Fireworks, Choices, and the Vice Chairman’s Answer
Crunch, crunch.
I was on my way to take a photo with the girl who’d been chosen by vote as “Girl No. 21” in the Western Painting department.
“······.”
“······.”
Neither she nor I said a word. Not from the fifth floor elevator ride down, not until we stepped out of the resort lobby and onto the street.
The reason I wasn’t talking to Girl No. 21—was it Han Seol-a?—had nothing to do with nerves or excitement.
I was thinking about what Zero had just said: Seongsam Electronics and Google’s OS contract.
If Seongsam Electronics really does invest in Another Technology’s applications the way I expect it to, what should I ask for? I don’t need money.
Apple had offered me thirty million dollars in the name of “technology,” but I’d turned it down.
Instead, I’d had FreeChat installed by default on Apple phones and secured concessions like access to Apple’s APIs and reduced App Store fees.
In the short term, it wasn’t worth as much as thirty million dollars. But a few years down the line, the things I’d squeezed out of Apple would be worth hundreds of millions.
Still, Seongsam doesn’t really have anything like that.
The Android Seongsam would use was open, unlike Apple’s system.
Which meant API access was already open; I didn’t even need to ask for it.
Hmm. Getting FreeChat preinstalled on Seongsam’s smartphones would definitely be worth asking for. That alone has value. I could also have them negotiate reduced fees for Google’s app marketplace, the Play Store, on my behalf. That way, I wouldn’t have to bicker with Google directly.
But asking only for that felt lacking somehow.
I needed to get at least as much out of Seongsam as I had out of Apple—no, more.
What else is there?
Something Apple couldn’t do for me, but Seongsam could.
There had to be something.
Seongsam currently makes the world’s best memory semiconductors. As my apps grow bigger and bigger, Amazon’s cloud servers alone won’t be enough, so asking them to build and manage physical data servers for me might not be a bad condition.
Crunch, crunch.
Lost in thought, I kept walking toward the resort entrance with Han Seol-a.
Tomorrow I’ll go back home, and after that I’ll need to focus on business again. Soon I’ll be starting university too, so campus life is going to keep me busy in all sorts of ways.
There still wasn’t a single word between Han Seol-a and me.
And then it happened.
Whoosh—boom!
Beyond the resort, probably from another hotel, fireworks blossomed into the sky.
Thud.
“Ah······!”
Han Seol-a, who’d been walking silently beside me, suddenly stopped in her tracks.
Then she stared blankly upward at the fireworks bursting in the distance.
Han Seol-a.
She stole a sideways glance at Kim Dohyun, who was walking with her in silence to carry out the game mission—or perhaps the punishment.
“······.”
He seemed to be thinking about something all by himself.
As if he didn’t care about her at all.
Hmm······.
At first, the silence had been nice.
It would be easier just to take the picture and head back.
But still—when the two of them were walking alone together, and he showed absolutely no interest in her, she couldn’t help frowning a little.
He’d been laughing and chatting so easily at the drinking table earlier, so she’d assumed he was talkative. It was a little annoying that he’d fallen into his own thoughts the moment they were alone.
Still, better than being too talkative. Better than noisy.
While Han Seol-a was thinking,
Whoosh—boom!
Another firework rose in the distance.
Seeing it, Han Seol-a stopped without realizing it and stared.
“Ah······!”
A dazed sound escaped her mouth. In the cold late-night air of February in Gangwon, her breath turned white.
Whoosh—boom!
······Pretty.
It wasn’t more dazzling or beautiful than the fireworks she’d seen as a child at the amusement park.
No people in cute animal costumes wandered around, and it wasn’t nearly as noisy as back then, either.
But maybe because she was seeing fireworks after so long, they were really beautiful.
She was still staring blankly at the next burst when Kim Dohyun spoke from behind her.
“Pretty, aren’t they?”
“······!”
Only then did Han Seol-a realize she’d been standing there like a little kid, staring at fireworks.
“Do you like fireworks?”
“I······ well, yes.”
She cleared her throat, suddenly embarrassed at having been quietly fixated on them, and answered without looking at Kim Dohyun.
“······Sorry for stopping so suddenly. Let’s keep going.”
“What’s the harm? If you want to look, then look.”
“······.”
“There’s a bench nearby, so we can sit and watch.”
