The Glass Wallet
When September arrived and the sweltering heat of August had somewhat eased, Yoo Jae-won found himself humming the same tune every time he watched the latest news from Korea. “The stars are falling, shalalala!” He couldn’t help twisting the lyrics. After all, the headlines pouring out of Korea these days were almost entirely about stars plummeting from the sky.
—The Ministry of National Defense has decided to dismiss Major General Park Ha-il, who diverted ID Electronics donation items to his official residence. The scandal was shocking enough with twelve refrigerators, three washing machines, and six Bordeaux TVs installed in his quarters, but that was only the beginning. The National Military Reform Special Committee’s investigation uncovered far more: Park Ha-il subjected his official-residence orderlies to unspeakable abuse. Verbal abuse and physical violence were routine, and he even forced them to eat spoiled food. When they refused to obey, he sent the ones he disliked to the GOP. His disregard for human rights was appalling.
—The Ministry of National Defense demoted Park Ha-il to private and dismissed him—the harshest punishment it could impose. But his punishment did not end there. Yoo Jae-won, the National Military Reform Committee, and former orderlies who had served under him filed lawsuits, promising a difficult road ahead.
Park Ha-il was the very man who had listed Classe washing machines on Joonggonara. Lieutenant Jang Taek-su, who saw the listing, sent Yoo Jae-won a direct TokTok message, and both Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany had been furious enough to turn the Korean military upside down.
Generals like him were commonly called “shit stars”—officers who wore their stars for personal gain rather than national security. Among those shit stars, Park Ha-il had been the worst. Members of the National Military Reform Committee and even President Kim Dae-jung had been left speechless after visiting his residence. Though a major general’s quarters were not especially large, twelve refrigerators had been crammed inside—three commercial units and nine household models—along with three washing machines and a Bordeaux TV in every room. Every single appliance had come from Yoo Jae-won’s donations. Had Yoo Jae-won also donated refrigerators, those nine household units would surely have been swapped out as well.
Park Ha-il had replaced his old washing machine with a donated one and, apparently still unsatisfied, listed several units for sale on Joonggonara. Yet what shocked people even more was how he treated his orderlies. In Yoo Jae-won’s memories, the word “gapjil” had not even existed in 2002. No one had recognized the concept yet, so the term had never been coined. But after seeing the human-rights violations inflicted on those orderlies, the word came unbidden.
When the scandal first broke, Park Ha-il had been bombarded with criticism from every corner of the media and the public. The Ministry of National Defense acted with lightning speed, demoting him to private and dismissing him in the harshest possible manner.
—Furthermore, the Ministry of National Defense has disciplined Lieutenant General Yu Do-il, commander of the 5th Corps and Park Ha-il’s direct superior, with a one-rank demotion and a six-month pay cut for failing to supervise him properly. Commander of the 3rd Field Army Seo Nam-shin has also received a six-month pay cut. Park Ha-il did not go down alone. His superiors were dragged down with him. A corps commander wore three stars; a field-army commander wore four. Even they had been held accountable for command supervision and severely punished.
The penalties were heavy for the individuals involved, yet online many complained they were too lenient. Public outrage was at its peak, and no one in the Blue House or the National Assembly dared defend them. With the international community also watching the embezzlement of donated goods, the Ministry of National Defense had no choice but to impose the maximum punishment it could.
“Ah, this is satisfying.”
Watching the Bordeaux TV, Yoo Jae-won felt a deep, savory pleasure—as though he had just eaten a handful of sesame-seed candy, only far more delicious. Even real sesame candy could not have tasted this good.
“This is only the beginning. I’m going to shake them down to the last crumb.”
Tiffany, sitting beside him, was even more resolute. Demotion and dismissal were nowhere near enough for her. It was she who had instructed Kim & Jeong Law Firm to file both civil and criminal suits against the now-civilian Park Ha-il in Yoo Jae-won’s name. She had been receiving regular updates and demanded the harshest possible punishment.
“Of course. I have no intention of stopping here either.”
