The Inaugural Address

Yoo Jae-won sat among the distinguished guests, listening to the familiar yet subtly altered words echoing across the ceremony grounds.

It's the same beginning.

Yoo Jae-won was a man who carried the major events of the mid-21st century in his head. Most of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them concerned cutting-edge IT and advanced technology, but he had also memorized the inauguration speeches ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of South Korean presidents. The opening of President Roh Moo-hyun's address matched the data in his memory with one hundred percent accuracy.

But the differences soon began to appear.

The speech began to diverge from the moment it offered thanks to the distinguished guests in attendance. In truth, this was inevitable. The list of attendees had changed dramatically.

In the original timeline, the highest-profile foreign dignitary at President Roh's inauguration had been Japanese Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi. This time, however, Koizumi was absent. Japan had sent only its foreign minister instead.

The reason was simple: Yoo Jae-won was attending.

Japan was still mired in recession after extending its Lost Decade into a Lost Twenty Years following its second economic crisis. South Korea's economic growth rate—after recovering from the IMF crisis—was now higher. This was only natural. Thanks to its early, decisive investments in semiconductors and LCD technology, Korea had ridden the global wave of the IT revolution perfectly.

The results in semiconductors were particularly remarkable. Not only had Korea strengthened its traditional dominance in memory chips, but it was now achieving major breakthroughs in non-memory sectors as well—specifically in mobile application processors and CCD image sensors.

Yoo Jae-won had released the Mobile Android Operating System completely free of charge. Electronics and telecommunications companies worldwide were now pouring every resource into developing products compatible with mobile Android. What they all needed was the M-series processor.

Because it operated on a completely different architecture from ARM, producing compatible CPUs was impossible. This gave ID Electronics a complete monopoly. Companies placed orders for anywhere from one million to ten million units at a time. The largest orders, in the tens of millions, came from Chinese firms. They were buying the older M3 processors rather than the latest M4, aiming to create affordable devices for China's domestic market and squeezing every possible discount through bulk purchasing.

The cheap M3 chips became even cheaper with volume discounts, making them perfect for the Chinese market. ID Electronics' factory in Daejeon was already overwhelmed producing nothing but M-series chips, while memory semiconductors were being handled exclusively at the Suwon plant acquired from Ilseong Group.

Some were beginning to say that Korea's semiconductor industry had become too dependent on a single company—ID Electronics. Still, compared to the past when non-memory chips had been nothing more than a dream, this was several times better.

Nor was it only semiconductors. Korea was also soaring in the LCD market. Thanks to early investment by Keumseong Electronics, the company had perfectly caught the wave as displays shifted from CRT to LCD technology.

Japan, by contrast, had been almost completely left behind in the IT revolution. Despite owning the original technologies for both semiconductors and LCDs, conservative investment decisions had caused them to fall behind. Those "original technologies" had now become outdated anyway, surpassed by newer innovations.

The one area where Japan still held the top global position was secondary battery technology. The built-in rechargeable batteries used in Android smartphones came from Sanyo Electric, which boasted the world's highest performance. This had allowed Sanyo to benefit from the mobile Android development boom, with orders flooding in from around the globe.

However, if one looked deeper, Sanyo's largest shareholder was Shin-Nihon Investment Bank—which was a subsidiary of ID Investment. So while Sanyo was technically Yoo Jae-won's company, the Japanese media deliberately omitted that fact and proudly touted it as a great Japanese enterprise.

Japan's cornered media outlets did not hesitate to name ID Investment—and its owner, Yoo Jae-won—as one of the primary culprits behind the second economic crisis. In reality, the myth of Japan's proud craftsmanship had collapsed with the Kobe Steel scandal, which triggered the economic crisis. Yoo Jae-won and George Soros had merely accelerated the fall of an already crumbling Japanese economy. Later, speculative capital from around the world had descended like vultures to strip away the economic achievements Japan had built over decades.

Japanese politicians and business leaders, desperate to hide their own failures, had intentionally created an enemy and focused their attacks on the easiest target: Yoo Jae-won. Leading this charge were members of Japan's Liberal Democratic Party. It was therefore perfectly natural that Prime Minister Koizumi, the LDP leader, had canceled his attendance.

