form appeared in full-body view, radiating an overwhelming golden aura storm.
“3D?”
It was clearly not the cel-animation look typical of conventional anime. The image was far too sharp and vivid, the colors far too brilliant. Yet it was qualitatively different from ordinary 3D. When people thought of 3D animation, they usually pictured Toy Story—immaculately clean frames without a single speck of dust, the very definition of hyperrealism. Applying that style to Dragon Ball would have felt deeply off. But the Goku shown on the massive Infinity Display carried none of that dissonance. It displayed the ultimate form of cartoon rendering optimized for Japanese-style animation production. It was as if a color manga page had been perfectly translated into an FHD animation.
The battle began immediately afterward. The scene showcased the greatest advantage of 3D: once an object was modeled, it could be reused endlessly. Compared to the old TV-version fight scenes, which now seemed unthinkable, a fluid, natural, and intensely exciting battle unfolded. Every time special techniques powered by ki erupted, the screen filled with fragments, particles, and lighting effects that could only be achieved through computer graphics.
“Dragon Ball RM will arrive in your living rooms this winter. And yes, it will be at exactly the quality you are seeing right now.”
RM stood for Remake. The announcement meant that Dragon Ball would be remade from beginning to end at the quality currently being shown. The production cost of an animation created entirely with computer graphics was beyond imagination. Moreover, unlike theatrical releases, TV series had weaker revenue-generating power, making such heavy investment seem unrealistic. If the quality displayed on the Infinity Display was this high, it would have been more sensible to release it as a movie. Yet the fact that they intended to produce a TV series at this level was astonishing.
Afterward, Yoo Jae-won also announced plans for Marvel and DC superhero dramas, seasonal drama adaptations of fantasy works such as The White Lion and The Exorcism Chronicles, the creation of large-scale audition programs like Producer: American Idol, and the production of high-quality documentaries.
“The budget prepared to open a new horizon for NBC is two billion dollars.”
It was a bold gamble that only Yoo Jae-won could make. The response was tremendous. Not everyone was convinced, however. Some experts criticized him for treating a broadcast network like a cable channel, arguing that simply pouring money into something did not solve every problem. Yet none of that reached the ears of netizens. Especially those who had grown up watching Dragon Ball in the ’80s and ’90s were in a festive mood. Many were even moved by the sight of someone spending billions of dollars purely on his own tastes without hesitation. Moreover, these were people who were highly active in the online world. The emotion they felt from Yoo Jae-won’s announcement was on an entirely different level from the “money swag” that had flooded SNS after the China Money incident. Calling it true swag, they did not hesitate to share posts summarizing the presentation. The SNS celebrities who had been caught in the crossfire tried to offer rebuttals, but there was no one anywhere capable of surpassing Yoo Jae-won’s performance.