Giant Killer
The radio crackled to life with a smooth trot melody. Giant Killer—“Tomorrow night you’re gonna make love with me, ooh-ooh~” What was this? It was actually pretty good.
There was no doubt that what Yoo Jae-won had sent them was only a half-finished demo tape. Somehow they had reconstructed the full song almost identically. They didn’t have perfect pitch, so he couldn’t be certain every single note was flawless after one listen. The feel was slightly different in places. Yet the melodic flow and the lyrics gave him the unmistakable impression that they were remarkably close to the original. If he saw the sheet music, he could verify it properly. The synchronization rate was probably above ninety-five percent.
“This song is weird.”
Yoo Jae-won had been thinking the track was excellent, but Kim Dae-seok clearly had a different reaction.
“What’s weird about it?”
“The melody is nice, but the lyrics feel perverted. It’s basically saying he likes a woman who shows up for a date without even wearing makeup. And then it goes on about making love at night? It’s way too explicit to play in front of the boss. The person who wrote those lyrics definitely has some deviant tastes.”
“Heh. I suppose so.”
It was a strange sensation. After all, even though the song had come from knowledge he’d brought from his previous life, several of the lines were ones Yoo Jae-won himself had written. Using that foundation, they had produced lyrics almost identical to the original version.
What made it even more interesting was that Do Jin-ha had a similar black mark on his record a few years earlier. He had been caught in an affair with the wife of a high-ranking executive from a major corporation; the story had been splashed across the newspapers. Do Jin-ha himself had even spent a short stint in prison on adultery charges.
Come to think of it, that same conglomerate was a subsidiary of the Mirae Group led by Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon—the man he was meeting today. Mirae Construction, if he remembered correctly. A traditional enterprise that had grown alongside Korea’s modern history. They had built the Soyang River Dam and the Gyeongbu Expressway. During the seventies and eighties they had expanded overseas and ridden the Middle East construction boom.
A few years ago a highly capable executive had been president of Mirae Construction, only to become entangled in Do Jin-ha’s scandal, tender his resignation, and step down. The very person at the center of the controversy would now be sitting behind the president’s nameplate.
One song really can connect all the dots.
In any case, it drove home how intricately human affairs could intertwine. At the same time, it was fascinating, and it left Yoo Jae-won with a great deal to think about regarding that problematic figure. He certainly didn’t view Do Jin-ha, the man who had stolen a masterpiece, in a favorable light.
In truth, the song was originally his. Yet the fact that it could be released a full year earlier than in the original timeline was entirely due to Yoo Jae-won’s influence. Whether that early release would prove a blessing or a curse, even he couldn’t say. What he did know was that he had no intention of showing Do Jin-ha any further goodwill.
Besides Do Jin-ha, there are still two more people who haven’t responded, aren’t there?
He would have to keep a close eye on them as well. With that thought, Yoo Jae-won turned his attention to the notepad in front of him. On the sheet where he had been idly scribbling while listening to the radio, he boldly wrote “DO JIN-HA ×.” Below it he added the names of the two singers who had yet to reply. It wasn’t quite a kill list, but the people whose names appeared here would never again be able to expect any favor from Yoo Jae-won.
By then the car Kim Dae-seok was driving had entered Seoul. They passed the toll gate and headed toward Jongno District. Mirae Group’s headquarters stood in Gye-dong, a prime location between Gyeongbokgung and Changdeokgung Palaces. The imposing white fifteen-story building had been a genuine landmark even back in 1989.
“May I help you?”
As they entered the gate, a sharp-eyed security guard asked their business.
“ID Technology, President Yoo Jae-won. I have a scheduled meeting with the Chairman.”
Kim Dae-seok, now quite seasoned as the driver of the number-one car, responded without a trace of nervousness.
“Ah, yes. One moment, please.”
The moment they heard “Chairman,” the previously overbearing guards flinched. This was exactly why Kim Dae-seok enjoyed driving the number-one car every single day. This was the headquarters where the King Chairman of Mirae Group walked to work each morning. The guards practically worshipped the word “Chairman.”
He didn’t find it particularly impressive or enviable. Security conducted this way meant anyone who wanted to enter could. If they truly wanted to maintain security, they should install an intelligent system throughout the building and restrict access according to identity and clearance level. When the time came to build ID Group’s headquarters, he would incorporate proprietary security devices into that intelligent system so that industrial spies could never breach it.
“Confirmed. Please proceed directly to the lobby.”
At the guard’s words Kim Dae-seok nodded, gently pressed the accelerator, and drove slowly toward the lobby. As they approached, a small group emerged from the building. It was none other than the King Chairman himself—Jeon Myeong-heon.
Jeon Myeong-heon was the very picture of unpretentiousness. It had become tradition for him to walk the ten or so minutes from his nearby residence with his sons when coming to the office. If Ilsung symbolized the glittering opulence of a chaebol, Mirae was defined by a frugality that seemed almost out of place for a major conglomerate. In other words, while Ilsung would crunch numbers on an abacus and then turn away, Mirae would stubbornly push forward with ventures no one else had dared attempt.
Have you ever tried it yourself?
The famous words Jeon Myeong-heon had thrown at executives who tried to dissuade him when he entered shipbuilding and automobiles were legendary.
“Oh, it’s our Mirae Motors.”
Thanks to that, Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon greeted the car before he even acknowledged Yoo Jae-won stepping out of it. The Grandeur was Mirae Motors’ first flagship sedan. The blood, sweat, and tears that had gone into its development had become treasured memories for the Chairman.
Though he stood at the very top and hadn’t suffered quite as much as the working-level staff, the endless problems that had arisen during the joint development with Mitsubishi Motors had been genuine headaches.
