The Day Before the Galleon
Seongsam Electronics, Seocho headquarters. Lee Jaeyoung’s office.
Lee Jaeyoung interlaced his fingers and spoke in a voice that sounded slightly worn.
"Google has agreed to allow Another Technology’s search engine."
The director of the Future Innovation Office, Kim Hyeoncheol, who had been standing in front of the desk, asked back in mild surprise.
"You mean Google has agreed to let Another Technology’s search engine onto the Android Market?"
"Yes. Vice President Andy Rubin approved it personally. Not only can it be registered on the Android Market, but it can also be set as the default search engine if the user wants, though only as an option."
Kim Hyeoncheol clicked his tongue inwardly.
Google had opened the door to the search market...
If the vice chairman hadn’t handled this himself, it would’ve been impossible. If I’d had to negotiate it, I’d have been flying to the U.S. ten times over by now.
While Kim Hyeoncheol was still thinking, Lee Jaeyoung spoke as if it were nothing.
"Google must have done a lot of calculating, too. What mattered more to them: allowing Another Technology’s search engine on Android OS, or taking the app? They must’ve decided that taking the app was more profitable."
"…"
"Or maybe they judged that a startup like Another Technology couldn’t possibly build a search engine in the first place."
Lee Jaeyoung took a sip of cold coffee and went on.
"The Galleon launches on April 12. No change there, right?"
"Yes. Hardware mass production is on schedule without a hitch. The logistics network is secured as well."
"And the software?"
At Lee Jaeyoung’s sharp question, Kim Hyeoncheol drew a short breath before answering.
The most troublesome part was, in truth, exactly that.
"To be frank, we’re still catching minor bugs in the OS optimization stage. The deadline is tight, that much is true."
Kim Hyeoncheol didn’t make excuses.
He reported the risk exactly as it was.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
"So as of yesterday, I switched every engineer in the company to emergency duty. Even if we have to run it on a 24-hour rotating shift, we won’t leave a single bug behind before the April 12 launch."
"…"
"There won’t be any disruption to the release. No, I’ll make sure there isn’t."
Kim Hyeoncheol’s eyes were full of resolve.
Lee Jaeyoung stared at him for a moment, then let out a dry chuckle.
"I believe you. First we’re going to launch the Galleon in Korea and test it, then fix any problems and start overseas sales by the end of April."
"Yes. I will make sure we meet the schedule."
"Good."
As the mood softened a little, Lee Jaeyoung suddenly changed the subject as if something had just occurred to him.
"By the way, what do you think, Director?"
"Pardon?"
"Another Technology. Do you really think they can build a search engine?"
"That is…"
Kim Hyeoncheol fell silent for a moment.
Data centers, crawling technology, search algorithms—
to be honest, even Kim Hyeoncheol, director of Future Innovation, only understood search engines in theory.
It wasn’t easy to build something like that.
"If we’re talking purely about technical feasibility... it’s close to zero. Setting Google aside, even building something comparable to Naver would be a struggle."
"I thought as much."
"But…"
Memories of the past few months flickered through Kim Hyeoncheol’s mind.
"Considering the way Another Technology has moved so far, and the fact that they asked for Google’s approval before they even developed the search engine... they may be holding something we don’t know about again."
"…"
"Personally, I’d like to cheer for Another Technology. If they make a search engine that’s better than Google’s—or even just on a similar level—it won’t be a bad thing for us. If the power of search engines weakens, Google weakens, and the weaker Google’s OS power becomes, the stronger our bargaining position gets."
Lee Jaeyoung nodded at Kim Hyeoncheol’s analysis.
It was exactly what he had been thinking.
"Then contact Another Technology. Tell them they can now put the search engine on the Android Market."
* * *
"Whew... that feels good."
I’d finished working out and come back to my one-room apartment, even taking a shower.
I’d been slacking off on exercise lately because I’d been so busy, so going to the gym for the first time in a while left me exhausted, but refreshed too.
I was shaking my hair out with a towel when Zero’s voice reached me.
「Master, I received a call a moment ago from Director Kim Hyeoncheol.」
Director Kim Hyeoncheol?
「Yes. Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung made direct contact with Google’s Andy Rubin and secured approval for the search engine’s registration on the Android Market.」
Zero continued.
「In addition, we’ve also secured the option for users to set our search engine as the default if they wish.」
I stopped shaking out my hair for a moment.
