The Empire Strikes Back

Knock knock!

“Boss, it’s Ellen.”

Ellen, the head of the U.S. legal department, arrived at the flagship store office right on cue. When she presented her bar card, Agent Anna’s face tightened with visible anxiety.

“I see,” Ellen said after listening to Yoo Jae-won’s explanation. She nodded, quickly grasping the situation. When he mentioned that he would hand over the decrypted password once the warrant arrived so the suspect’s diary could be examined, she let out a string of admiring remarks.

“Your decision was the best possible one, sir. I’ll take care of everything from here.”

Her reply was reassuring.

“Good. Please handle it well, Director Ellen.”

With that, Yoo Jae-won had nothing left to do in this room. Agent Anna looked as though she wanted to say more, but her mouth only opened and closed without a sound. Just moments earlier she had been speaking freely, yet the presence of a lawyer made her instinctively cautious with her words.

“Well then, I’ll be going.”

Yoo Jae-won, who had been seated at the computer, brushed his hands together and stood up. Remington followed him like thread trailing a needle. Ellen gave them both a steady, reassuring smile as they left. Agent Anna, still fidgeting anxiously, was a pitiful sight, but Yoo Jae-won had nothing more to say to her.

“Boss, I’m impressed all over again.”

On the way to the parking lot through the back door of the office, Remington gave Yoo Jae-won a thumbs-up.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you were only good with computers. This is the first time I’ve seen someone facing the FBI for the first time stay this calm without even having a lawyer present at the start.”

“Doesn’t everyone handle it this way?”

“Not at all. The moment that FBI badge appears in front of them, most people freeze solid. On top of that, those two agents were practically saying that if we didn’t cooperate, we’d be letting a murderer walk free. Holding your ground in a situation like that isn’t easy.”

Yoo Jae-won nodded at the praise. It was true. As a bonus, he also confirmed once again that Remington had zero goodwill toward the FBI. If this had been his first time in such a situation, he might have been swept along and offered illegal cooperation, just as Remington suggested. But in his previous life he had experienced something similar amid all its ups and downs. He had cooperated in good faith, only for it to come back and bite him later. Because no warrant had been issued at the time, he hadn’t even been able to prove his cooperation had been voluntary. He still remembered how furious he had been. Even now, the memory made his blood boil.

“No need to butter me up. Once you think about it logically, it’s simple. A suspect is just a suspect. You can’t violate their privacy.”

“Exactly.”

“Though if this had been any country other than the United States, I’m not sure I could have done the same.”

The fact that Agents Skinner had gone to obtain a warrant was only possible because America was a nation governed by law. In a country like Korea, still under military rule where forces stronger than the law held sway, this kind of response would have been impossible. A single word from someone powerful like the president could settle everything, and Yoo Jae-won himself was currently benefiting from the president’s favor in his business dealings. If he displeased the president, he would have to accept the consequences. Besides the president, there were plenty of others who wielded influence. For now they were watching quietly because he was still growing, but once they decided ID Technology had fattened up enough, they might bare their sharp teeth. Until he became a true predator, the best course was to navigate crises with artistic tightrope walking. At least, the more presence he built in the United States, the harder it would be for Korean power brokers to act arbitrarily.

Upon reaching the parking lot, Remington guided Yoo Jae-won toward a gleaming black Lincoln Continental. The U.S. branch also kept a Mercedes for official use, but it was currently assigned to his parents, so he had come in his personal car.

“A Lincoln Continental. Nice car.”

“Thanks to you, Boss, I could buy it without any burden. Where to?”

“All external schedules are finished, so now we head to the hotel where my parents are staying.”

Although an unexpected incident had interrupted the flagship store opening, the rest of the U.S. itinerary remained on track. The store opening had been a success, and now it was time to spend time with his parents—while also refining the plan for the hacking competition he had thought of earlier.

Two days later. These were the headlines on the newspaper delivered by room service. As the titles suggested, Skinner had returned with the search warrant. Ellen reviewed the warrant carefully before handing over the slip of paper with the password. By then, the deadline for the forced detention was nearly up. Fortunately, the diary contained clear evidence of the crimes, and the suspect was identified as the perpetrator and arrested.

Half the article praised the FBI’s newly adopted profiling technique. “What? Games and novels?”

Yet something about the article felt oddly familiar. Whenever an incomprehensible crime occurred, innocent cultural content was always dragged in as the culprit. It seemed games and novels had already become society’s favorite punching bag. If they had caught the killer with profiling, they should have praised profiling. How could they drag in games and novels that had nothing to do with it? And not just any newspaper—this was the Los Angeles Times.

At least they hadn’t mentioned the specific game title Keyboard Warrior. It was software that had pioneered educational gaming, but if someone wanted to nitpick, it could easily be linked. Even though the enemies were zombies, they exploded into pieces, and blood splattered depending on the player’s attacks.

The article clearly had an agenda. It endlessly glorified the FBI’s achievement in catching the killer while blaming brutal content for creating such an inhuman serial murderer. Analyzing society, environment, or human relationships was difficult and boring, so many articles simply emphasized the sensational angle.

“I suppose I’ll have to make the first move.”

