Chapter 66
Chapter 66
S. government—already eyeing us hungrily—would pounce at the slightest excuse and dismantle us. In Korea, on the other hand, monopolies or oligopolies were overlooked under the banner of free competition, and the government even helped you dominate the market. "Mr. Seon, it's time for you to take the stage." Lost in thought just before the speech, I realized preparations were complete. Following the staff guide, I ascended the podium. The audience filled the seats, and reporters swarmed with cameras at the ready. Today's venue was none other than the grand auditorium of Korea University's cultural hall. With its pride as Korea's top university, they rarely opened it to celebrities, let alone most political or business figures. Yet they'd granted it to me—proof I was indeed Korea's hottest topic right now. "Hello, I'm Seon Woo-hyuk, CEO of Savior Soft. It's a pleasure to meet you all today." Clap clap clap. 'Hmm... interesting.' The applause echoed after my greeting. But it was distinctly different from what I'd heard at past speeches or award ceremonies. It felt like the audience was sizing me up, challenging me to prove my worth. As this was a lecture for Korea University students, most in the seats seemed outright hostile toward me. And that made sense. Korea University? Sorry to say it, but if things stay this way, you'll all be frogs in a well. I'd thrown a bit of shade in a recent newspaper interview, so their reaction was understandable. And honestly, this was the response I'd been hoping for. For some reason—maybe my past-life memories—I always felt more at ease speaking before critics than cheering fans. "Truth be told, I'm not much older than you all. Any seniors here might even be my age." A few in the audience nodded. "But there's a huge gap between us. Why are you in the seats while I'm up here speaking?" The Korea University students began to murmur. "It's the environment." With a gesture, data appeared on the screen behind the podium. "I don't think you're any less talented than me. Getting into Korea University means you're among Korea's very best." The screen showed graphs comparing majors of top Korean students (1997 data) versus top U.
S. students.
"In Korea, top students overwhelmingly aim for med school or law, then business, then engineering."
Traditionally, Korea's system funneled humanities top scorers to law and sciences to med—full stop. America was different. Yes, top U. S. students went to med or law, but business, sociology, social sciences, and engineering were more evenly distributed.
"Why the difference?"
I pointed at one student in the audience.
"Uh... stability?"
"Exactly."
A perfect answer.
"In Korea, doctors get stable high incomes, lawyers too. Plus the social prestige. It's the obvious choice."
Korean students weren't dumb for picking med and law. It was just the smarter option. So why was it smarter? The answer was simple.
"Korea's grown rapidly. But that hides poor treatment and environments for engineers."
The auditorium stirred again. This time, even the reporters were whispering in surprise.
"In America, doctors and lawyers are top-tier, but engineers rank even higher."
On cue, the screen displayed a list of America's top 50 IT firms and their CEOs.
"MiniSoft's Bill Heights dropped out of college—a programmer. Yet MiniSoft is in America's top 5 most valuable companies."
At this time, Bill Heights was the symbol of success. His stories lit up media worldwide; Korea even had his biography. The audience was hooked.
"If Bill Heights were born in Korea, he'd be a doctor or lawyer. Koreans still undervalue tech."
I signaled for the next slide. Two graphs appeared.
"Last year, Oseong Electronics' net profit was 2.5 trillion won. What about Savior?" 600 billion. Seeing Savior's figure next to Oseong's, the reaction was lukewarm—apparently too small.
"Too low?"
I snapped my fingers. Snap. The hidden text beside "Savior (Net Profit)" revealed itself. -Savior Games (Net Profit) "That's not total software profit. Just Savior Games."
I turned back to the audience. The reaction I'd wanted was there.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "The Software Industry Promotion Act should pass without issue."
"It better. Not just our side—even the opposition took the money. Anyone stirring trouble gets the boot."
Despite his calm reply, Prime Minister Kim Jae-sik inwardly sighed in relief at his aide's report. -Our CEO isn't great with this stuff. Talk to me from now on—it'll be easier. Politics costs money. A lot of it. 'That Scarlett woman's doing?' Kim Jae-sik, already allied with Savior in his bid for Seoul mayor, recalled the "gift" from our recent meeting. This Software Industry Promotion Act was no easy bill. -The government designates software development—leader of the future world—as a national project, offering support, tax breaks, and inviting promising overseas firms to Korea... Flowery words aside, it boiled down to: "Clear all obstacles for Savior's Korea entry."
Details targeted regulations, especially games. -The Game Rating Board lacks expertise and clear free-expression rules, hindering Korea's software rise. Henceforth, games will be self-regulated by industry experts. "Experts" meant Savior-recommended game industry figures. For youth-harmful media too: 'Let go! We're protecting Korea!!' Cultural Sports Ministry oversight would end—deemed a software barrier—shifting to self-regulation by review bodies. Some citizen groups, like mothers' associations, protested fiercely, but it was futile.
"How much did they take... tsk tsk."
A few test cases—harsh tax audits, admin probes, prosecutions—silenced them. None of it would have been possible without Seon Woo-hyuk at the foundation.
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Neighboring Japan already knows culture industry's value. Tying Korea in regulations is no different from pro-Japanese traitors selling the country in the Joseon era... After his meeting with Kim Jae-sik, Seon Woo-hyuk's nonstop TV appearances and lectures all aimed at this bill. Chills. His recent Korea University speech, broadcast live, was still shaking the nation. Parents were ditching hagwons for cram schools, sending kids to computer academies to raise "the next Seon Woo-hyuk."
TV ran endless software and game industry specials. Newspapers too: from Soul Hunters' revenues to daily front-page software praise. 'If you can't swallow this, quit politics.' Opposing the bill now meant being labeled a traitor. Despite its boldness, passage was imminent. But Kim Jae-sik had a question. Why was Seon Woo-hyuk so obsessed with this bill?
"Hm...?"
Pondering, his eyes caught today's paper—not the articles he'd read, but an ad.
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