At his suggestion, Han Seol-a thought for a moment.
Then she slowly nodded.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen fireworks······.
She wanted to watch a little longer, properly this time.
Tap.
Han Seol-a sat on the nearby bench, and Kim Dohyun sat a little farther away.
Whoosh—boom!
As fireworks rose, burst, and vanished, the two of them said nothing.
After quite a long time of silence, Han Seol-a glanced sideways at Kim Dohyun.
“······.”
Kim Dohyun was looking at where the fireworks were bursting. But he seemed to be thinking about something else.
Obviously, it had nothing to do with her.
······For some reason, Han Seol-a felt irritated.
Rustle.
Was it because of Kim Dohyun’s indifference? She took a cigarette from her inside pocket.
She put it to her lips and asked him, “Do you smoke?”
If he did, they could share one.
“I quit.”
How annoying.
“Then I’ll smoke. You don’t mind, right?”
“No.”
As if it really didn’t matter at all, Kim Dohyun even draped one arm over the bench back now.
His posture was less like a college student’s and more like some middle-aged uncle’s.
Huff.
Smoking in silence, Han Seol-a started speaking slowly, perhaps because the quiet was bothering her.
“······You’re really good at soccer. Were you a player or something? Back in high school?”
“A player?”
“Yeah. I don’t really know much about sports, but you were completely toying with everyone out there, so I figured you must’ve trained as one.”
Kim Dohyun smiled faintly and shook his head.
“No. I just played a bit sometimes during gym class.”
“Just sometimes in gym class······.”
Han Seol-a trailed off, then continued.
“Doesn’t that make you regret it? If you could do that much just in gym class, wouldn’t you have really become a player if you’d actually trained?”
“I don’t know. I don’t really feel like I’m missing out.”
He was really annoying.
“Why not? Han Seol-a······ that sounds weird. Should I drop the honorifics?”
“You can. I’m a year younger.”
“All right.”
He switched to casual speech so naturally it was almost absurd.
“You seem like you’ve got something you regret, though. Something you missed out on.”
“······Something I missed out on?”
“Yeah. The way you said that makes it sound like you’re hung up on something.”
“······?”
At that, Han Seol-a turned to look at him without thinking.
It felt like he had read her mind.
It’s not like we’ll ever see each other again after today anyway.
Since they’d never meet again, and since she’d had some alcohol, Han Seol-a found her mouth loosening up with the buzz.
“I didn’t want to come to university. I didn’t want to do art, either.”
“You got into the art department at Hankuk University, and you didn’t want to do art?”
“No. I liked drawing, but······ university art felt different. My mom made me.”
“What did you want to draw?”
“Huh?”
“I’m saying your mother made you do art, so that part couldn’t be helped. What did you want to draw?”
“What I wanted to draw······.”
Han Seol-a paused slightly.
It was embarrassing. This was the first time she’d ever met him, and he didn’t even seem that interested in her, yet here he was asking about something like this.
Still, since she’d come this far, she decided to say something she’d never told anyone before.
As she’d thought earlier, after today she and Kim Dohyun would never have any reason to see each other again.
“······Manga and characters. I almost signed contracts with an online publisher and a character company, actually. My mom opposed it, so I couldn’t.”
“Manga and characters?”
“Yeah. You can laugh and call it childish if you want.”
Everyone did.
“It’s not childish.”
“Huh?”
“What’s childish about drawing manga or characters? It isn’t childish at all.”
“······.”
“In my experience, people who call something another person likes childish usually do it because they can’t do it themselves, so they try to put it down. People are naturally jealous of other people’s dreams and passions.”
“Ah······.”
“Manga, characters, university art—whatever it is, having something you truly like is impressive. Most people don’t even know what they like until they’re in their forties.”
As Kim Dohyun kept talking, Han Seol-a found herself staring at him.
Then he gave an awkward laugh.
“Haha, wow, I just said all that and sounded like some kind of grown-up, didn’t I? We’re only a year apart.”
“No······ it’s not like that.”
Looking at Kim Dohyun smiling at her, Han Seol-a averted her eyes slightly.
It was the first time she’d ever looked away from someone’s gaze like that since her father died—the father who used to take her to the amusement park when she was little.
He’s different from the other guys. It’s not like he’s slick or anything, it’s more like······.
He felt mature.