That was unexpected.
What surprised me first was the fact that Director Kim Hyeoncheol was still in one piece.
He’d definitely taken the blame over Crazy Bird, so I’d expected him to be thrown out, but instead he was not only still around—he was even serving as my point of contact without missing a beat.
Guess that guy really is pretty capable.
That had been my impression too, actually.
But more surprising than Kim Hyeoncheol was Google’s response.
That was way faster than I expected. And maybe a little too easy, too.
Even if Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung had stepped in personally, Google was letting open what was practically the heart of their business—the search engine.
Was it because of Lee Jaeyoung’s negotiating power? Or...
As if reading my doubt, Zero answered immediately.
「The probability that Google let its guard down exceeds 99 percent.」
Yeah, that figures.
I’d roughly expected that much.
From Google’s perspective, there was no way some ordinary startup could possibly finish a search engine.
They don’t know who I am.
I looked at the laptop I’d left on the desk.
On the screen, the code for a completed search engine was already waiting to run.
What remained was only the crawling—the scraping of data.
Zero, what’s the development schedule for the search engine?
「I have confirmed the access rights to Seongsam Electronics’ data center that Director Kim Hyeoncheol provided. The data center will be available starting tomorrow at 10 a.m., and if I implant my code there and begin crawling from that point... by around 6:00 a.m. on April 19, we can finish indexing 97.8 percent of Korean web data.」
April 19, huh...
I tossed the towel I’d been using to dry my hair into the laundry basket and asked Zero,
The Galleon launch is on April 12, right?
「Correct.」
That’s about a week late.
I was a little disappointed.
I’d wanted to get it ready before launch, or at least by launch day.
「I apologize.」
No. No need to apologize. This is better, actually.
I stared at the laptop screen and thought.
Even if the Galleon launched on April 12, that didn’t mean every single person in Korea would magically wake up and buy a smartphone on the spot.
People would need time—first to see others buy it, then to see others use it, and only then would they buy one themselves.
And along the way, they’d use my apps—FreeChat, Clear Cam, and Crazy Bird—and, just like that, they’d use Google’s search engine too.
Then they’ll realize how inconvenient and frustrating it is to make Google Search pull up a PC web page on a mobile phone.
People who weren’t used to Google Search and found it annoying would try to go to portal sites they knew, like Naver or Daum, but even that wouldn’t be easy.
Because Naver and Daum wouldn’t have smartphone-friendly portal sites ready yet, either.
And when people’s inconvenience and dissatisfaction kept piling up...
That’s when my search engine appears.
The pleasure of finally removing an irritation.
That would be the best marketing of all.
While I was looking forward to the days ahead, I suddenly found myself curious about Seongsam’s situation.
Zero, the Galleon launch is almost here.
「Yes.」
What’s the mood at Seongsam Electronics? It’s their first smartphone attempt since Romnia, so are they on edge?
「Seongsam Electronics is—」
* * *
Seongsam Electronics headquarters.
Time passed quickly, and it was now Saturday afternoon, April 11.
One day remained before the launch of the Galleon.
Even though it was the weekend, the lights in the conference room stayed on. No—there was no way they could be turned off.
The company’s key executives were gathered here, on emergency standby in what felt like a wartime command center.
"How’s the shipment status at the logistics center?"
With an expression that was both exhausted and tense, Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung asked the question. For nearly ten days now, he hadn’t gone home once; he had been working out of the company the entire time.
The executive in charge answered at once.
"Logistics team reporting. Initial stock of 200,000 units has already been pre-positioned at 1,200 dealerships and company-owned stores nationwide. Sales can begin at 10 a.m. tomorrow, right when the stores open."
200,000 units.
At that number, a taut silence spread through the conference room.
Last year, Seongsam’s ambitious Romnia had sold itself to the bone for five months and only managed 160,000 units.
And now Seongsam had dumped even more than that onto the market for the Galleon in just a single day.
This was less confidence than a gamble born of madness, one that had already burned every escape route behind it.
It was also a symbol, showing every employee that failure meant death.
If the old chairman, Lee Geonhu, had once burned defective products to send his employees a brutal message about quality, then his son, Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung, was now pre-launching finished products to deliver an equally forceful message about victory.
In other words: We have no way back. The Galleon is our last line of defense.
