The Day After Global Standard
The day after the global standard announcement, Dream Entertainment made headlines across Korea with the launch of its new male idol group, TVXQ. The five-member supergroup had secured a staggering 3.5 billion won in contract fees, and every member had been personally selected by Chairman Yoo Jae-won. Their debut showcase was slated for as early as the end of December.
Korea’s news pages, previously dominated by presidential election coverage, were now flooded with stories about Dream Entertainment and TVXQ. The enormous contract sum caught everyone’s attention first, followed closely by the revelation that Yoo Jae-won himself had handpicked the entire lineup. The unfamiliar term “debut showcase” also sparked widespread curiosity.
Entertainment industry insiders were left speechless by Dream Entertainment’s bold move. The contract fees alone were staggering. Idol contracts rarely reached the hundred-million-won mark, yet each member was receiving 700 million won. On top of that, the very concept of a debut showcase was something most agencies could only dream of attempting. Building a fanbase for a freshly debuted group was no easy feat; normally, new idols had to scramble through events and variety shows just to gain traction. A showcase on the scale of a concert was unheard of.
This was where Dream Entertainment stood apart. The members had already cultivated a dedicated fandom during their trainee days, showcasing star quality that set them apart. The moment TVXQ’s formation was announced, temporary fan clubs sprang up online. Beyond the official fan club managed by Dream Entertainment, individual member fan clubs multiplied rapidly. Fans eagerly awaited the debut album release and showcase date, diving headfirst into their new obsession.
In response, Dream Entertainment created official social media accounts for each member, posting photos and short video clips to keep the momentum alive. Since the debut album had already been in preparation before the contracts were signed, teaser videos and promotional content would begin rolling out two weeks before the official debut.
Dream Entertainment had learned Yoo Jae-won’s internet-driven marketing strategies and had already proven their superiority with HxT. No other entertainment agency in the world could match their promotional prowess.
Next came reports on the Glass Wallet Law. With the presidential election looming, even the Grand National Party had shifted to support the bill, fearing public backlash for appearing lukewarm on reform. While the party had yet to formally adopt it as official policy, individual member surveys showed more support than opposition. Even conservative politicians understood that shielding a criminal organization that had brought global disgrace was not an option.
Only the Democratic Korean Party, many of whose members had served in the National Assembly since the military regime era, continued to fiercely oppose the bill, arguing that the sins of a few should not be used to condemn the whole. Their voices, however, were few. Passage of the Glass Wallet Law and the National Civil Service Act amendments was now only a matter of time.
“A refreshing start to the day.”
Perhaps it was the good news he had read that morning. A cold snap had frozen the ground overnight, yet Yoo Jae-won began his day with a warm heart. He completed his usual dawn workout without missing a beat and enjoyed a hearty breakfast. Staying at his family home, he ate in traditional Korean style—spicy doenjang jjigae with sliced cheongyang peppers and glistening freshly cooked rice that filled him with energy.
Tiffany had the same meal, though hers was a milder version without the cheongyang peppers.
“Those green peppers aren’t meant for human consumption! How do you even eat that?”
Determined to try what her husband was eating, Tiffany had taken a single piece of cheongyang pepper—and chaos ensued. It was the most intense spiciness she had ever experienced. Her fair face flushed red as beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
“It’s a variety our company developed to suit Korean tastes. Perfect balance.”
While peppers like jolokia or Thai chilies were hotter, cheongyang peppers delivered just the right level of heat for Koreans.
“Our company? You have a pepper company in your group too?”
“Ah, we have a seed company.”
Names like Punong, Daepung, and Heungnong came to mind. During the IMF crisis, these seed companies had faced bankruptcy and the threat of foreign acquisition, but Yoo Jae-won’s intervention changed everything. The White Tiger Fund had acquired them all for restructuring, and they had since been merged into a single seed company. The cheongyang pepper was one of their successes, rapidly gaining popularity for its distinctive heat. Other new varieties were also emerging—milder cucumber peppers, soft and plump cone peppers. Beyond peppers, the company was developing improved strains of strawberries, grapes, apples, lettuce, cabbage, and nearly every other crop. These advancements were boosting farmers’ incomes and would serve as a powerful shield against predatory multinationals like Monsanto in the future. Alternatively, acquiring Monsanto itself when it came on the market could demonstrate what true coexistence looked like.
“Wow. Just how massive is your group, anyway?”
Tiffany, learning about the seed company for the first time over breakfast, stared at him in astonishment.
“I’m not entirely sure myself.”
Yoo Jae-won scratched his head. Beyond ID Group, there was the White Tiger Fund, Shin-Nihon Investment Bank, and his personal angel investments—a considerable portfolio. The angel investments in particular were uncharted territory, spanning everything from mobile game developers to component material companies. He resolved to set aside time soon to organize his assets properly.
“Yeah! Don’t forget. By the way, what’s on the schedule today?”
“Let me check.”
Yoo Jae-won opened the scheduler on his Android smartphone. The app was linked to the secretariat’s system, automatically registering his appointments without manual input.
“Two major events. The cable network acquisition ceremony and the Digital Media Center opening ceremony.”
