The Proposal That Came Too Late
At Seongsam Electronics headquarters, in the vice chairman’s office, a heavy silence hung in the air. Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung drummed his fingers on the table.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“So,” Lee Jaeyoung said at last, “you’re saying we should offer three hundred million dollars for the acquisition of Another Technology?”
“Yes, Vice Chairman. At the current exchange rate, that comes to roughly 430 billion won.”
“...”
“Originally, we were considering a somewhat lower figure. But the more we analyzed Another Technology, the more it seemed clear that we should make an offer at that level.”
Kim Hyeoncheol swallowed dryly.
430 billion won for a startup. That kind of number was unprecedented, whether in Korea or the United States.
It was enough to buy out a solid mid-sized company, after all.
“You may think it’s excessive. But Apple offered thirty million dollars for one of their technologies. If their technologies are worth ten of those, then we’d need to offer three hundred million dollars; add the company’s potential, and we’d have to pay even more to get them in the door.”
“...”
Lee Jaeyoung closed his eyes and fell into thought.
430 billion...
No matter how cash-rich Seongsam Electronics was, they had never thrown that kind of money at a software company before.
If the press found out later, it would be a scandal.
And yet the report from the Future Innovation Office wouldn’t leave his mind.
They said hardware alone couldn’t beat the iPhone. In fact, what really moves customers is software.
According to the report, Japan was one of the few markets where the iPhone had been largely ignored, and it was FreeChat that had been moving that market.
In other words, it wasn’t that a “pretty iPhone” had conquered Asia’s wealthier markets. It was that an application people actually wanted to use had taken Asia by storm.
Korea would be the same.
The problem was...
We don’t have that. We’re confident we can outdo Apple in smartphone hardware, but...
Then what was the answer?
Lee Jaeyoung’s eyes snapped open. They were the eyes of a gambler who had made up his mind.
“Three hundred and fifty million dollars.”
“...Pardon?”
“Open with three hundred and fifty million. Don’t test the waters. Make the number so high they won’t even think about negotiating further.”
At that, Kim Hyeoncheol’s eyes widened.
Three hundred and fifty million dollars was almost 500 billion won.
“V-Vice Chairman. At that level, we’d have to take it through the board...”
“I’ll handle it within my authority. If the board raises objections, tell them this is still cheaper than the marketing money we dumped into trying to save the Romnia phone.”
That was true enough.
“But make sure we get them.”
“Understood. I’ll make it happen, no matter what.”
Kim Hyeoncheol was certain of it now.
Three hundred and fifty million dollars—there wasn’t a single sane startup in the world that would reject an offer like that.
Meeting room, Future Innovation Office.
The expression on Kim Hyeoncheol’s face, back from the vice chairman’s office, was grave. The executives above section-chief level all watched him tensely.
“The vice chairman has approved it. Acquisition amount: three hundred and fifty million dollars.”
— ...!
Gasps broke out all around the room.
Seeing his startled subordinates, Kim Hyeoncheol spoke again.
“Three hundred and fifty million dollars. That’s over 500 billion won. The vice chairman has thrown down the gauntlet.”
— ...
“All right, then. Let’s finalize our last negotiation strategy and contact Another Technology.”
Kim Hyeoncheol intended to wrap this deal up today.
Another Technology’s value was rising by the day, so it was best to close the matter as quickly as possible.
“...Oppa, so you’re really moving out soon.”
Seohee, perched on my bed, looked up at me with a slightly sulky expression.
Three days later was enrollment day, and I was packing because I’d decided to live near the university.
I’d already signed the lease on the place.
“It’s not really moving out. It’s just living off campus.”
“Same thing! Do you really have to live out there?”
“The school’s far away. Commuting would take four hours round trip.”
“Still... it’d be better if you stayed home. Who’s going to help me study?”
“I told you, I’ll come home every weekend.”
“You really will, right? Not like, ditch to hang out with some girlfriend or something... sigh.”
Seohee fiddled with my clothes, clearly unhappy about my leaving. She looked genuinely disappointed that I was becoming independent.
Just then, Mother, who had been helping me pack, spoke up.
“Kim Seohee! If you’re just going to sit there, get out of the room. Don’t get in your brother’s way.”
“I’m trying to help, okay?!”
“You help by being somewhere else. Or at least bring me some wet wipes so I can dust this place.”
“Hmph...”
Snort.
I was smiling at that little exchange between Mother and Seohee when—
Master.
Zero’s voice sounded in my head.
I’ve received a call from Kim Hyeoncheol, Director of Seongsam Electronics’ Future Innovation Office.