After reading the article, Yoo Jae-won immediately called Remington.

“Remington speaking.”

“Vice Chairman, it’s me.”

“Yes, Boss! What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen the LA Times article? I think we need to put out an article of our own.”

They needed a piece that would remind everyone that ID Technology had made the decisive contribution to catching the killer. It should note that even though the diary was merely an appendix to the game, it had been protected by encryption so strong that even the FBI couldn’t crack it. It should also state that, thanks to the search warrant provided by the FBI, ID Technology had cooperated and uncovered the crucial clue that led to the suspect’s arrest. As a bonus, it should boast that ID Office contained an encryption system far more powerful than that, one no hacker, no matter how skilled, could ever break.

“Understood. I’ll do my best.”

Yoo Jae-won wasn’t sure whether even America’s famous newspapers would publish articles that only contained what a company wanted. If a paper was run by journalists with real integrity, it would be difficult. But there would surely be reporters who disliked seeing the FBI succeed, and others curious about how the investigation had actually been conducted. If he found the right journalist with that kind of inclination and explained things properly, an article might still appear.

“I hope it draws plenty of aggro.”

The core of the article would be that even the FBI had failed to crack Keyboard Warrior’s encryption. And ID Office possessed an encryption system several dimensions higher, one that no hacker, no matter how great, could break. Usually, when someone made such a bold claim, they got hacked spectacularly. Plenty of hackers would step forward to try. He wouldn’t stop at just one article—he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would flood the media until it felt like a deliberate PR campaign. Once he had stirred up maximum aggro, he would announce the hacking competition with the largest prize in history!

“Heh heh. This should ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be fun.”

Yoo Jae-won smiled contentedly, like the mastermind behind a grand conspiracy.

The trip to America had been enjoyable. What left the strongest impression was Stanford University. The campus was so enormous it felt like its own city. It was the second-largest university in the world and the largest in the United States, spanning 3,300 hectares—eleven times the size of Yeouido, roughly the area of Seoul’s Songpa District. Walking the entire campus would take a full day. During the Stanford tour they had ridden the campus bus called Marguerite. The grounds weren’t just vast; they were filled with well-placed buildings and beautifully landscaped gardens that gave the place a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠resort-like atmosphere. The classic buildings with red roofs and pale yellow bricks blended harmoniously with palm trees and other greenery. Though it was summer break and there weren’t many students around, the campus still felt lively.

What pleased him most was that Rodin’s works were scattered throughout the sculpture garden, the main quad entrance, the library, and various other locations. Masterpieces like The Gates of Hell, The Thinker, and The Burghers of Calais stood there as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Even his parents, who had only ever heard of Harvard or Yale as prestigious American universities, changed their minds after touring the campus and directly experiencing Silicon Valley’s influence. If he later announced he wanted to attend Stanford, they probably wouldn’t insist he go to Seoul National University instead, claiming they had never heard of this so-called Stanford.

The rest of the schedule went smoothly as well. As if the FBI incident had been some kind of bad-luck charm, everything proceeded without the slightest mishap. After the Stanford tour, they visited San Francisco’s famous landmarks such as the Golden Gate Bridge and Golden Gate Park. Then they moved on to Los Angeles, where they went to Disneyland and attended an LA Dodgers game in person. Though they didn’t know any of the players, the game itself was entertaining enough. As the world’s premier baseball league with the richest history, Major League Baseball offered a level of play that couldn’t be surpassed. His father and uncle, both lifelong baseball fans who had followed the sport since high school baseball’s heyday in Korea, were especially thrilled. Even after professional baseball launched in Korea, they had never been able to visit a stadium in person because of work and distance—they had only ever watched on television. Like Yoo Jae-won, they didn’t recognize many Major League players, but they knew the rules well enough to enjoy the game. They collected plenty of autographs, from stars like Orel Hershiser and Fernando Valenzuela, who had led the Dodgers to the World Series victory the previous year, to manager Tommy Lasorda. If they gathered all of them, it would make a complete 1989 LA Dodgers autograph book. Getting signatures from some players was easy, but getting them from everyone had only been possible because of the extremely expensive VIP tickets.

The final stop of the American trip was a Grand Canyon tour. While viewing it from the famous lookout points was impressive, chartering several helicopters and flying through the canyon was an entirely new experience. It felt as though they were entering an artistic masterpiece shaped over eons, and a sense of majestic awe washed over them. However, when they tallied the total cost on the last day of the trip, that awe wavered slightly. It hadn’t been a solo trip—more than twelve people including parents and relatives had traveled together, and everything from lodging and meals to activities had been top-tier, so the expenses had naturally ballooned. Yoo Jae-won resolved never to show the final bill to his parents, whose sense of money was far stricter than his own.

After finishing the luxurious American trip, Yoo Jae-won and his parents boarded their flight back to Korea on August 22nd. On the day they flew out, they did nothing but shop. His parents and relatives bought souvenirs to give to acquaintances back home, while Yoo Jae-won purchased computer parts that matched his own skills and interests.

They returned to Korea’s Gimpo International Airport on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the 23rd, successfully concluding the trip. For several days after his return, things remained quiet. Then, on the 26th, a world-shaking event suddenly erupted.