“Anyway. I don’t know about other people, but I think drawing manga or characters is amazing. And if you like it, you should keep doing it somehow. You’re in your early twenties—if you don’t try what you like now, when are you going to do it?”
“I······ guess?”
“Of course. And university life—like it or not, you’re here now, so you might as well do your best and throw yourself into whatever you can. Don’t half-ass the drawing you don’t want to do just because you call it art. If not now, you won’t get another chance.”
“······.”
“For someone else, the opportunity you got might be something they can only dream of.”
There was sincerity in Kim Dohyun’s voice.
And all the while he was speaking, Han Seol-a somehow couldn’t look at him.
Her stomach felt a little strange, and for some reason it was hard to face him.
She was nervous too.
······What a weird feeling.
And it was the first time she’d ever felt this way.
Rustle.
With that tension pressing on her, Han Seol-a naturally put the cigarette back to her lips.
“I’ll just smoke one more. I couldn’t smoke for a long time inside.”
“Suit yourself.”
Click. Click.
Whether it was the wind, or her hands shaking because of the cold.
Or maybe her fingers had simply gone stiff from nerves—the lighter wouldn’t catch.
“Give me that.”
“······!”
Click.
Kim Dohyun blocked the wind with one hand and lit the lighter with the other, helping her get it going.
Han Seol-a didn’t know how she was supposed to react.
So instead, with something she normally never would’ve said, she forced the conversation onward.
“······You don’t like girls who smoke, right? You said you quit.”
“I don’t really care. If you smoke, you smoke.”
“······Really?”
Han Seol-a felt relieved that Kim Dohyun didn’t have any prejudice against smoking.
“Still, it’d be better if you didn’t smoke whenever you can help it.”
······Han Seol-a’s mood soured again.
Her voice sharpened a little as she asked, “Why? Because women who smoke look cheap?”
“No, that’s not it. It’s a waste.”
“What’s a waste?”
“I heard this from a dermatologist once: ‘Nothing can beat your natural skin, and nothing can beat your natural skin like cigarettes can.’ Basically, smoking ruins your face.”
“······.”
“It’d be a shame, you know? Such a pretty face getting ruined.”
“······A pretty face?”
“Yeah. You’re pretty. That’s why the guys voted for you as the one they’d most want to date.”
To say something like that so casually.
He made it sound like some uncle passing by and commenting on the weather.
And even while saying it, Kim Dohyun was staring blankly up at the sky, lost in other thoughts.
······What is with this guy?
Han Seol-a’s feelings were a mess.
She didn’t like it, but she didn’t dislike it; she liked it, but not really.
If she had to pick one, though, she supposed it was a good feeling.
Though she was a little flustered too.
“······Who did you vote for, Oppa?”
“You go first.”
“······Me?”
“Yeah. Who did you vote for?”
Her heartbeat sped up. Han Seol-a could feel it pounding inside her chest.
Rustle.
The piece of paper in her pocket—the unused ballot from earlier—crinkled softly.
Han Seol-a had never voted at all.
Before talking to Kim Dohyun, nothing at university had felt meaningful to her.
As she hesitated, Kim Dohyun shrugged and said, “Not me, then. All right, tell me who it was. Seokhyun?”
“No, that······.”
“Jinu hyung? Jinu hyung’s fun. He’s got a good personality too.”
“I mean······.”
Not knowing what to say, Han Seol-a sprang to her feet.
“I-it’s cold, so let’s just take the picture and go.”
“Sure.”
And just like that, the two of them walked back toward the resort entrance in silence again.
Before long, they arrived at the entrance, and Kim Dohyun turned on the digital camera.
“If both of us are going to be in the picture, we need to get a little closer. Is that okay?”
“······Yes, that’s fine.”
“All right, then.”
Click.
Kim Dohyun leaned in beside Han Seol-a and took the photo.
Afterward, just as he was about to leave as if nothing had happened, Han Seol-a called after him.
“H-how did the picture turn out?”
“Hm? Pretty average?”
“Let me see.”
Without much thought, Kim Dohyun handed the digital camera to Han Seol-a.
And the moment she saw the photo he’d taken—
“Pfft······.”
Han Seol-a laughed without meaning to and asked, “What is this! Oppa, half your face is cut off, and the part that isn’t is hidden in shadow so I can’t even see it properly. Have you never taken a selfie with a digital camera?”