What’s it about?
They’ve offered three hundred and fifty million dollars as the price for acquiring Another Technology.
Three hundred and fifty million dollars?
That’s... about 50 billion won at today’s exchange rate, right?
500 billion won.
Money you couldn’t even dream of touching, no matter how many times you hit the lottery jackpot.
They really meant business.
I felt oddly satisfied. It meant the country’s number one company was valuing me—no, the company I had built—at that level.
It was proof they weren’t looking down on me.
Zero, what do you think? Is that price fair?
It is the highest amount Seongsam Electronics can offer. No previous or future case of a startup acquisition will likely involve that level of investment. It indicates their desperation.
Desperation.
I liked that part.
Reject it.
Understood. Shall I assume we are to cease all business with Seongsam Electronics from this point forward?
I thought for a moment.
No. I need Seongsam Electronics too. Their infrastructure, their connections, and their role as the only smartphone manufacturer that can stand against Apple in the future.
Correct. If Seongsam Electronics loses ground in the smartphone market, Apple’s monopoly will become entrenched. That would make it difficult to secure leverage in future negotiations with Apple. At best, you would only achieve parity.
Exactly.
Of course, I could build a smartphone manufacturer myself if I wanted to.
But that would take a long time, and unlike software, hardware required a great deal of physical preparation.
So tell them this: I don’t need money, and I’m not interested in selling the company. If they want a deal, they can offer something other than cash.
Yes.
And tell them this is their last chance to make a proposal.
I knew from experience that if I told them what I wanted first, the deal would move faster.
But I didn’t want to hand them the answer too easily. If you give people the answer too soon, they’ll start thinking of you as an easy company.
This was a test. A test to see how much the country’s number one company was willing to give up for me.
Future Innovation Office conference room, Seongsam Electronics.
At the center of the conference table sat the speakerphone, still connected to the call.
[“We regret to decline the proposal.”]
— ...
— ...
— ...
— ...
The voice from Another Technology’s executive office came through the speakerphone.
At that, the faces of Kim Hyeoncheol and the Future Innovation Office staff in the room stiffened.
...They’re rejecting 500 billion?
“W-What is the reason? Is the amount not enough? If so, we can revise the offer...”
[“No. Our CEO says he doesn’t need money.”]
“...What?”
A company owner who doesn’t need money?
Then why run a company at all?
[“Our CEO has no intention of taking your money, and no intention of selling the company either. We had originally planned to turn down this offer and treat Seongsam Electronics’ proposal as if it had never existed, but since Seongsam Electronics has shown sincerity, he has decided to give you one final chance.”]
“...”
[“So please present something other than money. If your proposal appeals to him, our CEO said he will positively consider a partnership.”]
Click.
The line went dead.
Only the disconnected dial tone—beep... beep... beep...—filled the silent conference room.
“Hah...”
Kim Hyeoncheol sank into his chair, his head blank.
They didn’t need money. They wanted something else...
He stared into space for a moment, then gave a dry laugh.
“Ha... this is a test.”
“A test, sir?”
At the employee’s question, Kim Hyeoncheol pressed a thumb hard to his temple.
“Yes, a test. Another Technology’s CEO is testing Seongsam Electronics. The same way we—more precisely, the wireless division—tested Another Technology. They’re the ones posing the problem.”
— ...
“Thanks to that idiot Choi, we’re the ones suffering now.”
The nation’s number-one conglomerate, Seongsam Electronics, was being toyed with by a startup CEO no one even knew by name or face.
Normally, this should have wounded their pride. Normally, they should have been furious.
But there was a reason Another Technology was acting that way, and Kim Hyeoncheol could feel cold sweat trickling down his back.
They must be confident. Their revenue must be stable enough that they can afford to say money doesn’t matter.
Otherwise, there was no way they could reject 500 billion won without even pausing to think about it.
“Damn it.”
Kim Hyeoncheol yanked his tie loose.
This has gotten tangled. I told the vice chairman I’d get it done no matter what... but money won’t work.
Then there was only one thing left.
They had to solve the riddle Another Technology had posed—the question they had put on the table.
That riddle about offering something other than money.
“As you all know from analyzing Another Technology, if this company grows well, it could be worth trillions of won—maybe even more. So if we make this deal happen... I’ll take responsibility for all of you. Understood?”
— Yes, sir!
At Kim Hyeoncheol’s words, the employees’ eyes lit up.
They were exhausted from days without leaving the office, but their minds were still sharp.
Three days remained.