“For anyone doing business inside Korea, there’s no more comfortable or reliable set of wheels than the Grandeur. Once people achieve even a modest level of success, they all end up wanting this car.”
Yoo Jae-won never mentioned that he had picked it up at a bargain price on the used market. Even if he had paid full price, he would have been satisfied. There simply weren’t any domestic vehicles that could compare—except for imports.
“Hehehe, so you’re saying you’ve succeeded now too.”
“Heh. Is that how the story goes?”
“You must be hungry. Let’s eat first. Tell the driver to join us.”
Jeon Myeong-heon was not the type to stand on ceremony. He made sure to include Yoo Jae-won’s driver, Kim Dae-seok, and led the way to the restaurant. Jae-won had half-expected the company cafeteria, but that wasn’t the case. Instead they walked about seven minutes from the headquarters to a seolleongtang place called Mansuok.
The party was modest: Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon, one executive secretary, Yoo Jae-won, and Kim Dae-seok—four people in total. The Chairman seemed to be a regular; they had a reserved table. No one bothered taking an order. The moment they sat down, bowls of steaming seolleongtang arrived one after another.
“Two orders of suyuk as well.”
Normally Jeon Myeong-heon ate only seolleongtang and left, but because Yoo Jae-won was present he had even ordered the boiled beef. It was probably all food to his own taste. Fortunately Yoo Jae-won possessed an adult’s palate; an ordinary child would not have enjoyed such fare. For the current Yoo Jae-won, however, it was perfect.
He mixed the kkakdugi broth with a generous spoonful of spicy seasoning, stirred in rice all at once, and took a large bite. Though they had barely walked a few minutes, the chill that had seeped into his bones melted away in the rich, warm broth.
“You certainly know how to eat seolleongtang properly.”
Watching Yoo Jae-won, Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon smiled contentedly and picked up his own spoon.
After a hearty lunch, Yoo Jae-won and Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon returned to the Mirae Group headquarters in Gye-dong. By then snow had begun to fall, turning Seoul pure white.
“With weather like this, we’ll have to postpone the Bukaksan hike until next time.”
Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon smacked his lips as he gazed at the snow-laden sky. The man had genuinely intended to go hiking. At least it wasn’t Bukhansan but Bukaksan—though even that course was notoriously difficult.
Thanks to the weather’s mercy, instead of standing on Bukaksan’s summit, Yoo Jae-won found himself in the warm chairman’s office, conversing comfortably with Jeon Myeong-heon.
“Ah, the reason I called you today was to place a few modest orders and ask for your advice.”
Orders and advice?
“That typing tutor called Keyboard Warrior. I hear it’s receiving quite a favorable response in the market. We’ll be placing additional orders shortly. All told, it should come to around twelve thousand units.”
Yoo Jae-won nearly gasped out loud. Compared to the American version, the Korean Keyboard Warrior 1.0 was noticeably inferior in visuals and gameplay. On the other hand, it was excellent for educational use and ran smoothly even on low-spec machines, making it an essential purchase for homes and schools.
Yet the idea that they would buy twelve thousand copies was astonishing. Mirae Information and Communication sold roughly one to two thousand computers per month—fewer than Sambo Computer. As a latecomer that had entered the electronics business last, that was only natural. Even so, absorbing twelve thousand units would take Mirae Information and Communication more than a year.
“Ah, we’re not buying them solely for our own use.”
What he meant was that this year the Ministry of Communications’ computer distribution project had expanded dramatically. The first half alone would see ten thousand units deployed. Since each computer classroom typically held forty machines, that meant supplying two hundred and fifty schools.
Moreover, unlike previous years, the specifications had risen sharply. Educational computers had once used the 8086 XT CPU as standard and came with green monochrome monitors. This time, however, 286-class machines with VGA cards and color monitors were the baseline, and some higher-end units would even include sound cards and speakers.
Using premium components naturally drove up the price per unit. Where an XT machine had cost around a million won, a 286 with a color monitor started at two and a half million or more. The margin percentage remained the same, but higher prices meant substantially greater profit. Computer companies were currently frantic, calculating estimates and pulling every string they could to participate in the Ministry project.
“The fact that the numbers have grown this large is all thanks to you.”
In other words, Yoo Jae-won’s complaint to the president during last year’s Businessmen’s Night—that the educational computer specifications were too low—had been taken to heart. Since these were educational machines, it was only logical that the standard bundled software should include the highly educational Keyboard Warrior. They had therefore designated it as a default bundle alongside MS-DOS.
Consequently, any company hoping to bid on the Ministry of Communications supply contract had to purchase the Keyboard Warrior typing tutor.
“So the entire Korean computer industry has decided to place a joint order with your company. That comes to twelve thousand units. We don’t yet know how many more we’ll need in the second half.”
“Thank you!”
Sales volume was always welcome. Although they had sold roughly 1.5 million units in the United States, that was possible only because it was America. Twelve thousand units in Korea was a significant figure. In Korean reality, it would be the mid-nineties before any title broke the hundred-thousand mark.
The ladies of Yeoju had been earning decent pocket money all winter break with their box-folding side jobs. It looked as though they wouldn’t run out of work anytime soon.
“In that case, since it’s a bulk purchase, I should offer you a discount, shouldn’t I?”
As Yoo Jae-won wondered how much to reduce the price, Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon smiled and continued.
“There’s no need.”
“Pardon? Why not?”
The question slipped out before he could stop it. Everyone knew Chairman Jeon Myeong-heon’s legendary frugality. His wife still shopped at the traditional market and cooked rice by hand. She even wore practical work pants around the house, and the bathroom still had cracked tiles. It wasn’t for show; it was simply the lifestyle they had maintained for decades, now set in stone.
This was the first time such a man had ever refused an offer of a discount.