Yoo Jae-won agreed. Removing one Park Ha-il would not erase the military’s long-standing ills. This opportunity had to become the driving force for reforming the entire armed forces. Countless other shit stars like Park Ha-il were still hiding inside the military, merely holding their breath for now.
“I’m going to smash the whole rotten system.”
He had never imagined that an impulsive donation would grow into a full-scale military reform movement, but the outcome was undeniably fortunate. Yoo Jae-won had no intention of loosening the reins he had tightened.
Around the same time, President Kim Dae-jung was holding a private meeting with the Minister of National Defense at Cheong Wa Dae. A private audience with the president always invited speculation, so Kim Dae-jung had tried to minimize such meetings since taking office. Yet the current situation left him no choice.
“I’m sorry. I will take responsibility and resign.”
Minister of National Defense Shim Gil-jun could not lift his head. Just as Yoo Jae-won had predicted, once the investigation into Park Ha-il’s misconduct began, one corruption case after another came tumbling out like sweet potatoes clinging to a single vine.
“Listen, Minister Shim. Once you start something, you have to see it through, don’t you?”
President Kim Dae-jung immediately rejected the resignation. The veteran politician knew the real reason behind Shim’s offer: the upcoming hearings. The National Military Reform Committee had announced hearings on Park Ha-il’s case, the official-residence orderly issue, suspicious military deaths, and other long-hidden problems. Shim Gil-jun would be the one dragged before the National Assembly to be grilled by lawmakers. Not only him—senior Ministry officials and frontline generals would also face intense scrutiny. Although the ruling Democratic Party held a majority and could mount a defense, the coalition partner, the Unification National Party, was sharpening its knives. The Unification National Party commanded considerable seats and was determined not to let the matter slide. Most troubling of all was that Yoo Jae-won, the party’s behind-the-scenes power, was furious.
Even President Kim Dae-jung felt his head grow heavy whenever he thought of Yoo Jae-won. Military reform was never going to be easy. It had been only a few decades since the armed forces had pointed guns at the people. Investigations had also revealed that secret societies like the Hanahoe still existed inside the military—groups such as the Aljahoe and the Doksapa. Thanks to former President Kim Young-sam’s decisive dismantling of the Hanahoe, lawmakers could now probe military units without incident, and the possibility of a coup had become unrealistic. North Korea, once the military’s all-purpose shield, had also grown quiet recently. The controversial Gwangmyeongseong project was no longer an urgent threat; North Korea had suddenly responded positively to expanding the Naro project into a trilateral South Korea–North Korea–Russia joint development. Once the agreement was signed, a Naro space-launch-vehicle development center would soon be built near Sariwon, and concrete plans for gathering scientists from all three countries had already emerged. To President Kim Dae-jung, who knew North Korea’s ways well, trilateral development had seemed impossible—yet Russia’s proactive stance had accelerated everything. Top-secret intelligence available only to those inside Cheong Wa Dae suggested Russia had offered North Korea both carrots and sticks to join the project.
“Terrifying.”
A small seed of unease sprouted in President Kim Dae-jung’s heart. It stemmed from Yoo Jae-won, the man who had ignited this military-reform movement. Reform itself was not the problem; it was the right direction. What worried the president was the unsettling reality that one man now held Korea in the palm of his hand. Kim Dae-jung did not know Yoo Jae-won’s full background. All he saw was a genius who had risen to unparalleled heights and built unimaginable wealth from nothing. The taxes paid by ID Group and Yoo Jae-won personally were too large for even an advanced nation like Korea to ignore. It was not only taxes. Any major business in Korea inevitably connected to ID Group somehow. When the IT bubble burst along Teheran-ro, the situation had been frightening, yet new IT companies had sprung up like mushrooms after rain, injecting fresh energy into the Korean economy. Those companies all watched ID Group carefully, because Daekom, which monopolized Korea’s internet backbone, belonged to ID Group. When high-bandwidth services such as UCC video sharing launched, internet bandwidth fees became a decisive portion of their costs. Many companies also supplied content to or handled outsourcing for ID Group’s services. The groundbreaking navigation system on Android S2 had been built by a Korean venture company using maps developed for that very purpose.