Kim Hyeoncheol clenched his teeth.
First, I need to tell the vice chairman.
With a grim expression, Kim Hyeoncheol left the conference room. There was the unmistakable bearing of a battlefield commander in his back as he walked away.
Back in the vice chairman’s office.
“...They want something other than money.”
Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung leaned deep into his leather chair and stared up at the ceiling.
Kim Hyeoncheol stood stiffly before him.
“I’m sorry, Vice Chairman. I should have brought something back somehow... I have no excuse.”
“No.”
Lee Jaeyoung cut him off in a low voice.
“I didn’t expect them to ask for anything besides money either.”
“...”
“They rejected 500 billion won and asked us to offer something else, but didn’t even tell us what that something was... The CEO and development team at Another Technology have some personality. It’s almost as if they’re saying that since Seongsam Electronics tested them, they’ll test us back. What do you think, Director Kim?”
“I think the same.”
“I thought so.”
A strange smile spread across the vice chairman’s mouth. It wasn’t mockery. It was interest. And competitiveness.
“That Executive Choi has caused a lot of trouble for the Future Innovation Office. He may have plucked the whisker off a lion that might have been friendly, and now we’re paying for it.”
“...”
“I’ll deal with that later. For now, let’s think about the urgent matter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you think they want from us besides money? It can’t be equity.”
“Yes, sir. If they wanted equity, there’d be no reason to reject cash. They might have asked for equity in place of payment.”
“Exactly. For now, just throw out possibilities. Something only I could approve—whether that’s human resources or anything else.”
Kim Hyeoncheol swallowed.
Not money. Then what? Technology? Was there some Seongsam technology Another Technology needed?
Personnel? They seemed to favor a small elite structure.
...Wait. If they want something other than money, maybe they want something only Seongsam can give them. Anyone can hand over money.
Then something occurred to him.
“If it’s something only we can provide...”
Kim Hyeoncheol spoke carefully.
“It might be infrastructure... servers and data centers.”
Lee Jaeyoung’s brows twitched slightly.
“Another Technology is a software company. Not just FreeChat—once the number of application users increases, they’ll inevitably run into a wall. Traffic overload.”
When users flood in, servers crash and access slows down. That was an unavoidable truth.
Every time that happened, expanding the server capacity would require astronomical costs, and maintaining those servers would demand a substantial workforce as well.
“Right now, Another Technology is renting Amazon’s servers. But there’s a fatal flaw in that.”
“A flaw?”
“Amazon still doesn’t have a base in Asia. The data has to cross the Pacific, so response speeds for Korea or Japan can’t help but suffer.”
“...”
“To solve that, they’d need servers in Asia, but honestly, the hub of Asian data centers is currently dominated by Tokyo or Singapore. In terms of infrastructure volume and submarine cable networks, they’re ahead of us.”
Lee Jaeyoung pointed out the obvious.
“Then there’d be no reason to choose us, would there? They could just put their servers in Japan or Singapore.”
He paused, then added,
“Ah.”
“...Maybe they also want us to provide the RAM and memory semiconductors needed whenever they add servers in the future.”
“I think so too. Data centers in Japan or Singapore are extremely expensive. But we’re the only company in the world that can supply those critical components more cheaply than anyone else, and in unlimited quantities. Even Apple can’t do that.”
Kim Hyeoncheol sharpened his tone.
“Another Technology is on the verge of explosive growth. Their server expansion costs will increase exponentially during that process. They’d want to solve that early, by joining hands with us.”
“And the specific method?”
“We can give them the security zone in the new data center we’re building in Suwon.”
A brief silence followed. Then Lee Jaeyoung slowly nodded.
“...That sounds like the right answer.”
He rose from his chair and walked over to the desk.
“Another Technology wasn’t trying to get rich off a few extra dollars. They weren’t after the ‘current infrastructure’ that Japan or Singapore already has—they wanted the ‘manufacturing strength’ and the ‘future infrastructure’ that we have.”
“That’s right.”
“To think they’d make us a test offer and, in such a short time, come up with that kind of conclusion...”
“They’re an impressive company. We absolutely shouldn’t underestimate them just because they’re small.”
“Hmm.”
Lee Jaeyoung’s eyes gleamed sharply.
“All right. As the base proposal, include first-priority occupancy rights in the Suwon data center. Make the core of the offer ‘priority supply of high-performance server memory and extraordinary pricing.’ And beyond that, put together a proposal that includes whatever else only Seongsam can do.”
“Understood.”
Three days later, at three in the morning.
