Project: New World
A joint venture between KG Group and the government.
Project: New World.
The moment the project was revealed to the world, the entire planet erupted all over again.
The unveiling of a new material capable of turning the entire world's industries upside down. And while everyone was still drowning in the confusion, KG Group and the Korean government began executing the plans they had prepared down to the finest detail, one move after another.
Experts analyze the decision as a preemptive move to sidestep the problems and burdens that would come with KG Energy monopolizing Veratian, the core ingredient of the Veratian battery.
The South Korean government announced it has no intention of designating Veratian, the core ingredient of next-generation batteries, as a controlled strategic material, and that its basic policy is to permit free private sales and distribution grounded in the free-market system. One condition was attached, however: military use of Veratian would be prohibited as a matter of principle, and an export review process would be established permitting its use for peaceful purposes only.
KG Group, stepping out of the battery business to focus solely on raw material production. And a Korean government refusing to lock Veratian behind monopolistic, closed-off controls, choosing instead to let it be sold freely to anyone and everyone.
It was a posture so inclusive, so friendly, that responding to it with hostility simply wasn't an option — and the world's governments, reading the room, moved with shrewd speed.
The US Department of Commerce summoned an emergency meeting immediately after Veratian's unveiling and set about drafting a response to assess the impact the new material could have on America's energy and defense industries. A White House official stated that a senior working-level delegation would be dispatched in the near future for close consultations with the Korean government.
The European Union defined Veratian's technological value as strategic technology and proposed forming a special consultative body on energy materials to strengthen technological cooperation with Korea. Germany, France, and other major member states announced plans to pursue long-term purchase agreements in order to secure a stable supply of the material.
Rather than bare their teeth and make an enemy of Korea, the diplomatic channels of every government — and the corporations of every nation — began moving with remarkable agility, showering the country with goodwill in hopes of securing as much Veratian as they possibly could. And watching Korea's standing climb higher than it had ever been, the public cheered.
It was a heartwarming scene: everyone pure-heartedly delighted at the long-overdue news of success from the Korean government and KG Group. But there was one person watching the spectacle with profound discomfort.
[ "Hmph. Someone else shows off the talent, and some completely unrelated person gets to soak up the praise. What a joke." ]
Alex grumbled on and on, sulking like a child in a snit, as if the acclaim that rightfully belonged to him had been stolen out from under him. I just shrugged at his whining and said,
"Oh, come on. It's a good thing, really. What's the upside of having every eye in the world on you?"
[ "I suppose that's true, but... it still stings, you know." ]
Deny it all he liked, Alex clearly craved attention. He wasn't a simple artificial intelligence but a Control Persona carrying the complete personality of my descendant from the far distant future — perhaps that was why he behaved like a textbook teenager. Watching him, I couldn't hold back a chuckle.
"Just think about what we're raking in from this deal."
It had begun as a negotiation with KG Group alone — until the Korean government abruptly wedged its way in.
With three parties suddenly at the table, I managed to squeeze out a great deal more than I ever could have managed on my own.
"Three trillion won for the exclusive technology license. Thirty percent of total sales in annual royalties. Add a thirty percent stake in the raw-material manufacturing corporation they'll be establishing, and wouldn't you call that a spectacular deal?"
Three trillion won for nothing more than handing over the exclusive rights to Veratian's manufacturing technology. That would have been unthinkable in a one-on-one negotiation with KG Group, but with the government in the mix, the ceiling on what I could demand had shot up beyond all imagining.
"Back in the optical semiconductor talks, I couldn't have dreamed of a figure like that. Part of it was that Ontel simply didn't have the money, and I didn't exactly have a name for myself back then either — fair enough — but even so, burning three trillion on a single technology is a stretch for anyone short of a nation-state."
[ "Well... this time wasn't bad, I'll give you that." ]
Alex couldn't bring himself to say no. And small wonder — the terms of the finalized contract had been set, using information he had quietly unearthed, right at these parties' absolute breaking point. Thanks to that, I wouldn't have to scrape by over money for a good long while. The only price I'd paid was my anonymity and the public's attention. Though whether either of those truly counted as a loss was debatable.
[ "So in the end, the only real winner is that Hwang Byung-joon fellow. Whatever." ]
"Can't argue there. He sat in on a few discussions mostly for window dressing, and now he's been paraded front and center as the project's lead developer."
Dr. Hwang Byung-joon — packaged and presented to the world as Veratian's core developer in my stead. He had been a perfectly ordinary researcher at a national institute in the Sejong Research Complex, but with this project came staggering fame and the promise of an enormous financial reward, and overnight he was living an entirely different life.
Of course...
...from here on, he too would find himself watched and hunted by the same countless intelligence agencies circling me.
"Oh, right — and with a mountain of cash now in hand, I'd say it's time we talked about those plans we've been pushing forward. Think we can move them up a bit?"
[ "Hm? Which plans?" ]
World domination... no — the various plans we were laying into place to protect the humanity of the future.