They still haven't come to their senses.

That was how Yoo Jae-won summarized the current state of Japan. The solution to any problem begins with an accurate understanding of reality. By focusing solely on assigning blame, Japan was making it increasingly unlikely that it would ever regain its sanity.

While Yoo Jae-won was momentarily lost in thought, President Roh's speech had reached the topic of the Northeast Asian Hub Initiative. Looking at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠content closely, the message of consolation regarding the Daegu subway disaster had disappeared, replaced by an earlier appearance of the Northeast Asian Hub theory.

The reason the Daegu subway disaster had vanished was, of course, due to Yoo Jae-won's intervention. He had dealt with the perpetrator long before the incident could occur. The man deserved to be thrown into hell, but Yoo had not killed him. Instead, the ID Foundation had offered the man—who suffered from stroke symptoms—an opportunity for treatment. By hospitalizing him in a Seoul hospital for treatment, the disaster had been prevented.

Part of him had wanted to give the man half-hearted treatment and let a stroke recurrence kill him, but the treatment was being carried out properly. It was something no one would ever know about, but Yoo felt a clear sense of pride in having done the right thing.

In any case, the removal of the Daegu subway disaster from the speech had allowed the Northeast Asian Hub Initiative to appear much earlier.

Will it be possible this time?

The fact that Yoo's thoughts began with "this time" showed that it had been an unachieved goal in his previous life. China had been problematic in its own way, and so had Japan. Moreover, the Korean Peninsula had been unable to leverage its position as a bridge due to the North Korea discount. But now, the possibility of establishing itself as a Northeast Asian hub was significantly higher than before the regression.

First, the situation with North Korea—the worst variable—had improved dramatically. The declaration of the end of the Korean War had ended the state of confrontation. North Korea had suspended its nuclear development program and was maintaining its commitment to the NPT. The light-water reactors had been properly installed and were supplying high-quality ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠electricity across the entire country. Economic cooperation with South Korea was also proceeding smoothly.

That was why Chairman Kim Young-nam was present at this very ceremony.

The light-water reactors had become an icon symbolizing a new era for the Korean Peninsula. Not only had stable electricity supply dramatically changed daily life in North Korea, but the reactors would soon produce their first batch of spent fuel rods. Those rods were to be temporarily stored in North Korea before being transferred to a radioactive waste facility in South Korea once storage reached capacity. The fact that U.S. forces had agreed to guard the temporary storage site carried enormous implications.

The justification was clear. The light-water reactors had been built in exchange for North Korea halting its nuclear program. There was no way to object to American participation in spent fuel management when the risk existed that North Korea might break its promises and attempt reprocessing.

In this atmosphere, one organization was receiving renewed attention: the East Asia Strategy Institute, the think tank Yoo Jae-won had established in the early 1990s. In its report Rising China, which warned of China's growing power, the institute had discussed the possibility and utility of U.S. military presence in North Korea. Originally, the plan had called for stationing troops on the Kaema Plateau. Now, guarding the spent fuel storage site had become the first realistic step toward that vision.

Events that had once been unimaginable were becoming reality, and the fact that the institute had predicted them early had caused its value to skyrocket. Unfortunately, the guard force for the temporary spent fuel storage site was small—no more than a single company. Moreover, the temporary waste storage facility was being built on the east coast, far from the Kaema Plateau.

Still, the mere presence of U.S. troops in North Korea was an enormous development, carrying equally enormous meaning. The value of the Korean Peninsula was being newly highlighted within America's global strategic framework. If China or Russia were to challenge the United States again, the peninsula's strategic value would rise even further.

Therefore, the Northeast Asian Hub Initiative that President Roh was currently advocating had a very high chance of success.

Yoo Jae-won nodded at President Roh's continuing words. He fully agreed with the diagnosis that the concrete path to becoming a Northeast Asian hub lay in strengthening national power.

In fact, the Korean Wave had only begun to explode after Korea's economic power had reached the world's top tier. The foundation for building that economic strength had been reform. As long as major thieves still lurked within the country, any hard-won economic growth would stagnate instead of spreading throughout society.