A few years earlier, ID Group’s dominance had been limited to IT. Now its influence spanned every sector and had grown to an entirely different dimension. Fortunately, owner Yoo Jae-won’s character served as a model for others, so no major problems had arisen. He was in a completely different league from the industrial-era chaebols President Kim Dae-jung had dealt with—men who treated workers’ rights as worthless. Yoo Jae-won believed people came first. When Baekho Fund decided to sell Daeho Heavy Industries, the union had even staged protests demanding the sale be canceled. Moreover, unlike other chaebols, ID Group never sought special privileges, favors, or cover-ups for shady incidents. It was an extraordinarily unusual corporation.
“That is precisely why it is even more frightening.”
There was no lever with which to control it. When Yoo Jae-won made a demand as just and difficult as military reform, it was nearly impossible for the Blue House and the political world to refuse.
“This resignation letter will be treated as never having been submitted. Focus entirely on preparing for the hearings and the military-reform plan.”
President Kim resolved to use this opportunity to push through sweeping military reform. Criticism of the Korean military was pouring in from the political sphere, the entire nation, and even overseas. Although Yoo Jae-won had created the opening, military reform was clearly feasible. The real problem lay afterward. Until now, Yoo Jae-won had always acted with integrity. Therefore this matter, too, could be steered in a direction beneficial to the nation and the people. But what if Yoo Jae-won’s disposition changed? Even without imagining a drastic shift, simply picturing a clash between the Democratic Party and Yoo Jae-won left no good answer. The next presidential election was only months away. Extending the current administration’s power was the sitting president’s duty, which was why he had proposed a merger with the Unification National Party early on. Yet the Unification National Party had shown little interest; it would almost certainly field its own candidate. President Kim Dae-jung believed that candidate would be either Lee In-jae or Jeon Jae-jun. Their chances of winning were very high. Lee In-jae already possessed considerable presence, and Jeon Jae-jun had soared in popularity thanks to the World Cup. Should the Unification National Party take power, its ties with Yoo Jae-won would only deepen. The result would be absolute power surpassing even that of the past Ilsung or Mirae groups—an individual who single-handedly controlled an entire country. No matter how exemplary Yoo Jae-won’s character might be, such a situation was fundamentally undesirable.
“Heh… This is truly difficult.”
President Kim Dae-jung agonized over ways to check ID Group and Yoo Jae-won, but no solution emerged. The lack of an answer was so frustrating that he even wished, half-seriously, that he could peer inside Yoo Jae-won’s mind.
“A glass wallet would be perfect.”
Had President Kim heard those words, he would have been utterly deflated. Yoo Jae-won’s mind contained none of the grand schemes the president feared. The military had been overturned out of sheer anger, not as part of some vast conspiracy. From the Ministry of National Defense to the National Military Reform Committee, everyone was loudly debating reform measures, and the discussions were immediately reported in the press. After watching the coverage, Yoo Jae-won offered the simplest answer he could think of: glass wallets.
Having been the most transparent wallet in history himself, he understood the advantages better than anyone. Every modern problem ultimately stemmed from money. The reason shit stars prioritized filling their own pockets over national security was because money had become the supreme value. Then the solution was obvious: expose those flawed individuals by examining their assets. If a general’s wealth far exceeded what his legitimate income could explain, that was clear evidence of corruption. Since they were introducing the system anyway, why not expand it beyond the military to the entire civil-service sector? Turn the wallets of soldiers, civil servants, politicians—anyone considered a public figure—into glass wallets! If such transparency were actively reflected in promotion reviews and ministerial appointments, someone like Park Ha-il would never have been able to pin on two stars. Yoo Jae-won had already conveyed his intention to the Unification National Party. In other words, far earlier and in a far stronger form than before his regression, the so-called Glass Wallet Act was about to make its appearance in the world.