"What about inventory management?"
"If early sales are poor, we’ll have to recall the entire stock and either redirect it to corporate sales or dispose of it. The loss would be about 180 billion won—"
Lee Jaeyoung cut the report off and said coldly,
"If it doesn’t sell, the problem isn’t that we lose 180 billion won. The problem is that we get branded as the company whose smartphone failed."
"…"
"The moment that stamp is put on us, any competition with Apple from here on out is over before it starts."
At his sharp rebuke, the executives lowered their heads.
That was right. Money wasn’t the issue.
This was a fight over who would seize—or lose—the initiative in the paradigm of Seongsam means smartphones versus Apple means smartphones.
Soon after, the head of the technical team continued the report.
"Reporting on network checks. Both SKT and KT have emergency standby teams on duty. Even if launch traffic spikes to five times the normal level, the servers will not go down."
"And if they do go down anyway?"
"We’ve prepared for that as well. In the event the IT network is paralyzed, we’ve distributed an emergency manual for manual activation followed by later data entry. There will be absolutely no case where a customer leaves because of a delayed activation."
The reports went on like flowing water.
But Lee Jaeyoung’s expression still didn’t soften.
This wasn’t just about selling a product.
This was Seongsam crossing from its old feature-phone business into a completely different industry: smartphones.
If they failed, Seongsam would be reduced forever to a second-rate hardware factory.
"Marketing report."
"Yes."
At Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung’s words, Executive Director Seo Heeun stood at once to answer.
In this conference room, she looked more exhausted than anyone else—yes, even more than Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung.
That made sense. She had been running herself ragged to make up for her earlier mistake in criticizing Crazy Bird.
"We’ve secured not only prime-time slots on all three major broadcasters, but also every remaining ad slot. Starting the moment the nation wakes up tomorrow morning, and continuing until they go to sleep, people all over Korea will see the Galleon everywhere next week."
"What about public response?"
"From ranks one through five on portal site search results, every keyword is related to the Galleon. The pent-up demand is more than sufficient. We’ve also arranged for newspapers and media outlets to keep running promotional pieces. In entertainment programs, too, we’ve secured the cooperation of producers, writers, and agencies so that the Galleon gets mentioned frequently."
It was perfect.
From planning and production to distribution and marketing, Seongsam had poured in every last bit of its strength.
It was meticulous preparation, almost like a military operation, with not even the smallest error allowed.
But even so...
Lee Jaeyoung tightened his clasped hands and closed his eyes.
Anxiety.
No matter how much you prepared, no matter how much training and study you had endured as the heir to a conglomerate family, there was always fear when it came to a new challenge.
And when that challenge could bring the whole group down if it failed, the pressure became something beyond imagination.
At last, Vice Chairman Lee Jaeyoung slowly spoke.
"Everyone, good work. The preparations are... perfect."
It was a gentle compliment, but the executives swallowed hard.
They could feel the silence before the storm.
"Director Kim Hyeoncheol."
"Yes, Vice Chairman."
Kim Hyeoncheol, seated right next to Lee Jaeyoung, answered.
"Keep the CS team operating 24 hours a day. If even a tiny bug or a minor complaint appears, report and respond immediately. Early public opinion will decide the outcome."
"I’ve already organized a special response team. All four hundred community monitoring staff are on standby."
"Good."
Lee Jaeyoung stood.
He walked to the window and raised the blinds.
With a rustle, the late afternoon opened out below him.
Far beneath his feet, the city of Seoul stretched endlessly.
Because it was Saturday, most of the office buildings had their lights off, but the roads still carried a steady stream of cars.
Tomorrow, those people will have our product in their hands. Some will be thrilled... and some will be disappointed.
But one thing was clear.
The dice had already been thrown.
Soon, the world will change. Whether we can survive in that world or not... that’ll be decided tomorrow.
They say the one who wants to wear the crown must endure its weight.
Lee Jaeyoung gazed at his own reflection in the glass and murmured,
"...Please."
It was both a vow and the wish of one man leading a giant corporation.
The air seemed to press down under a burden too heavy to be seen.
That night, not a single executive at Seongsam Electronics went home.
As if waiting for the sun that would rise tomorrow.
Or perhaps sensing the vast wave that was about to crash down.
The night before the launch of the smartphone that would decide Seongsam’s future in Korea was passing by.
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