Meetings with game companies were also on the schedule, but those were solo affairs, so he didn’t mention them. Chief of Staff Choi Kang-wook was proving invaluable. It felt like only yesterday that Yoo Jae-won had asked him to handle the acquisitions of Ongamenet and Mnet23, yet the contracts were already prepared and ready for signature. Despite the lack of strict budget constraints, Choi had kept costs reasonable—400 billion won for Ongamenet and 600 billion won for Mnet23, totaling one trillion won. Adding one more entertainment channel would complete a media portfolio capable of dominating the younger demographic.
Market reaction, however, had been less enthusiastic. Dongyang Group, Ongamenet’s parent company, had been willing to sell not just Ongamenet but their entire cable division, including OCN, CatchOn, Baduk TV, and Tooniverse. Negotiations with Jeil Group, which owned Mnet23, had also gone smoothly. As the gloom of the IMF crisis lifted, the economy was recovering so rapidly that it almost felt like a boom. Yet cable TV growth remained sluggish. While the number of cable households was gradually increasing, it paled in comparison to the internet. When Choi Kang-wook offered generous acquisition prices, both networks had transferred ownership without hesitation.
“The media will turn out in force, won’t they?”
“Yeah. It’ll be quite the spectacle.”
Tiffany’s question wasn’t merely polite. After breakfast, her styling session began. For an official event, a suit was required, but not all suits were equal. Matching ties and shoes demanded careful attention, and Tiffany’s sense for these details was that of a professional stylist.
“Wow, my husband looks incredibly handsome dressed like this.”
Standing Yoo Jae-won in front of the full-length mirror in the outfit she had coordinated, Tiffany didn’t hold back her self-praise.
With preparations complete, the couple stepped out in high spirits to begin their schedule.
The acquisition ceremonies for Ongamenet and Mnet23 concluded swiftly and with minimal fanfare. Simply changing the owner’s name to Yoo Jae-won didn’t immediately translate into noticeable changes for viewers. Only after the new entertainment channel launched would a full-scale overhaul become apparent. Today’s events were little more than a formality marking the transition of ownership.
For the employees of Ongamenet and Mnet23, however, the change was immediate and tangible. All contract workers at both networks had been let go. Yoo Jae-won intended to completely overhaul the operations of Ongamenet, Mnet23, and the upcoming entertainment channel, moving away from existing practices and adopting American standards instead.
“We’ll call it the global standard.”
After the ceremonies, Yoo Jae-won appeared on the internal broadcast to announce that both networks would elevate their management practices to align with global standards. Both cable stations had less than ten years of history, and their operations had been haphazard at best. Mnet23 had almost no original programming beyond the weekly music show Shocking M. Half its content came from its partnership with MTV—foreign artists’ music videos and concert footage—while the other half featured Korean singers’ videos. The MTV partnership agreement had been the most valuable asset in the acquisition. Extended through 2005, it had significantly boosted the sale price. Yoo Jae-won viewed the remaining contract period favorably. While he planned to dramatically increase original programming, filling twenty-four hours of cable airtime entirely with in-house content was impossible. Using the MTV partnership to fill gaps with foreign artists was a practical solution.
Ongamenet was in better shape than Mnet23. With StarCraft as its flagship, it boasted the Star League and Star Team League—regular content featuring professional gamers—and a fiercely loyal fanbase. Additional leagues for domestic games like KartRider and FIFA World Cup existed, along with promotional shows and variety programs spun off from the Star League. In terms of original programming volume, it far surpassed Mnet23. Quantity, however, did not equal quality, and numerous issues plagued the organization. Non-standard practices had become entrenched as norms. Only PDs held permanent positions, writers were routinely overworked, production budgets were chronically insufficient, and salaries were often delayed. Even permanent PDs lived precarious lives dependent on viewership ratings.
These accumulated problems had eventually led to catastrophic missteps and self-inflicted damage at both networks. The executives, including the presidents, who had allowed and exacerbated these issues were all dismissed as Yoo Jae-won began his restructuring. The question remained: who would fill the void and instill the global standard? Yoo Jae-won had already selected Arthur Watson, the former president of NBC. Watson had led NBC before Ted Turner’s restructuring took effect. Though he had stepped down to take responsibility for NBC’s struggles, his capabilities were exceptional. No one was better suited to transplant the American broadcasting system to Korea. While a foreign president would have been impossible at a terrestrial network, cable stations faced no such restrictions. The real challenge was persuading a former U.S. network president to helm small Korean cable channels.
Yoo Jae-won had a plan. By merging Ongamenet, Mnet23, and the soon-to-launch entertainment channel into a single unified broadcasting system and adding an internet newspaper, he would create a proper media group. If Arthur Watson successfully implemented advanced global-standard systems in this new entity, Yoo Jae-won would offer him a chance at redemption—either returning to NBC or taking leadership of another ID Group affiliate. Watson had responded very positively.
Interestingly, the phrase “global standard” that Yoo Jae-won had used during the acquisition ceremony instantly became a buzzword. The term had briefly circulated in the mid-1990s just before the IMF crisis, but had faded into obscurity. This time, the atmosphere was different. The presidential election—the stage where politicians’ dreams were at stake—was right around the corner. Candidates with lofty ambitions were competing fiercely, each striving to present a distinctive vision. Public desire for sweeping away old corrupt practices and introducing new systems had grown stronger following the military corruption scandals that erupted after the World Cup. “Global standard” was a magical phrase that resonated deeply with the public, and presidential candidates began quoting it left and right. While some used it as empty rhetoric, many serious contenders genuinely embraced the concept. What had once been mere campaign promises was now becoming reality. Change had begun.