Polarization had not yet become a major social issue in Korea. In the previous timeline, the IMF bailout system had created a massive non-regular workforce under the banner of "labor market flexibility." This time, thanks to Yoo Jae-won's intervention, one of the things they had managed to protect was the regular workforce.

The problem will be the backlash from those so-called "leaders of society."

President Roh had boldly demanded "painful self-reflection from the leaders of society" right from his inauguration ceremony. The period when elected power held the greatest strength was during the transition committee and immediately after the inauguration. It was a time when one could drop a bird from the sky with sheer authority. But afterward, that power would steadily decline.

President Roh would make several political mistakes that would erode presidential authority to the point where his orders barely carried any weight. As a result, every reform effort would face fierce resistance. The very "leaders of society" he had mentioned would unite in opposition, preventing anything from being properly implemented.

Yoo Jae-won hoped it would not turn out that way this time. If President Roh became a failed president, Yoo would have that much more work to do.

What was interesting was that if one ranked the "leaders of society," there was probably no one in Korea higher than Yoo Jae-won himself—yet he felt neither pride nor even much awareness of belonging to that group.

The timing is better than ever this time.

As President Roh's inauguration speech approached its final passages, Yoo Jae-won's mind was spinning rapidly. Various variables rose and fell in his thoughts as he calculated the likelihood of the Roh Moo-hyun administration's success.

The overall outlook was very positive. Both North Korea and the United States were favorably disposed toward South Korea. The American president was not the problematic George W. Bush but Al Gore, whose re-election seemed likely. The Iraq civil war was an issue, but since Europe and Russia were already getting involved, the chances of it escalating into a full Middle East crisis were low.

The domestic situation was also good. The conservative forces had split into two parties: the Grand National Party and the Democratic Korean Party. The Daehan Ilbo, which had served as the conservatives' compass and loudspeaker, had been shattered by Yoo Jae-won. While the company's remaining assets continued operating hotels and resorts, all its daily, weekly, and monthly publications had gone bankrupt.

The National Assembly situation was also favorable. The Democratic Party was the largest party, having recently formed a coalition government. Although the United Liberal Party had experienced a split, together they still held a majority. The once-unreliable military had also been considerably cleaned up. Former President Kim Young-sam's purge of the Hanahoe faction had removed the biggest source of instability, and former President Kim Dae-jung's establishment of civilian control had allowed the president to exercise clear personnel authority.

The embezzlement of World Cup donation goods the previous year had further accelerated military reform. The Alja Association and Doksa faction—which had entrenched themselves in the military even after Hanahoe—had been completely exposed and dismantled by the Gongsucheo. Not only active-duty members but also retired personnel had been indicted. The most striking case was the death penalty sought against General Kwon Hang-ju, the active-duty chairman of the Alja Association. The Doksa faction was no exception.

Promising talents had been sent abroad for training, only to form their own private organizations. All such individuals had been dishonorably discharged and punished according to the criminal code. While a prosecutor's recommendation did not equal a final sentence, the message was clear: the military could no longer engage in politics.

With even the final risk factor—the military—cleaned up, it was no exaggeration to say that the difficulty of governing had dropped from hellish to merely difficult. With the additional cheat key known as Yoo Jae-won, the success probability of the Roh Moo-hyun administration was very high.

That didn't mean there were no concerns. There were the so-called "post-unification negotiators" within the Democratic Party who had forced President Roh to accept a single candidacy. There was also the faction centered around the People's Coalition for Democracy and Peace—a powder keg of democratization movement forces that could explode at any moment. On top of that, Yoo Jae-won judged President Roh's anti-authoritarian tendencies to be a significant negative factor in state administration.

I suppose I'll have to request a private meeting.

The word "private meeting" finally left Yoo Jae-won's lips. After all, this President Roh was still the man he remembered.

The decisive factor in reaching this conclusion had been the inauguration speech that had just concluded. Although there were differences from the previous timeline, it matched what Yoo remembered more than ninety percent. Therefore, it was not difficult to predict that President Roh's future actions would be similar to before.

And since those previous actions had ultimately led to failure, Yoo Jae-won decided to take action the moment the inauguration ceremony ended.