Future Innovation Office.
Ties had been loosened, and the desk was piled with coffee, energy drinks, and lunch boxes.
“Director... I’ve emailed the final version of the proposal we’re sending to Another Technology.”
“Good.”
At the subordinate’s words, Kim Hyeoncheol rubbed his bloodshot eyes and stared at the monitor.
Another Technology x Seongsam Electronics Partnership Proposal
After reviewing the proposal from beginning to end for an hour, Kim Hyeoncheol nodded.
The contents had already been approved by Lee Jaeyoung long ago; only the design had been adjusted.
...This should do it.
The “data center and servers” proposal he had worked out with Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung.
Along with that, it included five additional proposals and a careful request for what they hoped to receive from Another Technology in return.
So now all that’s left is to send this to Another Technology’s executive office?
The mouse cursor hovered over the “Send” button.
Click.
[Mail sent successfully.]
So this is what it feels like to be the one in the weaker position.
Kim Hyeoncheol gave a bitter smile. He was the same man who had always received thick proposals from subcontractors, then ripped them apart with a red pen and rejected them.
There had been countless times when he’d only glanced at the cover and never even bothered to read the proposal.
But this time, it was he—Seongsam Electronics, Korea’s finest company—who had sent a 164-page “love letter” to an obscure startup.
And they had done it with the utmost politeness. With desperation.
Maybe we should treat people a little kinder from now on.
“Let’s go home.”
“Thank you, Director!”
“You worked hard!”
The employees stood up and gathered their things. Kim Hyeoncheol also picked up his jacket and got to his feet. All he wanted now was to go home and see his wife and daughter.
But, as always, he checked his schedule on the calendar.
[03/04 11:00 Attending Hankuk University Entrance Ceremony (Seongsam Scholarship Presentation and Congratulatory Address)]
“Hmm...”
A sigh slipped out.
Attending the Hankuk University entrance ceremony... right, that was today.
The “Future Talent Development Project,” carried out in the spirit of Chairman Lee Geonhu’s philosophy of prioritizing talent management.
The chairman, now retired from the front lines of management, had emphasized this business more than any other, and since this was the first year, there was no way he, as head of the Future Innovation Office, could skip it.
All he had to do was give a congratulatory speech and hand a scholarship certificate to the top student. It should have been simple enough, but he was so exhausted that even that sounded like a nuisance.
Still... I should go.
No matter how tired or busy he was, once he set a schedule, he carried it out somehow.
That stubbornness had been the force that carried him to this position in the first place.
As he left the office, Kim Hyeoncheol thought,
I’ve done everything I can. The rest is up to Another Technology’s CEO.
The CEO of Another Technology, and their development team too, must have been properly deprived of sleep over the past week.
This issue was hardly trivial for them either.
8:00 a.m.
“Haaah...”
I got out of bed and stretched. The morning sunlight pouring in through the window felt refreshingly crisp.
Good morning, Master. A proposal has arrived from Seongsam Electronics.
Oh?
Yes. It is obvious they reviewed it down to the last minute before sending it.
They must have gone through a lot.
Of course, I’d been waiting for Seongsam Electronics’ offer too.
But since Zero had said, “If you’re asleep, it’ll arrive by then,” I’d slept comfortably.
There was no urgency on my side.
Would you like a summary, or would you prefer to inspect it yourself? It is 164 slides in PowerPoint format.
...164 slides?
What kind of proposal had 164 slides...
They really had put their hearts into it.
The important thing wasn’t simply that the terms were good.
What mattered to me was how desperately, how meticulously, they had prepared it.
And 164 pages made the sheer volume of the thing feel like proof of their attitude.
I want to see it myself. Download it onto my laptop. I’ll read it in the taxi on the way to the entrance ceremony.
Understood. There is one more matter I should mention.
There was a subtle nuance in Zero’s voice.
Probably just my imagination.
Kim Hyeoncheol, Director of Seongsam Electronics’ Future Innovation Office, will also be attending Hankuk University’s entrance ceremony today.
Kim Hyeoncheol? That means the head of Future Innovation Office...
Correct. Hankuk University and the Seongsam Group have entered into a private-sector partnership this year, and he has been assigned to present the scholarship certificate to the top incoming student and give the congratulatory address at the ceremony.
Before I even realized it, the words were out of my mouth.
“That’ll be fun.”
Then I’d be able to decide whether to accept Seongsam Electronics’ proposal—or not—after seeing the man in person.
Kim Hyeoncheol probably had no idea that the CEO of Another Technology was about to be watching his face.
---