“Huh? Oh. No, I haven’t really taken many pictures.”
She’d assumed he’d taken plenty—especially with girls.
But apparently not.
And somehow, that made her feel good again.
“I’ll take it. Let’s do it again. If we’re going to take a picture, we should do it properly.”
“We can just go.”
“You said it yourself earlier, Oppa. Since we’re at university, we should do it right. Isn’t this the same thing?”
“Hmm······ fair enough. Let’s take it again.”
Kim Dohyun came back beside her.
Deliberately pressing herself a little closer to him, Han Seol-a stretched out her arm and pressed the shutter.
Click.
On the way back to the room after taking the picture.
Kim Dohyun still didn’t say a word.
With every step closer to the resort, Han Seol-a felt, for some reason, increasingly restless.
······Should I ask for his number, or not?
She never imagined she’d find herself worrying about that.
Back in high school and at art academy, boys had often asked her for her number, but she’d never once thought about asking them.
Ding.
While she was still agonizing over it, the elevator arrived on the first floor, and Kim Dohyun got in.
As if trying to buy herself one extra second to keep deciding, Han Seol-a followed him in slowly.
[1st Floor]
[2nd Floor]
[3rd Floor]
The elevator was supposed to be slow, so why did it feel like it was moving so fast now?
There were only two floors left before the fifth.
······I’m just asking for his number. It doesn’t mean anything else. Nothing at all, just the number.
Repeating that to herself like a spell, the moment 4th Floor lit up, Han Seol-a gathered her courage.
“Um······ Oppa.”
“Hm?”
“Could you maybe······ give me your number? We went on this walk together, so I figure that counts as some kind of connection······.”
So this was what it felt like.
The boys who’d stammered in front of her and asked for her number.
Whenever she saw them, she’d always thought, Why are they so lacking in confidence? They look pathetic. But now that it was her turn, she couldn’t think of anything at all.
Ding.
With the sound announcing arrival at the fifth floor, Kim Dohyun smiled and said, “Give me your phone. I’ll put it in.”
“······!”
Han Seol-a’s eyes flew wide open.
The second day of orientation ended with the art department visit.
The next day, I rode the same bus back to school that had brought us to the resort, and from there I took a taxi home.
When I got home, my mother looked genuinely relieved and said, “You didn’t drink as much as I thought you would?”
And Seohee, for some reason, kept scrutinizing me up and down and grilling me about everything that had happened at orientation.
She was a high schooler, after all, so maybe she was just curious about university events.
Anyway, that was the end of my first university event.
After returning from MT, life became relatively ordinary.
I went to the gym, worked out, planned the next app release with Zero, and listened to reports about my business and money—FreeChat, Clear Cam, and everything else.
What I paid the most attention to, though, was the report on Seongsam Electronics.
According to Zero, factional conflict inside Seongsam Electronics was getting fierce.
It was a political war between the old guard—the Wireless Division, which had built the miracle of feature phones—and the new guard, the Future Innovation Office, which had just returned after securing the OS contract with Google.
Seocho-dong, top floor of Seongsam Electronics’ headquarters, vice chairman’s office.
Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung let out a long sigh as he looked at the two towering stacks of documents piled on his desk.
He’d already spent several days staying late into the night at the company, alone and deep in thought.
Who am I supposed to side with?
On the left were the reports submitted by the Wireless Division.
In summary, they said this:
First, even if it took time, Seongsam should develop its own applications for the company’s future. With our outstanding developers, it’s entirely possible.
Second, we should release both smartphones with Google’s Android OS and smartphones with Seongsam’s own OS, Bada OS, so consumers become familiar with the existence of Bada OS.
The contents of the Future Innovation Office’s report stacked on the right were the exact opposite.
What the Future Innovation Office argued was this:
First, Apple’s domestic entry would be faster than expected. Therefore, even if it’s only for one day, we should invest in and collaborate with proven application developers, and test applications on our smartphones that use Google’s OS.
Second, we agree that our own OS is precious, but it would be wrong to throw our developers into Bada OS development right now. For the moment, we should focus on perfectly optimizing Google’s OS for our smartphones.
Fortunately, we already had a new smartphone scheduled for a test release in Europe this June, so if we put Google’s OS on that phone and optimize it, we could launch before Apple’s phone entered the domestic market.