When Alex asked which one I meant, I flashed a sly grin.
"Kill the Seoul."
Kim Cheol-min — Limitless's dedicated counsel and the key officer in charge of the company since before its incorporation.
He had personally overseen every task, great and small, down to the last detail since before the company even existed, so despite the presence of a separate accounting team, primary authority over the corporate account still rested in his hands. In particular, the account had been configured to fire a text message to his phone the moment any sum above a certain threshold moved in or out.
Which was why a single text that arrived out of nowhere in the middle of his lunch nearly went down the wrong pipe.
"Khh... hack...!"
₩3,000,000,000,000
A sum so enormous he could hardly count the zeros. That a full three trillion won had just landed in the corporate account out of nowhere was shocking enough — but the identity of the sender was more staggering still.
The South Korean government had slammed three trillion won into Limitless's corporate account in a single blow. And Cheol-min had heard not one word about any of it — so he abandoned the lunch sitting half-eaten in front of him, shot to his feet, and sprinted for the office without stopping for breath.
"Boss!!!"
"Huh? Done with lunch already?"
Kang Gun, the picture of composure, was lifting a piece of chicken to start his own lunch. He asked, tearing into it without a care in the world,
"Want a piece of chicken? It's really good."
"That is not the point right now! What on earth have you been up to?! Money in the trillions — not millions, trillions — just landed in the corporate account! A deposit this size would have the Financial Supervisory Service shrieking and storming in with an investigation!"
"Hmm. I don't think they will?"
"I'm sorry — what?"
"Even if they do investigate, there's nothing to find. Every bit of it was contracted through proper channels."
"...I beg your pardon?"
"It's the down payment for the technology transfer. I just thoroughly emptied the piggy banks KG Group and the Korean government had been sitting on."
"KG Group and the Korean government... then..."
At Kang Gun's explanation, the news stories that had dominated recent headlines flashed through Cheol-min's mind. There was exactly one issue on which KG Group and the Korean government appeared together, and so he asked again, his face frozen in shock,
"D-don't tell me... Veratian...?"
Cheol-min asked with an expression of sheer disbelief. And Kang Gun, dashing that hope without the slightest mercy, answered,
"Yes. That's right. That new material? I'm the one who developed it."
"Haah..."
Kim Cheol-min lost the ability to speak. He collapsed into his chair and buried his face in his hands. Now that he understood why a fortune of three trillion won had been wired into this company's corporate account, he looked at his boss — who was doing nothing but grinning and tearing into his chicken — and said,
"You could have given me some kind of warning, you know. I nearly died back there."
"Sorry, but you know that would've been a little difficult."
"Why?"
"You, Cheol-min, and the rest of the staff — none of you are my people yet, are you?"
And there it was.
Strictly speaking, every employee in this company, Cheol-min included, had been temporarily seconded from Ontel. They were all counting down the days until they could return to their original departments. With the vast majority feeling no particular affection for — or sense of belonging to — this company called Limitless, Cheol-min could see exactly why his boss hadn't breathed a syllable about any of this.
"If word had leaked to Ontel, there's a very good chance it would have flowed straight on to the US government as well. And once that happened, they'd have pulled every dirty trick in the book — leaping ahead to snatch up Veratian for themselves, or tearing down the contracts already in motion."
"...I would never betray you, Boss. Never."
"I'm sure you wouldn't, Cheol-min. But can you guarantee the others feel the same?"
It was a fact he could not deny. And so Cheol-min had no answer at all.
"...Which actually brings me to my point. Now that the money's come in nice and thick, I'm thinking of building this company up properly."
Kang Gun finished the last of his chicken, dusted off his hands, and spoke quietly.
"Cheol-min, how would you like to come over to my side for good?"
"...I'm sorry?"
Kim Cheol-min echoed the question blankly, stunned by the out-of-nowhere proposal.
"The work stays the same. You'd act as my secretary, handling everything I ask of you on every front. The only difference is..."
"...you'd be a full-time employee of Limitless Inc. — not a temporary secondment from Ontel."
"..."
At the offer to jump ship to Limitless, Cheol-min fell silent, his expression a tangle of conflicting thoughts. No eager acceptance came, and no firm refusal either.
Something — some strange, unnameable feeling — was stirring in him, and his instinct was shouting it at full volume:
that this very moment was the once-in-a-lifetime crossroads that would decide the rest of his life.
"Ah, and of course, I understand it won't be easy. It could get so brutal you'd be cursing up a storm, and there may even be moments when your life is on the line — I do have an awful lot of spies gunning for me, after all. But... this much I can promise you without a shred of doubt."
The CEO of Limitless nodded as if to say he completely understood Cheol-min's deliberation taking its time. Then, with a deep smile brimming with conviction, he told him,
"The time you spend at my side will be tremendously fun. And endlessly interesting."
And so...
Cheol-min became the very first full-time employee of Limitless Inc.