Those were the two positions.
“Hoo······.”
Lee Jaeyoung exhaled slowly.
I don’t know. Whose opinion am I supposed to follow?
Both departments made valid points.
And their reports supported each argument with clear data.
Looking only at the reports, either choice seemed correct.
The only problem is that from the future’s point of view, it might be different.
Just as history chooses winners, perhaps his decision now could change Seongsam Electronics’ future.
If I had to choose, the Future Innovation Office’s opinion does seem more reasonable. Apple’s domestic entry accelerating is a huge crisis.
But the problem was the existence of the Wireless Division, Seongsam’s traditional pillar and one of the company’s founding powers.
Of course, he was the vice chairman and therefore the current head of Seongsam Electronics. Still, it wouldn’t be easy to dismiss the people who had created the Aniycall miracle.
The Wireless Division. They were the founding force and the real power behind Seongsam Electronics.
If he bruised their pride too badly, the whole organization could grind to a halt.
That was what scared him.
······What would Father have done?
If it were his father, who had stepped back from management because of his health.
Just as Lee Jaeyoung was thinking that—
Click.
His office door suddenly opened. It was the middle of the night, and he’d told everyone to go home.
Even so, there shouldn’t have been anyone bold enough to open the vice chairman’s office door without permission······ and yet.
“······Father?”
It was Lee Geonhu, his father and the chairman of Seongsam Electronics.
“I came because I wanted to take a look around the company after a while, but I saw the lights on, so I stopped by. I guess getting old means losing sleep at night.”
“No, I······.”
Before he could ask why he’d come, whether it was all right for his body to be out and about at this hour, whether he’d come alone, and where his attendants, doctors, and secretaries were, his father spoke first.
“What kind of trouble keeps you in the office this late all by yourself? I’ve always told you to put family before business.”
“It’s just······.”
As Lee Jaeyoung faltered, Lee Geonhu scanned the papers stacked on the desk and said,
“The Wireless Division and the Future Innovation Office. You’re wondering whose opinion to follow, aren’t you?”
“Uh······ yes.”
As expected of his father. He’d grasped the problem just by looking at the situation and the documents.
Maybe he could tell immediately because he’d already gone through the same thing himself long ago.
“Both sides make good points. That’s why I can’t tell which to choose.”
“What do you think?”
“Pardon?”
“I asked what you think. Forget whether it’s reasonable or not.”
Tap.
Lee Geonhu placed one of the Future Innovation Office reports he’d been reading onto Lee Jaeyoung’s desk and said,
“There’s nothing certain in business. A week from now, a month from now, by the quarter, the half-year, the annual plan—no matter how carefully you map everything out, everything can change overnight. No matter how thorough you are, you can still be wrong. No one can know for sure.”
“······.”
“So what you have to do is simply trust yourself and decide. And whether that decision is right or wrong, you take responsibility for it.”
“Decision······?”
“Yes. Just as your grandfather did, just as I did. Decide, and take responsibility.”
“But even if I choose······ even if my choice is right.”
“You’re worried about resistance from the employees?”
“······Yes.”
His father really did seem to read his mind.
“What is there to worry about?”
“······Pardon? Of course I’m worried. If I side with one department, the other one will feel ignored.”
“You are the owner of this company. Even if your choice is wrong, your subordinates won’t take responsibility for it. Likewise, even if your choice is right, your subordinates can’t take the credit.”
“······.”
“You’ve already spent this whole night respecting and reading your subordinates’ reports, all the way until after they’ve gone home. Even so, if they refuse to follow your orders, then it’s time for you to draw your sword as well. You have to be ruthless.”
Should he accept the Future Innovation Office’s argument, or the Wireless Division’s?
His father, Chairman Lee Geonhu, gave him no direct answer.
But in their short conversation, Lee Jaeyoung realized what he had to do.
“······Thank you, Father.”
“Good. If you’ve decided, let’s go home. Like I said before, a man who doesn’t take care of his family can never become a true entrepreneur. Tell your wife and children you’re sorry for coming home late.”
“Yes.”
The next morning.
An all-company notice went out at Seongsam Electronics.
[Company-Wide Executive Assembly]
[Summoner: Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung]
It was only the second such event in Seongsam Electronics’ history.